want anything for myself,” he said to the French ambassador, “therefore the world is not large enough to come to an understanding on the affairs of Poland, if it is a question of its restoration.”[1] The treaty of Vienna, which added largely to the grand-duchy of Warsaw, he complained had “ill requited him for his loyalty,” and he was only mollified for the time by Napoleon’s public declaration that he had no intention of restoring Poland, and by a convention, signed on the 4th of January 1810 but not ratified, abolishing the Polish name and orders of chivalry.
But if Alexander suspected Napoleon, Napoleon was no less suspicious of Alexander; and, partly to test his sincerity, he sent an almost peremptory request for the hand of the grand-duchess Anne, the tsar’s youngest sister. After some little delay Alexander returned a polite refusal, on the plea of the princess’s tender age and the objection of the dowager empress to the marriage. Napoleon’s answer was to refuse to ratify the convention of the 4th of January, and to announce his engagement to the archduchess Marie Louise in such a way as to lead Alexander to suppose that the two marriage treaties had been negotiated simultaneously. From this time the relation between the two emperors gradually became more and more strained. The annexation of Oldenburg, of which the duke was the tsar’s uncle, to France in December 1810, added another to the personal grievances of Alexander against Napoleon; while the ruinous reaction of “the continental system” on Russian trade made it impossible for the tsar to maintain a policy which was Napoleon’s chief motive for the alliance. An acid correspondence followed, and ill-concealed armaments, which culminated in the summer of 1812 in Napoleon’s invasion of Russia. Yet, even after the French had passed the frontier, Alexander still protested that his personal sentiments towards the emperor were unaltered; “but,” he added, “God Himself cannot undo the past.” It was the occupation of Moscow and the desecration of the Kremlin, the sacred centre of Holy Russia, that changed his sentiment for Napoleon into passionate hatred. In vain the French emperor, within eight days of his entry into Moscow, wrote to the tsar a letter, which was one long cry of distress, revealing the desperate straits of the Grand Army, and appealed to “any remnant of his former sentiments.” Alexander returned no answer to these “fanfaronnades.” “No more peace with Napoleon!” he cried, “He or I, I or He: we cannot longer reign together!”[2]
The campaign of 1812 was the turning-point of Alexander’s life; and its horrors, for which his sensitive nature felt much of the responsibility, overset still more a mind never too well balanced. At the burning of Moscow, he declared afterwards, his own soul had found illumination, and he had realized once for all the divine revelation to him of his mission as the peacemaker of Europe. He tried to calm the unrest of his conscience by correspondence with the leaders of the evangelical revival on the continent, and sought for omens and supernatural guidance in texts and passages of scripture. It was not, however, according to his own account, till he met the Baroness de Krüdener—a religious adventuress who made the conversion of princes her special mission—at Basel, in the autumn of 1813, that his soul found peace. From this time a mystic pietism became the avowed force of his political, as of his private actions. Madame de Krüdener, and her colleague, the evangelist Empaytaz, became the confidants of the emperor’s most secret thoughts; and during the campaign that ended in the occupation of Paris the imperial prayer-meetings were the oracle on whose revelations hung the fate of the world.
Such was Alexander’s mood when the downfall of Napoleon left him the most powerful sovereign in Europe. With the memory of Tilsit still fresh in men’s minds, it was not unnatural that to cynical men of the world like Metternich he merely seemed to be disguising “under the language of evangelical abnegation” vast and perilous schemes of ambition. The puzzled powers were, in fact, the more inclined to be suspicious in view of other, and seemingly inconsistent, tendencies of the emperor, which yet seemed all to point to a like disquieting conclusion. For Madame de Krüdener was not the only influence behind the throne; and, though Alexander had declared war against the Revolution, Laharpe was once more at his elbow, and the catchwords of the gospel of humanity were still on his lips. The very proclamations which denounced Napoleon as “the genius of evil,” denounced him in the name of “liberty,” and of “enlightenment.” A monstrous intrigue was suspected for the alliance of the eastern autocrat with the Jacobinism of all Europe, which would have issued in the substitution of an all-powerful Russia for an all-powerful France. At the congress of Vienna Alexander’s attitude accentuated this distrust. Castlereagh, whose single-minded aim was the restoration of “a just equilibrium” in Europe, reproached the tsar to his face for a “conscience” which suffered him to imperil the concert of the powers by keeping his hold on Poland in violation of his treaty obligation.[3]
Yet Alexander was sincere. Even the Holy Alliance, the pet offspring of his pietism, does not deserve the sinister reputation it has since obtained. To the other powers it seemed, at best “verbiage” and “exalted nonsense,” at worst an effort of the tsar to establish the hegemony of Russia on the goodwill of the smaller signatory powers. To the Liberals, then and afterwards it was clearly a hypocritical conspiracy against freedom. Yet to Alexander himself it seemed the only means of placing the “confederation of Europe” on a firm basis of principle[4] and, so far from its being directed against liberty he declared roundly to all the signatory powers that “free constitutions were the logical outcome of its doctrines.” Europe, in fact, owed much at this time to Alexander’s exalted temper. During the period when his influence was supreme, the fateful years, that is, between the Moscow campaign and the close of the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, it had been used largely in the interests of moderation and liberty. To him mainly it was due that France was saved from dismemberment, and received a constitution which, to use his own words, “united crown and representatives of the people in a sense of common interests.”[5] By his wise intervention Switzerland was saved from violent reaction, and suffered to preserve the essential gains of the Revolution. To his protection it was due that the weak beginnings of constitutional freedom in Germany were able for a while to defy the hatred of Austria. Lastly, whatever its ultimate outcome, the constitution of Poland was, in its inception, a genuine effort to respond to the appeal of the Poles for a national existence.
From the end of the year 1818 Alexander’s views began to change. A revolutionary conspiracy among the officers of the guard, and a foolish plot to kidnap him on his way to the congress of Aix-la-Chapelle (q.v.), are said to have shaken the foundations of his Liberalism. At Aix he came for the first time into intimate contact with Metternich, and the astute Austrian was swift to take advantage of the psychological moment. From this time dates the ascendancy of Metternich over the mind of the Russian emperor and in the councils of Europe. It was, however, no case of sudden conversion. Though alarmed by the revolutionary agitation in Germany, which culminated in the murder of his agent, the dramatist Kotzebue (q.v.), Alexander approved of Castlereagh’s protest against Metternich’s policy of “the governments contracting an alliance against the peoples,” as formulated in the Carlsbad decrees, 1819, and deprecated any intervention of Europe to support “a league of which the sole object is the absurd pretensions of absolute power.”[6] He still declared his belief in “free institutions, though not in such as are forced from feebleness, nor contracts ordered by popular leaders from their
- ↑ Coulaincourt to Napoleon, 4th report, Aug. 3, 1809. Tatischeff, p. 496.
- ↑ Alexander speaking to Colonel Michaud. Tatischeff, p. 612.
- ↑ Castlereagh to Liverpool, Oct. 2, 1814. F.O. Papers. Vienna VII.
- ↑ Martens IV. part i. p. 49.
- ↑ État des négociations actuelles, &c., mem. prepared by order of the Tsar, July 16, 1815, enclosed in Castlereagh to Liverpool, F.O. Cont. papers. Congress Paris, Castlereagh, 22.
- ↑ Despatch of Lieven, Nov. 30 (Dec. 12), 1819, and Russ. Circular of Jan. 27, 1820. Martens IV. part i. p. 270.
