Still there was no rupture. Diplomatic relations were strained, war began to be talked of, preparations got under way, but diplomacy yet hoped to solve the problem. The final quarrel seems to have taken place over the wording of a new treaty. Alexander wanted Napoleon to say that “Poland shall never be restored.” How could the Emperor guarantee such a thing? He was not Destiny. He could not foresee what might be done by others and by Time. He was willing to promise that he would never restore Poland, nor aid in its restoration. He wrote this promise in the strongest terms. The Czar struck out the amendment, rewrote the original, “Poland shall never be restored,” and demanded Napoleon’s signature.
Was this an affront, or not? There the case, so far as the actual rupture goes, rests. Napoleon considered it a humiliation to sign such an indefinite, peremptory guarantee; he thought it an insult for the Czar to show so plainly that he doubted his word.
England, of course, was buzzing at the Russian ear all this while. Her agents moved heaven and earth to make the “two bullies” fight. No matter which was worsted, Great Britain would be the gainer. She feared France on the Continent, Russia on the Indian frontier. A duel between these colossal powers would exhaust both, leaving England all the stronger by comparison.
Russia and Turkey were at war on the Danube. The Christians were doing their utmost to relieve the heathen of several thousand square miles of land. England exerted herself to bring about peace between Turk and Russian, in order that the Czar might not have a war in his rear as Napoleon had in Spain.
It is said that a forged letter, in which Napoleon was made to state that he agreed to a partition of Turkey, was shown at Constantinople. The Turk had his suspicions of this letter; but an Englishman swore that he recognized Napoleon’s writing. By some strange neglect, France had no ambassador in Turkey at this critical moment. Andréossy had been appointed, had set out, but had waited at Laybach for his credentials. When they at length arrived, and he proceeded to Constantinople, it was too late.
Before any declaration of war, and while diplomatic relations were still maintained by the two governments, the Czar sent an agent to Paris to pose as envoy and to work as spy. This man, Czernischeff, bribed a clerk in the French war office to steal a complete statement of the French forces, dispositions, equipments, etc. The clerk was shot; the noble Russian escaped by sudden, secret, and rapid flight.
At practically the same time, Napoleon was equally well served at St. Petersburg by a spy who stole the “states” of the Russian armies, and the plates from which the great maps of Russia were printed. From these plates Napoleon furnished his generals with maps for the Russian campaign.
Napoleon fully realized the nature of the task he had before him in a contest with Russia. To defend himself in Italy, Germany, or even Poland against the Czar was one thing; to invade that vast empire with the purpose of seizing its capital and compelling it to sign such treaties as he had imposed upon Austria and Prussia, was another task altogether—a task colossal, if not appalling. No one knew this better than Napoleon, and his preparations were made on a scale such as Europe had never seen.
In advance of the work of the soldier came that of the diplomat. Both Russia and France sought alliances. Great Britain was, of course, heartily with the Czar. Sweden, controlled by Bernadotte, took the same side. He had demanded, as the price of his alliance, that Napoleon give him Norway, thus despoiling the Danes. The Emperor refused, but offered Finland, which Russia had seized. The Czar promised Norway, and thus the Frenchman, Bernadotte, who probably had not yet spent all the money Napoleon had supplied him with when he went to Sweden, pledged his support to the enemies of France. For all practical purposes, Russia likewise made an ally of Turkey. So utterly improbable did it seem that Turkey would make peace with its hereditary enemy at the very moment when it had the best opportunity fate had ever offered in all the long struggle, that Napoleon had not even calculated upon such an event. It took him completely by surprise.
Turkish recollections of Tilsit and Erfurth, Turkish fears of other bargains of the same sort, and Turkish dread of an English bombardment of Constantinople, which was threatened, brought about the unlooked-for treaty which gave Russia an army to throw upon Napoleon’s flank.