Turkey had not nursed any very great degree of wrath against Napoleon, on account of his attempt upon Egypt; she had recognized his greatness and had become his ally. During the campaign in Poland, while Napoleon’s army was weltering in the mud, which caused indignant French soldiers to exclaim, “Is this what the Poles have the impudence to call their country?” England had sent a fleet to Constantinople to bully the Sultan into joining the league against France.
The terror of the unprepared Turk was profound, and he was about to submit; but it so happened that Napoleon was represented there by a man of courage and ability—General Sébastiani. Through his advice, and inspired by his confidence, the Sultan parleyed with the English, temporized, gained time, manned defences, and prepared for a struggle. A letter from Napoleon came at the right moment, exhorting and promising, as no one but Napoleon could exhort and promise. French diplomats steadied the nerves of the Commander of the Faithful, while French officers directed the work on the fortresses, so that when the English admiral was finally told that Turkey would resist his insolent demands, the Turks were all ready for battle, and the English were not. They had forced their way into Turkish waters, killing and wounding as they came; they now sailed away, pursued and bombarded, losing many in killed and wounded as they escaped.
Failing here, they determined to make sure of Denmark. By the Treaty of Tilsit the two Emperors contemplated a union of all the Continental powers against English commerce. Great Britain believed that Denmark would be forced to enter this league—but she had no proofs, so far as historians know. At any rate, no hostile steps had been taken by either Emperor: Napoleon had merely instructed Talleyrand to enter into negotiations with Denmark. Upon the plea that Napoleon meant to seize the Danish fleet, Great Britain determined to take charge of it herself, despite the fact that Denmark was at peace with her, had given no cause for war, and was even then represented at London by a resident, friendly minister. Concealing her purpose, smiling upon this duped minister to the last, Great Britain launched fleet and army against an unsuspecting people. Appearing before Copenhagen in force, the British demanded that the Danish fleet be given up to England in pledge, “until the peace.”
Taken at disadvantage though they were, the Danes could not at once yield to so shameful a humiliation, and the English opened fire. For three days and nights the devoted city was shelled, and all the horrors of war inflicted upon it. For three days the British guns roared, strewing the streets with dead men, dead women, dead children; while eight hundred homes were in ruins or on fire. Then the Danes yielded, their city was looted, their ships taken away, and the exulting marauders sailed back to England towing their prizes, to be welcomed with rapturous enthusiasm.
* * * * *
To the Berlin Decree of Napoleon, Great Britain retorted with another “Order in Council.” She declared that she would search all merchant vessels, and that neutrals should not be allowed to trade unless they had touched at a British port and paid duties there. Here was another violation of all law,—an insolent invasion of the right of neutrals to do business, save in contraband of war. Napoleon’s counter shot was the Milan Decree, in which he very naturally declared that any ship submitting to such demands as England had made, should be treated as an English ship. Why not? It is apparent enough, that if neutral ships did business under English rules, paying duties at English ports, such ships were practically doing business as English ships.
Strange are the verdicts of history. Napoleon gets almost all the blame for this commercial war, in which he was first struck by England, and in which each of his decrees was but an attempt to ward off the blows England aimed at him.
To make a success of his Continental system, it was necessary that the entire seacoast of the Continent should be closed to English goods. In theory, the system was in force throughout the Continent, with the important exceptions of Spain and Portugal. To close the long line of seaboard these countries presented, was Napoleon’s first purpose in meddling with their affairs.
Spain had been his ally, but had, perhaps, never had her heart in the alliance. At all events, when the great Bourbon conspiracy against Napoleon’s life was on foot, in 1803, some of the accomplices of Georges had entered France under the protection of Spanish passports. Nevertheless, Spain had paid rich subsidies into Napoleon’s coffers, and had sent her ships to be destroyed by Nelson at Trafalgar. So burdensome had become the alliance that Spain had grown tired of it. While Napoleon was involved with Prussia, and previous to Jena, the Spaniards had been called to arms by Godoy, the Prince of The Peace, real ruler of the kingdom. Napoleon believed that this call to arms was a measure of hostility to the French. The victory of Jena, however, changed the situation, and Godoy humbly came to terms with the winner.
Now again, in 1808, a treaty was made between France and Spain. Portugal, virtually an English colony, and ruled from London, was to be conquered, and divided between France and Spain. A French army, under Junot, marched through Spain into Portugal, and captured Lisbon (November, 1807). The royal house of Braganza made its escape to Brazil. Its throne was declared vacant by Napoleon, and the French took full possession of the country. But for Junot’s rashness and rapacity, it seems that the Portuguese, as a general thing, would have been quite contented with the change of masters.