by Philip Dwyer
A convention was nevertheless signed between the two countries (12 October 1808), leaving Russia with Moldavia and Wallachia, as well as Finland. In return, Napoleon was supposedly able to count on Russian assistance in the event of war with Austria. In other words, Alexander came away with concrete territorial gains; Napoleon came away with a promise.
‘When Will the Blood Cease to Flow?’
Pierre Corneille’s seventeenth-century masterpiece Cinna, a favourite of Napoleon’s, was one of the plays performed at Erfurt by actors from the Théâtre-Français. There is a line in Act III when one of the characters, Emilie, cries out, ‘Treachery is noble when aimed at tyranny’ (la perfidie est noble envers la tyrannie). Talleyrand may have felt a certain sense of satisfaction on hearing it. Once he had returned to Paris, he continued to play the spy. Alexander decided to maintain two ambassadors at the Tuileries. One, Prince Kurakin, was an eccentric whose idiosyncrasies caused a great deal of amusement at court. The other, Count Karl von Nesselrode, was a thirty-year-old Westphalian nobleman who had entered Russian service during the revolutionary wars. He was sent to Paris ostensibly as an adviser to the Russian ambassador, Kurakin, but was actually Alexander’s personal liaison with Talleyrand.32 Although Talleyrand no longer had as much access to Napoleon’s person as in the past, he was still reasonably well informed of his intentions and plans and did not hesitate to communicate them to Nesselrode. Talleyrand knew, for example, that war with Russia was approaching but did not expect it until April 1812 (which turned out to be an exact estimate). In the meantime, he offered Alexander some sound advice: to assume a defensive position, to use the time to prepare and to resume relations with Britain.33
Talleyrand was not yet actively working for Napoleon’s overthrow, but rather was encouraging Austria and Russia to form a united block against him by insisting that they should not readily sacrifice their own strategic interests. At every opportunity after Erfurt, Talleyrand would publicly criticize the government in the severest terms, and thereby encourage others to do the same.34 Aimée de Coigny, an ardent royalist and one of Talleyrand’s friends, remarked that ‘all Paris’ was visiting him in secret. The memoirs of the period give the strong impression that Talleyrand was involved in some sort of conspiracy. This was not the case; rather, he acted as a kind of magnet around which oppositional elements gathered.35 As for his motives, it is possible Talleyrand thought that if he managed to present a strong front, public opinion would force the Emperor to moderate his ambitions; Talleyrand, of course, knew that any remarks he made criticizing Napoleon would be reported directly back. At the same time, however, by voicing his opposition he was publicly seen to be an opponent of the government’s policies; if ever there were a change in regime he could always say that he had opposed Napoleon and there would be people aplenty to confirm this.
In many respects, Talleyrand’s stance conforms to the general opposition towards war and the desire for peace prevalent in French society during the latter stages of the Empire.36 This attitude began to find an echo with a minority of individuals – prominent members of the imperial government, the administration and even the army – opposed to further conquests, or who at least believed that their fortunes were being endangered by the lack of political stability on the Continent.37 Self-interest and self-preservation were probably as great a motivation, if not greater, in opposing Napoleon as the desire to see stability in France and Europe. In Talleyrand’s case, however, it should also be seen as typical of ancien régime aristocratic behaviour, when it was quite common for nobles to form an alliance with other court nobles or members of the royal family in order to oppose the king’s policies.
The clergy too began to speak out against Napoleon and it is here one can possibly find a more accurate reflection of the malaise that started to take hold of the population as the wars dragged on with no end in sight. The Church had become increasingly disillusioned with Napoleon after 1807, but especially after the arrest of the pope in July 1809 (see below). Not all were anti-Napoleon, but even those who had supported the regime, such as the Bishop of Troyes, Etienne Antoine de Boulogne, were starting to wonder where it would all end. In 1809 the bishop publicly expressed the hope that Napoleon would soon conclude his conquests to ‘sanctify the war’, to work towards ‘closing all the wounds opened by it, to root out all the disorders it has borne, and to dry all the tears that it has caused to shed’.38 It is fair to say that the Bishop of Clermont reflected a general concern among the notables about the war in asking publicly, ‘When will the blood cease to flow?’39
The masterstroke in this oppositional policy was Talleyrand’s reconciliation with his old enemy, Joseph Fouché, the minister of police. The antipathy between the two was almost a given in the French political landscape. They had publicly attacked each other for years in the bitterest of terms. The reconciliation, engineered by Talleyrand’s former secretary and number two at the ministry of foreign affairs, Comte Alexandre d’Hauterive, was revealed in dramatic fashion.40 At a reception in 1809 at the rue de Varenne, Talleyrand’s Paris residence, and after all the guests had arrived, the majordomo announced in a loud voice the minister of police. The councillor of state Etienne-Denis Pasquier recounts how a silence immediately fell upon the assembly and every head turned towards the entrance into the salon. The only sound that could be heard was Talleyrand limping across the room to greet the new arrival. Then, linking arms – the scene elicited the famous quip from Chateaubriand, ‘vice leaning on the arm of crime’ – the two men moved from room to room, theatrically absorbed in a whispered conversation.41 This may have been the first time they had met in full view of everyone – it was therefore a very public demonstration of their intentions – but they had been meeting secretly for some time at Hauterive’s house in Bagneux, on the outskirts of Paris, and at Suresnes at the house of the Princess de Vaudémont, a former mistress of Paul Barras, one-time putative head of the Directory.42 Although we have no idea what was discussed, an accord of sorts seems to have been reached around the question of what to do if Napoleon were killed while away on campaign in Spain.
The question was one that had lingered since the early days of the Consulate when the false news reached Paris that Napoleon had been killed at the battle of Marengo. As we saw, a number of men in the political elite were ready to succeed Bonaparte in the event of his untimely demise.43 Eight years later, the problem of Napoleon’s potential sudden death and the succession were still unresolved. The general opinion among contemporaries was, therefore, that Talleyrand and Fouché were working not for the overthrow of Napoleon, but for the consolidation of his regime through the establishment of a lasting peace and the founding of a dynasty.44 In case of Napoleon’s death, Talleyrand had a secret plan to have either Joseph or Murat recognized as Emperor and French troops withdrawn behind the Rhine.45 It appears that Murat was not only aware of the plotting, but was prepared to take part in it.46 In this vein, both Talleyrand and Fouché had wanted Napoleon to divorce Josephine, and to marry into one of Europe’s legitimate dynasties to produce an heir. At this stage of proceedings men like Talleyrand and Fouché had more to gain from a reformed Napoleonic regime than from Napoleon’s overthrow, which would mean either the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty or a new republican government.
The Consolatory Gaze
War was the fundamental cause of opposition to Napoleon and the fundamental cause of popular discontent. His popularity had taken a beating since the battle of Eylau and efforts had been made to remedy the situation. Two months after the battle, for example, a decision was taken to organize a painting competition with a prize of 16,000 francs.47 It was the first time that a competition had been announced since the rather lacklustre response to the Peace of Amiens and the Concordat. Painters were invited to submit sketches based on specifications that were supplied by Vivant Denon. The winner was to receive the commission for the full painting. The painting was meant to depict the day after the battle, when Napoleon visited the field, w
ith emphasis on his treatment of the wounded. The instructions to the competitors were very explicit, to an extent unusual for a commissioned painting, and much more detailed than the official description of the winning entry that is usually cited. The costumes of the principal figures were carefully described, as was the weather, the position of the secondary figures, and the landscape. Vivant Denon had actually witnessed the battle and made ink sketches of the topography as well as the positions of all the principal figures (he drew everything he saw and had assembled an impressive archive of sketches of every Napoleonic battle).48 Twenty-six sketches were submitted for the competition.49 Jean-Antoine Gros, nagged by Denon, reluctantly submitted an entry, and won.50
The opening of the Salon of 1808 displaying Gros’ painting was supposed to coincide with the second anniversary of the battle of Jena.51 A series of paintings had been ordered to portray the most important scenes from the battlefields of 1806 and 1807, including Napoleon’s entry into Berlin and the dismantling of the monument at Rossbach.52 Gros’ painting, on the other hand, is one of a number of paintings that portrayed Napoleon as clement ruler, ‘stopping in front of the wounded, having them questioned in their language, having them consoled and helped in front of his eyes’.53 This was a generous conqueror. Surprised, the vanquished prostrate themselves before him, holding out their arms as a sign of recognition. Napoleon was thus transformed from bloody tyrant into a Christ-like saviour who had come upon the battlefield to bring help to the dying and wounded. In the painting, a wounded enemy soldier, his arm in a sling and on bended knee before Napoleon’s horse, is touching the Emperor’s holy body, but there is also a chasseur ‘who during his dressing forgets his pain, to show his gratitude and devotion to the victor’.54 Gros is once again conferring on Napoleon the aura of the sacred: the Emperor’s hand is raised, almost as though he is blessing the survivors or the battlefield.55
The competition was an attempt to quell the rumours that had spread about the extent of the carnage at Eylau. Like the portrait of Bonaparte at Jaffa, Gros’ portrait of Napoleon as ‘healing king’ helping the wounded and dying was meant to counter the accusations that he had uselessly squandered the lives of thousands of men.56 When it was displayed at the Salon of 1808, it met with enormous success.57 Unlike Ingres or David, more concerned with the trappings of power in their portraits, Gros attempts to get at Napoleon’s character. Jaffa and Eylau are in some respects psychological portraits, stressing the complex inner nature of the subject.58 Nevertheless, as was the case with Jaffa, the Eylau painting is one of the most graphic portrayals of pain and death yet depicted. In Jaffa, however, the suffering was confined to the shadows on the margins of the painting. In Eylau, the suffering is centre stage, or at least in the foreground, and therefore quite unmistakable. Gros is meeting head-on the damaging rumours about the carnage. By showing that Napoleon abhorred the suffering, indeed by giving him a Christ-like quality with, seemingly, powers to heal, the artist is declaring that Napoleon could not be held responsible for the suffering.59
Antoine-Jean Gros, Napoléon Ier sur le champ de bataille d’Eylau (9 février 1807) (Napoleon on the battlefield of Eylau (9 February 1807)), 1808. Napoleon’s chief surgeon, Pierre-Francois Percy, is depicted to the left, helping up a Lithuanian who is saluting the Emperor.
Napoleon’s upturned gaze can be interpreted in any number of ways: as a Christ-like supplication to the Almighty; as looking towards his star now hidden by the clouds;60 as a paradoxical gaze of blindness (‘looking heavenward, Napoleon is “blind” in the sense of looking beyond the field of action’, as if God were absent).61 Whichever way one looks at it, Napoleon evades responsibility for the carnage. It is the detail that intrigues. Here is a Napoleon, dressed in a pelisse of grey satin lined with fur, a killer of men, but who is portrayed as a saint. What can it possibly mean to offer a blessing to the victims of the battle?62 Napoleon is meant to console, to help the wounded. His face now takes on the expression of ‘heroic humanity’.63 He thus appears to be even more heroic.64 The contrast between the snow and Napoleon’s entourage, who are painted in darker colours than the Emperor, and the pallor of his face are all used to create the perception that we are looking at a sublime character. Moreover, despite the fact that Napoleon was driven by military conquest – indeed his whole being existed to conquer – he knew that he could not simply rely on brutal military glory to maintain or justify his power. He needed respect, and for that he had to be seen to engage in acts that were worthy of emulation.
The Clemency of His Majesty
The theme of Napoleon as a clement ruler was something he had been at pains to emphasize since first coming to power. Propaganda after Marengo, for example, focused on Bonaparte as a humane leader, beloved by his troops, a typology that dates back to the first Italian campaign. Paintings from the earliest years of his reign began to portray Bonaparte not only as the victorious general, but also as a general who cared for his men. The Salon of 1801 displayed two such examples by Nicolas-Antoine Taunay, Passage des Alpes par le général Bonaparte (The crossing of the Alps by General Bonaparte), in which Bonaparte is encouraging a tired soldier to lift a cannon wheel, and the Attaque du Fort de Bard (Attack on Fort Bard), in which soldiers contemplate a sleeping Bonaparte ‘with the most tender sensitivity’.65 In this respect, the image of a caring and even Christian (because pardoning) Bonaparte was in stark contrast to the systematic elimination of all opposition in France, which as we have seen sometimes resulted in executions, just as it was in contrast to the conditions in which the troops actually lived and died on the battlefields and in the hospitals. The newspapers made sure to mention any act that reinforced Bonaparte’s compassionate character. In the days leading up to the coronation, for example, he pardoned a ‘large number’ of prisoners, because they were fathers often locked away for debt.66 In 1804, before the proclamation of the Empire, it was incumbent upon the soon-to-be-crowned ‘father of the people’ to help fathers of families. After the foundation of the Empire, stories about Napoleon’s clemency continued to circulate – one comes across them in the newspapers, pamphlets, memoirs and letters of the day67 – but they were also present in artistic representations of Napoleon, as well as in literature, the theatre and opera.68 The idea is especially prevalent in the later paintings of the Empire, and coincides in part with the resurrection of monarchical notions of divine right – we can thus see Napoleon granting clemency to his defeated enemies but also extending French civilization to barbarian cultures – and in part with the rising toll of dead and wounded across Europe.69 In order to counter the anti-Napoleonic propaganda that depicted him as warmonger and butcher, government-inspired art increasingly focused on the idea of Napoleon as merciful ruler.
An example is the case of the Prussian Prince Hatzfeld, arrested in Berlin in 1806 on suspicion of spying. Sent to present Napoleon with the keys of the city, as the troops were filing past he counted them and sent off his findings to Prince Hohenlohe, in command of what was left of the Prussian army. The evidence against him was circumstantial, so it is quite possible that after the pleas of his wife, who was eight months pregnant and who supposedly fainted a number of times in the course of a reading of the indictment, Napoleon, ‘touched’ by this show of feelings,70 used this occasion as an overt demonstration of his clemency. If any artists were looking for a subject to paint, this was one that was ready-made. A number approached Vivant Denon with proposals for works on the subject.71 Paintings and engravings of Mme de Hatzfeld kneeling, crying, supplicating Napoleon abounded after 1806.72 That Napoleon was according an act of mercy to a woman was not without significance. It was possibly seen as more acceptable to accord clemency to a woman, since she is in a position of submission, than to a male conspirator, for example. Napoleon was not, however, averse to forcing the king’s Noble Guard, the very same who had sharpened their blades on the steps of the French embassy at the outbreak of war, to march past the embassy as prisoners between two rows of soldiers, a gesture that
might be considered a little spiteful but was approved of by some Berliners who blamed the Guard for pushing the king into war.
Marguerite Gerard, La clémence de Napoléon Ier: Napoléon et la princesse de Hatzfeld (The clemency of Napoleon I: Napoleon and the Princess of Hatzfeld), 1806. In this painting, later bought by Josephine, Napoleon points to the fire, indicating where Mme Hatzfeld should throw the letter of accusation against her husband. It was the final act, so to speak, in the melodrama. The gesture in the painting is, in any event, one of clementia – clemency.73
In 1806, Jean-François Dunant painted the Trait de générosité française (Gesture of French generosity), in which Napoleon is seen distributing money to Austrian prisoners (very similar, it has to be said, to Philibert-Louis Debucourt’s 1785 painting Le trait d’humanité de Louis XVI, in which he is portrayed distributing alms to a family of poor peasants). The year 1806 also saw Jean-Baptiste Debret’s Napoléon Ier saluant un convoi de blessés autrichiens (Napoleon salutes a convoy of wounded Austrians). Debret was inspired by a piece of official propaganda, a bulletin that was reprinted in the Journal de Paris shortly after the battle of Ulm. It described Napoleon’s benevolence, based on an eyewitness account, when, seeing a line of Austrian wounded file past him, he took off his hat, made all the other officers in his entourage do the same and said aloud, ‘Honour to courageous misfortune’ (Honneur au courage malheureux).74 Since there are no other accounts of this particular anecdote, it may be entirely fictive. The point being made, however, was that Napoleon was not only a victorious general, but also a benevolent, generous and kind ruler. This type of painting had the added advantage of taking away the focus from scenes of battle and the French casualties that ensued.75 Napoleon’s compassion for others goes so far as to encompass the enemy.
