Far Flies the Eagle (7 page)

In the first days of September, 1808, Alexander left Petersburg and began his journey to meet Napoleon at Erfurt.

CHAPTER FOUR

Erfurt was a lovely old Thuringian town, architecturally quaint with its ancient city walls and narrow, cobbled streets. On the 27th September it shook with the roar of cannon firing salvoes of welcome to the Czar of Russia and the Emperor of France; they rode into Erfurt at the head of a magnificent cavalcade. There were troops of Napoleon's Guard in their splendid uniforms, arrogant veterans of his great campaigns, who swaggered through the streets as they had done in cities all over the world; squadrons of Cossacks in their colourful dress, and soldiers of the Russian Imperial Guard. The orders issued to the Russian forces were strict; no drinking or rioting and as little mixing with French troops as possible; Alexander knew the temper of his men and wanted no incidents. The petty German Princes whom Napoleon had made Kings were crowded into Erfurt to pay homage, a ridiculous, undignified gathering of men who had betrayed their people and were unaware that the treachery was bitterly resented. In spite of the flags, the salutes, the brilliance and colour which flooded the quiet German town, there was an air of unrest among the Thuringians. They viewed Napoleon with hatred and respect, but already two words were being whispered in Erfurt as they were throughout Europe. “Remember Spain.”

Spain, poor and degraded before the world, had risen against the tyrant and was still fighting him successfully. Also the English had landed an army in Portugal under General Wellesley; trade with England had been reopened, and the position was so serious that Napoleon himself was rumoured to be going to Spain to direct the war.

The body of Europe, for so long paralysed under the foot of the conqueror, suddenly breathed a deep breath. The strongest rebellious intake came from the principalities of Germany, led by Prussia, who had been stripped of her lands and crippled by a French levy of 140,000,000 francs.

At his first meeting with Napoleon, Alexander was astonished by the change in him. They embraced as usual with protestations of delight, the Czar bent double over his tiny ally, seeing that the stern, not unattractive looking young victor of Tilsit had become fat and so sallow that he was almost jaundiced.

After a State Banquet, the Conference opened the following morning, and one of the first people to bow and kiss Alexander's hand was the crippled Prince of Benevento, Charles Talleyrand.

The French Ambassador to St. Petersburg was sent for by his master within the first few days. He knew when he entered the room that Napoleon was in a furious temper, for the Emperor was striding up and down, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. When he saw Caulaincourt he swung round.

“What in the name of damnation have you been doing at Petersburg?” he demanded. Caulaincourt began to stutter.

“Doing, Sire.… I don't understand.…”

“Why those reports week after week, telling me how friendly the Czar is to France, how devoted to me, when he's nothing of the kind!” Napoleon shouted. “You idiot, you blockheaded fool, the man's no more my friend than the King of England!”

“But, Sire,” Caulaincourt protested, “Sire, he's never ceased to praise you to me. We've talked together for hours, he's shown me every mark of favour from the moment I arrived! I admit Petersburg society is hostile to me, but the Czar is devoted to the alliance with France. Sire, I assure you, he's told me over and over again …”

“I don't care what he's told you,” Napoleon snapped. “You're an idiot and he knows it. This isn't the man I dealt with at Tilsit, he agrees to nothing!”

Caulaincourt made a wise remark. “He's stronger than he was at Tilsit.”

Napoleon's eyes gleamed. “An intelligent observation, my dear Caulaincourt. It's a pity you didn't make others while you were in Russia. Do you know he's practically refused my offer of marriage with his sister Catherine?”

“I know that, Sire, I spoke to him about it yesterday as you ordered, and he said the right to choose husbands for her daughters remained with his mother the Dowager Empress. He could promise nothing without her consent.”

“Bah! That's what he said to me this morning. Very well, I said. If not the Grand Duchess Catherine, then the younger sister Anne. If he's his sister's lover as they say, that might have accounted for the refusal, but by God he practically said no to Anne as well. That's not jealousy, Caulaincourt, that's policy! He's changed towards me. Still charming, yes, but that means nothing. I've learnt that in two meetings in twelve months while you, you imbecile, couldn't discover it seeing him every day!”

“Monsieur Talleyrand suggested that he might talk with him,” Caulaincourt ventured.

“That snake?” Napoleon paused. “Well, why not. God knows he's deceitful enough to deal with Satan himself and emerge with the best of the bargain. Talleyrand; very well. Send him to me. And you can go now. I repeat, Caulaincourt, you've proved yourself an idiot!”

The Ambassador bowed and went out.

That evening Talleyrand paid a visit to the Russian Headquarters. The players of the Comédie Française had been brought to Erfurt to perform before the Emperors, and there was just an hour before Alexander need dress to go to the theatre. He received the French Minister in his private sitting-room, and offered him some wine. In the first few minutes, Talleyrand considered him.

He was, he decided, a very handsome man, with a gentle, serious expression and immense natural charm. A man who would draw men to him and hypnotize women, yet a man with a tortuous brain, as his dealings proved, a man capable of ruthless action, for he had murdered his own father, and kept his throne under circumstances of great danger. Courageous, and with a very long memory; it was as well to take his measure, for if he defeated Napoleon, he would become the most powerful ruler in the world.

Talleyrand opened the conversation properly by speaking of his love for France, and Alexander, listening, nodded. He then said that in his opinion Napoleon was bringing his country to absolute ruin by his insane ambition and the wish to conquer the world. As a result, his servants were in the unhappy position of having to choose between their personal loyalty and their duty to France.

“I, Sire, have chosen France,” he said quietly.

“I applaud your decision, Monsieur,” Alexander answered. “Why did he send you to me?”

“To try and persuade you to agree to his proposals. His temper's become very short lately; he's afraid he might lose it with you if he has to press these points himself.”

“And what does he want me to agree to?” Alexander asked.

“A marriage with one of your sisters, the recognition of his brother Joseph as King of Spain, and an appeal to the English to do the same. He also wishes you to put pressure on Austria who is rearming, as he doesn't want war with her yet. Also he thinks England will get out of Portugal if she sees Austria weakening. Should war come, then he wants an assurance of Russian military assistance against Austria.”

Alexander poured some more wine into his glass and offered it to Talleyrand.

“What do you advise?”

“I advise that you grant him nothing in respect of any marriage or of threatening Austria. Those are the two most important concessions; the others you can afford to make for appearance's sake. Your recognition of Joseph as King of Spain will have no effect on either the Spaniards or the English, as long as they know Austria is about to go to war. As for the military aid you give the Emperor in event of war, well, that is a matter for Your Majesty's discretion.”

“I agree, my dear Monsieur Talleyrand, and I shall follow your excellent advice. France is indeed fortunate in possessing such a patriot as yourself,” Alexander said.

Talleyrand smiled coldly.

“My patriotism must appear much like treason to you, Sire, but believe me, the infamies I have had to commit in the service of Napoleon Bonaparte have well fitted me for what I am doing now. It is nearly time for the performance. May I bid Your Majesty good night.”

The conference at Erfurt ended as it had begun, in splendour and apparent amity between the two principals, for the Czar had agreed to most of Napoleon's proposals. But the credit was really due to Talleyrand, who had succeeded in beguiling Alexander where the Emperor had failed; so said observers who had seen the ruler of France lose his temper and dignity at one meeting to the extent where he threw his cap on the floor and jumped on it, under the cold eye of the Czar, who had snubbed him and prepared to leave the room. It was an unfortunate incident, for it revealed the vulgar spirit of the little parvenu from Corsica, still vulgar and a parvenu in spite of the Royal Purple he had assumed. Alexander noted it, noted that the proud young diplomat of Tilsit, whom he had been forced to admire as an adversary if not as an equal, had become a violent tempered bully, the prey of rages and impulses of savagery. He threatened and abused without restraint, but he was polite, even affectionate to Alexander, which was most significant.

“I leave Erfurt and you, Sire, with great sadness,” he said on their last evening. “I have been happy in the peace and friendship I found here. But I go now to less peaceful duties.”

“To Spain?” questioned Alexander sympathetically.

“To Spain,” Napoleon replied. “To scatter the rabble that a parcel of incompetents have allowed to make a noise out of all proportion to their importance.”

“Success and God speed, my friend,” Alexander said to him. “Your interests are always mine.”

The next morning the Imperial carriages drove out of Erfurt with their colourful escorts and the cannons fired their last salvoes of farewell. It was over, and the two sovereigns took their different roads, one to Paris and then embarkation for Spain, the other to St. Petersburg.

Dispatches had arrived for Alexander regularly, and he re-read the last as he drove out of Erfurt. It assured him that everything in Petersburg was peaceful; rumours had crept back that he had refused Napoleon's offer of marriage for his sister, the Grand Duchess Catherine, and public opinion was pleased. The Grand Duchess's reactions were less favourable, but the police and administration had maintained absolute calm in his absence. The dispatch was signed Alexei Araktcheief.

Peaceful and calm; Alexander leant back in his carriage and thought of those two words in connection with Araktcheief and his Court. They meant that he must have paralysed them all with fear.

He closed his eyes and immediately thought of Marie Naryshkin; his thoughts were sentimental as well as voluptuous. He had missed her badly, and the casual embraces of one or two German ladies at Erfurt had only increased his loneliness and sharpened his desire for her. He fell asleep with his blond head pillowed against the satin upholstery and dreamt that he held her in his arms.

On his arrival at the Winter Palace, the first person he sent for was his mother. The Dowager Empress went into her son's room and remained shut in alone with him for nearly an hour. Then a page was sent to bring the Grand Duchess to her brother.

Catherine had expected the summons, and she was blazing with anger. He had betrayed his promise at Erfurt; she was to remain in Russia, unmarried and rotting, idling away her youth and beauty with lovers who kept her sensuality at bay but did nothing to satisfy her ambition. She stormed into Alexander's room and stood still abruptly when she saw the mother and son standing side by side.

“My dear sister,” he said softly. “How happy I am to see you.”

She noticed suddenly that he had made no move towards her, no attempt to kiss her as he always did after a separation. There was something cold and forbidding in his manner, in spite of the gentle greeting, and her mother's face was heavy and blank.

“Rumour has preceded you,” she said sharply. “Unless you send for me to contradict it. There is to be no marriage. Is that correct?”

She could see her mother's colour rising and knew that she was frightened, frightened of Alexander.… She stood rigid with pride and defiance, fighting a queer sensation of fear that was creeping through her. She had never seen such an impersonal, dead expression in his eyes as he studied her and then answered in the same level voice.

“I'm afraid it's quite correct. There is to be no marriage between you and Napoleon.”

“You betrayed me!” she accused. “You promised and you've broken your word!”

It was then that the Empress Dowager spoke. She too was calm, and the effect of the composure of these two people suddenly made Catherine feel she might have hysterics.

“Your brother has done everything and more than he promised. Napoleon wouldn't have you, Catherine Pavlovna. He wants to marry your sister Anne.”

“Wouldn't have me … it's not possible! For what reason?” She was gasping with surprise and rage.

Alexander explained quietly, “Anne is not yet sixteen and he prefers a very young wife to bear his heirs. I'm sorry, Catherine, I know how humiliated you must feel, as I do, for your sake.”

“As we all do,” her mother added.

Catherine stared from one to the other. Napoleon had refused her … truth or lies, God only knew. Why was her mother aiding him? Had he deceived her, bullied her, or was it really true that an Italian guttersnipe had refused to marry Catherine Pavlovna Romanov?…

“In order to spare you public humiliation, I have decided on another marriage for you,” Alexander said. “Mama agrees with me that you must be married before Napoleon makes any other choice. We have selected Prince George of Oldenburg.”

“Oldenburg!”

A tiny Duchy, a living grave of ambition, even of life itself. She had seen George of Oldenburg; he was frail and spotty complexioned, a stupid oaf many years her senior.

She stepped back from them. “No,” she said. “No, never. You can't do that to me, Alexander. This is you, not mother. You can't. I won't marry him.”