CHAPTER XI.

THE NAPOLEONIC EMPIRE AT ITS HEIGHT.

One of the most marked characteristics of great men of action is their refusal to rest, even when they seem to have gained a surfeit of glory and to have climbed to almost incredible heights of power. But of all those whom history depicts as spurred on by insatiable activity the most remarkable was Napoleon. To him a great victory was but an opportunity for pushing on a relentless pursuit. It enabled him, by exhausting his enemy’s resources, to force terms upon the vanquished at the sword’s point; and the resulting treaty inaugurated no period of rest and recuperation, but a political campaign that promised to overawe his remaining enemies and to strengthen the fabric of his own authority. Such a peace was the Peace of Tilsit. While diplomatists and soldiers hailed it as the beginning of an era of quiet enjoyment, the victor looked on his diplomatic triumph as the beginning of a new time of activity, in which the forces of the Continent were to be used for the humbling of Great Britain, and in due course for the prosecution of new schemes in the East.

So complex and many-sided were the undertakings of the French Emperor in this period of his ascendancy that it has been found advisable to treat them separately, and to postpone to later chapters the consideration of his Continental System, and of his relations to Austria, Spain, and the Church of Rome. The present chapter, then, deals, first, with the events in Denmark, Portugal, the Baltic States, and Finland, which sprang directly from the policy agreed on at Tilsit; secondly, with the international relations which led up to the Congress of Erfurt; thirdly, with the very important work of national revival which went on in the kingdom of Prussia; and lastly, with the establishment of the kingdom of Westphalia and the duchy of Warsaw.

The mental preoccupation of the French Emperor during his return from Tilsit to Paris was noticed by Madame Reinhard at Dresden. In her letters she alludes to his utter lack of interest in the art treasures of that city. When conducted by the King of Saxony to the Museum, he hurried past pictures and statues at a pace which obviously caused no less inconvenience than annoyance to his host. This haste and preoccupation were natural. Napoleon was at the turning-point of his career. His thoughts were doubtless intent on the complex plans sketched in outline at Tilsit with his new ally, Alexander I, which have been described in the previous chapter. The chief of them was that which bound the Allies to summon the Courts of Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Lisbon to close their ports to British commerce, and declare war against England. A refusal on their part would bring on them the hostility of the two Imperial Courts; and, if Sweden failed to comply, Denmark would be compelled to declare war on her. A postponement of decisive action was clearly contrary to Napoleon’s wishes; and it is known that, on his way back to France, he made his plans with a view to the speedy coercion of Denmark as well as of Portugal.

There was every reason why he should at once turn his attention to the former of these Powers. Denmark, holding the keys of the Baltic, had it in her power to prevent the arrival of reinforcements to a British expedition then off the shores of Swedish Pomerania. That expedition was a belated effort to comply with the requests for help urgently pressed by the Tsar during the spring. It had set sail from England at the end of June, and reached Elsinore on July 4-5, 1807; its aim was to help the King of Sweden in the campaign which he sought to renew against the French in the north of Germany. The land forces, numbering about 10,000 men, were under the command of Lord Cathcart; they consisted mainly of Hanoverians who had been embodied in the King’s German Legion. Had the force set sail two months earlier, it might have effected a most welcome diversion against Napoleon’s flank or rear. As it was, the British entered the Baltic and arrived off Rügen just when peace was signed at Tilsit.

The action of Gustavus IV Adolphus of Sweden in denouncing the armistice which he had signed with the French general Brune on June 4 was equally inopportune. Strengthened by the signing of a convention for subsidies at Stralsund (June 27), and relying apparently on the arrival of a larger force than Cathcart actually brought, the Swedish monarch renewed the war after the interval of one month, at the very time when the course of negotiations at Tilsit set free large numbers of French troops for service against the Swedes and their allies. It is unnecessary to follow the fortunes of this expedition. The chances of success for the defenders of Stralsund were greatly lessened by the withdrawal of the British force, owing to events soon to be described. In truth the Anglo-Swedish expedition scarcely claims notice on its own account. Its importance lies in the fact that it precipitated vigorous action both on the part of the British Government and of the French Emperor.

The presence of a British expedition off Rügen furnished an additional reason why Napoleon should press Denmark to side with him and endanger the communications of Cathcart. On July 31 the French Emperor wrote to Talleyrand, who had not yet definitely given up the portfolio of Foreign Affairs, directing him to express through the French Minister at Copenhagen his annoyance at the continuance of correspondence between that Court and the British Government, in spite of the promise already made to the contrary, and to demand that all communi­cations should cease. The despatch ordered the French envoy to state further to the Danish Minister: “That, whatever my desire to treat Denmark well, I cannot prevent his [the Prince Royal’s] suffering from the violation of the Baltic Sea which he has permitted; that, if England refuses the mediation of Russia, he must choose either to make war on England or on me; and that the friendship which the Prince Royal has testified for me, as well as the interests of Denmark, cause me to hope that he will not hesitate in his choice”. This letter is of importance as showing that the Prince Royal of Denmark had given Napoleon some ground for hoping he would take the French side; and the phrase quoted above concerning the “violation of the Baltic Sea”, i.e., by Cathcart’s expedition, also bears witness to the Emperor’s expectation that Denmark would keep the Baltic shut against a British fleet. He expressed the same desire to the diplomatic circle on August 2. Stopping before the Danish Minister, he remarked, “So you have allowed the Baltic to be violated. We laid down the principle that you were to be its guardians”. After a long statement by the envoy, he closed the discussion with the words, “The matter will, I hope, be arranged.”

The friendliness displayed by Denmark towards France had long been known to the Powers leagued together in the Third Coalition. In his official Mémoire of April 7, 1807, Hardenberg proposed, among other things, that Russia, Great Britain, and Prussia should take steps to make Denmark move. The same proposal took more stringent form in the Russo-Prussian Convention of Bartenstein (April 26, 1807), the ninth article of which specified that Russia and Prussia, together with Austria, Great Britain, and Sweden—in case of the accession of these Powers to the new compact—would endeavour to persuade the Court of Denmark to join the Coalition. Great Britain became a party to this convention; but no steps were taken immediately to force the hand of the Danish Government. Garlike, the British Minister at Copenhagen, reported various small matters in which Denmark showed undue deference to Napoleon. The position of Denmark was, in truth, extremely difficult. Threatened by the naval superiority of the Coalition on the one side, she saw, on the other, the duchy of Holstein menaced by a force of French and Spanish troops under Marshal Bernadotte at Hamburg. The Peace of Tilsit, far from lessening her cares, redoubled them. In fact Copenhagen became for a few weeks the central point in vast combinations of policy, those of the Sea Power and those of the Land Power.

The general situation was not unlike that of the years 1800-1, when the First Consul and the Tsar Paul drew Prussia and Denmark into their schemes for the humbling of England’s naval power. As at the time of the Second Armed Neutrality, so now Napoleon looked on the help of Denmark as essential to the success of his schemes; and on August 16 he ordered a demand to be sent to the Danish Government for the co­operation of its fleet with that of France, and for the exclusion of British goods from Danish ports. On the other hand, George III and his Ministers were equally resolved to paralyse the new hostile coalition at the outset by measures which, though less unfriendly in intention than those of 1801, proved in the sequel far more disastrous to the Danes.

We must now advert to the interesting but obscure question, how the British Ministry had been able to fathom their adversaries’ designs. On July 16 Canning received important despatches which warned him that dangers were ahead. One of these was from an officer, probably a Russian, dated Memel, June 26, 1807, describing the losses at the battle of Friedland and the friendly bearing of the two Emperors on the occasion of their interview on the raft at Tilsit. The second was from Garlike, giving bad news that had come through General Clinton, who had been at Memel and on his return had called at Stralsund. The despatch also stated that the Danes now feared a military occupation of their mainland territories by the French, a danger which ought to be guarded against. The third despatch was from Mackenzie, a British agent who had dined with General Bennigsen at Tilsit on June 22, and heard news as to the Tsar’s ratification of the armistice and the general wish for peace. These tidings, coupled with the notorious partiality of the Danish Prince Royal for the French cause, caused Canning to take a step of great importance. On that same day, July 16, he appointed Brooke Taylor British Minister at Copenhagen in the room of Garlike, and instructed the new envoy to inform the Danish Government that a large British fleet would at once be sent to the Sound, in order to cooperate with the King of Sweden for the security of his dominions, to protect any British reinforcements that might be sent to Stralsund, and to safeguard British commerce in those waters. Brooke Taylor was to announce that the naval preparations of Denmark and the “avowed designs of Bonaparte” had conduced to the formation of this decision; and that the presence of a large British fleet was necessary in order to counterbalance that of the French forces on the borders of Holstein.

As yet, however, Canning seems to have entertained no thought of employing forcible measures against Denmark. That drastic resolution was apparently formed on or shortly before July 22, when he had news “directly from Tilsi”t, that the two Emperors, at an interview held on June 24 or 25, proposed to form a maritime league against Great Britain, “the accession of Denmark to which was represented by Bonaparte to be as certain as it was essential.” The Emperor of Russia is described as having “neither accepted nor refused this proposal”. The source of this news is unknown. A British agent, Mackenzie, and Dr Wylie were probably the only Englishmen at Tilsit at the time of the interview; and Mackenzie did not arrive in London until July 23, when he brought despatches from Lord Granville Leveson-Gower at Memel. Seeing, however, that the role attributed to the Tsar in the sentence quoted above contrasts honourably with that assigned to Napoleon, we may with some approach to certainty infer that the news which reached Canning on July 21 must have come from a Russian. The gossips of Paris and London afterwards pointed to Talleyrand as having betrayed his master; but this rumour seems to be discredited by the details contained in the British archives and summarised above. Still more certain is it that the news of July 21 came “directly from Tilsit”, and that the decisive information did not come from Lisbon, as some writers have averred.

In any case, the information was incorrect in several important particulars. In the first place, the news as to the naval preparations going on at Copenhagen was afterwards discovered to be wholly unfounded, the Danish sail of the line being for the most part quite unfit to put to sea. It would appear also that Canning misconceived the plans agreed on at Tilsit. The details of the conversation of the two Emperors at their first interview on the raft are still but dimly known; it is, however, improbable that Napoleon succeeded at once in his effort to entice the Tsar into the formation of a league actively hostile to Great Britain. At the close of the interviews, when he had strengthened his hold over Alexander by setting forth alluring plans respecting Turkey and Finland, he was unable to induce him to do more than offer his mediation for a peace between France and Great Britain in a sense favourable to the former. If the latter rejected the Franco- Russian terms, then, but then only, should Denmark be coerced into joining the new league. In short, the plan of coercion was conditional.

Canning, on the other hand, believed it to be absolute and immediate. He had no knowledge of the secret treaty of alliance signed at Tilsit, such as he would probably have had if Talleyrand had betrayed Napoleon’s secrets. On August 4 the British Foreign Secretary instructed Lord Granville Leveson-Gower, British Minister at the Russian Court, “that, in the event of there not appearing any article on the face of the Treaty which affects the rights and, interests of this country, your Excellency should further demand the communication of any secret articles to that effect or a formal disclaimer of their existence.” Next day Canning informed Leveson-Gower that news had come of Bernadotte’s arrival in Holstein; and he added these significant words: “The project of occupying the ports of Holstein and of employing the Danish fleet as part of a combined armament to cover the invasion of Scotland and conceived by Bonaparte some time before any intercourse had taken place between him and the Emperor of Russia... The causes of this expedition [the British] are to be found in the more immediate and pressing dangers which existed independently of any Baltic League, though their probability and their magnitude would no doubt be infinitely augmented by such a confederacy”.

Thus the British Ministry based their action on evidence which was merely of a circumstantial character, and which we now know to have been incorrect in important details. Whatever was the truth as to the project of using the Danish fleet against Scotland or Ireland, that project in point of fact was subordinated to the policy agreed on at Tilsit, which aimed at massing overwhelming political forces in order to compel Great Britain to accept the terms there formulated. Whether the British Ministry would have accepted those terms, had they been presented in their entirety, is of course only matter for conjecture. But such acceptance was by no means impossible. Talleyrand, in his letter to Napoleon of June 20,1807, had expressed surprise at finding the tone of the British despatches far more favourable to peace than that of the Prussian notes. The Portland Cabinet, however, in its alarm at the news which thereafter came from Tilsit and Holstein, decided on a step which subjected the Danes to harsh and high-handed usage.

On July 28, 1807, Canning instructed Francis Jackson to proceed with the utmost speed to Kiel, and to demand from the Danish Prince Royal, then at that place, an explicit declaration of policy. Jackson was charged to present a treaty of alliance with England, one condition of which was the deposit of the Danish fleet in pledge. As is well known, the offer met with an immediate refusal; the Prince set out for Copenhagen; and hostilities at once began between Great Britain and Denmark. The British operations in Zeeland and the capture of the Danish fleet having been described in a previous chapter of this volume, it is unnecessary to relate them here. The political results of those actions, however, claim attention in proportion to their importance. First, Great Britain suffered a loss of moral reputation which partly outweighed the gain brought by the accession of material strength to her navy and the added sense of security. The peoples of the Continent, unaware of the reasons that prompted the action of Great Britain, regarded it as little better than piratical. Only by degrees did this bad impression fade away, and then because it was overshadowed by Napo­leon’s conduct in Spain. For the present, the French Emperor had public sentiment on his side, a matter of great importance when so complex and unpopular a régime as that of the Continental System was being imposed on peoples previously hostile. This adverse trend of opinion was destined also to increase the difficulty of England in finding allies among the old Governments of the Continent, which contrasted the tardiness of the Grenville Ministry in helping their friends with the energy shown by their successors in attacking neutrals. Further, Canning failed to accomplish his ulterior aim in sending this expedition, namely, that of forming an Anglo-Scandinavian league as a counterpoise to that of France and Russia. This aim he set forth in a memorandum which is contained in the British archives. He therein stated that his action was prompted, not by hostility to Denmark, but rather by the wish to compel her by the display of irresistible naval force to choose the British alliance, and assure the freedom of the Baltic Sea and the safety of Sweden. This hope failed in consequence of the natural resentment of the Danish Prince Royal, who spurned all the British proposals for a friendly understanding and ordered the continuation of hostilities after the British forces evacuated Zeeland (October 20).

Sweden also gained nothing by England’s conduct towards Denmark. In fact, the position of Gustavus Adolphus at Stralsund was sensibly weakened by the withdrawal of Catheart’s force in order to support the attack on Copenhagen—a result which goes far to explain the sudden resolve of the Swedish monarch to sue for an armistice and to abandon the mainland of Swedish Pomerania. On August 20 he evacuated Stralsund; and, under the pressure of Brune’s operations against Rügen, found himself constrained to hand over that island to the French commander by a convention dated September 7. In a state of illness which was largely traceable to his misfortunes he retired to Sweden. There again he was soon to be beset, on the east by the preparations of the Tsar for a campaign against Finland, and on the west by the hostility of the Danes. At the close of the month of October, Denmark concluded an alliance with France, which empowered Marshal Bernadotte to cross the Belt and occupy Zeeland. There can be little doubt that Napoleon had expected to gain an easy victory over the Swedes in Pomerania, and hoped that this further triumph would place the resources of Denmark at his disposal. A phrase in his letter of September 7 to Champagny, the new Minister of Foreign Affairs—"If England succeeded, the greatest loss would be the Danish vessels that she would destroy”—shows that Napoleon never ceased to look on Denmark as potentially the ally of France, and her navy as forming the right wing in the naval operations eventually to be carried out against the mistress of the seas. Phrases such as these, and the details contained in the British archives, serve largely to justify Canning’s policy, which on the surface appears unjustifiable. It rested on an induction the premisses of which were insecure, but which was based on a sound estimate of Napoleon’s character and of his probable action. The Emperor’s subsequent conduct added a further proof that, when he wrote the letter of September 7, he believed that Great Britain had failed at Copenhagen. When he heard the truth, his rage knew no bounds. The compiler of the Fouché Memoirs states that, since the arrival of the news of the murder of the Tsar Paul, he had never seen Napoleon in such transports of anger. This is easily to be accounted for. The accession of the Danish fleet to the naval resources of France, Russia, Holland, Spain, northern Italy, and probably Portugal, might have turned the balance against Great Britain and secured either her submission to the conqueror’s terms or her utter overthrow on her own element.

In order to secure this great result, Napoleon had also been maturing his plans for the coercion of Portugal. So far back as July 19, he charged Talleyrand immediately after his return to Paris to warn the Portuguese ambassador that the harbours of Portugal must be closed to British commerce by September 1, and British goods confiscated; in default of such action, hostilities would be begun by France. Spain also was urged to put pressure on her western neighbour, and, in case of recalcitrance on the part of the Court of Lisbon, to join France in effecting the conquest of Portugal. The latter proposal seemed, on the surface, to be merely the renewal of a plan for the partition of that kingdom discussed between Napoleon and the Spanish Minister, Godoy, early in the previous year; it now met with a ready assent from the latter, all the more so as it appeared to indicate Napoleon’s forgiveness for the threatening declaration issued by the Prince of the Peace shortly before Jena. The alarm caused at Lisbon by the French demands was proportionate to the satisfaction felt at Madrid. Those demands took threatening form at the diplomatic reception of August 2, when the Emperor addressed an imperious summons to the Portuguese Minister. The Court of Lisbon was now in despair. Any hope that it might have entertained eighteen months earlier of resisting the power of France and Spain had now vanished. Prussia was overthrown; the Tsar had made common cause with Napoleon; the naval resources of Great Britain seemed hardly sufficient to ward off defeat; and a strong French corps was mustering at Bayonne. The Queen of Portugal being at that time insane, the government was in the hands of her son, the Prince Regent, a man scarcely fitted to cope with the crisis.

The despatches of Viscount Strangford, British ambassador at Lisbon, show that that Court, laying aside all thought of resistance to Napoleon, sought by all possible means to induce the British Government to meet Napoleon’s demands. On finding that the Portland Ministry had no thought of accepting his terms, the Lisbon Cabinet begged the British Government to put up with the appearance of a rupture between the two countries, and promised that in no case would the property of British merchants in Portugal be subjected to confiscation. The replies of the Prince Regent of Portugal to the French mandate were of the same tenour. While giving an all but complete assent, he stated that honour forbade his confiscating the property of British merchants who had settled under his protection. Bribes were also secretly sent to Paris with the view of influencing the Emperor’s counsellors.

All was in vain. Napoleon’s mind had recurred with irresistible strength to the earlier plan of partitioning Portugal. While the appeals of the Portuguese Government were still coining in, he instructed Duroc to confer with Izquierdo, the agent who managed Godoy’s private concerns at the French Court, and to accede to the plans of the Prince concerning Portugal. In his instructions to Duroc, dated Fontainebleau, September 25, he suggested the advisability of making the King of Spain suzerain over Portugal, and of apportioning part of that kingdom to Godoy and to the Queen of Etruria (a daughter of the House of Spain) and her son. The following sentence is noteworthy: “As to the affairs of Etruria, you will make him [Izquierdo] understand that it is very difficult for a branch of the House of Spain to continue to be established in the middle of Italy; that this offers great difficulties, now that the whole of Italy belongs to me, in respect of religious affairs, the monks, and the commerce of Leghorn, and by reason of the absolute incapacity for self-government from which that country suffers.” The whole letter shows how in Napoleon’s fertile brain diverse strands of thought were by degrees worked up into a firm and definite policy. The coercion of Portugal formed an essential part of his great fiscal design for the ruin of England; but the hesitation of the Portuguese Prince to comply with his demand for the confiscation of all British produce furnished an excuse for recurring to his former design of partitioning Portugal. This expansion of the Emperor’s Iberian policy, it will be observed, had an intimate relation to his plans for securing complete domination in Italy in matters commercial, religious, and political. In order to ensure free play in that peninsula for the working of the Napoleonic system, Portugal was to be partitioned between the Queen of Etruria, Godoy, and France. In fact, Portugal was now, like the Venetian Republic in the year 1797, to provide means for satisfying the demands of its more powerful neighbours and for extending the operations of Napoleon’s statecraft.

The Spanish Court, unaware of the dangers which attended Napoleon’s gifts, eagerly entered into his views; and, as a result, a secret convention was signed at Fontainebleau on October 27. It specified that the young King of Etruria, grandson of Charles IV of Spain, should cede that kingdom to Napoleon, receiving in return the province of Entre Minho e Douro, with the title of King of Northern Lusitania. A larger territory, namely, Algarve and Alemtejo, was awarded to Godoy. The intermediate districts were not to be definitely disposed of until the general peace; the King of Spain received the title of Protector of the province Entre Minho e Douro. Napoleon guaranteed to him the possession of all his Spanish lands south of the Pyrenees, and awarded to him eventually the title of Emperor of the two Americas. A military convention of the same date arranged for the entry into Spain of 28,000 French troops to be marched against Lisbon, an enterprise in which they would receive the help of 11,000 Spanish troops; while 16,000 other Spaniards were to invade the north and south of Portugal. Another French corps of 40,000 men was to meet at Bayonne, to be held in readiness to support the first corps if the British threatened to attack it; but its entrance into Spain was made conditional on the consent of the two contracting Powers.

The signature of these conventions marks a third stage in the development of Napoleon’s Iberian policy; and those who are acquainted with the methods of his statecraft cannot fail to notice in them the emergence of ideas which portended ruin to the House of Spain. The removal of 27,000 Spanish regulars into Portugal, added to that of 15,000 who were already serving under Bernadotte in Holstein, robbed Spain of the greater part of her trained forces, and that too at the very time when Napoleon gained the right of sending first 28,000 French troops, and eventually 40,000 more, into the Peninsula. With the fate of Spain, however, we are here concerned only in so far as it originated in, and was developed from, the policy agreed on at Tilsit. Enough has been said to show that the Emperor’s Spanish policy did not spring Minerva-like from his brain, but that it had three well-marked stages corresponding to the opportunities furnished by the course of events.

Even before the signature of the two conventions at Fontainebleau, Junot, the commander of the corps at Bayonne, received imperative orders to start at once, “in order to forestall the English.” He therefore crossed the Bidassoa on October 19. Despite the irregularity of his entrance into Spain, he and his men received a warm welcome from the Spaniards, whose goodwill enabled them to march at a rapid rate towards the Portuguese frontier. In the gorges of the border districts beyond Almeida the corps suffered terribly from want of food, the torrential rains of the autumn, and the badness of the mountain tracks. The Spanish troops who accompanied them soon lost 1700 men from hunger and sickness, or by drowning in the torrents. Still Junot struggled on, under the stimulus of reiterated commands from Napoleon. The Emperor’s correspondence bears witness to his eagerness on this head. It was naught to him that Portugal had dismissed the British ambassador and declared her adhesion to the Continental System. Junot (so Napoleon wrote on October 17, and again on the 31st) must be at Lisbon by December 1, either as a friend or an enemy to that Court; for “Lisbon is everything”. The letter of October 28 to General Clarke, Minister of War, explains the ground of Napoleon’s anxiety. After stating that, however accommodating the conduct of the Prince Regent of Portugal might be, Junot must hurry on to the capital and make no promises, the Emperor adds: “I wish my troops to reach Lisbon at the earliest time possible in order to sequestrate all the English merchandise. I wish them to arrive there, if possible as friends, in order to seize the Portuguese fleet.”

Despite the subtlety of Napoleon and the utmost efforts of Junot’s corps, the prize escaped. Under the pressure of urgent remonstrances from Sir Sidney Smith, then in command of a British naval forces in the Tagus, and from the British ambassador, who had taken refuge on his flagship, the Prince Regent decided, though with the utmost reluctance, to leave Portugal and set sail for Brazil. Taking with him the archives of the State, the treasure, the chief Ministers, courtiers, and all who specially feared the advent of the French, he entrusted himself to the protection of Sir Sidney Smith’s squadron (November 29). Eight Portuguese sail of the line, four frigates, four sloops, and twenty merchantmen weighed anchor opposite the historic quay of Belem. Thence Vasco da Gama and Cabral had set sail in happier times on their memorable quests; but now the royal family and its most cherished supporters made for the New World amidst signs of universal grief. The lamentation proved to be prophetic; for this event was the precursor of many others which finally led to the separation of Brazil from the motherland. Portugal, in truth, had forfeited nearly every claim to respect, except that which is accorded to the weakness of old age. She had made no effort to preserve Ker independence. When, on November 30, Junot’s van-guard neared Lisbon, almost in time to see the Portuguese sails at the mouth of the estuary, it was found to consist of barely 1500 foot-sore and half-famished men. Yet the capital struck no blow to save its honour. The weakness that had crept over all the old Governments in turn seemed to have paralysed the once hardy and adventurous men of Estremadura. Even so, however, the escape of the Portuguese fleet and the departure of the royal family caused Napoleon the greatest annoyance. He had persuaded himself that the Prince Regent would not take this desperate step, and had urged Junot to do all in his power to induce the Prince and all those who had claims on the throne to repair to Bayonne. He also hoped that the Russian squadron commanded by Admiral Seniavin, which was on its way back from the Mediterranean to the Baltic, would put in at Lisbon and prevent the escape of any Portuguese and British ships. Seniavin did arrive there; but his squadron was overawed by that of Sir Sidney Smith, who once more stepped in to mar the Emperor’s plans. After escorting the Portuguese fleet to sea, Smith returned and blocked the Russian ships in the Tagus.

The deliberations of the British Cabinet at this time arc unknown; but we may reasonably conjecture that the capture of the Danish fleet and the prospect of saving the Portuguese men-of-war from Napoleon’s grasp helped to strengthen their resolve to brave the risks of open war rather than meet the uncertainties and humiliations of a peace with Napoleon. Nevertheless, towards Russia the British Government maintained a friendly attitude, doubtless with the hope of dissolving the Franco-Russian alliance. It sent a conciliatory reply to the Tsar’s offer of mediation, which was couched in terms agreed on at Tilsit. Canning stated that his Government was willing to treat on equitable terms for so desirable an object as a general peace, and required in turn a communication of the secret articles signed at Tilsit as a sign of the goodwill of the Tsar’s Government in its present proposal. In order to smooth matters, Canning had despatched to Leveson-Gower on August 25 full powers for the signing of a commercial treaty with Russia, on terms favourable to that Power. This was of no avail. The Russian Chancellor, Count Budberg, returned an evasive answer on the subject of the secret articles signed at Tilsit. On September 1, indeed, he admitted in an interview with Leveson-Gower that there were such articles, but he pledged his word that they did not stipulate the closing of Russian ports to British ships and merchandise. He added the following significant words: “the Continental peace cannot be of long duration; any peace with France must be considered as a momentary respite, and by no means as affording any prospect of permanent tranquillity; neither the French Government nor the French people is ripe for peace; they retain too much of their revolutionary restlessness. We must employ this moment of repose in preparing the means of resistance against another attack”.

This was the general opinion in Russian society. It was even more prevalent in the mercantile classes, where the prospect of the exclusion of British commerce caused general alarm. The policy agreed on at Tilsit was openly disapproved by the Empress Dowager, the nobles, the clergy, and the trading classes; and Savary, who came on a special mission to St Petersburg, soon reported that the “English” party had the upper hand. The news of the bombardment of Copenhagen caused no general resentment, being regarded as an act of timely vigour. The Tsar, however, on September 11 entered a sharp protest against that action; and the statement that he at the same time privately expressed his approval of it must be dismissed as a calumny, originating in some discontented clique. He had just dismissed the lethargic and rather Anglophil Minister Count Budberg, and now entrusted the portfolio of Foreign Affairs to Count Romanzoff, the chief partisan of the French alliance and a firm believer in Russia’s mission to effect the overthrow of Turkey. The new Chancellor quickened his master’s resentment against England; but motives of policy served to postpone an open rupture. In the first place Alexander waited to hear news that his Mediterranean squadron, about to return to the Baltic, had reached the French ports on the Bay of Biscay, where it would be safe from capture by the English. There were other reasons why he should move warily in so complex a situation and in dealing with an ally whom he secretly dreaded. By holding back part of what Napoleon required, he would give weight to the demands of Russia. The “English” party at St Petersburg, however, made a false move which probably precipitated the rupture with Great Britain. Sir Robert Wilson, an astute intriguer, had been stirring up the old hatred felt by the Russian nobility for France; but he was imprudent enough to introduce an English pamphlet on the policy of Tilsit which spoke with slight respect of the Tsar. Savary was able to present a copy of this brochure to Alexander, who at once gave orders for the expulsion of Wilson and the removal of Novossilzoff, Strogonoff, and others of the English party from the capital. Doubtless, as Lord Granville Leveson-Gower stated in his despatches, the demand of Napoleon for a Russian declaration of war against Great Britain had also a place in Alexander’s calculations. On November 8, when the approach of winter promised immunity from British attacks by sea, he broke off all relations with the Court of St James.

Next in importance to the relations of Alexander with Great Britain were his plans with regard to the Ottoman Empire. As has been already stated, Alexander’s desire for conquests in Turkey had been whetted by Napoleon at Tilsit; and it was the keystone of Romanzoff’s policy to render the French alliance less unpopular by turning Russian energies away from the campaigns in central Europe, barren alike of glory and material reward, to those enterprises against the Turk which had rarely failed to win glory, treasure, and broad dominions for the Muscovite nobility. Yet, while directing the gaze of his ally toward the Balkans, Napoleon had taken care to stipulate in the public treaty of Tilsit that hostilities between Russia and the Sultan should cease, the troops of the former evacuating the Danubian Provinces, which they then held, though the Sultan was not to occupy those lands until the signature of a peace with Russia. For the conclusion of this peace Napoleon offered his mediation, and thus gained the right to act as arbiter in the complex disputes arising out of the Eastern Question. By the secret articles signed at Tilsit, Alexander had ceded to him the Seven (Ionian) Islands and the Cattaro district on the mainland; and the occupation of these places, together with Dalmatia and Ragusa, placed the French in possession of points of vantage on the Turkish frontier fully equal to those which Russia held on the banks of the Dniester. Furthermore, an article of the secret treaty of alliance specified that, if Turkey did not accept the mediation of France, or if she failed within three months to give effect to her promises after her peace with Russia, then France would make common cause with Russia against the Sultan, “in order to withdraw from the yoke and the vexations of the Turks all the provinces of the Ottoman Empire, except the town of Constantinople and the province of Roumelia”. It was well known that this last clause met with opposition from Alexander at Tilsit; for it withdrew from the sphere of Russia’s future activity the province and city that formed the goal of her most ardent ambitions.

The Tsar showed his ill-humour by postponing the evacuation of the Danubian Provinces. For this conduct he had a plausible excuse. Article 4 of the public treaty of Tilsit enjoined unconditionally the evacuation of Prussian fortresses and districts by the French troops; but there was no sign of its approaching fulfilment. In fact, Napoleon’s procedure in the case of Prussia betokened a determination to keep that State wholly under his control. Alike in the negotiations and in the Treaty of Tilsit, the case of Prussia was set over against that of Turkey.

Napoleon wished to partition Prussia, just as Alexander wished to annex a large part of Turkey; and the French Emperor waived his views of aggrandisement at the time, in consideration of similar restraint being shown by his ally and rival in the case of Turkey. But it was not in Napoleon’s character to let Prussia escape until he had drained away her strength. An opportunity came which promised not only to give free play to these vampire-like methods, but also indefinitely to prolong the French occupation.

Marshal Kalckreuth, when negotiating the terms of the Convention of Konigsberg (July 12), for the restitution by France of the Prussian lands that she had conquered on the east of the Elbe, was guilty of a strange inadvertence. He allowed the insertion of an article stipulating the restitution of these districts to the Prussian authorities when the contributions and exactions imposed by order of Napoleon should have been completely discharged; but he failed to secure the insertion of a clause specifying the maximum charge. This omission gave Napoleon the opportunity of subjecting towns and districts to exactions beyond their powers, and thereby indefinitely postponing the time of liberation. The Emperor’s letters leave no doubt that he was personally responsible for this ingenious cruelty. On July 18, 1807, he wrote to General Clarke that he did not intend to evacuate Prussia until the money should be paid; he then estimated the amount due from Brandenburg at 80,000,000 francs. On July 22 he again wrote to Clarke respecting the sums due from Brandenburg and Silesia, which he reckoned at more than 120,000,000 francs. He added, “make the provinces pay all they can... If we can raise this sum to 200,000,000 francs, so much the better”. This was from a land whose revenue in 1805-6 was about 27,000,000 thalers (101,250,000 francs). With her domestic industries suffering from the French occupation, her foreign commerce ruined by the naval war with England consequent on the adoption of the Continental System, the mutilated Prussia of 1807 was utterly unable to meet the exactions now imposed. The same device at once sapped her strength and cut off all hope of future deliverance, except by a step that involved political annihilation, namely, inclusion in the Confederation of the Rhine; and there is every reason to believe that Napoleon had deter­mined to drive her to this last step. Ultimately, in March, 1808, the sum claimed from Prussia was fixed at 112,000,000 francs; but the French intendant, Daru, placed all possible difficulties in the way of the acceptance of the sureties demanded for this sum. Even a personal appeal, which Prince William of Prussia made to Napoleon at Paris in the spring of the year 1808, failed to move him from his purpose. He finally replied that the evacuation of Prussia depended solely on the other political combinations which he had in view.

The instructions issued on November 12, 1807, to Caulaincourt, French ambassador designate at the Russian Court, reveal the advantages which Napoleon hoped to reap from his very lucrative occupation of Prussia. Seeing that the Tsar desired to keep Moldavia and Wallachia, the French Emperor directed Caulaincourt to offer no opposition to that plan, provided that France should gain a part of Prussia fully equal in population and resources to those States. If the Treaty of Tilsit were to be modified, the change must be equally to the advantage of both the contracting Powers. If, however, the Russian Government hinted at a partition of Turkey, with the acquisition of Bosnia and Albania by France, Caulaincourt was to repel any such suggestion. The fall of the Ottoman Empire was inevitable; but it was to the interest of France and Russia to postpone its fall to a time when they could most profitably share its “vast débris” and when a hostile Power could not seize “Egypt and the islands, the richest spoils.” In any case the two contracting Powers must march at the same speed. Napoleon declared that he would not evacuate Prussia until Alexander avowed his intention of restoring Wallachia and Moldavia to the Sultan; or he would evacuate Prussia partially when arrangements referring to a new order of things had been agreed on between the two Powers. A secret convention might be signed, “interpreting” the Treaty of Tilsit, whereby the two Powers would retain the parts of Prussia and Turkey agreed on between them. Caulaincourt was also charged to hold out the prospect of a joint Franco-Russian expedition against India through Asia Minor and Persia—a topic on which instructions had been forwarded to the French ambassador lately sent to Teheran. Russia must also be urged to invade the Swedish dominions on the side of Finland, while a Franco-Danish force was preparing to enter them from the west.

Such were the instructions issued to Caulaincourt. Though Alex­ander, on December 20, received that envoy with the graciousness due to his diplomatic position and to his own estimable qualities, he did not hide his chagrin at seeing the acquisition of the Danubian lands restricted by a condition which deeply touched his honour. At Potsdam and Bartenstein he had taken up the rôle of protector to Frederick William and Queen Louisa. Even at Tilsit he had saved for them the province of Silesia. How could he, the chivalrous admirer of the Prussian Queen, gain Turkish lands by a step which would entail the sacrifice, once again, of half her dominions? His pride revolted at so humiliating a bargain, every suggestion of which he waved aside. In point of fact, he had been prepared for such a proposal by the despatches of Count Tolstoi, Russian ambassador at Paris, who on October 26 and November 22 wrote to warn the Russian Government that Napoleon was about to compass the entire ruin of Prussia by assigning Silesia to the duchy of Warsaw and the whole of Brandenburg to Jerome Bonaparte’s kingdom of Westphalia. The latter statement was probably incorrect, though there are grounds for thinking that the Emperor had held out to his brother the prospect of reigning at Berlin.

But, whether correct or not, Tolstoi’s despatches awakened in Alexander those suspicions of Napoleon which he had with difficulty suppressed even at Tilsit. A time of doubt and dexterous poising ensued on both sides. Napoleon, on finding that Alexander was at once firmer, more astute, and more ambitious than he had at first believed, sought to adjourn every important question to a time that would be more favourable for France. In a postscript which he added on January 18, 1808, to a despatch for Caulaincourt, he informed him that the present state of things suited his (Napoleon’s) wishes, and that the question of the partition of Turkey must be deferred.

A new situation, however, was brought about by the action of the British Government. George III, in his speech at the opening of Parliament on January 21, announced the firm resolution of the King and his trust in the support of the people during the present terrible struggle. The tone of the debates in the two Houses was equally determined. Napoleon replied by a Note in the Moniteur, on February 2, that peace would return some day, but only after events that would have deprived England of her distant possessions, “principale source de sa richesse”. This hint as to an Oriental expedition served at the same time to threaten Great Britain with the direst losses and to hold out once more to the Tsar the visions conjured up at Tilsit. The certainty that the war would be fought out to the bitter end served to quicken the inarch of events both at Paris and St Petersburg. It even promised to bring Austria into the Franco-Russian coalition. Already that Power had settled the outstanding claim of France in the convention which Metternich, Austrian ambassador at the French Court, signed with Champagny at Fontainebleau on October 11, 1807. For the Habsburgs that compact was little else than a series of surrenders. The delimitation of the Austrian frontier on the south was wholly in favour of the kingdom of Italy, the line of the river Isonzo being adjudged as the boundary between the two States ; Trieste was saved with difficulty. The Habsburgs gained no compensations; and Metternich suggestively remarked to Stadion that the sole advantage conferred by that compact was that it left no question open with Napoleon. The French, however, now evacuated Braunau on the Bavarian frontier; and friendliness seemed to be the order of the day in Franco-Austrian relations. Below the surface there lurked the old suspicion and fear of Napoleon, as is seen in Metternich’s correspondence. Nevertheless Austria undertook to mediate with a view to peace between France and England; but, largely owing to the opposition of Canning, her offer was firmly declined. Accordingly, the Austrian ambassador, Count Starhemberg, left London on January 20, 1808; and Adair closed his mission to Vienna on March 1. On February 28, 1808, Austria adopted the Continental System.

Napoleon at once sought to complete the isolation of Great Britain by a scheme which would bring Austria wholly into his political system. He sketched the outlines of the new plan at an interview which he accorded on January 22,1808, to Metternich. The Austrian ambassador having presented a letter announcing the marriage of his master with the Grand Duchess Maria Ludovica d’Este—it was his third marriage—Napoleon began to dilate upon the fatal obstinacy of the British Cabinet, which, he said, had brought him reluctantly to the determination to ensure the peace of the world by a step that must bring ruin to England, namely, an Eastern expedition and the partition of the Ottoman Empire. That event would benefit Russia more than France, who needed only “Egypt and some colonies”; but Austria could not stand by and see the partition of Turkey among other Powers. The dictates of sound policy required her to unite very closely with France in order to share the spoils. Metternich received the offer very guardedly, and suggested that Francis II would almost certainly disapprove of so revolutionary a proposal, for his only desire was to maintain peace and the status quo. Napoleon, however, believed that he could force his hand, as Frederick II and Catharine II had forced that of Maria Theresa in the case of Poland. That he entered eagerly into the new scheme may be seen from two letters which he wrote to the Tsar and Caulaincourt on February 2. To his ambassador he stated that he would gladly see Alexander conquer Sweden and take even Stockholm itself, so as to make St Petersburg the geographical centre of his empire. lie also instructed Caulaincourt not to press for the evacuation of the Danubian Principalities by Russia, it being understood that the French would not leave Prussia. Above all he was to hold out the plan of an Eastern expedition, in which from 20,000 to 25,000 Russians, from 8,000 to 10,000 Austrians, and from 35,000 to 40,000 French troops would march through Asia to India; “nothing is so easy as this operation.” That enterprise, of course, implied a partition of the Turkish Empire; and, in order to arrange details, he (Napoleon) wished to have an interview with Alexander. If the Russian Emperor could come to Paris, it would cause him the greatest pleasure; if this were impossible, and he could come only half­way, Caulaincourt must take his compasses and find the middle distance. Such is the first emergence in Napoleon’s correspondence of the plan which was to lead up to the Erfurt interview.

Napoleon expressed the same wishes, but more vaguely and grandiloquently, in a letter of the same date to Alexander; he laid no stress on the help that Austria might give, but stated that, in the space of a month after they had come to an agreement, the French and Russian troops could be on the Bosphorus; that by May 1 the combined armies would be campaigning in Asia, and the Russians might be in possession of Stockholm. This letter has its theatrical side; but there is ground for thinking that the final refusal of Great Britain to consider Austria’s offer of mediation, together with the challenge conveyed by the King’s speech to Parliament, now sufficed to overcome Napoleon’s former reluctance to an immediate partition of Turkey, and induced him to press it on his ally with all the seductiveness that he had displayed at Tilsit. He saw in the enterprise an opportunity, similar to that which Frederick the Great and Catharine II had discerned in the partition of Poland, of composing the mutual jealousies of France, Russia, and Austria. It was true that France was not so well placed for the partition of Turkey as were Russia and Austria. But the defects of position might be made good by a vigorous policy, even during a time of war with Great Britain. Moreover it was clear that, if the Russians were deeply involved in the conquest of Finland and Sweden, they could scarcely have the upper hand in the partition of Turkey, especially if Napoleon secured the armed help of Austria in resisting their undue preponderance in the Balkan peninsula.

Swift as was the transition of the Emperor’s plans, yet his correspondence during the months of February—May, 1808, yields proof that it was decisive. He now bent all his energies to the task of consolidating his power in the territories which dominated the Mediterranean, namely, Corfu, Sicily, and Spain. On February 7-8 he wrote several letters showing the importance that he attached to Corfu and the rock of Scylla. An attack by British cruisers on Corfu would be serious (so he wrote to King Joseph); and the loss of that island would be the most fatal blow to his plans. At the same time he warned his brother that the rock of Scylla, where the Bourbon garrison stoutly opposed every effort of Joseph’s troops, was “the most important point in the world.” It was the key to Sicily; and the capture of Sicily (so he wrote to Decrès) would change the face of the Mediterranean. At the same time he pressed on the occupation of Spain by the French; and his letters of May 16-19, when he believed that affair to be at an end, show that he valued Spain’s possessions largely because her naval resources were now quite at his disposal “for the common cause.” He ordered Dupont to march straight to Cadiz in order to secure that arsenal for France. In all the ports of France and of her vassal States, from Amsterdam to Ancona, there reigned the greatest activity, and it is clear from Napoleon’s letter of May 17 to Decrès that he wished to prepare for an expedition against India at the close of the year.

Alexander at first responded to the appeals and projects set forth in Napoleon’s letter of February 2. On reading it he exclaimed fervently to Caulaincourt, “Voilà le grand homme... c’est le langage de Tilsit”. He declared that he would gladly go to Paris, did not circumstances forbid such a step. At some place, about halfway, such as Weimar or Erfurt, he would gladly meet his ally so as to arrange the details of the new scheme. He, however, expressed a wish to have some preliminary understanding as to the partition of Turkey; and amidst the discussion of details the first raptures speedily vanished. It could not escape the notice of Alexander and Romanzoff that the gains of Russia in the south were vague and prospective; while Napoleon’s proposal to keep his hold on Prussia seemed to foreshadow the annexation of that State, and possibly the reconstruction of Poland on a larger scale by the addition of Silesian and East Prussian lands. The partition of Turkey, however, was the question on which Caulaincourt and Romanzoff entered into the most eager discussions. The Russian Minister conceded to Napoleon Albania, Thessaly, Epirus, the Morea, the Aegean Archipelago, Egypt, the chief seaports of Asia Minor—“les échelles du Levant”—and, perhaps, part of Syria. The French ambassador also agreed that Russia should have Moldavia, Wallachia, part of Bulgaria, and a considerable territory around Trebizond; but, when Romanzoff claimed Servia, Roumelia, and Constantinople, their debates became keen, almost acrimonious. Caulaincourt remarked that Servia lay beyond Russia’s natural sphere of influence, and that it ought to go to Austria, or to some German prince who might marry a Russian grand-duchess. Above all, he demurred to handing over to Russia both Constantinople and the Dardanelles, with all the districts north of them. Russia’s interests, retorted Romanzoff, demanded that she should hold both the keys of the Black Sea, and not one only. In short, he claimed all the lands east of the river Maritza. He further pointed out that the proposed joint expedition to India would be all to the advantage of Napoleon. This drew from Caulaincourt the question whether Russia was not at war with England; and he asserted that the other gains of France in the East could not be securely held unless she possessed the Dardanelles with an eastern frontier running from Rodosto to Adrianople. To this Romanzoff replied that their interests would then be brought frequently into opposition. It would be far preferable, he urged, that Austria should be a buffer-state between the new dominions of France and Russia. The views of the Tsar were now found to have widened, probably under the influence of Romanzoff. He cared little for Trebizond; but his mind was firmly set on the acquisition of Constantinople and the Dardanelles. When Caulaincourt appealed to him in favour of his first proposal respecting Constantinople—that of making it an independent free city— Alexander at once replied that the plan of sending a great army to India altered matters, and that Russia must consult her own interests before she put forth such an effort.

In these discussions, it is observable that French policy relegated Austria to a quite secondary position. Part of Bosnia and Turkish Croatia, together with some control over Servia and the north of Macedonia, would, Caulaincourt assumed, amply satisfy her. Alexander assigned to her the coast-line west of the Maritza, inclusive of Salonika, but only because he disliked having Napoleon as a neighbour. The same motive also dictated Romanzoff’s references to the continued occupation of Prussia by Napoleon’s troops. Alexander clearly felt uneasy while a large force of French troops remained near his own borders.

The first week of March, 1808, wore on amidst these discussions, which left Caulaincourt, and through him Napoleon, with the conviction that Alexander would not move his army towards the East until the French troops evacuated Prussia, and Constantinople and the Dardanelles were allotted to Russia. Such was the substance of Caulaincourt’s despatch to Napoleon of March 16. Alexander’s letter of that date to Napoleon was of the same tenour. Two projects of partition were drawn up, the one French, the other Russian. The acceptance of the Russian scheme was made the condition of the Tsar’s acceptance of Napoleon’s invitation to the interview.

If this was the tone of Russian diplomacy when Napoleon’s Spanish enterprise seemed to be prospering, it was certain to harden when, a few weeks later, difficulties began to crowd upon the Emperor in the Iberian peninsula. There, the first rumblings of popular wrath, which portended the mighty outbreak that was shortly to follow, already made themselves heard; and, while Napoleon betook himself to Bayonne to set the crown to his new policy, Alexander could look with satisfaction on the progress of his arms in Finland. The Swedish King having refused to abandon the British alliance in deference to the Russian note of February 10, Alexander’s troops promptly invaded Finland, overcame the few Swedish battalions encamped there, and early in March brought the fortress of Sveaborg to capitulate. On March 26 the Tsar issued a proclamation to the Powers, in which he spoke of Finland as a province conquered by his arms. The phrase has a twofold interest, first, because it explains the firm and decided tone which Russian policy then assumed towards Napoleon on the Eastern Question; and, secondly, because it has ever since been appealed to by the advocates of the Panslavonic programme in Finnish affairs, as justifying subsequent measures for the abrogation of the ancient rights of the Grand Duchy.

It may be well to advert briefly to this question, especially as the chances that came over the situation in Finland to some extent influenced Alexander’s relations with Napoleon. Just as the French Emperor felt the need of modifying his plans under the stress of events in Spain, so too Russian policy, being under the control of a more sensitive personality, registered the changes that took place in the campaign in Finland. There, as in Spain, the resistance did not become serious until the regular troops were beaten back or dispersed. The defence of the Swedish forces was tame in the extreme; but Alexander’s reference to Finland as a conquered province cut the pride of that patriotic people to the quick; they prepared for a national resistance, and early in the summer inflicted several checks on the invaders. In that land of forests, lakes, and swamps, the efforts of partisan bands were no less effective than in Spain; and Alexander soon perceived that the real conquest was still to be effected. Prudence, therefore, as well as his own leaning towards liberalism prescribed a more generous treatment of the Finns. He had all along wavered between the advice of his military men, headed by Arakchéieff, Minister for War, and those who favoured an approach towards western democracy. The latter party now gained his ear, and urged him to end a troublesome strife by offering to the Finns a generous measure of autonomy. There was the more reason for taking such a step, seeing that Napoleon had not sent the expedition against Sweden from the west on which the Tsar had counted. In fact, a recently published letter of Napoleon to Caulaincourt (April 26, 1808) shows that he had enjoined on Bernadotte conditions as to the crossing of the Sound by 40,000 men at one time, which he must have known to be impracticable. Possibly Alexander suspected that his ally was holding back the promised help. In any case, his attitude towards the Finnish question underwent a change. Giving up the rôle of conqueror, he adopted that of conciliator; and, on June 17, 1808, issued a declaration which promised to the Finns the enjoyment of their ancient privileges, and the convocation of the Diet of the Grand Duchy.

The sequel is well known, and can be only briefly described here. The resistance of the Finns slackened; and in November, 1808, a deputation of their chief men proceeded to St Petersburg to set forth to the Tsar the wishes of their people. In the same month a truce was concluded, whereby Sweden recognised the occupation of the province of Uleaborg by the Russians. The Russian officials who administered the Grand Duchy, Sprengtporten and Speranskii, cordially worked on behalf of the interests of the people; and on February 1, 1809, Alexander issued an order convoking the four Estates of the Grand Duchy at the town of Borgd. On the opening day, March 27, he issued an Act of Guarantee in which, after stating that the will of God had placed him in possession of the Grand Duchy, he confirmed and sanctioned its religion and “the fundamental laws of the country, as well as the rights and privileges which each Order in particular, in the said Grand Duchy, and all its inhabitants in general, both great and small, have hitherto enjoyed by virtue of the Constitutions. We promise to maintain all these advantages and laws in full vigour without alteration or change”. Thus did Finland gain its first charter of freedom under the aegis of the Tsars, who became, in a constitutional sense, Grand Dukes of Fin­land. Thus, also, did Alexander avert the troubles that had threatened at the beginning of the previous summer to weaken his position in the complex international questions then pending.

Very different at that time was the situation of Napoleon. While Alexander saw his proclamation of June 17, 1808, bring forth the fruits of confidence and goodwill, the policy of Bayonne speedily produced an immeasurable harvest of hatred and strife. The change thus brought about in Napoleon’s position is instructively mirrored in his correspondence. On April 29 he had told Alexander that the revolutionary symptoms in Spain embarrassed him somewhat, but that he would soon be ready to arrange “the great affair”, that is, the partition of Turkey, with the Tsar. On May 31 he wrote to Caulaincourt that Spanish affairs were “entirely finished”; that the Spaniards were quiet and even devoted to him; and that at any time after June 20 he would be free for the proposed interview, but it must be without any preliminary conditions attached to it. As for Spain, his views of that country down to the first days of June were, in the main, those of an admiral counting up the additions which he could make to his naval resources with a view to the great operations proposed for the following autumn and winter. On June 3, however, he heard disquieting news from Santander, Saragossa, and elsewhere, which caused him to announce to Alexander the postponement of his departure from Bayonne for a month; though he added that after that time he would be free for the interview. In a letter to Caulaincourt, dated June 15, he fixed the month of September for the interview. It was not until July 7 that he expressed to Decrès his fears that he must postpone the great naval efforts on which he had been counting. This implied the abandonment of all plans for the partition of Turkey and the conquest of Egypt and India. It is significant that the news of the capitulation of Dupont at Baylen, which reached him at Bordeaux after his return to Paris, turned his thoughts at once to the complex international situation. In a letter to his brother Joseph he writes: “L'Allemagne, la Pologne, l’ltalie, etc.—tout se lie”. Three days later he sent Caulaincourt a letter, subsequently antedated July 31, stating that, as Alexander had obliged him by recognising Joseph as King of Spain, he (Napoleon) had given orders to close matters with Prussia, that is, to evacuate her provinces. In another despatch of the same date he even informed Caulaincourt that he might withdraw his troops from the duchy of Warsaw and Danzig, and canton his army on the left bank of the Rhine. A comparison of these intentions of Napoleon (which afterwards were modified by circumstances) with his former designs on Prussia will serve to reveal the enormous influence which the Spanish rising exerted on the affairs of Europe. It is not too much to say that it saved Prussia from virtual extinction and the Turkish Empire from partition.

There was another reason why Napoleon should now seek to conciliate Alexander by every means in his power. The fate of the Spanish Bourbons had struck terror into the Habsburgs. This might have been expected. The mental equipment of Francis II was inadequate. His narrow, pedantic outlook on international affairs left him a prey to forceful adventurers, like Thugut, or subtle trimmers such as Cobenzl. Between their diverse lines of policy he had wavered for many years. But in one respect his character displayed some firmness ; he inherited the family pride of the Habsburgs and their veneration for ancient dynasties. These fundamental feelings were cut to the quick by Napoleon’s treatment of the Houses of Braganza and Bourbon. On all sides Francis saw with bewilderment the old landmarks vanishing—Etruria absorbed in the French Empire (January, 180S), and the Papal Legations annexed to the kingdom of Italy (April, 1808). Nor were his fears laid to rest by the invitations that came from Paris to share in the approaching partition of the Turkish Empire. While Napoleon’s legions held Silesia, the duchy of Warsaw, and Dalmatia, Austria could expect but scant consideration either at his hands or at those of the Tsar, whom she had neglected to help in the spring of 1807. Having broken with England, the Habsburgs saw themselves utterly isolated. One source of hope alone remained—to trust the loyalty and devotion of their still numerous subjects, thoroughly to reform the administration, and to arm against all contingencies.

This was the advice of Stadion, the bold and enlightened minister who then held the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. The result was the decree of June 9, 1808, ordering the incorporation in a national Landwehr of all able-bodied men from eighteen to twenty-five years of age who were not serving in the regular array. The decree aroused an amount of enthusiasm almost unparalleled in the history of the Habsburg States. In truth the people were weary of surrenders to Napoleon, and chafed under the burdens imposed by the Continental System. They therefore gladly answered the summons; and their zest for military service was heightened by the news of the French disaster at Baylen.

Napoleon was at first perplexed by Austria’s action. With his usual proneness to exaggerate the importance of material gains, he failed to see why the plan of a joint partition of Turkey should not bring the Habsburg Power wholly to his side. Thereafter he decided quite correctly that its armaments were due solely to fear. Yet he did nothing to allay Austrian alarms. On August 15, at the first recep­tion of the diplomatic circle held after his return from Bayonne, he reproached Metternich with Austria’s armaments, asserting that they must be set on foot either to attack or to intimidate France; that he (Napoleon) would retort by arming the Confederation of the Rhine and beginning a war which would be war to the death. The present conduct of Austria would induce the Emperor of Russia to declare that those armaments must cease; and, he added, if Russia became the arbiter in this matter, “I will no longer admit you to the future settlement of many questions in which you are interested”. This reference to the Eastern Question, uttered in presence of the Turkish ambassador, alarmed everyone and reacted unfavourably on the Bourse. The bad impression thus caused was not removed even by a friendly explanation which he privately accorded to Metternich ten days later. The tirade of August 15 was remembered as a notorious instance of Napoleon’s ineradicable bias in favour of physical compulsion. This mental characteristic of his was well described by Tolstoi, Russian ambas­sador at Paris, in his despatch of August 7 to his master. “It is only conduct that is simple and open but firm and resolute, and that rests on adequate military force, which has any effect on this sovereign. Every concession begets in him the desire for further concessions”. The Court of Vienna had discerned the same truth. Indeed, under the pressure of Napoleon’s supremacy, the statesmen of St Petersburg now saw the need of safeguarding the interests of the only State that stood between them and the conqueror of the West. The policy of balance maintained by Alexander with so much skill at Erfurt was but the expression of a truth the importance of which had already been recognised by every intelligent diplomatist on the Continent. The utmost length to which the Tsar would go in the way of coercing Austria was a suggestion which he made in a despatch of September 5 to Kurakin, his ambassador at that Court, as to the advisability of her remaining a passive spectator of the war in Spain; otherwise Napoleon might decide to fall upon the Habsburgs before entering on the Peninsular War. “There will always be time”, he added, “to adopt afterwards the course that circumstances will then suggest. By following this line of conduct, Austria would save me the painful necessity of taking sides against her, for I am bound to that course only when she shall attack.” It would be difficult to judge from this language whether Alexander was an ally of Napoleon or of Francis II.

In vain, also, did Caulaincourt press on the Tsar the need of speaking firmly to Austria about her armaments, if he wished to see Napoleon evacuate Prussia. That wish lay near to Alexander’s heart; but he came to believe that the evacuation would take place owing to the urgent needs of the Spanish campaign. While, therefore, he warmly approved Napoleon’s offer to free large parts of Prussia from the crushing burdens of the military occupation, he now did little to press for its fulfilment. He preferred to Wait upon the logic of events. This passivity seemed about to be justified. As has been stated, the news of the French surrender at Baylen induced Napoleon to offer to arrange matters with Frederick William. Accordingly, negotiations began with a view to the evacuation of part at least of Prussian territory. They failed owing to an untimely incident, the capture of a letter written by Stein on August 15, in which that statesman imprudently referred to a war between France and Austria as inevitable, and cited the events in Spain as proofs of what a courageous nation could do. The influence of this letter on the fortunes of Stein and of the German national movement will be referred to later in this chapter. Here we must notice that its effect on the negotiations between Napoleon and Prussia was equally disastrous. It enabled the conqueror to tighten his grip on Prussia and to raise his pecuniary demands. In the month of March, 1808, as has been stated above, he fixed 112,000,000 francs as the price of evacuation; now, after his army had lived on the country six more months, he raised the sum to 154,000,000 francs. After vigorous protests from Prince William of Prussia this was reduced to 140,000,000 francs by a convention signed at Paris on September 8, which stipulated that Glogau, Küstrin, and Stettin should be handed over to the Prussian troops on the discharge of that sum. The convention, besides limiting the Prussian army to 42,000 men, imposed other humiliating conditions, the result being that the King sent Prince William to the conferences at Erfurt in the hope of securing some alleviation of the trials of Prussia. The hope was a vain one. Napoleon’s irritation at the close of his interviews with the Tsar led to further tergiversations. The three fortresses were not evacuated, and more exactions and insults were heaped upon Prussia.

In the month of September, 1808, the arrangements for the inter­view at Erfurt neared completion. So far back as the third week of May, Alexander had announced to Caulaincourt that he accepted Napoleon’s invitation without insisting on any preliminary understanding on the Eastern Question. Events proved that this concession on his part was premature, but at that time the campaign in Finland was beginning to take a sinister turn; and the shadow of the Spanish troubles had not as yet dimmed the lustre of Napoleon’s glory. To the Erfurt interview, then, both monarchs came untrammelled by conditions, a fact which greatly favoured Napoleon’s diplomacy; but, while the French Emperor had gained in regard to diplomatic procedure, he had lost in the sphere of practical politics. The Spanish difficulty clogged his efforts at every turn, and still more so when, after the middle of September, the news of the Convention of Cintra filtered through to the chanceries of central Europe. After this second blow he could no longer dictate his terms as to Constantinople, the Dardanelles, Prussia, and Austria; he came almost as a suppliant for the good services of the Tsar. Not that he adopted the rôle of a suppliant. Such a part consorted ill with his temperament, and still worse with his diplomatic methods; but the word expresses his position amidst the complex play of world-forces. He no longer controlled them; he seemed on the point of being whirled into their vortex. Affairs in Spain called for his undivided attention; yet Austria’s armaments held fast no small part of his available forces in central Europe; and no one but the Tsar could end this exasperating situation. The rôle of arbiter which Napoleon had so triumphantly played at Tilsit passed to Alexander at Erfurt; and both men knew it.

Everything turned, then, on the ability of Napoleon to fascinate his rival by the display of that personal and political witchery which had been so effective on the banks of the Niemen. External circumstances promised to favour him. The old Thuringian city itself appealed to the historic imagination of the Tsar. The sight of the crowds of vassal Princes and nobles of Germany side by side with the diplomatists of Europe compelled admiration for the genius and power of the modern Charlemagne. Erfurt had passed into his hands after the battle of Jena; the choicest of the French regiments now formed the garrison under the command of Oudinot. Architects had been called in to beautify the chief buildings of the city in accordance with the pseudo-classical fashion of the time; and the handsomest if not the ablest artistes of the Théâtre Français came in the conqueror’s train in order to represent appropriate dramas before the two Emperors and a parterre of Kings. The arrival of the chief potentates on September 27 was the signal for a series of receptions and spectacles of unequalled brilliance. The charms of intellectual converse were not wanting. In a brief visit to Weimar, in the middle of the conferences, the two Emperors saw Goethe and Wieland. Napoleon discussed literary topics with the former, and urged him to fix his abode at Paris, where he would find an adequate sphere for his powers. With Wieland the Emperor engaged in brilliant sallies, depreciating the genius of Tacitus and decrying his judgments on the Roman Emperors.

All this was but the scenic setting designed to dazzle Alexander, and to beget in him that acquiescent mood so needful for the success of Napoleon’s designs. The task proved to be unexpectedly difficult. The splendour of the reception could not blind Alexander to the fact that the divergence of French and Russian policy was all but irreconcilable. The Tsar came to Erfurt with the hope that the embarrassments of France would enable him to press on a solution of the Eastern Question entirely favourable to Russia. Napoleon, on the other hand, had recurred to his previous resolve to postpone that question until Spain and Sicily became naval bases that would assure to him the complete command of the Mediterranean. Their views were no less sharply opposed with regard to the armaments of Austria and the continued occupation of the fortresses of the Oder by Napoleon’s troops. Diplomatic skirmishing on these questions preluded serious and prolonged struggles, all of which served to convince Napoleon that the Tsar was no longer in that frame of mind which had rendered him so open to fascination at Tilsit. In vain did he now seek to bend him in compliance with his aims. Alexander replied but briefly to the disquisitions of his host, and maintained his position with a quiet obstinacy against which arguments, seductive offers, flights of imaginative statecraft, and threats were equally futile.

Their discussions respecting the Eastern Question are not fully known. It is clear, however, that Alexander agreed, or seemed to agree, to a postponement of the scheme in its larger issues. Napoleon had placed his finger on the central point of the whole problem in the concluding words of his letter of May 31 to Caulaincourt: “The fundamental part of the great question is always this—Who shall have Constantinople?” That question remained unsolved by the interviews at Erfurt. The arguments of Romanzoff, who was most eager to show his countrymen some tangible gain from the French alliance, barely availed to secure

Napoleon’s reluctant consent to the acquisition of Moldavia and Wallachia by Russia; and even this was to be deferred, lest, in the present uncertain situation at Constantinople, the Sultan should decide to throw himself into the arms of England. If the Sultan made war on Russia, France was not to take part in it. France and Russia also agreed to maintain the remaining possessions of the Sultan. If Austria attacked France, Russia was to make common cause with the latter. Finland was definitely assigned to Russia. Clauses to this effect were included in the convention signed at Erfurt on October 12, whereby the Emperors renewed the alliance concerted at Tilsit.

Disappointed in his hopes of acquiring Constantinople and the Dardanelles, Alexander felt the less inclination to support Napoleon in any proposal to coerce or humiliate Austria. Thanks to the Spanish rising, and to Metternich’s astute diplomacy at Paris, which had the tacit support of Tolstoi, Talleyrand, and Fouché, the Erfurt interview had no terrors for the Habsburgs. Talleyrand strongly advised that the Emperor Francis should present himself at Erfurt to defend in person the interests of his realm. Fearing, perhaps, to compromise his dignity at the congress, that monarch despatched a special envoy, Baron Vincent, as bearer of a conciliatory letter to Napoleon. The French Emperor received it coldly (September 28). His distrust of Austria redoubled after reading a despatch of Andreossy, French ambassador at Vienna, describing the conduct of that Court in the most hostile terms. “I understand now,” exclaimed Napoleon, “why the Emperor did not come; it is difficult for a sovereign to lie to my face; he has devolved that task on M. de Vincent.” A joint Franco-Russian note to Austria seemed now to be imperatively needed. But on that day Talleyrand (whose presence at Erfurt must be pronounced a strange blunder on Napoleon’s part) had seen the Tsar and pointed out the need of supporting the European system, of which Austria was the pivot. The advice entirely coincided with that of Tolstoi and, indeed, with Alexander’s inmost convictions. In vain, then, did Napoleon point out to the Tsar in successive interviews that the disarmament of Austria could alone guarantee central Europe against war and quench the hopes of cementing a future coalition that still were cherished at London. Alexander saw the need of supporting the buffer-state, and firmly declined to participate in any summons for its disarmament. Repulsed on this side, Napoleon refused to listen to Alexander’s pleadings on behalf of Prussia. How could France evacuate the valley of the Oder, he exclaimed, if Austria were to be free to continue her preparations? If Alexander insisted on the evacuation, he (Napoleon) would at once fight out his quarrel with Austria before sending more of his troops into Spain. This threat sufficed to bring about compromise. Napoleon promised to evacuate the fortresses of the Oder, while Alexander definitely undertook to help France if Austria should throw down the gauntlet.

The final proceeding at Erfurt was the despatch by the two Emperors of a letter, dated October 12, to George III, in which they begged him to accord peace to the world and “to guarantee all the Powers then existing”; they also warned him that in the contrary case still greater changes would take place, all of them opposed to the interests of Great Britain. An accompanying despatch contained the offer to treat on the basis of uti possidetis, and of reciprocity and equality. These vague expressions must be interpreted in the light of the then secret Franco-Russian convention of October 12, which, as noted before, stipulated that Finland, Moldavia, and Wallachia should count as already belonging to Russia. Though unaware of the exact meaning of the phrase cited above, Canning replied on October 28 that Great Britain had always striven for a general peace on equitable terms, but that no such terms had yet been offered; that his Britannic Majesty was now united by treaty with the Crown of Portugal and with his Sicilian Majesty; that with the Spanish nation he had engagements which were no less sacred than those resulting from the most solemn treaties; and that these engagements must be respected in any ensuing negotiations. On November 28 Romanzoff replied that Russia would recognise the envoys of the Kings, but could not admit those of the Spanish insurgents. On the same day Champagny refused to admit the Spanish insurgents to the negotiations, or the envoys of “the King who reigns in Brazil, the King who reigns in Sicily, or the King who reigns in Sweden”. This brought a reply from Canning to Champagny, dated December 9, stating that the refusal to admit the Government acting on behalf of Ferdinand VII of Spain must be regarded as ending the negotiations for peace.

The chief practical results, then, of the Erfurt interview were the continuance of the Franco-Russian alliance, though on somewhat strained terms; Napoleon’s reluctant concession of the Danubian Principalities to Russia; the prolongation of the time of immunity for Austria; and the assurance of Russia’s triumph over Sweden.

It will be well briefly to review here the course of Swedish affairs from the beginning of the war of the Third Coalition down to the deposition of Gustavus IV and the choice of Marshal Bernadotte as Prince Royal. No monarch had striven so zealously and persistently against the French Republic and Empire as Gustavus IV. Hereditary instincts and the events of his early life conspired to make him a champion of legitimacy. During the period following the Peace of Amiens he spent many months in Germany, seeking, in concert with other sovereigns and with Drake at Munich, to form a new league against France. After the execution of the Duc d’Enghien, the young monarch felt for the author of that crime a hatred as intense as that which his father had nursed against the Revolution. His advisers saw with concern the growth of the same characteristics that had brought Gustavus III to his doom—a quixotic generosity unbalanced by prudence or kingly regard for the vital interests of his own people, undue haste in arriving at decisions and extreme obstinacy in adhering to them, prone­ness to contradict or thwart his advisers, and slowness in healing the wounds that his vanity or needlessness inflicted. At a critical time in the formation of the Third Coalition he impeded the negotiations by demanding an exorbitant subsidy from Great Britain in return for a small contingent, and by sending back to Berlin the decoration of the Order of the Black Eagle, because Frederick William had conferred it on Napoleon. With such a sovereign accord was difficult and friction inevitable.

The ignominious end of his Pomeranian expedition in 1807 caused great discontent among his people. Nevertheless, the attack made by Russia on Finland in the following spring kindled anew their martial ardour. They gladly responded to the appeals of their monarch and furnished considerable forces. Had Gustavus put himself at their head and won credit, if not victory, in the field, the loss of the Grand Duchy would have been less keenly felt; but he remained at Stockholm and drew up an ineffective plan of campaign, which left the Swedes in small bodies to be crushed in detail. Little use was made of the patriotic ardour of the Finns; and, by the close of the year, the Swedes had virtually lost their hold on the country. In making preparation to withstand the Danish and Franco-Spanish forces that then threatened his western and southern borders, Gustavus revealed his incompetence as a commander and his captiousness as a man. On the arrival of General Moore at Goteborg with a British force of 10,000 men, the King insisted on the adoption of offensive measures which were quite incompatible with the orders of the British Government. When Moore represented this in the course of interviews at Stockholm, the King heaped reproaches on him, and for a time placed him under arrest (May—June). Moore, however, managed to escape and sailed away with his whole force. Nevertheless the sequel showed that Sweden had little to fear on this side. Bernadotte had a force of French, Spaniards, and Dutch, about 35,000 strong, in Jutland and the Danish islands; but Napoleon, as has been stated above, had no longer any interest in pressing Sweden hard, and sent orders which practically tied his Marshal’s hand. Romana’s corps of 14,000 Spaniards also became increasingly restive as the news from Spain began to filter through; and their wish to escape from the grip of the conqueror became a fixed resolve when the British authorities succeeded in sending a priest in disguise to inform them of the successful rising of their countrymen. They determined to flee as soon as ships could be sent by the British admiral, Keats. Meeting the guile of Bayonne by guile of his own, Romana duped Bernadotte and finally succeeded in escaping from the archipelago with some 9000 men on British ships; the rest of the Spaniards were disarmed by Bernadotte or by the Danes (August).

Nevertheless, Gustavus failed to stem the tide of Russian conquest on the east. During the winter of 1807-8 the Muscovites made good their hold on Finland, and finally by a daring march over the ice succeeded in seizing the Aland Isles. The Swedes were now at the end of their resources. A malignant fever had raged among the crews of their fleet during an expedition to the Livonian coast; and few ships or men remained for the defence of Stockholm. The deep-seated discontent of the nobles had now spread to the army and the trading classes; and, when Gustavus persisted in warlike efforts that transcended his abilities, the movement that aimed at his dethronement assumed national proportions. At length General Adlersparre, commander of the Swedish army of the west, marched to Stockholm and compelled the King to abdicate (March 29, 1809). On May 10 the Estates of Sweden confirmed this action, and called to the throne the Duke of Sudermania, "with the title of Charles XIII. A change soon took place in the constitution, the Estates regaining the control which they had lost in 1789, and declaring their right to meet every five years, even if the monarch did not summon them. Charles XIII being advanced in years and having no son, the Estates recognised, as his heir and successor, Prince Christian Augustus of Augustenburg, a connexion of the Danish House. These events facilitated the signature of peace. On September 17 Charles XIII came to terms with Russia in the Treaty of Frederikshamn, whereby he ceded Finland to that Power. In December, 1809, the Treaty of Jonkoping closed the war with Denmark; and on January 6, 1810, the Swedish envoy signed at Paris a treaty with France, recognising the adoption of the Continental System by his Government, and the exclusion of British ships and merchandise, with a reservation in favour of the unrestricted importation of salt. In return Napoleon restored to Sweden her province of Pomerania and the island of Rügen.

A fatal accident to Prince Christian during a fit of apoplexy (May 28) once more raised the question of the succession to the throne, and that in a threatening manner. Count Fersen, who was unjustly suspected of complicity in the accident, met his death at the hands of the populace in Stockholm. In these untoward circumstances, the Swedish Diet looked round for a man of firm yet conciliatory character who would guarantee Sweden against troubles within and war from without. Charles XIII, in his perplexity, wrote to Napoleon, who urged the claims of the King of Denmark to the Swedish crown. That monarch was, however, known to be unpopular in Sweden; and nothing came of the suggestion. Charles XIII wished for the nomination of the younger brother of the deceased Prince Royal; but he declined the honour. In truth, the majority of the nobles and of the people wished for a man of wider influence and greater governing powers. Who could reconcile the claims of peace, order, and national prestige so well as one of Napoleon’s marshals? It so happened that, in the transactions which Swedish envoys had had with the French forces in Denmark and Holstein during the late war and the overtures for an armistice at its close, they had been greatly impressed by the personality of Bernadotte. His tall frame and martial bearing, the combination of vigour and courtesy in his speech and demeanour, and the fairness that had marked his dealings with the people of Hamburg and Holstein, alike served to inspire respect and esteem. His reputation spread across the Sound; and a few influential men called for him in preference to one of the less known of Napoleon’s paladins. Finally Charles XIII and the Diet convoked at Orebro decided to recognise Bernadotte, Prince of Ponte Corvo, as heir to the Swedish throne (August 18, 1810).

Bernadotte signified his willingness to accept the honour if Napoleon accorded his permission. The request surprised the Emperor and placed him in a difficult position. Bernadotte was related to Joseph Bonaparte by marriage, having wedded his sister-in-law; but Napoleon always manifested a dislike for the tall Gascon. In 1803 he had sought to remove him to the United States as ambassador; after the battles of Austerlitz and Jena he unjustly accused him of slackness in the handling of his corps; and now he was on the point of sending him away to Rome as governor of that city, when the unexpected request came from Stockholm. To the Princess of Ponte Corvo he wrote on September 6 in cordial terms; but four days later he sent to the Prince a curt note (which has been greatly altered in the official Correspondance) signifying that letters-patent were being drawn up to enable him to become a Swede, with a restriction superadded binding him never to bear arms against France. As in duty bound, the Prince Royal declined to fetter his future action or that of his prospective subjects, and resigned his claims on the principality of Ponte Corvo, receiving 12,000 francs income in lieu of it. In this grudging fashion did Napoleon recognise the installation of a new royal family in Sweden.

The ignominious collapse of the old royal House of Sweden afforded one more proof of the weakness of the traditional monarchies of Europe. In nearly every case their rulers showed signs of mental instability or even of actual aberration, a sure proof of the exhaustion of the stock or at least of its incapacity to withstand the strain of the new environment. Only in one State did the monarch take to heart the teachings of adversity, and allow his ablest advisers to mould the national polity in accordance with the manifest needs of the age. That State was the one which underwent the completest overthrow, but in the depths of its humiliation found the means of winning its way back to more than all its former glory. In truth, the regeneration of Prussia was due, not so much to the monarch whose mistaken policy brought her to that dire pass, but to certain of the leading men of Germany, whose instincts prompted them to offer their mental and administrative gifts on behalf of the one polity that could be called a national German State.

Never was there a sharper contrast between the actual and the potential in any commonwealth than in the Prussia of 1808-10. The efforts of the Tsar at Erfurt had failed to secure the removal of the French garrisons from the three chief fortresses of the Oder; the utmost that he could wring from his ally was a slight reduction in the French indemnity. As a set-off to this, heavier terms were imposed for the provisioning of the French garrisons in these fortresses; and certain claims, urged by the duchy of Warsaw in regard to frontier questions and the confiscation of the property of Prussians in that duchy, were driven home by the French authorities and the King of Saxony with a perfidy and brutality almost past belief. The total of the contributions exacted by the French from Prussia itself has been reckoned at 601,227,000 francs; Duncker estimates it at not less than a milliard. The bonds of the Continental System were drawn tighter every year, to the practical extinction of Prussia’s maritime trade.

But, while Napoleon and his satraps were ruthlessly endeavouring to complete the ruin of Prussia, the mind of Germany earnestly bent itself to the work of endowing her with fresh vitality. Foremost among those who pointed the way to new sources of hope and strength was the philosopher Fichte. As the seer of the new national movement, Fichte deserves as much attention as is usually bestowed on agents of destruction. Born in a village of Upper Lusatia, in 1762, he received University training at Jena; thereafter he lived for some time at Zurich; but he found the chief inspiration of his life, as was the case with so many other thinkers, in Kant’s philosophy and in the stern ideal of duty which it set forth. He became professor of philosophy at Jena, but vacating his chair in 1799, owing to a charge of heterodoxy, he settled at Berlin. After a time of absence from that capital, mainly due to the political troubles of the subsequent years, he returned thither and expounded to the citizens of the ruined State the ideal of civic duty which he owed ultimately to the teaching of Kant. Rejecting the unpractical cosmopolitanism of his earlier years, he now pleaded for a revival of patriotism of an intelligent but enthusiastic type.

Fichte began his course of lectures, entitled Reden an die deutsche Nation, at the close of the year 1807, when the French troops garrisoned the capital. In the earlier Addresses he pleaded for an enlightened system of education, which, lifting its pupils above the selfish pursuit of petty interests, should inspire them with a noble zeal for the common welfare. Selfishness and particularism, he claimed, had ruined Germany; only the adoption of a national system of education could cure these deep-seated evils and inspire the people, irrespective of class and creed, with a love for the whole German race. In the Ninth Address he pointed to Pestalozzi’s methods as affording practical means of instituting a fresh and vitalising education, and expressed the hope that the State would apply it to the training of the young of all classes. Next, referring to the idea of the nation, he claimed that it must take precedence over that of the State; it must lead the patriot to devote himself and all his powers and belongings to the public weal, and to offer up his life, if necessary, so that the nation, the one enduring entity here below, may live on. In other Addresses he pointed out what Germans had achieved in time past under the stimulus of patriotism, and besought the people to prepare to show themselves worthy of their sires.

The language of the Addresses was too academic to produce any wide impression at the time. Even so, considering Napoleon’s dread of the principle of German nationality, it is strange that he did not accord to Fichte the doom meted out to Palm for a much slighter offence. However we may explain this riddle, certain it is that the appeal struck home, when, shortly after the delivery of the Addresses, the Spaniards showed what a people in arms could effect. The events at Saragossa and Baylen seemed to bring Fichte’s plea within the range of practicality; while, on the other hand, its connexion with religion, ethics, and history gave an intellectual basis to the national movement in Germany which was utterly wanting in that of Spain. The contrast between the sudden instinctive outburst of passion and outraged pride in the Iberian peninsula and the methodical and intellectual preparation now adopted by the German patriots goes far to explain, on the one hand, the barrenness of the Spanish movement, and, on the other, the harvest of mental and civic results with which modem Germany has enriched the life of central Europe.

In one direction Fichte’s appeals had a speedy and noteworthy effect. The leading men of Prussia had been impressed by the mental apathy which followed the collapse at Jena-Auerstädt. When fortresses surrendered to small bodies of cavalry, something was clearly wrong with the moral of the people; and, in the days of despair that followed, every thinking man saw the need of building up the nation’s life from the very foundations. As a system of national education promised to quicken the torpid circulation of Prussia, men were appointed to study the question. Some of them visited Pestalozzi’s school at Yverdun, and brought back a report favourable in the main. Zeller, an enthusiastic disciple of the Swiss reformer, started a Normal School in Konigsberg on Pestalozzian lines, which ultimately gained the approval of the King. German method subsequently improved on the somewhat fantastic ideas and crude procedure of the seer, so that eventually his system became fruitful of good in primary education. Equally important and more immediately effective was the reform of the gymnasia or higher schools. The teaching hitherto had been for the most part lax, one-sided, and unpractical. But when, early in 1809, Wilhelm von Humboldt was appointed to the Ministry of Public Instruction, the whole system speedily felt the influence of his learning, enthusiasm, and organising power. Not that the subjects of education were greatly altered; in the gymnasia of Prussia, as in the lycées of Napoleon, the classics still held the first place. The influence of Wolf and Niebuhr forbade the extensive intrusion of “modern and practical subjects”; but the change in spirit and in thoroughness of work was profound.

Most important of all, perhaps, was the establishment of the Universities of Berlin and Breslau. This new development, which for the first time brought culture into close touch with public life, resulted from the political changes of the year 1807. Until that time, Prussia possessed three Universities, Königsberg, Frankfort on the Oder, and Halle, besides two smaller ones; but the terms of the Treaty of Tilsit robbed her of Halle. Two of the Halle professors went at once to Memel and begged the King to establish a Hochschule in Berlin. An order of the Cabinet appeared in September, 1807, declaring the need of founding an institu­tion which should take the place formerly held by Halle. Konigsberg was too remote, and Frankfort on the Oder too poor, to provide the means of culture for the central parts of the monarchy. Circumstances therefore pointed to Berlin; but action was delayed, at first, because Stein was reluctant to expose a large number of students to the moral temptations of the capital, and subsequently because Humboldt feared the benumbing influence of the governing circles and the military caste at Berlin. As the work of national regeneration proceeded, the advantages of Berlin were seen to outweigh these objections, Humboldt himself finally declaring that the contact between learned men and the official and military classes must prove “intellectually refreshing, thought­awakening, and naturally elevating” to the latter. Humboldt’s report, conceived in this spirit, was published in May, 1809; and three months later appeared an Order of Cabinet assigning to the proposed University the palace of Prince Henry of Prussia at Berlin and a state subvention of 150,000 thalers (£27,500) per annum. Fichte expressed the general feeling in his statement that this action was “the highest example of a practical respect for science and thought ever afforded by a State; for it was given during a time of the direst oppression, and under the greatest financial difficulties. It was not an occasion of display or elegance that was sought for, but an instrument for giving new health and vigour to the nation”. Steffens, professor of physics at Breslau, also wrote that such liberality would never have been shown in the old days, had any request been made to remedy the miserable condition of the University of Halle. Despite the poverty of the young institution, illustrious men gave their services from the outset—Fichte for philosophy, Schmalz (first Rector) and Savigny for jurisprudence, Schleiermacher for theology, Wolf and Buttmann for classics and antiquity, Niebuhr for history, and many others. In the opening year 1810-11 as many as 458 students matriculated; and a proof of the patriotic spirit kindled and sustained by the new seat of learning was to be seen in the ardour with which professors and students rushed to arms in 1813.

The University of Breslau took its present form in the year 1811, when the old University of Frankfort on the Oder was incorporated with the Roman Catholic College established by the Emperor Leopold I at Breslau in 1702. The new institution attracted less attention and fewer students than that of Berlin; but it served to further the work of permeating the mass of the people with the higher ideals of culture and civic duty which Fichte set forth in his inspiring phrase, “The blossom­ing of the eternal and the divine in the world”. On all sides the conviction spread that, if Prussia was to rise from her prostration, it must be accomplished (in the words of Steffens) “not by physical but by moral force.” A conviction of this truth appealed to the ideal element then so powerful in the thought of Germany, and drew able men from the west to aid in the regeneration of the one national State left amidst the ruins of the old political system. It is noteworthy that among the men who helped to raise Prussia from her ruins very few were born in that realm. Stein was a Rhinelander, educated in Hanover; Hardenberg and Scharnhorst were Hanoverians; Niebuhr was partly of Danish, partly of Hanoverian descent; Blucher came from Mecklenburg; Arndt from Rügen; Gneisenau and Fichte were Saxons; but the new national instinct of Germany bound the feelings of all of them indissolubly to Prussia in the time of her overthrow.

The same instinct, itself an outcome of German idealism, also led to the formation at Konigsberg of the Moral and Scientific Union, popularly known as the Tugendbund (June, 1808). Among its founders were Professors Krug, Bardeleben, and Barsch. The King, during his long residence at Konigsberg, came to have more sympathy with the cultured classes, among whom the influence of Kant was still powerful for good; and probably this explains the carefully guarded approval which he bestowed on this society for “the revival of morality, religion, serious taste, and public spirit,” so long as it did not interfere in the domain of politics and administration. Most public men, however, Stein included, refused to enrol themselves in its ranks, regarding its aims as unpractical and visionary. Apart from its praiseworthy efforts in the direction of moral revival, the Tugendbund probably had far less direct influence on the course of events than has generally been claimed for it; it was declared illegal in 1809, but continued to work through secret agencies. Stein compared the anti-Gallic fury of its members to “the rage of dreaming sheep”. It is, however, one of the weaknesses of practical statesmen that they are apt to undervalue influences which cannot be weighed in political scales; and it is improbable that that great class of quiet people, who before 1808 knew and cared nothing about public affairs, would have dared and achieved the mighty tasks of the year 1813, had they been merely passive material moulded by the efforts of legislators and organisers. Only by the infusion of moral enthusiasm into a new and skilfully devised polity could Prussia have acquired the strength and the tenacity of purpose displayed in the War of Liberation.

The first place among the men to whom Prussia owes the revival of her powers must be accorded to Heinrich Friedrich Karl, Freiherr vom und zum Stein (1757-1831). The scion of an old family of Imperial Knights in the valley of the Lahn, he early showed signs of a strong practical capacity far in excess of the average of his class. At the University of Gottingen he learnt to appreciate the merits of British institutions; and probably it was the study of them, as well as the sternly positive bent of his nature, that intensified his distaste for the pedantries of the Imperial Courts, amidst which his lot was subsequently cast. In 1780 the fame of Frederick the Great induced him to enter the Prussian service; and for some year’s he served in the administration of mines and manufactures in the King’s Westphalian lands. A diplomatic mission to Mainz in 1785 and travels in England in 1786-7 extended his knowledge of men and affairs; but it was not until the year 1804 that he held office at Berlin as Minister of State for Trade. In this position he firmly withstood the degrading foreign policy of Haugwitz, but found all struggles against it thwarted by the Cabinet. After the disaster at Jena, when Haugwitz was suffering from a sharp attack of gout, the King offered to Stein the portfolio of Foreign Affairs; but Stein declined on the ground of his incompetence for the position and his desire to see a change of system. In reality he wished to see the appointment of Hardenberg, the most outspoken opponent of France, and the complete abolition of the irresponsible Cabinet. In vain did the King propose a compromise on the latter point and persist in his exclusion of Hardenberg. Stein was equally obstinate and somewhat overstepped the bounds of etiquette in his letters to the King. Finally Frederick William, shortly before the hurried retreat of the royal family from Konigsberg to Memel, dismissed him, adding that he was “a refractory, insolent, obstinate, and disobedient official, who, proud of his genius and talents, far from regarding the good of the State, guided partly by caprice, acts from passion and from personal hatred and rancour” (January 3, 1807). For a time Stein passed into retirement. In the month of April, 1807, Frederick William was constrained to entrust to Hardenberg the ministry of Foreign Affairs, with powers which foreshadowed those of a chief of a responsible Cabinet. When the negotiations at Tilsit began, Napoleon refused to negotiate through Hardenberg, on the ground that he was a Hanoverian and very English in sympathy; he also named Stein among the three men whom he would gladly see in the Prussian Ministry. Some time elapsed before Frederick William brought himself to offer to Stein the ministry of Home Affairs; but, thanks to friendly mediation, the baron resumed office with extensive powers on October 4, 1807.

The foregoing summary will have shown the masterful nature of the man who now held in his hands the internal affairs of Prussia, and the seeming fatality of the events which placed him in power. Frederick William, after nine months of direst calamity, resulting from his own wavering policy, could not but give a wide liberty to the one able man whom Napoleon allowed him to choose as Minister; and the logic of events pointed with irresistible force to a complete reversal of the old system. The King recognised the fact by entrusting to Stein the control of all the civil affairs of the State, and the right of sharing in the deliberations of the Military Commission (October 4, 1807). Hardenberg had wielded considerable powers over all departments of the public service; but it was Stein’s dictatorship in civil affairs that put an end to the disastrous dual system, under which power was divided, in varying and indefinite proportions, between the King’s Ministers and the Cabinet, consisting of the King’s private advisers. In place of the latter body, there was now to be a Cabinetsministerium, consisting of the chief Ministers, who wielded full powers both as regards collective advice offered to the King and the administration of their several departments. This administrative reform was completed by the Edict of November 24, 1808, which established, first, a Council of State, including the royal Princes, all the Ministers, and certain Privy Councillors; and secondly a smaller Cabinet of Ministers alone. The more important affairs were to come before the Council of State. The ministerial departments also underwent a remodelling which removed the division of powers and crossing of functions that often paralysed the old governing machine.

Still more important in its bearing on the life of the nation was the Edict of Emancipation, issued at Memel on October 9, 1807, which abolished serfdom, with its tangle of personal obligations, throughout the Prussian monarchy. These great changes were to take effect on October 8, 1810. The serfs on the royal domains were also freed by a decree of October 28, 1807. But this was not all. A conviction had long been growing that the wealth of the country would never develop until the medieval restrictions on the holding of land were abolished or profoundly modified. As the minister Schon phrased it, “he who has an estate has 110 capital, and he who has capital is not allowed to have an estate.” In other words, the old families were as a rule too poor to cultivate the soil properly, and were not allowed by law to sell “noble” land  to the burgher class. Similar limitations attended the holding of peasants’ land. The transfer of land from members of one class to those of another could only be legalised by the express permission of the King. Stein now decided to enforce the principle of free trade in land, abolishing the restrictions derived from old feudal customs, and imposing only such safeguards as would prevent the serious diminution of peasant holdings. But the Edict of Emancipation went even further than this. It swept away the laws and ordinances which prevented the noble from taking up occupations previously confined to the burgher class; as also those which marked off the callings of the latter class from those of the peasantry. In short, it swept away the caste system in regard to occupations, and facilitated the rise of a peasant to the citizen class and even to that of the nobles.

The framing of this edict was not, to any appreciable extent, due to Stein. The “Immediate Commission” recently appointed by the King had reported on the topics named above in a sense practically identical with the terms of the Edict of Emancipation, even before the accession of Stein to office. It is to the King, who had long been desirous of abolishing serfdom, and to enlightened advisers like Schon, rather than to Stein, that the chief credit for originating the reform belongs; Stein, however, bore the official responsibility for the promulgation and carrying out of the edict, which aroused sharp opposition from the feudal nobles. After Stein’s withdrawal from Prussia, Hardenberg carried through this measure and others abolishing certain monopolies in trades, to their logical conclusion, by the drastic decree of September 14, 1811. Farmers and peasants on feudal lands now gained complete possession of their farms or holdings, on condition that the lord received one-third of the land in lieu of his former agrarian rights and claims for personal service. This decree again met with strenuous opposition from the privileged classes; but, in spite of their protests in the Chambers of Notables, which Hardenberg successively convoked, he carried it through by royal authority. Thus the change from feudal tenure to freehold, which in France formed the chief practical outcome of the Revolution, was in Prussia distinctly due to the King’s will and prerogative. The Cabinet rescript (first made public in 1875) which Frederick William sent to Hardenberg on September 6, 1811, leaves no doubt that the impulse towards this thorough agrarian reform came in a large measure from the King himself. That he and his Minister succeeded in carrying it through, in spite of the bitter protests of a large part of the nobility, was also indirectly due to Napoleon, who at the very same time was known to be planning the utter ruin of Prussia. Here, therefore, as in the reforms of Stein and Scharnhorst, we may discern one of the epoch-making results of the Napoleonic supremacy. Legislation, which would have been utterly impossible before Jena, was imperatively called for, if the crippled State was to gain strength enough to cope with revolutionary and Napoleonic France. Frederick William deserves greater credit than has usually been bestowed for discerning this important truth. Limited as were his views on foreign policy, he actively furthered the reforms which laid anew the basis of the Prussian State. In his adoption of this course, so different from that of Louis XVI before the Revolution, lies the chief cause of the startling divergence in the fortunes of the Houses of Hohenzollern and Bourbon.

Side by side with the legislation which renovated the social and commercial life of Prussia, there arose a new military system that was destined profoundly to influence the fortunes of the kingdom, and ultimately of all Continental States. Here, again, the demand for reform originated largely with the King. Frederick William had never shared the superstitious reverence felt by most of the officers for every detail of the military organisation of the great Frederick. Long before the collapse of Jena, he had privately indicated many of its weak points; and his doubts as to the efficiency of the army probably explain in part the pitiable shifts of his policy in the years 1804-6. On July 25, 1807, that is, sixteen days after the signature of peace with Napoleon, the King appointed a Commission for Military Reorganisation, with Scharnhorst as president, and Gneisenau and Grolmann among its members. Boyen joined the Commission in 1808. Subsequently the King set down in writing nineteen suggestions with regard to reform; among them were the dismissal of incapable officers, the improvement of the system of promotion for deserving officers, extension of the facilities for the promotion of non-nobles, diminution of the number of exemptions from military service, abolition of the custom of recruiting among foreigners, the formation of larger reserve districts (Ersatzbezirke), formation of divisions and corps, the drilling and use of cavalry and artillery in far larger units than before, together with various improvements in weapons, uniforms, drill, and tactics, so as to modernise the army and its dispositions on the field of battle. Similar ideas had occurred to Altenstein, Hardenberg, and others; and few intelligent officers (York was an exception) felt any doubts as to the need of drastic military reforms.

Frederick William here laid his finger on the weak points of the old system ; and he gave a general though not unvarying support to the men who were determined to construct a truly national army from the ruins of the old organisation, which placed a premium on noble birth and seniority among the officers, and relied almost solely on overdrilled serfs and foreigners in the ranks. First among the officers who now pressed for a thorough change was Gerhard Johann David Scharnhorst (1755-1813). Born of humble parentage in a village of Hanover, he early received a training in the military school at Wilhehnstein. Thereafter he served with great credit in the Hanoverian army in the campaigns of 1793-6, and wrote some essays that displayed thought and originality. In 1801 he entered the Prussian service as first-lieutenant of artillery, and soon gave an impulse to the whole service by founding the militarische Gesellschaft at Berlin. In April, 1806, he showed his zeal for reform by advocating the formation of a national militia. Having further displayed his warlike prowess at Auerstädt, Lübeck, and Eylau, he was able to live down the scoffs levelled at him as a mere theorist; and he enjoyed the confidence of all who looked for searching and practical reforms. With him was Gneisenau (1760-1829), whose staunch defence of Colberg also proved that study of the principles of the art of war was by no means incompatible with personal bravery and an inspiring influence. It is impossible here to do more than enumerate the chief features of the system inaugurated by the Military Commission. It began by asserting the duty of every man to share in the work of national defence. Scharnhorst, in his memoir of July 31, 1807, pointed out the need of having a small standing army of about 65,000 men, which could speedily be reinforced from a national militia; he further sketched a plan for passing a certain proportion of men quickly through the ranks and thence into a reserve. A month later he suggested that all men between the ages of eighteen and thirty should equip themselves at their own expense so as to form a national militia or reserve army. For various reasons, Frederick William decided to reorganise the existing army before venturing on any novel experiments. Accordingly the officers who had been guilty of cowardly surrenders were severely punished; many more were cashiered; while merit received due recognition, and men in the ranks (thenceforth only Prussians) were treated as befitted citizens of a free State. While these practical reforms were taking shape, Napoleon formulated a demand, in a secret article of the Franco-Prussian Convention of September 8, 1808, that Prussia should limit her army to 42,000 men for at least ten years, and should not form a militia or civic guard. Owing to this action of the French Emperor, the reformers at Berlin devised the famous shrinkage-system, so called because the cadres at stated intervals were filled with recruits and depleted by their passing into a reserve. The working of the system was kept as secret as possible. Nominally the total of the army was kept at 42,000 men; but by the year 1812 Prussia had as many as 150,000 men trained to the service of arms. The organisation of the Landivehr belongs to the year 1813, and will be described later. Even when driven from power by Napoleon in the year 1810, Scharnhorst continued unofficially to further the extension of the system which began to make the Prussian army, in the words of the Military Commission, “the union of all the moral and physical energies of the nation”. Herein lies the true grandeur of Scharnhorst and his colleagues. They placed their trust not so much in an improved organisation as in the growth of a new civic patriotism.

Closely connected, therefore, with the subject of army reform is that of local self-government in Prussia. In order to understand the importance of the municipal reform of November 19, 1808, which laid the foundation of local self-government, the older method of control must’ be briefly outlined. Since the establishment of the Prussian War and Domains Chambers in 1723, the administration of the towns had fallen more and more under the control of the Crown. Under the plea of supervising affairs of finance and cognate matters, the central Government frequently appointed retired officers to the posts of burgomaster, treasurer, or councillor, in order to lighten the demands on the army chest. The right of co-optation was allowed in certain towns; but, lest this privilege should lead to civic freedom, the municipal authorities were subjected to the supervision of a tax administrator, whose will was law for the whole of his district. Stein had long seen the need of breathing into the towns of Prussia the civic life which had characterised the Free Cities in earlier days; and the reform promulgated in the Grand Duchy of Berg in October, 1807, made some analogous measure peculiarly necessary if Prussia was to retain her place in the Germanic system. Accordingly Stein, with the help of Schrotter, Minister for Prussia proper, drafted a scheme which received the King’s sanction on November 19, 1808. The State still retained a general control over towns, especially in respect of the supervision of accounts and the ratifi­cation of new by-laws; but it now entrusted large powers to the citizens, and swept away the rights of lords of manors over towns and over villages with more than 800 inhabitants. Citizens were now required to take their due share in all civic duties, and, if elected, to serve as appointed under pain of a fine. The elected governing body was thereafter to consist of a paid burgomaster, paid councillors, and unpaid councillors, those only being paid who gave all their time to public work. In large towns the chief burgomaster was to be chosen by the King from a list of three men nominated by the representatives of the citizens. Police magistrates might be appointed directly by the State; or it might charge the locally elected magistrates to supervise affairs of police.

Such, in very brief outline, was the statute which granted or restored local self-government to the towns of Prussia. Inaugurated by royal decree and through the action of a Minister who was soon to be chased from office by Napoleon, it stands in the sharpest contrast to the French departmental system of 1789-90, that precocious child of fervid democratic beliefs. The more cautious procedure of the legislators of the north was destined to be abundantly justified. The memory of ancient civic rights, dimly surviving in some towns, and the new patriotism begotten by the teachings of the leaders of thought, helped to nerve the citizens of Prussia with a dogged resolve and a zealous earnestness better suited to the working of free institutions than were the ecstatic hopes and effusive demonstrations of the year 1790 in France. The leaven of civic freedom was quietly introduced into the torpid mass of old Prussian life; and its working, though slow, was thorough. Assuredly, among the many influences that helped the down-trodden men of Berlin to accord a joyous welcome to their King and Queen on their memorable return (December, 1809), must be reckoned the new sense of civic dignity which the capital now enjoyed. Dutiful subjects of the House of Hohenzollem the Berliners had ever been; now the tax-paying burghers of the past held up their heads as responsible citizens in a reformed commonwealth.

Stein was unable to carry out his statesmanlike plan of extending to the country districts the principles of self-government which he had accorded to the towns. Already the seizure of one of his letters by a French official showed the ultimate aim of these reforms to be that of a national revival which should in due course lead to the expulsion of the foreigner. At first the Emperor was inclined to dismiss these designs scornfully. “These Prussians are poor, miserable people”, he wrote on September 4, 1808, to Soult, who was then holding down Prussia. But six days later he wrote to his marshal in more threatening terms: “I have demanded that he [Stein] should be chased from the [Prussian] Ministry; otherwise the King of Prussia will not return home”. Napoleon also sequestrated Stein’s property in Westphalia. Still Frederick William delayed complying with the Imperial mandate, until, in November, Davout and other French officers assured the Prussian authorities that the French would not evacuate their country so long as Stein remained in the Ministry. At last the blow fell, from Madrid. An Imperial decree of December 16, 1808 (omitted from the official Correspondence) declared “le nommé Stein'' an enemy of France and of the Confederation of the Rhine, sequestrated all his goods, and ordered his seizure wherever he could be taken by French or allied troops. A letter to Champagny of the same date (recently published by Lecestre) concluded with the order that, if Stein were captured, he must be shot. Napoleon’s procedure was well enough known in such cases not to need the clearer interpretation given to Champagny. Stein heard the news of his danger on January 5, 1809, and at once set out by night for the Bohemian frontier, which he reached in safety. After more than three years of retirement, he was to take service with the Tsar and help in the westward march of victory that set in at the close of the year 1812. Meanwhile his place at Berlin was filled by Hardenberg (June, 1810), a man equally hostile to Napoleon but more able to bend before the autocrat than the adamantine Stein.

Among the many influences that served to build up the new national spirit in Germany, that of literature must take a high place. Davout well remarked that only by means of their literature were the Germans a nation; and the perception of the same truth explains the efforts which Napoleon made to bring Goethe and Wieland over to his side at the time of the Erfurt interview. He succeeded in fascinating them by his powers of conversation, by the tactful eulogiums that he passed on their works, and by bestowing on them the Cross of the Legion of Honour. The historian Johann von Muller also yielded to Napoleon’s allurements, and accepted a ministerial post in the kingdom of Westphalia. But these conquests, if such they can be called, had little effect. The younger men of letters clave more and more closely to Prussia in the time of her misfortunes; and daring but hopeless efforts like those of Schill and the Duke of Brunswick-Oels in 1809 awakened passionate longings for national freedom throughout large parts of Germany. Arndt, Kleist, Korner, Ruckert, and others expressed the national feeling long before it found free vent in the rising of 1813.

Why German sentiment should have clung so staunchly to Prussia is a question that eludes philosophic research, as all questions of sentiment must do. There was, however, one truly inspiring personality in the Prussia of that period; and those who seek to analyse the inscrutable instincts that sway great masses of men may well question whether the single figure of Queen Louisa of Prussia did not count for more than all the promises of good government held out to Germans by Napoleon. Her grace and beauty, the radiant happiness of her life in its early phases, the gladness and purity which she diffused in the Court circles of Berlin, the queenly serenity with which she bore the misfortunes and insults of the months succeeding Jena, her patriotic efforts at Tilsit to awaken some generous impulse in the man who had slandered her, and finally the deepening gloom of her later years, all conspired to thrill every German heart with admiration and pity. Her return to Berlin amidst the enthusiastic homage of its citizens lifted for a brief space the clouds that gathered over her; but the trials of the past and the hopelessness of the situation in the year 1810, when Napoleon threatened to seize Silesia, told too deeply on that sympathetic and sensitive nature. Little by little her spirit sank under the burdens heaped upon her people by the conqueror; and in the month of July of that year death came to end her sufferings of mind and body.

In comparison with the stem life-struggle of Prussia, the fortunes of artificial States like the kingdom of Westphalia and the duchy of Warsaw possess only a slight and passing interest. They owed their existence to the fact that Napoleon, unable, for the diplomatic reasons stated above, to annex Prussia to the Confederation of the Rhine, was determined to dominate her on the west and on the east by the erection of two considerable States subject to his control. Of these new creations, the kingdom of Westphalia comprised the Prussian lands to the west of the Elbe, Brunswick, Electoral Hesse (Hesse-Cassel), and other smaller districts. In the most westerly of the districts tom from Prussia the rule of the Hohenzollerns had not yet taken deep root. Despite the dull and niggardly rule of the former Elector, the Hessians resented the connexion with France; while in Brunswick the mild sovereignty of the Duke was everywhere regretted. Nevertheless Napoleon hoped to win over the inhabitants by the reforms which are described in other chapters of this volume. The new Constitution of Westphalia was not unsuited to the needs of the people; but everything depended on the monarch. Here Napoleon was unfortunate. In vain did he inform the King, Jerome Bonaparte (November 15, 1807), that the sight of just laws and good administration in Westphalia would do more than the greatest victories to consolidate the Napoleonic system in Germany. In vain did he seek to inspire him with the ambition to do great things and the persistence that overcomes obstacles. Jerome had neither ambition nor persistence, except in the direction of display and luxury.

The scanty revenues of the kingdom were wasted on worthless favourites. The pay of the troops was in arrears; and in the spring of 1809 a serious mutiny broke out. The inability of the King to stop the progress, first of Schill, and afterwards of the Duke of Brunswick-Oels, made a profound impression. Immermann has recorded his own youthful feeling of patriotism at these events, and the determined belief of the people at Magdeburg that Schill was not killed at Stralsund but would come back to cast off the French yoke. These incidents cut Napoleon to the quick. He overwhelmed his brother with reproaches (April 29, 1809). “Your kingdom (he wrote) has no police, no finances, and no organisation. It is not with display that the foundations of monarchies are laid. What is happening to you now I fully expected. I hope it will teach you a lesson. Adopt ways and habits suited to those of the country which you govern”. Similar evidence might be quoted from several quarters to show that the failure of Napoleon’s efforts to denationalise central Germany resulted largely from the follies of his brother Jerome. It was, however, also due to the exigencies of Napoleon’s statecraft. His Continental System hindered commerce, and imposed vexatious burdens on the trading classes; the conscription aroused increasing detestation, as larger and larger bodies were raised to fight the Emperor’s battles; and the trend of public opinion set steadily away from Paris and towards Berlin.

The other State whose erection was due to Napoleon’s desire to complete the isolation and subjection of Prussia was the duchy of Warsaw, not officially styled a Grand Duchy till 1808. It consisted of the Polish lands which Prussia had seized in the three partitions, with the exception of the Bialystok district, which went to Russia, and the city of Danzig, constituted by the Treaty of Tilsit a free city under the protection of the Kings of Prussia and Saxony. Frederick Augustus, King of Saxony, received the new duchy for himself and his heirs. It contained upwards of 2,300,000 inhabitants, nearly entirely Poles. Oginski states in his memoirs that the small extent of the new State, and especially the severance of the Bialystok district, struck Polish patriots with despair. Czartoryski, however, asserts that many of his countrymen looked on the establishment of the duchy as betokening the future restoration of Poland. In this hope they were disappointed. Napoleon had promised Alexander at Tilsit that the name Poland should never be revived; and after 1809 his desire not to offend the Habsburgs gave efficacy to this promise. Not until the Peace of Schonbrunn, by which the Grand Duchy acquired the Polish lands of Austria south-east of Warsaw, did it gain defensible frontiers; on the other hand, from the outset, the connexion with Saxony, the right of sending troops and stores across Silesia, and other concessions wrung from Prussia, to some extent diminished its military weakness.

The Constitution of 1807 borrowed some of the forms of that of 1791, but little of its spirit. It was based in part on a draft presented to the Emperor by Polish magnates at Dresden in July, 1807; but in its final form it only partly met their wishes. In regard to religious worship it ensured fuller toleration and freedom. The King, however, now wielded a power far greater than that accorded in 1791. He nominated the eighteen members of the Senate—six Bishops, six Palatines, and six Castellans. Furthermore, he and his senatorial nominees could override the advice of the popular Chamber, the Chamber of Nuncios; and he alone could dissolve it. The Diet, consisting of these two Chambers, was required to meet every two years, on convocation by the King; but it had no right of initiating laws; this lay with the King and his Council of State, consisting of five Ministers and a Secretary of State. The members of the popular Chamber were chosen by electoral colleges or dietines, those of the nobles sending up sixty members and those of the commons forty. The Napoleonic departmental system was introduced, along with the Code Napoleon. But the essence of the new Constitution lay in the stipulation, laid down by Napoleon himself at Dresden, that France alone should have a resident or envoy at Warsaw. This obviously deprived the King-Duke of all functions in regard to foreign policy; and, when it further appeared that Frederick Augustus could not name a viceroy to act at Warsaw on his behalf, this further limitation clearly placed the autocratic powers of the new Constitution in the hands of the French resident, that is, in those of Napoleon himself. As in the case of Danzig, where the joint protectorate of the Kings of Prussia and Saxony was a diplomatic fiction in face of the control vested in the French military governor, so also the political machinery of the new duchy served merely to disguise the indisputable fact that the mainspring of government was the will of Napoleon. It is therefore difficult to credit de Pradt’s story that Napoleon once accused himself of two capital errors in his dealings with the duchy—that of sending a priest (de Pradt) thither as ambassador, and that of not having made himself King.

The application of the principles of the French Revolution to the duchy of Warsaw naturally proved to be somewhat half-hearted and artificial. Serfdom was abolished in theory, but, as no land was forth­coming for the freedmen, they remained virtually in their old position. Civic equality in the eye of the law likewise proved to be scarcely compatible with the deep-seated prejudices of Poland. Nor was it insisted on, when the aims of Davout’s government clearly were to make the duchy the eastern bastion of the Napoleonic system. Military affairs alone received much attention. The forces were to be raised to the total of 30,000 men ; and the generosity of four Poles sufficed to equip six regiments within a short space. This enthusiasm, however, was partial and short-lived. Even at the outset, many patriots shared the distrust with which Kosciuszko had always regarded Napoleon’s Polish policy. He now refused to serve the Emperor until he declared in favour of the restoration of Poland. That declaration never came. On the contrary, the Emperor took care to chill Polish aspirations: witness his instructions of March 31, 1808, to Davout at Warsaw. “Maintain harmony with the Russians as much as possible, and hold in check your Poles, who are hot-headed”. The Emperor consented to relieve the financial burdens of the Grand Duchy by taking into his pay 8000 Polish troops destined for Spain. Some 5000 were already serving under the French eagles. Despite this slight alleviation of its burdens, the new State felt the financial strain severely. Ravaged by war and subse­quently burdened by the support of French troops, it was in no condition to bear the restraints of the Continental System, which greatly hampered, even when it did not cut off, the export of grain and timber to England. Another grievance, slighter in reality but more galling, was the apportionment of twenty-seven Polish domains to Napoleon’s marshals and generals. Some of these were of great extent. Davout received the principality of Lowicz with a rental of 4,831,238 francs; Lannes that of Sièvre with 2,674,280 francs; in all, rentals to the value of 26,582,652 francs were bestowed on the paladins of the Empire. The Peace of Schonbrunn (October, 1809) detached from Austria and annexed to the Grand Duchy an additional territory of about 900 square leagues and some 1,500,000 inhabitants. The army was, however, increased to 60,000 men, and by the year 1812 to 85,000 men. The financial situation became worse than ever, the deficit for the year 1811 amounting to 21,000,000 francs.

Nevertheless, Napoleon possessed in the Grand Duchy a political asset of the highest value, such as his German policy never presented to him. In spite of all his melodramatic appeals to the memory of Charlemagne, he failed to enthral the Teutonic imagination; and, if we inquire why so consummate a political artist achieved only a mediocre success among that home-loving, sentimental, and politically backward people, the answer would seem to be that he never touched the deepest well-springs of hope. For his reforms, so far as they really served their needs, the Germans were thankful. But his efforts in this direction were soon at an end; and the people of the Rhenish Confederation, after experiencing the benefits of the Code Napoleon and of his administration, had little to look forward to but an increase of taxes, a severer conscription, and the loss of the comforts of life under the operation of his commercial decrees. In their minds, the name of Napoleon called up no vision of national greatness and glory in the future. With the Poles it was different. Their imagination turned to the sphere of politics with an eagerness sharpened by the humiliations of recent times and by the memory of their former greatness. The appeal to the example of Stanislas was an appeal to no dim simulacrum such as the name of Charlemagne conjured up. It called forth visions of a real and realisable polity. Their temperament and their misfortunes therefore alike disposed them to see in Napoleon the Messiah of their race; and, having marked the clear-cut logicality of his plans and the grandeur of his ambition, they refused to believe that the anomalous situation which he created at Warsaw could be anything more than a temporary shift in his progress towards a consummation worthy of his powers, the reestablish­ment of the kingdom of Poland in its ancient splendour. In that hope, ever baffled but never crushed, lay the secret of Napoleon’s power in eastern Europe.

A survey of the period of the Napoleonic supremacy reveals the fact that, despite the seemingly complete overthrow of the European system at Tilsit, affairs tended speedily to revert to a state of equipoise. It is true that Canning’s wider plans for an alliance with all the Scandinavian States ended in comparative failure; Denmark ranged herself on Napoleon’s side; and, as the pressure of events sundered Sweden from Great Britain, Napoleon and Alexander became supreme in the Baltic lands. It is also indisputable that Napoleon by masterful diplomacy held Prussia at his feet and kept the French and allied forces echelonned from the Elbe to the Niemen. But the very magnitude of the means thus amassed for the commercial strangulation of Great Britain led both Austria and Russia to adopt precautionary measures in which lay the seeds of future wars with Napoleon. Central and eastern Europe was, as it were, rolled in on itself, and began to find new means of resistance to the conqueror. Moreover, the eagerness with which he extended his political system over the south of Europe made an irreconcilable foe of the Vatican, and led to the Spanish rising with its immense consequences—the postponement of the plans for the partition of the Ottoman Empire, the preservation of Prussia, the encouragement of the new national movement in central Europe, and the Austrian challenge of the year 1809. For the complete success of his designs against England, Napoleon needed not only peace on the Continent, but the acquiescence of govern­ments and peoples in his supremacy. Thenceforth this became impossible; and it remained to be seen whether, with the feelings of fear and hatred now working against him in Court and cottage, even the Emperor could succeed with his vast and complex experiment, the Continental System.

CHAPTER XII.

THE WAR OF 1809.