Rites of Peace: The Fall of Napoleon and the Congress of Vienna. Adam Zamoyski
presented his credentials on 5 September, four days before the signature of the Treaties of Toeplitz by Russia, Prussia and Austria. He liked the Emperor Francis, and found himself drawn to Metternich, with whom he discussed opera and collecting works of art. He found Alexander ‘agreeable and rather clever, but shewing off’, and most of his generals despondent and eager to go home. He quickly appreciated that this put Austria in a vulnerable position; he expressed the fear that if Napoleon were to inflict one decisive defeat on it, the coalition would fall apart. And such a defeat appeared more than likely. ‘The evils of divided command are everywhere apparent,’ he reported to Castlereagh on arrival. ‘The vigour of every measure is paralysed, the wisdom of every proposition is almost rendered abortive, by the delay which is necessary to procure the approbation of the different Sovereigns and their advisers.’4
Aberdeen did not like Cathcart, who returned the feeling frankly. And although he took an immediate liking to Stewart, he realised that he was not up to his job. He was so appalled by everything he saw and heard that within a few days of his arrival he was actually thinking of resigning his post.5
He nevertheless concluded the subsidy treaty which had already been agreed, providing Austria with £1 million, to be paid at a rate of £100,000 per month, and then went on to discuss wider issues with Metternich. As instructed, he expressed his disapproval that Britain’s priorities had been ignored in the treaties between the other allies. He also voiced Castlereagh’s misgivings about Metternich’s policy of trying to detach Murat from Napoleon’s camp by the offer of guaranteeing his survival as King of Naples.
The Austrian chancellor explained that the British approach, which was to put all British demands on the table and expect them to be accepted prior to any negotiation, was unhelpful. He stressed the need for a degree of elasticity and warned against statements or actions that forced people or states into the enemy camp. A good example was what had happened with Denmark.
Until 1807 Denmark had been a prosperous power of the second rank, comprising Norway, Schleswig, Holstein, Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands, as well as a string of colonies in the West Indies, India and Africa. She had always embraced neutrality where possible, but maintained an alliance with Russia aimed at protecting her from Sweden. In 1807 her King, Frederick VI, had, like Alexander, been forced into alliance with Napoleonic France, which resulted in the bombardment of Copenhagen by the British fleet, the capture or burning of her own fleet, and the subsequent loss of most of her colonies. In 1808–09 she had been obliged to go to war with Sweden in defence of Norway, and while she had managed to hang on to her province, it was her ally Russia that had gained from the affair, by acquiring Finland from Sweden.
When compounded by the necessity of applying Napoleon’s Continental System, all this had brought Denmark to the verge of bankruptcy. Inflation reached such levels that Frederick was obliged to put his own gold plate at the disposal of the bank. In 1812 Alexander proposed an alliance to Frederick, but it was hardly an alluring one. He suggested that Denmark hand over Norway to Sweden (which would compensate Sweden for Finland, lost to Russia in 1809). In return, Frederick would, when Napoleon was finally defeated, be given Hamburg, Lübeck, Bremen and the whole North Sea coast of Germany, and as much of Holland as he wished. Although things were not going well for him in Russia, Napoleon was still the master of Europe, and the idea that Alexander would ever find himself in a position to dispose of swathes of Germany and Holland was absurd. At the same time, Frederick and most Danes regarded Norway, which had been united with Denmark for over four centuries, as an essential part of their country.6
Frederick was a straightforward, honest man with a keen sense of duty. It was for these qualities as much as for his unaffected bonhomie that he was so much loved by his people. Although his natural sympathies had lain with Britain (he was the son of a princess of the English royal house), and although he had joined the alliance with Napoleon only out of necessity, he was inclined to stand by his ally. But as the magnitude of Napoleon’s defeat in Russia became evident at the beginning of 1813, he came under increasing pressure to abandon him. Even his cousin Christian Frederick, who would later rule Denmark as Christian VIII, began to advocate switching alliances and joining Russia, Sweden and Britain.
Frederick’s Foreign Minister, Count Niels Rosenkrantz, who had spent a long time in Russia and married a Russian aristocrat, and who had many contacts in Britain, also advocated switching alliances. He sent an envoy to Russian headquarters at Kalisch and made overtures to Britain, offering to join the coalition against Napoleon. His conditions were that Russia guarantee Frederick’s continued possession of Norway, and that Britain give back his fleet and some of his colonies, as well as some cash with which to fit out an army.
Alexander encouraged Frederick to turn against Napoleon, but all he offered was a ‘deferment’ of the decision on Norway. The British cabinet informed Frederick that Norway had already been promised to Sweden, and that he would save everyone a great deal of trouble if he handed it over immediately and joined the allies unconditionally. Metternich did everything he could to make Britain take a more accommodating line, arguing that Denmark would be a useful ally, and should be ‘rescued’ from its alliance with France, but his arguments fell on deaf ears.7
In the face of British and Russian intransigence, Frederick had no choice but to fall back into the arms of the one power which was prepared to stand up for his rights, and on 10 July 1813 he signed a new alliance with Napoleon. Metternich did not give up, and sent a secret envoy to Copenhagen in order to keep a door open for Denmark to join the allies. There was little more he could do while Russia, Sweden and Britain did not support him.
On 3 September Denmark duly declared war on Russia for supporting Sweden’s claim to Norway, and on 22 September on Sweden itself. Frederick was motivated in equal measure by his sense of loyalty to Napoleon and by his mistrust of Sweden and Russia. Like many Danes, he suspected that they would not keep to any treaty they signed with him, and were bent on partitioning Denmark and establishing a Russian dependency there (Castlereagh himself would later come to share these fears).8
Aberdeen quickly came to see that, viewed from the Continent, some of Britain’s attitudes and actions looked a good deal less reasonable than they did from London. One of the first things he realised was that far from being a power to be feared, Austria was in many respects Britain’s natural ally. He wrote to Castlereagh explaining this, but the Foreign Secretary remained sceptical and dismissive of Metternich. The conduct of the Tsar also appeared different at close quarters, and did not accord with some of the myths held dear in Downing Street.9
Alexander always celebrated the anniversary of his coronation, on 27 September, with pomp, and all those assembled at Toeplitz joined in the festivities. After a service of thanksgiving they rode out to Kulm, where the unfortunate Vandamme had been defeated. There they sat down to a banquet for two hundred in a specially erected pavilion decorated with laurels and ribbons. Back in Toeplitz that evening, a select party assembled in Lord Cathcart’s quarters for the ceremony of investing Alexander with the Order of the Garter. ‘One could not imagine anything more magnificent and more imposing than this chivalrous ceremony,’ recorded one of the Tsar’s French aides-de-camp, but Alexander’s behaviour ‘disgusted every Englishman present’, according to Jackson. He arrived late, behaved flippantly, and did not for a moment wipe the ‘broad grin’ from his face. ‘The whole thing was treated, in fact, as a sort of farcical entertainment.’ The Tsar compounded this by appearing at dinner the following day with the garter around his thigh.10
Alexander’s sense of destiny, fanned and flattered wherever he went in Bohemia and Germany by the sycophancy of numerous petitioners and the adulation of even more numerous ladies, had turned him into a problematic ally. Treated by many as the Agamemnon of the coalition, he not surprisingly acted more and more on his own initiative and in pursuit of his personal vision.
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