American Phoenix

by Jane Cook

  The lack of daylight also bothered John and Louisa. Near the Arctic Circle, St. Petersburg suffers from seasonal extremes. In winter nighttime consumes as many as eighteen hours a day. John recorded that on December 21 the sun rose at 9:14 a.m. and set at 2:46 p.m.—a mere five and a half hours of daylight. During those few hours, clouds often covered the sun, further suppressing natural light and depressing their homesick spirits.

  “It is a life of such irregularity and dissipation as I cannot and will not continue to lead,” he wrote in his diary.

  The truth was simple. When in Russia, these Americans must do as the Russians did. The questions facing them were more complex. How far would they have to go to succeed? Could they secure free trade without compromising their integrity?

  As Adams sarcastically wrote to his mother: “extravagance and dissipation” have “become a public duty.”

  He was worried, too, about his nephew, William, and his sister-in-law Kitty: “I hope . . . not only myself but all the younger part of my family will preserve steadiness of brain in this sudden and violent whirl, to come out of it still in possession of our purses and our reason.”

  Compared with the Roman temptations facing everyone in their household, their ocean voyage now seemed as easy as sailing across Boston Harbor. Pandora’s box released a stream of enticements, including wealth, greed, power, and ambition.

  “But we all, to begin with myself, need the care of the guardian angel, more than we did in the Baltic or the Gulf of Finland,” he explained to his mother.

  Little did he know that the social pressure had just begun.

  “Between 3 and 4 when we got home—I was quite knocked up,” Louisa wrote after what seemed like the thousandth late night since arriving in St. Petersburg.

  The nineteenth-century meaning of knocked up is different from today’s vulgar slang. The Oxford English Dictionary dates the term from the 1740s and defines it as “overcome or made ill with fatigue.” Louisa’s body and mind were spent. She had danced enough polonaises to spoil a closetful of princess slippers. She had devoured enough delicacies to satisfy her sweet tooth for a lifetime.

  Louisa’s insecurity about her wardrobe weighed on her each time she received a new invitation. She eventually tried every experiment to change her gown’s appearance, even of dressing in mourning, but “it would not answer, and our motive was suspected—What mortifications attend an American Mission!!!”

  The expectation and frequency of formal attire became so oppressive that by December 23, Louisa could no longer do as the Russians did. When she opened the next imperial invitation, she knew what she must do.

  “Received a notification for Mr. Adams and myself to attend at the celebration tomorrow evening of the emperor’s birthday by the empress mother—to a ball.” She had worn silver tissue too many times.

  “Having but one dress in which I had already appeared several times, I declined on the plea of ill health.” Saying no to the empress mother was as risky as sailing along St. Petersburg’s shallow sandbar without a local pilot. She didn’t know whether her choice would go unnoticed or wreck her reputation with the royals. For the moment, an exhausted Louisa didn’t care.

  John experienced the strain of suitable attire too. “Not a particle of the clothing I brought with me have I been able to present myself in, and the cost of a lady’s dress is far more expensive, and must be more diversified than that of a man,” Adams complained in a letter to Abigail.

  Having witnessed his wife’s heartache and delicate health over the years, he understood her reasons for declining. The next night John went alone to the palace, and he was able to report, “The ball was very splendid.”

  At the party one of the other diplomats, who had lived in St. Petersburg for years, revealed that the imperial family usually spent about eighteen thousand rubles on each ball. The thought of spending that much money on a party was enough to make the frugal republican choke on a leg of lamb. As usual the reserved Adams concealed his frankness in polite company.

  “The empress mother, who did the honors of her house, went round all the tables, and spoke to every guest. She spoke to the foreign ministers before, at, and after supper [which began at midnight] and during the whole evening was very gracious in her manner.”

  The empress mother didn’t appear to be disappointed by Louisa’s absence. Free from wearing full court dress and being confined at the palace until the czar took his last drink, Mrs. Adams spent a quiet evening with a new friend, whose husband held the lower rank of consul, the same as Mr. Harris. Her health was the better for it.

  “Went to take tea with Colombi, wife of the Spanish consul, and a lovely woman who we visited most sociably—We passed a delightful evening and I had gone to rest long before Mr. Adams came from the ball.”

  Was the empress mother truly as understanding of her absence as she seemed? In a world of pretension, neither John nor Louisa could be sure.

  17

  French Économie

  NAPOLEON WAS GOD. SO SOME DIPLOMATS TO RUSSIA THOUGHT.

  “The Emperor Napoleon is his idol,” John recorded of a most revealing conversation with the Baron of Six d’Oterbeck, then the Dutch minister to Russia. Mr. Six, as Adams called him in his diary, believed that the French ruler would “demand the adoration of mankind, as being something superhuman.” Mr. Six added, “This idea was entertained by the whole family of the Bonapartes.”

  Adams realized how opposite Six’s sentiments were from Baron de Bussche’s belief that only Alexander and Romanzoff favored Napoleon. Though Bonaparte had also conquered his country, this Dutchman’s devotion was genuine.

  “I do not know whether Napoleon will ever assume the god or not, but if he should, Mr. Six would be one of the most devout of his priests,” Adams wryly wrote.

  Although he didn’t admire Six’s idol worship, he found the Dutchman to be a man with great political expertise, long experience, and “better principles than most statesmen of this or any other day.”

  Six also told Adams how much the French ambassador spent annually in St. Petersburg: a gross sum of four hundred thousand rubles a year. The other ministers spent a mere fifty thousand rubles. Napoleon didn’t want his subordinates to be too independent from him. He encouraged lavish spending, giving ambassadors, especially Caulaincourt, a large purse to keep him—and the host country—in line.

  “He [Napoleon] confines his rewards to very few persons, but heaps them in profusion,” the Dutch minister remarked.

  By visiting one-on-one with these envoys, Adams was doing as the diplomats did. He was trying to make the most of the expectations. Despite his efforts, the more he settled into his role, the more unsettled he became about the global politics threatening his mission and country. Napoleon was becoming an increasing menace.

  “About nine this morning I went out with Mr. Smith to see the emperor at the parade, a review of which he makes of his troops every Sunday, excepting when the frost is too severe,” Adams wrote one December morning.

  Hundreds of uniformed Russian soldiers marched in perfect sync, forming a line from the Palace Square to the Neva River’s main bridge. It was the most impressive example of military might that Adams had ever seen. Nevertheless, the most revealing show was down below.

  “The emperor, accompanied by [his brother] the Grand Duke Constantine and several officers, among whom is the French ambassador, galloped round in front of the troops and back again; after which the troops filed off before him in front of the palace.”

  John couldn’t help noticing the obvious. Caulaincourt was the only non-Russian among the czar’s reviewers. His French uniform, if he wore it, was impressive. The gold-fringed epaulets on his shoulders likely glistened in the sun while a dashing cloak covered his back. On his chest’s left side was a five-sided white star symbolizing France’s five orders. In the star’s center was a blue-trimmed circle depicting a golden image of France’s first king of the Bourbon line, Henry IV. A former officer, Caulaincourt bor
e this Légion d’honneur, Napoleon’s highest decoration, with distinction.

  What was Alexander up to? By including Caulaincourt in this ceremony, was he declaring his friendship with France? Or was he showing off Russia’s military strength to a country he didn’t truly trust? Both, most likely.

  Regardless of the reason, Adams was uncomfortable with the preferential treatment that the czar gave the French ambassador. He first noticed it at a palace court meeting. Alexander signaled through Romanzoff that he wanted Mr. Smith and Mr. Everett to be presented to him after the diplomatic circle.

  Adams, Smith, and Everett, along with the other diplomats, attended liturgy at the palace. Afterward they went to the throne room for the diplomatic circle. What stood out were the favorable treatment that Caulaincourt received and the uneasiness it caused at least one of the diplomats.

  “The French ambassador took his station nearest the door, and the corps diplomatique stood in succession after him,” John observed of the strict arrangement. Caulaincourt’s title of ambassador placed him closest to the czar’s entrance, making him the first diplomat in the receiving line.

  Although he arrived in St. Petersburg a mere seven weeks earlier, John was no longer the newest minister in Alexander’s court. France’s and Austria’s recent peace treaty led Austria to send Count St. Julien to Russia. When St. Julien saw Caulaincourt’s superior position at this circle, he purposefully positioned himself out of the range of the other foreign ministers. The reason? He did not want to appear below Caulaincourt’s rank.

  As an ambassador, Caulaincourt was the highest-ranking diplomat in the czar’s circle. Most of the rest were second-ranking ministers like Adams, or lower-ranking envoys, such as Mr. Navarro from Portugal, who held the position of chargé d’affaires. Others were consuls, like Mr. Harris. Count St. Julien was not officially an ambassador, but he clearly saw himself as an equal with Caulaincourt.

  So did Adams, at least in capabilities.

  Starting with the French ambassador, the emperor, the empress, and the empress mother spoke to all the first- and second-rank diplomats at the circle.

  “The empress asked me how my wife supported the climate of the country; and the empress mother whether I had heard from my children that I left in America.” No, he had not heard from his children since their departure. His wife admired St. Petersburg. He could not possibly tell her the truth about Louisa’s state of being.

  The diplomatic signs were adding up with the exactness of a math equation. Caulaincourt’s influence on Alexander seemed exponentially stronger than Adams initially calculated.

  By late December John was ready to throw off his trappings and find a more favorable solution for the United States. He could not do as the Russians did. Nor could he do as the French did. This American must do something. Realizing he couldn’t break the chains of his so-called exile solely by socializing, he decided to take a hammer to the anvil. It was time to test the new US relationship with Russia by calling for action on a matter that had weighed on him since Norway.

  Adams made an appointment to see Romanzoff. As he entered the chancellor’s cabinet room the evening of December 26, he ran into the Danish minister to Russia, the Baron de Blome. The two exchanged cool pleasantries. The sight of the departing Dane immediately increased the stakes. Regardless of what Blome had just told Romanzoff, Adams must strike the iron. He needed just enough heat to precisely shape his argument without melting his fledgling relationship with the foreign minister.

  “I came at the request of a number of my countrymen,” Adams began, “whose property had been arrested in a very extraordinary manner, by an order of the Danish government.”

  Adams forged his arguments. Their cargo was “unquestionably neutral, direct from America, and after having passed through every examination required by the law in Denmark, had now been arrested.” He tied the problem to Russia. Much of the seized property was purchased on credit in St. Petersburg and nearby Riga. After presenting his points, he fired up his courage and made his request.

  “I had flattered myself that by the exertion of His Imperial Majesty’s influence with the Danish government, something might be done to obtain the release of this American property, and to relieve my countrymen, the owners of it, from their distress.”

  He reminded the count of the emperor’s goodwill toward America. If Alexander was truly serious about trading with the United States, he needed to intervene with the Danes and call for releasing the sailors and their cargo.

  Romanzoff replied with equal diplomacy. The emperor’s dispositions toward the United States were as friendly as possible.

  “General peace depended on England alone,” Romanzoff declared, regretting the loss of the US commerce while blaming Britain. Until England could be reduced to reasonable peace terms, it was impossible for such cargo to avoid “rigorous inspections.”

  The count relayed a tidbit from his conversation with the Danish minister. Blome said seizing the cargo was “not a voluntary act on the part of the Danish government—it had been exacted by France, whose force at their gates was such as Denmark had no means of resisting.”

  Suspecting that Denmark was conniving with England, Napoleon accused the Danes of violating his policy, which prohibited France’s allies from trading with England.

  Adams was stunned. He saw the hostility between the Danes and the English with his own eyes while aboard the Horace. They could not possibly be secret allies. Regardless, Napoleon’s suspicions put tight-fisted pressure on Denmark to halt American cargo as well as British goods under the cover of his Berlin and Milan decrees. Tiny Denmark was too weak to stand up to the Goliath Bonaparte.

  While his expression remained reserved, sparks flew in John’s mind. America and England were no longer welded together in law. He could understand if the French and the Danish were confused about American identity in 1776, when the Declaration of Independence was born. He could understand if some confusion remained after the peace treaty with Britain was forged in 1783. Yet to most Europeans, the United States and Great Britain still remained as joined together as an iron handle is to the base of its shovel—especially when it came to trade. Adams’s mission was to correct the misperception.

  John assured Romanzoff that, with the exception of coffee from Spain’s Caribbean islands, all the items confiscated in Denmark were produced in America.

  “Is not the produce of the United States in these articles of inferior quality? Cotton, for instance?” the count countered after showing some surprise.

  Though hard to imagine, America was not known for producing cotton in 1809. Adams calmly responded to Romanzoff’s mistaken impression.

  “The United States produced the best of cotton, and in immense quantities, . . . in all of the Southern states, as well as in Louisiana, the cultivation of this article within the last twenty years had flourished beyond imagination.”

  The 1810 US census would later confirm Adams’s assertion. American families produced more than 16 million yards of cotton while mills produced 146,000 yards of cotton. Americans produced more than 2.5 million yards of cotton-blend fabrics and 21 million yards of flaxen cloth.

  Without these statistics, which were not published until 1813, Adams nonetheless pounded his point. Because the Danish government sanctioned these imports, the Danes could not lawfully seize them. By capitulating to France, they were breaking their own laws. Alexander’s influence was the best chance for changing the Danish government’s policy and freeing the detained Americans. If the czar was truly serious about trading with America, then he could start by intervening.

  “If this was a French measure, of which the Government of Denmark was only the passive instrument, I trusted that the influence of a sovereign so powerful as the emperor of Russia, and in relations so close to France, would not be exerted without effect at Paris,” noted Adams.

  What mattered most to Adams in that moment were justice for his countrymen and the restoration of their property. “The ac
tive commerce of all other nations, thanks to France, was annihilated,” John boldly asserted. “France herself, Holland, Sweden, and Denmark had nothing that would bear the name of commerce left in their own ships.”

  The United States had scarcely any commerce left. After Madison’s debacle that failed to get a treaty with England, the president reinstated an embargo against Britain. Merchant trade was suspended with nearly every nation in Europe, save Russia and Sweden. Denmark controlled a major waterway to Russia. Without passing through Danish waters, American merchants, such as Captain Beckford, could not easily reach Russian ports or return safely home.

  With the authority of a gavel-banging judge, Romanzoff told John that he agreed with him on his reasoning. Yes, commerce should benefit both parties. But it would be better to suspend all trade in Europe for ten years than to abandon it to the sole control of England. Romanzoff believed that Britain would dominate if Napoleon backed off his trade practices.

  Adams disagreed.

  The count then tossed Adams a few rubles of hope. He would bring up the matter with Alexander after he returned from a trip to Moscow. Because Napoleon’s politics were involved, he doubted the emperor would dare interfere. “As this was a measure emanating from the personal disposition of the emperor of France,” he didn’t think any “influence in the world” would “shake his determination.”

  When he returned home, Adams recorded their meeting in his diary. His observation skills were so sharp that he was able to recall information with the accuracy of the yet-to-be invented camera.

  “The general impression upon my mind was that the count was fully persuaded of the truth of my representations; and that he really disapproved of these measures, but that Russia would not interfere in the case.”