The events in Europe leading up to 1812 had so great an influence on those which followed later, by placing the balance of Europe’s destinies into the hands of Russia, that I have felt it would be valuable to preserve the notes which I made regarding various circumstances of those days. In writing them my sole motive was to keep an account of my life, my impressions, and my conduct. Since then I have come to regard them as indispensable material for the completion of the official part of my correspondence as ambassador, and even, it may well be, for the history of that great epoch.
My aim will be fulfilled if my notes help also to formulate opinion on the character and the political views of the Emperor Napoleon.
My notes were made everywhere, at my desk and in camp, every day and at all times of day; they are the work of every moment. I have touched up nothing and disguised nothing, because although there were moments when the man showed himself, it was the demigod whom one recognized most often. More than once the thought occurred to me that this journal, written under the very eyes of the Emperor, might fall into his hands; but that reflection did not check my pen. This fact is an answer to those who have claimed that men could neither think nor speak nor write under his reign, and that the truth made him an irreconcilable enemy. No doubt the truth chilled his good will, but his strong and lofty character raised him above all criticisms made in good faith. I was confident that, as my notes were only the exact record of what I had said to him, they would seem to him injurious only if I published them as an attack on his policy and his fame.
If these pages should some day be read and severity imputed to me, I hope that allowance will be made for the happenings under the influence of which they were penned.
The Emperor was at Saint-Cloud. By eleven o’clock I was there. [June 5, 1811.] His Majesty received me coldly, and at once began heatedly to enumerate his imaginary grievances against the Tsar Alexander, but without reproaching me personally. He spoke of the ukase prohibiting foreign imports,2 and of the admission of neutral and American ships into Russian ports, which, he said, was an infringement of the Continental System. He went on to say that the Tsar was treacherous, that he was arming to make war on France. The Emperor repeated all the fantastic stories which, to please him, were fabricated in Danzig, in the Duchy of Warsaw, and even in the north of Germany—stories the accuracy of which had been disproved time and again, sometimes by means of investigations carried out on the spot, sometimes even by the march of events.
“Admit frankly,” said the Emperor Napoleon, “that it is Alexander who wants to make war on me.”
“No, Sire,” I replied once again; “I would stake my life on his not firing the first shot or being the first to cross his frontiers.”
“We’re agreed, then,” the Emperor went on; “because I have no intention of going into Russia, nor any wish for a war or the re-establishment of Poland.”
“Then, Sire, you ought to explain your intentions, so that everyone may know why Your Majesty’s troops are concentrated in Danzig and the north of Prussia.”
The Emperor made no answer to this. He spoke of the Russian nobles who, in the event of a war, would fear for their palaces, and, after a good battle, would force the Tsar Alexander to conclude a peace.
“Your Majesty is mistaken,” I replied, and repeated to the Emperor words used by the Tsar which had greatly impressed me in the course of certain private conversations I had with him after the arrival of M. Lauriston,3 when my position no longer had any political significance; words which were merely a more emphatic expression of what he had led me to understand some time before. They impressed me so much that I noted them down on returning home, and quote them here with the certainty that, to the best of my knowledge, my recollection of them was substantially correct:
“If the Emperor Napoleon makes war on me,” the Tsar Alexander said to me, “it is possible, even probable, that we shall be defeated, assuming that we fight. But that will not mean that he can dictate a peace. The Spaniards have often been defeated; and they are not beaten, nor have they submitted. But they are not so far away from Paris as we are, and have neither our climate nor our resources to help them. We shall take no risks. We have plenty of room; and our standing army is well organized, which means, as the Emperor Napoleon has admitted, that we need never accept a dictated peace, whatever reverses we may suffer. What is more, in such circumstances the victor is forced to accept the terms of the vanquished. The Emperor Napoleon made a remark to this effect to Tchernychev 4 in Vienna after the battle of Wagram. He would not have made peace then if Austria had not kept an army intact. Results have to keep pace with his thoughts, because, being often absent from France, he is always anxious to return there. This is the teaching of a Master. I shall not be the first to draw my sword, but I shall be the last to sheathe it. The Spaniards have proved that lack of perseverance has been the undoing of all the States on which your master has made war. The Emperor Napoleon’s remark to Tchernychev, in the latest war with Austria, shows clearly enough that the Austrians could have obtained better terms if they had been more persevering. People don’t know how to suffer. If the fighting went against me, I should retire to Kamtchatka rather than cede provinces and sign, in my capital, treaties that were really only truces. Your Frenchman is brave; but long privations and a bad climate wear him down and discourage him. Our climate, our winter, will fight on our side. With you, marvels only take place where the Emperor is in personal attendance; and he cannot be everywhere, he cannot be absent from Paris year after year.”
The Emperor listened to me with the closest attention, even with some astonishment. He appeared to be greatly preoccupied, and kept silent for a while. I thought I had made a deep impression on him, since his face, his whole bearing, which hitherto had manifested only an extreme severity, became open and friendly. He seemed to wish to encourage me to go on, not only by looks but by the questions he put. He spoke of society in Russia, of the army, of the administration, and even referred to the Tsar Alexander without manifesting his usual ill-humour at mention of this name. In fact, the Emperor gave every indication at this moment of being kindly disposed towards me, and referred appreciatively to the manner in which I had served him. I assured him that he was mistaken about the Tsar Alexander and about Russia; that it was of the utmost importance not to base his conclusions about that country on what certain persons told him, or about the army on what he had seen at Friedland; that, having been threatened for a year, it had been possible for the Russians to take account of all eventualities, particularly to take account of the possibility of our enjoying immediate successes.
After listening to me attentively, the Emperor began enumerating the troops and general resources at his disposal. When he reverted to this theme I realized that all hope of peace was at an end, since it was enumerations of this kind which, more than anything, intoxicated him. Indeed he ended by telling me that one good battle would knock the bottom out of my friend Alexander’s fine resolutions, not to mention his sand fortifications, alluding to the defence works which were being thrown up along the banks of the Dwina and at Riga.
He spoke of the situation in Spain, and complained irritably of his generals there and the setbacks they had suffered, expressing his opinion that this vexatious state of affairs was due to the incompetence of the King, his brother [Joseph of Spain], and of the French generals, and announcing his determination to make an end of it. He tried to persuade me that he could do this whenever he was so minded, but that the English would then attack elsewhere, perhaps even in France. Thus, he concluded, it was just as well—perhaps a positive advantage—for them to be in Portugal. Then he returned to the Tsar Alexander.
“He is fickle and feeble,” he said once again.
“He is obstinate,” I replied. “His conciliatory nature makes him give way easily when he does not feel the issues at stake to be particularly important; but nonetheless he draws a line beyond which he will not be pushed.”
“He has the Greek character—he is untrustworthy,” the Emperor repeated yet again.
“I would not suggest,” I said, “that he has always spoken everything that was in his mind; but whatever he has deigned to say to me has proved correct, and whatever promises he has made to Your Majesty through me he has kept.”
“Alexander is ambitious. There is some hidden purpose which he hopes to achieve through war. He wants war, I tell you. Otherwise, why should he refuse every arrangement I put forward? He has some secret purpose. Can’t you see through him? No, he has larger motives than Poland and Oldenburg.”
“These motives, and the fact that your army is at Danzig, are in themselves enough to explain the line he has taken; though naturally, like every government in Europe, he is uneasy about the change Your Majesty has made in your policy since Tilsit, and, more particularly, since the Peace of Vienna.”
“What has all that to do with Alexander? It does not affect him. Have I not told him to take Finland, Wallachia and Moldavia? Have I not suggested that he should partition Turkey? Did I not give him three hundred millions for the Austrian war?”
“Yes, Sire; but you would not expect such enticements to blind him to the fact that Your Majesty has since then marked out a quite new policy, whose execution begins in Poland—that is, in Russian territory.”
“Like him, you are simply dreaming! Once more—I do not want to go to war with him; but he must fulfil the commitments which he has undertaken, and enforce an embargo on English trade. What has he to fear from changes in my policy? What do such changes matter to a country like Russia, away at the back of beyond?”
“On that point he has never explained himself to me.”
“I don’t prevent him from extending his dominions in Asia, or even in Turkey, if he wants to, so long as he does not touch Constantinople. He is vexed that I should hold Holland. That galls him because he needs foreign loans.”
“The reunion of the Hanseatic towns, the establishment of the Grand Duchy of Frankfort, which means that Your Majesty intends to keep Italy; the giving of Hanover to Westphalia—all these changes, made in times of peace and simply announced by decree, alienate England and put obstacles in the way of making peace with her. Therefore they conflict with Russia’s best interests. Even so, it will not be on that account that she goes to war.”
“And must I be dictated to by the English and by my brother [Louis of Holland?] just to please Alexander? Rumiantsof 5 knows quite well that before taking these steps I did everything in my power to induce England to make peace. Labouchère has been to London several times, even on behalf of the Dutch. Am I to allow the north of Germany to be flooded with English goods?”
“Had one merely threatened to put those measures in force, that would have been good policy. The execution of those measures, however, plus the movement of whole armies towards the north—instead of a few battalions to put pressure on the customs officers—has aroused apprehension.”
“You see no further than Alexander; and he is merely frightened. It is these very policies to which you object that are taking all the heart out of the English, and will force them to make peace.”
This conversation continued for some time longer. The Emperor jumped from one question to another, and, at long intervals, returned to the same questions, no doubt to see if I kept to the same answers. To judge from his air of preoccupation, and from the long silences which broke up our five hours of conversation, it looked as if he were giving more serious consideration to the matters under discussion than perhaps he had ever given them before. After one of these long silences, he said, “It is the Austrian marriage which has set us at variance. The Tsar Alexander was angry because I did not marry his sister.”
I took the liberty of reminding the Emperor that, as I had formerly reported to him, Russia was not at all eager for such a marriage; that, although the Emperor had not been able to refuse outright to lend himself to the project, he would never have given way on the question of religion; that in any case there would have been a year’s delay, even if the Tsar had been able to obtain his mother’s consent; in short, that he had not committed himself in regard to the matter, and that Russia was rather pleased than otherwise to learn of the unexpected Austrian marriage having taken place,6 notwithstanding our somewhat unceremonious manner of going back on the proposals of our own making—proposals which, happily, had not been accepted, but which, had they been accepted, would have made my position decidedly embarrassing.
“I have forgotten the details of the affair,” the Emperor replied; “but Russia was certainly angry about our rapprochement with Austria.”
I pointed out that in fact, as everyone had realized at the time, and as was proved by conversations with the Emperor and Count Rumiantsof when the first overtures in regard to this matter were made, the immediate reaction in Petersburg was an agreeable sense of relief at the removal of a very delicate question between the French and Russian governments, and a still more delicate question between the Tsar and his mother and family.
The Emperor Napoleon again repeated that he desired neither war nor the re-establishment of Poland, but that an understanding in the matter of neutral shipping and other differences was essential.
“If Your Majesty really desires an understanding, it will not be hard to bring one about,” I said.
“Are you sure about that?” the Emperor asked.
“Quite sure,” was my reply. “But reasonable proposals must be put forward.”
“What proposals?” the Emperor said, and urged me to enumerate them.
“Your Majesty knows as well as I do, and has known for long enough, the causes of the present estrangement; and you know better than I do what you are prepared to do to remedy it.”
“But what? What does he want me to do?”
“In regard to trade between the two countries, an arrangement should be made on a basis of reciprocal benefits, and a similar arrangement for merchant shipping in general. The admission of neutral ships into Russian ports should be countenanced, as long as we go on selling licences and allowing licenced vessels into French ports. The Prince of Oldenburg should be provided for in such a way that he is not, as at Erfurt, entirely dependent on you. An arrangement should be made about Danzig, another about Prussia, and so on....”
When the Emperor saw that I was touching on political matters the discussion of which would force him to commit himself probably more than he wished to, he said that M. Lauriston had been made responsible for the carrying out of this policy—that I ought to take a holiday.
I begged His Majesty to let me say one thing more.
“Go on,” the Emperor said.
“It is for you, Sire, to decide whether there is to be peace or war. May I beseech Your Majesty, when you make your choice between the certain good of the one and the hazards of the other, to take full account of your own welfare and of the welfare of France.”
“You speak like a Russian,” replied the Emperor.
“On the contrary, like a good Frenchman—like one of Your Majesty’s most faithful servants.”
“I repeat, I do not want war; but I cannot prevent the Poles from wanting me and expecting me. Davout and Rapp report that the Lithuanians are furious with the Russians; and that they are constantly sending delegates to them to urge us on, press us to make up our minds.”
“You are being misled, Sire,” was my reply.
I explained to the Emperor that, of the governments which had partitioned Poland, the Russian government was by its nature best suited to the Polish nobility; that they had been well treated by the Tsar Paul, and even better treated by Alexander; that I had met many land-owners from Polish Russia, and had found that, while of course they regretted their lost national independence, they had little stomach for a new venture to recover it which might not, even if it succeeded, involve Poland’s being reinstated as an independent power; that the example of the Duchy of Warsaw, whose situation, from their point of view, was far from satisfactory, had not turned them in our favour so much as His Majesty thought; that the rivalries persisting between the great Polish families, no less than the natural instability of the Polish character, would always hinder their common action. I added that the Emperor ought not to shut his eyes to the fact that it was only too well understood in Europe nowadays that, when he concerned himself with the affairs of a country, it was to serve his own rather than its interests.
“You think so, do you?”
“Yes, Sire,” I replied.
“You don’t believe in spoiling me,” he said jokingly. “It’s time to go to dinner,” he added, and withdrew.
Thus ended a conversation which had lasted for five hours and left me with no hope that peace would be maintained in Europe.
Later, I saw the Duke of Bassano7 once more. He assured me, as the Emperor had done, that there was no question of wanting war; that Petersburg’s fears were groundless, and that the Emperor was not prepared now to reverse any of the measures he had thought it necessary to take.
Henceforth I had small hope of seeing the Emperor change his policy; nevertheless I did not allow myself to be discouraged. The situation in Spain, bad though it was, might precipitate events which would induce a different political outlook. For two months past the tendency had been to carry on less agitation amongst the Poles, and to restrain the activities of generals and secret agents in Germany. The Emperor’s views remained, I think, the same; but the probability is that the course of events in Spain, and a realization of the probable consequences of his prospective policy and his vast undertaking, made him somewhat indecisive. Ostensibly, the government’s attitude was less aggressive, its object being to make the adoption of a pacific policy possible if developments made such a policy necessary, or if its wisdom became so apparent that the party favouring it triumphed. Meanwhile, military preparations were completed; and no real steps were taken to prevent the outbreak of war.
After my interview with the Emperor, it was some considerable time before we had any private conversation. My position was uncertain. In public he treated me well enough. I did not cease my protests against the exile of Mme. de C—.8 Though I worried him with letters and petitions, the Emperor avoided speaking to me personally about the matter. At last, however, he granted me an audience and promised that she should be recalled, but without definitely authorizing it. I continued with my campaign, until, having been told by Duroc, at my request that unless he kept this promise I should ask to be retired, His Majesty once more promised to allow Mme. de C—to return, and even obligingly said that she should resume her duties at the Court, which was more than I had ventured to ask for. But next day it was clear that the Emperor had tacitly put a price on this mark of his favour, because, when I refused his request to tell Prince Kurakin9 that in my opinion the Emperor had no intention of re-establishing Poland nor any wish to see it re-established, and that he stood by the alliance and was arming only because Russia had mobilized, his promise to recall Mme. de C—remained unfulfilled, despite the fact that His Majesty had twice invited me to dine with him, and for eight days treated me in such a way as to suggest that he held me in great favour. During this time he had several long conversations with me at Saint-Cloud, and once, after dinner, at Bagatelle. In each case the conversation was about Russia.
The Emperor continued to assure me that he had no desire for war, and really had small regard for the Poles. “A trivial people,” he said, “and a State difficult to shape to any useful purpose. If the king I give them does not happen to suit, everything will go badly. And it is difficult to make a good choice. My family does not back me up. They are all insanely ambitious, ruinously extravagant, and devoid of talent.” For the rest, the remarks about Russian affairs in the course of my first audience with the Emperor on arriving in Paris were more or less repeated.
The Emperor’s real desire was for me to persuade Prince Kurakin that there had been a mutual misunderstanding; that both sides had become irritated without knowing exactly why; that he had no intention of attacking Russia, and only stood out for the upholding of the Continental System so far as it was directed against England, and that therefore a consideration of ways and means of upholding it, and an adjustment of existing differences, were necessary. But when I approached fundamentals, and began to discuss in detail the mutual concessions whereby this object might be realized, the Emperor changed the subject. Since it was clear enough that he had not really altered his plans, but had, at the most, merely postponed their execution, and that all he wanted of me was that I should allay Russia’s suspicions so that he might gain time, I avoided becoming his intermediary, and begged the Emperor to entrust M. Lauriston with any communications he might wish to make to the Russian government. This suggestion greatly displeased him, and brought our conversation to a summary conclusion.
Henceforth the Emperor, besides persecuting my friends, in flicted on me every sort of vexation which he could inflict on a State official, even to the extent of withholding payments to which I was entitled. He let slip no occasion to make me feel the weight of his displeasure, and replied to my complaints about my financial claims by pleading ignorance of the matter. My renewed solicitation to the Emperor in regard to Mme. de C—’s exile met with no success, no matter whether I broached it verbally, or by letter, or through the mediation of Duroc. Finally, I again raised the question of my retirement with the Grand Marshal.
“Less than ever is this the moment to take such a step,” he said to me. “You will lose your friends and ruin yourself. Have patience, and things will straighten out. Just now the Emperor is annoyed with you; but he holds you in esteem; he is even fond of you. He takes a great interest in Mme. de C—. Things will straighten out, I tell you, if you do not lose your head and put yourself in the wrong. It is absurd of you to take the Russian business so much to heart. We can do nothing about it. Since you cannot hope to change the Emperor’s plans, why irritate him? He has his point of view; he is aiming at some objective of which we know nothing. You can be certain that his policy is more farseeing than ours. In short, I strongly advise you as a friend to postpone your plans for retirement.”
He continued in this strain for a long time. But discussing the same topic a few days later, the Emperor gave him reason to hope for a definite change in the near future. Duroc, who brought me this good news, again made me promise to be patient, and pointed out that as a soldier I could not leave the service before peace was concluded. He repeated that the Emperor would come round in time; that he was bitter, but always spoke of me with esteem.
Realizing that I was achieving nothing by this means, I addressed myself officially to the Minister of Police, the Duke of Rovigo, who broached the question frankly with the Emperor, pointing out that there was no reason for continuing an act of severity which was making a bad impression, even from the political point of view. But he obtained no satisfaction on this occasion.
It was at this period, I think, that the Emperor summoned one of his ministers 10 to Saint-Cloud. After a few minutes of general business conversation, he said to him: “Let us go for a stroll.” When they reached a place on the terrace whence it was possible to see anyone approaching, and where no one could overhear them, he went on, “There is something I want you to do of which I have not spoken to a soul—not even to any of my ministers. In any case it has nothing to do with them. I have decided on a great expedition. I shall need horses and transport on a large scale. The men I shall get easily enough; but the difficulty is to prepare transport facilities. I shall need an immense amount of transport because I shall be starting from the Niemen., and I intend to operate over large distances and in different directions. This is why I need your help, and secrecy.”
The minister remarked that the project would involve considerable expenditure; that he would carry out his part with despatch and all possible discretion; but that he could not prevent people talking when they saw waggons being assembled, and so on and so forth.
The Emperor, replying sharply to his first remark, said:
“Come to the Tuileries the next time I go there. I’ll show you four hundred millions in gold.11 Do not let the question of expense check you. We’ll meet any outlay that will be needful.”
Continuing the talk, the Emperor elaborated his policy, which was based on the necessity of crushing England by crushing the only Continental power still strong enough to join forces with her against him. He spoke of the usefulness of isolating the Russians from European affairs, and of establishing in Central Europe a state which should act as a barrier against invasions from the North, adding that the moment was opportune; that later there would be no time for such an expedition; and that it was essential to strike this last blow, in order to achieve a general settlement and years of peace and of prosperity for us and our children after all these years of glory, but of weariness and discomfort as well.
One evening at a Court function [Tuileries, August 15, 1811] the Emperor came up to Prince Kurakin near the throne. He had a long conversation with him, and spoke so loudly that those about His Majesty felt it their duty to retire somewhat. At the same moment I was chatting with someone in the embrasure of a window. The Emperor was standing with his face towards me, at the left of the throne. All the despatches of the time have reported this conversation. The Emperor Napoleon complained that the Tsar Alexander wished to attack him; that he was no longer in the alliance, since he admitted pretended neutrals [to his ports]; that Russia was the scene of vast movements of troops. At the end of this conversation, which lasted for half an hour, the Emperor exclaimed loudly enough for me to hear him from where I was standing:
“According to Monsieur de Caulaincourt the Tsar Alexander wishes to attack me.”
The Emperor was so excited and spoke with such warmth, and his words came out with such rapidity, that Prince Kurakin, standing with his mouth open to reply, could not get a word in. Although they had withdrawn some distance, the bystanders were all ears, especially those members of the diplomatic corps who happened to be in the room.
“M. de Caulaincourt,” the Emperor went on, “has turned Russian. The Tsar’s beguilements have won him over.”
Leaving Prince Kurakin, the Emperor took a few steps towards the middle of the room, seeking to read in the bystanders’ eyes what impression he had made. Noticing me in the window—for I had certainly not escaped his attention—the Emperor came up to me and remarked peevishly:
“You have turned Russian, haven’t you?”
“I am a very good Frenchman, Sire,” I answered steadily; “and time will prove that I have told Your Majesty the truth, as a faithful servant should.”
Seeing that I was taking the matter seriously, the Emperor then pretended that he had been joking.
“I know well enough that you are an honest man,” he said; “but the Tsar Alexander’s cajoleries have turned your head. In fact you have become a Russian,” he added, with a smile.
He then turned away and began to speak to other persons.
Next day, having failed to obtain a private audience with the Emperor, I made so formal a declaration to Duroc., for him to pass on to His Majesty, of my wish to retire from the Court—and at the same time I expressed myself so forcibly to the Minister of Police—that within twenty-four hours Mme. de C—12 had been granted permission to return from exile.
On this point I must render the Duke of Rovigo the justice that many others beside myself owe him. He spoke frankly to the Emperor about this act of severity—as he did, indeed, about many similar affairs, seeking to delay action or even to bring about a reversal of his decision—without fearing the harsh and disagreeable consequences that he might bring on himself. Undoubtedly Savary told the Emperor the truth more than any other Minister of Police ventured to do.
I had spoken to Duroc with the tone of a man who has made up his mind, and he came to see me on the following morning. He told me that the Emperor had not meant to say anything distasteful to me: he had merely said to Prince Kurakin what he had subsequently said to me, in order that the Tsar Alexander should know that I remained his friend; he valued me highly, but I ought to consider his susceptibilities more in some ways, and not fall out with him as I did when he discussed policy with me; it was easier to lead him by giving way on certain points than by running directly counter to his views. He told me that I worried myself needlessly with matters which actually did not concern me, and by so doing harmed myself and my friends without benefit to policy or person; it was foolish to sacrifice oneself for high matters which one could in no way change, or when one had not armies to set up in opposition. It was a vain self-sacrifice. I tried unavailingly to explain my feelings to him. He joked about what I called doing my duty. He let me see, however, that at heart he agreed with me, but that it would be a waste of his time and devotion even to hope to persuade the Emperor to other political views.
The journey to Boulogne, along the coast and down through Holland, which followed the Emperor’s round of visits to various palaces, put an end for a while—by taking us away from Paris—to the host of petty annoyances that plagued my life. But there was no alteration in the Emperor’s acerbity towards me, even when the almost superhuman achievments of my department 13 occasionally drew his involuntary though grudging praise during these astonishing journeys and impromptu excursions.
The maze of details connected with these journeys had rendered me indispensable to the Emperor. [September 19—November 11, 1811.] Too just not to appreciate my usefulness, he was nevertheless brusque in his relations with me. Once back in Paris the Emperor seemed in no disposition to treat me better.
Engaged in a matter that touched my honour, in that it concerned my country, and my self-esteem, in that I had no mind to be the agent of a policy of which I disapproved, I was in an embarrassing position; but my silence in public on all these questions was my salvation.
Bowing to the unjust severity of a sovereign, who can never give way to a subject, I refrained from my complaints regarding things that affected me personally; but I appealed direct to the Emperor, or through Duroc and the Duke of Rovigo, against the injustice dealt out to my friends, who were entirely ignorant of my political views. My silence in public and my restraint were noticed by the Emperor. According to what Duroc told me, he approved of my conduct; yet not for one moment did he modify his own.
During the winter there were many festivities, full-dress balls and masked balls. At the state ball [February 6, 1812] I was the only high official not included in the grand quadrille with the Empress and the Princesses. I was likewise passed over, or rather I was the only high official not invited, to supper at the Empress’s table. So far as the supper was concerned I took this rebuff lightly, for it was possible to consider invitations to that as a personal matter; but as the quadrille concerned one of the prerogatives of my position and was much commented upon, I considered it my duty to lodge a complaint. The Emperor sent me word that the omission of my name had been a mistake; but I learned from Duroc, to whom he had dictated the list, that it had been intentional.
Duroc even warned me, with that obliging friendliness which characterized him, not to mention for the moment the return of my friends to Court, adding that he did not know what I had done or said, but that the Emperor was more incensed against me than ever. He observed that I spoke too warmly against Polish affairs; that when the Emperor discussed business with me I appeared to be putting him in the wrong, and that this irritated him. He was doubtless alluding to two conversations the Emperor had had with me; one at the château of Loo, during our journey to Holland, and the other just two days before, in Paris. I will confine myself to but a brief summary of them, for with the exception of a few phrases which I will record, the conversations were on the same lines, and in almost the same terms, as what I have already reported.
“This journey,” said the Emperor, “together with the measures I am going to take against English commerce, will prove to the Tsar Alexander that I remain staunch to the System of the alliance, and am more concerned with the internal prosperity of the Empire than with the warlike schemes attributed to me.”
“In the meantime, the troops Your Majesty has assembled here are proceeding northwards. That does not seem to accord with the maintenance of peace.”
“The Poles are calling me, but I am not thinking of the restoration of Poland; and although it would politic and even in the interests of civilization, I am not planning it. That would be too great an undertaking, on account of Austria.”
“And yet, Sire, that’s the only compensation I can see for sacrificing the Russian alliance.”
“I have no wish to sacrifice it. I am only occupying North Germany in order to strengthen the Continental System, and really shut out England in a strict quarantine from the rest of Europe. To do this I must be strong everywhere. My brother Alexander is obstinate; he sees these measures as veiling some project of attack. He is wrong. Lauriston is constantly telling him so; but when a man is afraid he sees double, and at St. Petersburg they can see nothing but divisions on the march, armies standing in readiness, Poland in arms. It is I who might take offence, for the Russians have moved up the divisions which they had previously brought from Asia.”
After making many observations to prove to the Emperor that he could not deceive St. Petersburg regarding his real projects, I added that no political interest could justify a war that would take him eight hundred leagues from Paris whilst he had Spain and all the resources of England against him.
“It is because England is in Spain, and obliged to stay there, that I am not uneasy about her. You don’t understand politics. You are just like the Russians; you can see nothing but threats, nothing but war, whereas this is just a disposition of forces necessary to make England sue for terms before six months have passed—if only Rumiantsof does not lose his head.”
The Emperor closed these conversations by a show of something more than impatience.
But returning to Duroc: he made me promise to see no more of Talleyrand, who, he told me, had been out of favour for some time with the Emperor for more reasons than one: notably on account of the reflections he had permitted himself to make regarding the war in Spain, notwithstanding the fact that he had been among the first to urge the Emperor to seize that throne. Duroc added that we did not know the Emperor’s wider projects nor his political views; he centred everything on the need of forcing England to make peace so that Europe might finally enjoy lasting tranquillity. All Duroc’s reflections were made in a spirit of kindness and concern for myself.