The whole time I was in charge of the direction of foreign affairs, I served
Napoleon loyally and zealously.1
After the coup of Brumaire, Napoleon set about eliminating the factionalism which had torn the country apart under the revolutionaries, and bringing an end to the state’s conflict with those sections of French society that had been alienated during the course of the Revolution (Catholics, royalists and émi-
grés among others). The introduction of a unified code of law, the Civil Code
of 1804 (known as the Code Napoléon after 1807), the introduction of mon- etary and financial reforms (the Bank of France was established in February 1800, three months after the coup of Brumaire), and the Concordat with the Catholic Church in Rome were all designed to create the social, economic and political stability necessary to consolidate and maintain power.
That is also why, in the spring of 1800, there was a massive shift in the reorganisation of the state’s administrative and judicial apparatus away from locally elected officials to a highly centralised system of appointed officials (prefects, sub-prefects, mayors, judges).2 Elections, one of the
principles of 1789, were effectively abandoned (except for a few plebiscites that were in any event rigged).3 Increasingly, people were
simply administered from Paris and no longer took an active part in national or even local politics. In short, there was a shift in the political culture away from the people back towards the national and local elites. At the national level, there was of course a certain amount of jostling for positions of power and influence.
Reinstated in the ministry for foreign affairs shortly after the coup (25 November 1799), Talleyrand was eventually able to eliminate most of his rivals so that he was one of the few men in Napoleon’s entourage with
unlimited access to the person of the First Consul. At this stage in his career, Talleyrand put great store in Napoleon for the future direction of France. To this extent, Talleyrand, like most of Napoleon’s collaborators, encouraged his expansionist ambitions, but did so in the hope of consoli- dating the territorial gains of revolutionary France. Increasingly, too, Talleyrand encouraged Napoleon to adopt the trappings of imperial auth- ority. Both policies, in Talleyrand’s view, were necessary in order to con- struct a stable position for France in Europe.
During the war of the Third Coalition, however, what started out as a difference of opinion as to the best way to build peace after the Battle of Austerlitz, eventually resulted in Talleyrand working against Napoleon and the regime after the Treaty of Tilsit. This change in attitude coincided with a souring of personal relations between Talleyrand and Napoleon. The two questions that are central to an understanding of Talleyrand’s behaviour during this period are whether he really had a vision for France, and to what extent he abandoned the regime because Napoleon had abandoned him? Before answering those questions, however, Talleyrand’s relationship with Napoleon and the policy direction he advocated have to be seen within, first, the wider context of French/European affairs and, second, within the more narrow context of the politics of the imperial court.
Talleyrand and Napoleon
The first concern of the new government was the proper distribution of power. Talleyrand had his own ideas about what should be done. ‘It is necessary’, he told Napoleon, ‘that you be the First Consul, and that the First Consul hold in his hands everything relating directly to politics, that is, the ministries of the interior and the police for internal affairs, my min- istry for external affairs, as well as the two principal means of imple- menting policy, War and the Navy.’4Quite clearly, Talleyrand was urging
Napoleon to take all the power. He did so out of a mixture of personal con- viction – that is, he thought Napoleon was the best man for the job – and out of preference for a strong executive as the right political option. In some respects, this conviction was in tune with Talleyrand’s ideas for a constitutional monarchy during the heady days of the Revolution. The dif- ference now was that the sovereign was no longer hereditary but elective.
Cambacérès, who was regarded as a defender of the principles of the Revolution, and Charles-François Lebrun, a sop to the right – were to do little more than supply the First Consul with advice which he could either accept or reject. The appointment of these two consuls was a precaution. Talleyrand knew that France was not yet ready to accept Napoleon entirely as its sole master. There was, however, one other reason why Talleyrand preferred to work in a system with a strong executive, and that was to con- solidate his own position of power.
* * *
In the course of a private audience with Napoleon at the beginning of the Consulate, Talleyrand insisted that he work only with him and that mat- ters of foreign affairs not be discussed in council.5 The arrangement
suited both men: Talleyrand because he gained direct access to the centre of power and thereby became Napoleon’s intimate collaborator (unlike his position under the Directory when he was often ignored), and Napoleon because he thereby had direction and personal control over foreign policy. During the Consulate, Talleyrand’s discussions with Napoleon were long and frequent – he met with him twice, often three times a week and some- times had talks that lasted hours – although it seems that it was Napoleon who decided what affairs were to be discussed.6Not only foreign relations
but most other affairs of state were raised, almost as though Napoleon looked upon Talleyrand as a kind of mentor; Talleyrand after all was fif- teen years his senior, and much more experienced in the workings of gov- ernment. There were also more practical reasons for Napoleon wanting Talleyrand by his side: he was reasonably familiar with the courts of Europe but, more importantly, he was representative of the nobility of the Ancien Regime. As such, Talleyrand was not only used by Napoleon in his efforts to reconcile the social and political classes of Ancien Regime and revolutionary France, but Talleyrand had the good sense to present him- self as an intermediary between the old and the new France.7
Over the next few years, Talleyrand astutely asserted himself so that by 1802 he had become one of the most important figures in Napoleon’s gov- ernment. This did not occur without a struggle with rival contenders for the ‘priority of Napoleon’s good graces’. Chief among them was the min- ister of police, Fouché.8The transformation of the Consulate in 1802 from
a term of ten years to life intensified the rivalry between Fouché and Talleyrand. It was not only personal, it was also representative of the
struggle between, on the one hand, Constitutionals (like Talleyrand) in favour of any measures that leant towards a restoration of monarchical structures and, on the other, Conventionals or Jacobins (like Fouché) who remained relatively faithful to republican principles.9The end result of
Fouché’s opposition to the transformation of power structures towards a monarchy was a victory for Talleyrand: the ministry of police was sup- pressed in September 1802, Fouché was dismissed and fobbed off with a position in the Senate. The only other rival that Talleyrand feared at court was the duc de Narbonne because he possessed many of the qualities that distinguished Talleyrand from the entourage of Napoleon – that is, birth, manners and intelligence.10 (He eventually replaced Talleyrand as
Napoleon’s favourite conversational partner.) The struggle to maintain the Emperor’s favour was constant, however. After 1809, the court was wit- ness to a contest between Maret, Talleryand and Caulaincourt.11
Jostling for positions of influence at court necessarily involved a cer- tain amount of political intrigue in order to gain ascendancy over one’s rivals, potential or real. As far as Talleyrand was concerned, however, there was also a personal element involved, and that was his attraction to Napoleon. He admitted during the Restoration, at a time when it was in his interest to distance himself from the man and the regime, that he loved Napoleon, in a platonic sense of course but probably nevertheless deeply, in spite of his faults, and that at the beginning he was drawn to him ‘by that irresistible trait which was his genius’.12 ‘Let me repeat’,
Talleyrand wrote to Napoleon on 28 June 1801, as he was about to leave Paris to take the waters, ‘that I love you, and that I am grieved at having to part, that I am most impatient to return to your side and that my devo- tion will continue to the end of my days.’ Similarly, in a letter dated July of that same year one can read, ‘. . . I am not complete when I am far from you’; or on another occasion, ‘I don’t like your library, you are there too often, and it is damp’. These and other passages in Talleyrand’s corre- spondence – ‘allow me to say, that I love you the most’ – still in use right up to the Polish campaign of 1806–7, read like those of a love-sick adolescent.13
As a result of Talleyrand’s later falling out with Napoleon, some histo- rians have tended to see these earlier expressions of devotion as simply another example of his cynical opportunism: flattery for the sake of per- sonal advancement. This view, however, ignores Talleyrand’s ability, underneath an impassive exterior, to feel deeply and passionately. It also
ignores Napoleon’s very real sway over those in his entourage. The expressions of love and affection found in his early correspondence with Napoleon should, therefore, be taken at face value. They are the result of Talleyrand’s admiration and gratitude, and an indication of the extent to which Talleyrand was sincerely devoted to the man. It was never, however, a devotion which blinded Talleyrand to the realities of Napoleon’s foreign policy.
This brings us to the working relationship between the two men, and whether Talleyrand had any influence over Napoleon. Certainly, at the outset of his career as foreign minister under Napoleon, Talleyrand believed he could make a difference and that he could work towards con- cluding peace between France and Europe. He thus confided to the Prussian ambassador shortly after the coup of Brumaire that ‘within six weeks we will have a foreign-political system that, I hope, will procure us allies. No longer will we hit Europe over the head with a baton in order to see it consequently attack us’.14There were, however, two problems with
this expectation.
The first was that, as Talleyrand soon discovered, Napoleon had no foreign-political system, other than conquest, expansion and the defeat of Britain.15This lack of system was partly due to the fact Napoleon never
knew what kind of conditions he was going to impose on the vanquished. Indeed, he treated political affairs like he treated military affairs: wracked with impatience, he wanted to get things over and done with, but, more importantly, he wanted everyone to cede to his will.16The end result was
that no foreign-political system was ever put in place. As the comte de Molé observed, ‘I never perceived the slightest preoccupation with edify- ing an imperishable edifice’.17
The second problem was that Napoleon was determined from the start to act independently and to pursue personal initiatives, not only in foreign affairs but in just about every other state domain. Napoleon outlined what he expected of his ministers in a letter to Admiral Decrès in June 1805: ‘A minister is responsible for nothing, he must succeed; there is no other rule for him.’18Certainly, there was nothing particularly unusual about a head
of state taking an interest in foreign policy. Along with war, it was one of the few domains where the monarch asserted direct power. Napoleon was, in this respect, behaving like any other European monarch. Alexander I of Russia, for example, often decided policy without informing his foreign ministers. The end result was that, as foreign minister, Talleyrand had
little or no direct control over policy towards the major European powers, but enjoyed much greater freedom of action with regard to minor European and non-European powers. In any event, the degree any minis- ter could influence policy was inversely proportional to the amount of interest Napoleon took in affairs. As far as foreign policy was concerned, if Talleyrand wanted to influence policy outcome, he had to find alterna- tive means to do so.
One way was to flatter. Talleyrand used flattery as an arm to better oppose Napoleon’s policies, or at least to avoid some of the dangers that Talleyrand feared from his ambition.19 Irony in the guise of eulogy was
one means open to those who wished to express their opposition. Take, for example, Talleyrand’s address to the Senate on 18 March 1805, after Napoleon had taken the title King of Italy:
Has not malevolence sought to spread alarm by recalling the glory, the name of Alexander [the Great] and Charlemagne? Frivolous and mis- leading analogy! . . . Charlemagne was a conqueror and not a founder. Founders govern during their lives and then for centuries . . . Alexander, by constantly rolling back the limits of his conquests, did nothing more than prepare for himself a bloody funeral . . . Like these great men, we have seen Your Majesty carry his armies rapidly to Europe and Asia; his activity, like theirs, has been able in only a short time to seize the most vast expanses and cross the greatest distances. But, were the most glo- rious expeditions and the hardiest of enterprises motivated by a vague and indefinite desire to dominate and to invade? No, no doubt, . . . Your Majesty wanted to recall France to ideas of order and Europe to ideas of peace.20
In ‘court speak’, Talleyrand was saying that he believed Napoleon was driven by some vague and indiscriminate desire to dominate, invade and conquer. What better way to get this message across, thereby voicing a very discreet form of opposition, than by the ironic use of flattery? Similarly, in October 1805, at the beginning of the Strasbourg memoran- dum in which Talleyrand pressed for an arrangement with Austria (see below), the opening passages flatter Napoleon in order to prepare the ground for suggestions that he may not welcome.21Again in June 1807,
shortly after the Battle of Friedland, Talleyrand went so far as to write, perhaps with a certain amount of lassitude, that he hoped it was the last victory Napoleon would be obliged to carry off because ‘wonderful though
it is, I have to admit that it would lose in my eyes more than I can say if Your Majesty were to march to new battles and expose himself to new dangers ... because I know how much Your Majesty despises them’.22
Talleyrand was not a man of confrontation, but rather of conciliation who relied on persuasion and skilfully chosen arguments to bring others around to his opinions. Thus, at no time did Talleyrand press an argu- ment with Napoleon. His approach could, in that respect, echo that of another courtier, Saint-Simon, who tried to impress upon the dauphin his feelings and views on matters in a gentle and thorough manner so that the crown prince would eventually believe that he had arrived at those views by himself.23It was in marked contrast, however, to someone like
Caulaincourt, who did not hesitate to argue his point with the Emperor. Talleyrand’s approach, in keeping with his character, was subtler. It was a question of learning how best to deal with Napoleon and of taking his personality into account as a factor to be reckoned with. Thus, if Talleyrand ever thought Napoleon’s decisions were unwise or impetuous, he would simply hold off carrying them out. ‘The only difference between Champagny [who was to later replace him as foreign minister] and myself’, he once remarked, ‘is that if the Emperor ordered Champagny to cut off someone’s head he would do it within the hour, while I would take a month to carry out the order.’24In practical terms,
Talleyrand’s influence does indeed seem to have been limited. To illus- trate this, let us turn to one of the more important diplomatic events during the Consulate.
A precarious peace
Shortly after establishing himself as First Consul, and at Talleyrand’s prompting, Napoleon wrote to the crowned heads of Britain and Austria expressing his wish for a prompt reconciliation. Although historians have speculated that the offer was never a serious one – Napoleon wanted to consolidate his position at home by a resounding military victory against the Austrians25– there is evidence to suggest that he would have accepted
at least a truce to consolidate his position before launching upon a war with Austria.26In any event, both Britain and Austria rejected the offer.
The war on the Continent continued, therefore. Even after Napoleon defeated the Austrians at Marengo (14 June 1800), the Austrians stayed in
it another six months until they were finally forced to sue for peace by Moreau’s victory at Hohenlinden (3 December 1800). After some negoti- ating – although with French cavalry within a day’s ride to Vienna it was mostly a question of the French imposing their conditions – the Austrians accepted the terms laid out at Lunéville (9 February 1801). It was not very different to Campo Formio: Austria recognised France’s annexation of the left bank of the Rhine and recognised the ‘independence’ of France’s satel- lite republics.27
One year later, Napoleon gave in to Talleyrand’s repeated urgings and agreed to attempt a negotiated peace with Britain. In fact, Talleyrand had not waited for Napoleon to come around to his way of thinking and had already put out feelers months before by sending Casimir de Montrond to London in January 1801. He was to discover whether public opinion in that country would be favourable to negotiations with the new regime. Montrond, who spoke English well and who was a popular figure in London, learnt that the new prime minister, Lord Addington, and the new minister for foreign affairs, Lord Hawkesbury, were eager to begin dis- cussions. With Napoleon’s permission, negotiations were begun formally and continued over a period of six months.
The ‘Ministry of All Talents’ as the new British government became known, felt the need for peace. Apart from the fact that there was trouble brewing in Ireland, it was isolated on the international scene. Indeed, so intense was the desire for peace that Addington agreed to surrender all territory Britain had won since 1792: Martinique and Guadeloupe were returned to France; Surinam and the Cape of Good Hope were returned to the Dutch; Minorca was returned to Spain. Of all its conquests, only Ceylon and Trinidad were retained. France, on the other hand, recovered all its losses and maintained all its conquered territories on the Continent.