Alexander I- the Tsar Who Defeated Napoleon
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The second problem tackled at the Aachen Congress concerned the question of potential European mediation in the conflict between Spain and its rebellious Latin American colonies. For Great Britain, persuaded that the Russian proposals merely camouflaged ambitions that could hurt its naval and commercial interests,25 there was no question of exercising any pressure on the insurgents for mediation. On the contrary, Russian and French diplomacy were in solidarity with the Spanish Bourbons and considered that the conflict imperiled the existence of Spain, and so mediation was desirable. In November the Duke of Richelieu and Kapodistrias jointly proposed that negotiations, placed under Wellington’s direction, in which the United States would participate, would be held in Madrid between the Spanish authorities and representatives of the rebelling colonies. In case of failure, commercial reprisals might be applied against them. But the British, Austrians, and Prussians refused this project and so the plan was abandoned. The result was another compromise: a declaration in favor of moral support for Spain was adopted, but the mediation of Wellington was postponed. Still, although it had no outcome, the Russian proposal has to be stressed: it attested to Alexander’s growing political inflection to the right: in a conflict opposing a conservative regime and its colonies struggling for emancipation and liberalism, he officially took the part of the conservative state.
Finally, the issue of the treatment of slaves was also tackled at the Aachen Congress. And here the Russian and British positions were similar: both were favorable to the interdiction of the trade. But the other participants were hesitant, and no decision was taken.
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Coming out of the congress, what had Russian diplomacy achieved? In a note to the tsar at the end of December 1818,26 Kapodistrias offered an interesting analysis. Of course he was glad that all the participants had declared themselves concerned for European peace, but he stressed that at the same time each delegation remained attached to its own interests and that no collective vision had been proposed on which to build a peace. To him, England still remained the strongest and most resolute adversary of the Russian Empire, still desirous of playing a key role in Europe, while conserving its maritime hegemony. He also deplored the Austrian propensity to arrogate preeminence in German affairs and called on the imperial state to get closer to France and Spain to seek a counterweight.27 This tells us that at the end of 1818 there was no longer any possibility of a harmonious entente among the former allies; the distrust that had arisen since 1813–1814 had quickly resurged. Still, despite his disillusion, Alexander in a voluntarist approach wanted to safeguard the spirit of the Holy Alliance; while he was still at the Aachen Congress, he wrote to Count Lieven, his ambassador to London, to say that “the results achieved by the Congress characterize the second period of the great political era that began from the moment when sovereigns became brothers for the cause of religion and good order, of justice and humanity.”28 In a meeting with the British Quaker Thomas Clarkson, he asserted his optimism, saying he was “sure that the spirit of Christianity is categorically peaceful.” Two years later it was in the same pacifist and European spirit that he went to the Troppau Congress in 1820. But in the interval the international context and the tsar had both changed. In barely a few months, the Holy Alliance had become the favorite tool of a conservative European diplomacy.
The Holy Alliance as an Instrument of Conservatism
In the wake of the Congresses of Vienna and Aachen, those of Troppau in 1820, Laibach (Silesia) in 1821, and Verona in 1822 undoubtedly did secure the European accord born in 1815, while fostering among elites the emergence of a shared feeling of European belonging. But in an international context increasingly troubled by the nationalist and liberal aspirations that extended across Europe, Alexander’s fraternal dream was rapidly being put into the service of the established order. Starting in 1819–1820, fearing that the contagion might reach “his” Poland, Tsar Alexander became convinced (to the point of obsession) that liberalism was merely an instrument of political destabilization and that the revolutions that were bursting out in various parts of Europe were the fruit of a global scheme run by secret societies that were closely linked to each other. In February 1821 he sent Alexander Golitsyn a long letter (written over the course of a week29) that attests to his preoccupations, both spiritual and political. For him, Europe was threatened by an anti-Christian revolutionary plague that had to be fought at all costs. The style of the letter, which astonishingly mixes geopolitical considerations and mystical passages, tells us much about Alexander’s political and psychological evolution. He begins by attacking the “disorganizing principles that in less than six months have revolutionized three countries and threaten to extend to Europe as a whole,” those principles that though “enemies of thrones, are directed even more against the Christian religion,” and stressing that these principles are “targeting Christianity—thousands of authentic documents can be produced to show you. In a word, this is just putting into practice the doctrines preached by Voltaire, Mirabeau, Condorcet, and all those self-styled philosophers known under the name of Encyclopedists.” The tsar drove the point home:
I would say that the current evil is of an even more dangerous kind than was the devastating despotism of Napoleon, since the current doctrines are much more seductive for the multitude than the military yoke under which he held them.30
The danger seemed to him even greater because he saw these nationalist and revolutionary movements as part of a general conspiracy orchestrated against God:
Have no illusions: there is a general conspiracy among all these societies; they confer and communicate with each other, and I have irrefutable proof in my hands. […] All these sects are anti-Christian and are founded on the principles of the so-called philosophy of Voltaire and the like; they have sworn the fiercest vengeance upon all governments. We have seen some attempts in France, England, and Prussia, while in Spain, Naples, and Portugal they have already succeeded in toppling governments. But what they are really pursuing is less the governments than the religion of the Savior. Their motto is “Kill the Inf…”—I cannot even quote this horrible blasphemy, well known in the writings of Voltaire, Mirabeau, Condorcet, and suchlike.31
Guided by this extreme view verging on paranoia, imperial diplomats were now shifting toward increasingly conservative positions, where mysticism mingled with realpolitik.
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At Troppau and the following congresses there were no more festivities; the tsar proved increasingly solitary in his exercise of power. In December 1820 he wrote in a characteristic way to Alexander Golitsyn: “I live in complete retreat. My sister is the only distraction that I have, at dinner or when we have the possibility of going out to take the air together.”32
In fact, in the small town of Troppau in Bohemia,33 he was content to share moments of freedom with his young sister Maria and his brother Nicholas, who was attending an international conference for the first time. From now on, there were no more liberal reveries but, on the contrary, thoughts of defending the established order and its values. However, if the tsar gradually came around to Chancellor Metternich’s arguments that the European entente should above all serve to maintain the existing order, he did keep some moderation due to the continuing influence of Kapodistrias. In October 1820, in a preparatory report written at Alexander’s request, the latter reaffirmed the need to safeguard the moral principles that the Holy Alliance attempted to apply; but in Spanish and Neapolitan matters he was in favor of a diplomatic and not a military solution that would be negotiated by the coalition powers and would accept a certain amount of constitutionalism as long as the process remained moderate.
In November 1820 in Troppau, the uprisings underway focused everyone’s attention. The first took place in Spain, where discontent was sharpened by both the newly returned king’s reactionary policy and by his determination to send troops to the American colonies in revolt. On January 1, 1820, military units based in Cadiz that were supposed to leave f
or the colonies staged a mutiny, and in only a few days the military uprising reached Madrid, forcing the king to restore the liberal constitution of 1812. In July a related movement influenced by the Spanish example, and led by officers who had served under Murat, burst out in Naples, forcing the new sovereign to accept a constitution. Finally in August another military uprising arose in Portugal, and there again in October, the king had to accept the principle of a constitution. Thus, in many places on the continent, liberal and revolutionary ideas threatened the monarchical order reestablished in 1815 by the Congress of Vienna.
Faced with this situation, as soon as the Congress of Troppau opened, Metternich and Kapodistrias started a bitter fight to win Alexander over; the tsar remained on Austrian territory almost eight months. He did meet Metternich often; the two men had frequent tête-à-têtes after the official sessions without the knowledge of Nesselrode or his secretary of state.
When the summit began, Kapodistrias presented two plans in the name of the Russian Empire. The first was a general one that asked the five powers to pronounce in favor of a right to interfere in the domestic affairs of the coalition states. For Castlereagh, this proposal would transform the existing alliance into “a general government of Europe,”34 struggling against revolutionary ferment, and this was unacceptable to the British. He had to deal with Parliament and British opinion, which were open to liberal ideas and not receptive to any idea of solidarity among European powers. So, although supported by Metternich, the Russian proposal was officially disavowed by British diplomats who (as at Aachen) refused to go down that path. The second proposal was to grant the smaller European states the right to proceed freely to domestic reforms provided that these were acceptable to the five coalition powers. But here it was Metternich’s resolute opposition that blocked the plan; he could not tolerate the great European powers authorizing (and a fortiori supporting) the least liberal trend. Instead of sanction for political and moral interference, Metternich asked for outright power to intervene militarily in Naples. While until then Alexander had been hesitant about any military solution, the uprising of the Semenovsky Regiment,35 which had been skillfully instrumentalized by Metternich, caused an abrupt reversal in the Russian sovereign’s position, much to Kapodistrias’s regret. Alexander now rallied to the Austrian proposal, even offering the support of 100,000 Russian soldiers.36 Disturbed by this radicalization to the right, Kapodistrias tried to obtain some safeguards. In the new text he submitted to the congress in November, he stressed that they not consent to military intervention unless “friendly approaches” failed, and he insisted that the coalition powers should act collectively on the Naples issue. The provisos irritated Metternich, who wanted to obtain from the congress carte blanche to intervene militarily in Italy. But the tension did not last: in the following days Alexander dropped Kapodistrias and came around to Metternich’s perspective, but not without first being assured that his crucial support would earn him Austrian acceptance of action in the Balkans. While the uprising of the Semenovsky Regiment played a patent role in his new position, the tsar had not lost sight of the empire’s geopolitical interests.
In November 1820 Russia, Austria, and Prussia signed a preliminary protocol drafted by Kapodistrias and amended by Metternich, which would be published in the form of a circular on December 8. The text ratified the principle of armed intervention against the revolution in Naples and more generally the right of military interference by coalition states in the domestic affairs of other states as soon as they were confronted with revolutionary movements or uprisings. Laharpe devoted in his Correspondence a long commentary on this protocol, which he thought truly put an end to the pioneering role played by the Russian Empire in the construction of a liberal European order. Barely five years after having dreamed of a Europe that would rest on the values of peace, fraternity, and toleration that respected the principle of nationalities, Alexander I had come to support the maintenance of a conservative and monarchist Europe that was beating back national movements. Meanwhile, the British judged the protocol to be unacceptable as it was; in London parliamentary and public opinion attacked a text that turned the European concert into a tool of repression. In January Castlereagh sent the representatives of the signing countries a circular in which Great Britain expressly condemned this stance.
Suspended at the end of 1820, the work of the congress resumed a few weeks later, this time in Laibach,37 again on Austrian territory. But while the British diplomats still hoped to obtain the annulment of the Troppau protocol, the Austrian government found support for its right to repress the Naples uprising, and in April 1821 Austrian troops annihilated the liberal government of Naples.
At the same time Alexander was increasingly desirous to support any regime in place, including in the Ottoman Empire.
For many Russians, most European diplomats, and Christian subjects of the Ottoman Empire, the signing of the Holy Alliance in 1815 had augured an alliance among Christian powers liable, when the time came, to turn against the Sublime Porte. In one of his dispatches to his sovereign,38 written shortly after the Alliance was concluded, Gentz, Metternich’s secretary, noted that in the eyes of many observers, Alexander’s secret intention was to bind the Christian powers by a solemn oath to undertake a new crusade, like the one dreamt of by Catherine II and Potemkin as the “Greek project.” Moreover, in the emperor’s entourage some shared his interpretation or wished for it; for example, the Baroness of Krüdener and the tsar’s secretary, Alexander Stourdza, wanted to see Alexander I as the benefactor of the Greek cause. At the same time a Greek diaspora converging on Odessa was very active; in 1814 the Philike Hetaireia (Society of Friends) was created, whose goal was to reconstitute the old Byzantine Empire, with Constantinople as capital. But if (like his grandmother) Alexander was attached to preserving in Ottoman lands the Orthodox rights inscribed back in 1774 in the Treaty of Kutchuk-Kaynardji,39 and although he had obtained new rights for regions populated by Orthodox Christians by the Treaty of Bucharest (Walachia, most of Moldavia, and Serbia had autonomous principalities under Russian protection), he preferred to wait and see. Prudent about peoples’ aspirations to be liberated from Ottoman rule, he was not certain that these aspirations would necessarily help him to accomplish Catherine’s ambitious plan of annexing the Danube principalities and taking Constantinople. Thus, in March 1816 he asked his ambassador in London to tell the British government that the Holy Alliance had “no hostile intention with respect to people who are not sufficiently fortunate as to be Christians.”40
In February 1822 Alexander Ypsilantis, a Greek general in the Russian army who thought he might benefit from the tsar’s support, crossed the Prut and provoked in Moldavia an anti-Ottoman uprising; he took Jassy without difficulty and called for a general insurrection against Ottoman rule. But the Balkan population did not respond to his appeal, and nine months later a beaten Ypsilantis was forced to recross the border and take refuge in Austria, where he was arrested and imprisoned. Nevertheless, an anti-Ottoman uprising began to gain ground in the Peloponnese; faced with the sultan’s troops, the insurgents hoped that in the name of Orthodox solidarity, Russia would intervene militarily in their favor. But their hopes were quickly disappointed when Alexander disavowed the insurrection at the end of March. While those close to him, including Golitsyn (in the name of defending Orthodoxy) and Kapodistrias (in the name of liberal principles), pressed him to intervene, the tsar (who had in the interval symbolically stripped Ypsilantis of his Russian military titles) refused: to him, the Greek uprising was an act of insubordination that emanated from an international conspiracy that aimed only to destabilize the continent. As we recall, in his February letter to Golitsyn written from the Congress of Laibach, he tried to convince his friend of the existence of an organization that united “all liberal, leveling, radical revolutionaries and carbonari41 from all corners of the world”42—including the Greek insurgents. Similarly, he wrote to the Princess Meshcherskaia, a fervent Orthodox believer who
was begging him to engage Russia alongside the insurgents, that the sovereigns gathered at Laibach were reflecting on the means to combat “the devil’s empire.”43 And ten days later he again justified his position in a new letter to Golitsyn, one full of paranoid overtones:
There is not a doubt that the calls for this revolt were given by the same directing central committee in Paris in order to create a diversion for the benefit of Naples and to prevent us from destroying one of the synagogues of Satan, established for the sole purpose of preaching and diffusing his anti-Christian teaching. Ypsilantis himself writes in a letter to me that he belongs to a secret society founded for the liberation and renaissance of Greece. But all these secret societies are affiliated to the central committee in Paris. The revolutions in Piedmont have the same goal of establishing one more center for the same doctrine and of paralyzing the alliance of Christian authorities that profess the Holy Alliance.44
And so, to the great regret of Russian opinion, which remained in favor of Greek nationalism, Alexander allowed the sultan to crush the insurrection. Henceforth, upholding existing state structures and fighting any liberal expression (understood by the tsar as a natural element in the worldwide conspiracy) were the main priorities of his diplomacy. In the summer of 1821, however, his position did shift a little: when the Austrian and British governments took the sultan’s side, for fear that Russia would take too much advantage of a possible destabilization of the Ottoman Empire and pursue its own expansionist policy there, the execution of the Greek Patriarch Gregory V, hanged in front of the door of his church on Easter Day 1821, the massacres of Orthodox Greeks perpetrated in Istanbul at the same time, as well as the pressure from elites and some of those close to him (like Baroness de Krüdener) led Alexander to reconsider his policy on Greece. On July 18, by the intermediary of his ambassador, he sent an ultimatum written by Kapodistrias to the Ottoman Empire that demanded reparations for the death of the patriarch, for the destruction of Orthodox churches, and the “repeated breaches” of the 1812 treaty;45 he also began (through Ambassador de la Ferronays) to sound out the French government about a plan for the French and Russians to intervene in Turkey “in the name of Europe.”46 The emperor was concerned with respecting the functioning of the European system and avoiding any international crisis so he did not intend to act alone in any aggressive act against the Ottoman Empire—even when Kapodistrias, a fervent promoter of the Greek cause, pushed him in that direction. Still, the absence of any response from Paris, the tsar’s growing fear of liberal movements, and warnings from Castlereagh about the consequences of a new Russian-Turkish war all led him to abandon his plan for intervention. At the end of 1821, the disgraced Baroness de Krüdener was forced to leave St. Petersburg. In July 1822, when Metternich proposed another international congress in the spirit of Laibach on the Greek issue, a bitterly disappointed Kapodistrias chose to retire from the Russian diplomatic service as well as to leave the empire, to the Austrian chancellor’s great satisfaction. The modest congress in August 1822 in Vienna lasted only a few weeks; Metternich, assisted by British ambassador Lord Strangford (who replaced Castlereagh who had committed suicide), skillfully managed to convince Alexander to renounce any military plan in favor of a common diplomatic effort to force the Ottomans to extend more humane treatment to the Greeks and to withdraw their troops from the Danube principalities.