Rites of Peace: The Fall of Napoleon and the Congress of Vienna

by Adam Zamoyski

‘All are desirous of bringing to an early conclusion the business of the congress, in order that the whole and undivided attention and exertion of all may be directed against the common enemy […]

Alexander and Francis conferred about the letters they had received from Napoleon and agreed not to reply to them. This was reassuring, as Russia and Austria were the two powers that might conceivably come to terms with a Napoleonic France.

In another show of solidarity, the allies publicly brushed aside Napoleon’s declaration to the effect that nobody had the right to choose a ruler for France but the French people with a riposte that certain requirements of international law transcended a nation’s right to choose its ruler.

Alexander not only reproved the British for letting Napoleon escape, he also attempted to shift blame onto Metternich and Talleyrand by accusing them of having drawn out the congress unnecessarily.

There were only three major questions remaining to be settled: the indemnities that would convince Bavaria to hand the Tyrol back to Austria, the German constitution and the question of what to do about Murat.

The last of these now proceeded to settle itself, as Napoleon’s escape from Elba had prompted Murat to act.

Murat had changed his mind and marched out at the head of his army. From Rimini on 30 March he issued a proclamation to the people of Italy that was not so much a gesture of support for Napoleon as a declaration of war on Austria.

Murat was declared an outlaw, like Napoleon, and the Austrian forces in Italy moved quickly. They defeated him without much trouble at Tolentino and his vaudeville army melted away. Murat himself took ship for France to offer his services to Napoleon, and Ferdinand IV returned from Sicily to resume his throne.

The arrangement of the rest of Italy now fell into place. Parma was granted to Marie-Louise as stipulated in the Treaty of Fontainebleau, but only for her lifetime. Her son would receive an establishment in Austria. On her death, the three duchies would pass to Maria Luisa of Spain, erstwhile Queen of Etruria, and by descent to her children. In the interim, the Queen of Etruria would have the former republic of Lucca, which would, when she progressed to Parma, be added to Tuscany,

Having recovered from their shock at Napoleon’s escape, the various interested parties had shifted attention back to their former concerns and carried on much as before, with the difference that now they seemed to be positioning themselves for a fresh contest.

All this terrified Talleyrand, who detected in it a desire to keep questions open in the hope that a new war would require a new peace. And a new peace would not be as favourable to France as the Treaty of Paris. It was clear to him that the knives were out for a fresh carve-up.

The Emperor of Russia hates all the Bourbons, and is convinced they cannot reign in France. A strong party exists for the Duke of Orleans … In short, I see much devilment ahead.’4 The poor show put on by Louis XVIII and his supporters could not fail to open up the whole question once again, so much so that Castlereagh advised against bringing any Swedish troops into play lest it revive Bernadotte’s plans. But not even Alexander was thinking of Bernadotte any more.

The position of the British government was, as it had been in 1814, that the Bourbons represented the best prospect of peace and stability, but that it would be wrong and unwise to support them openly.

would be a very different question to march into France for the purpose of restoring a Sovereign who had been betrayed and abandoned by his own troops and subjects’.8 Hardenberg was of the same view, and in his instructions to Count Goltz, the Prussian minister at the court of Louis XVIII, he warned that ‘despite the desire of the allied powers to see them re-established on the throne of their ancestors, it would be dangerous to try and explain this in a too precise manner in the present crisis’.

Wellington was by now in touch with Fouché, who had approached him secretly with the aim of sounding out whether Britain would be inclined to accept Napoleon under any conditions, and at the same time in order to guarantee himself asylum in England if he needed to flee Napoleon’s vengeance.

Fouché had also established contact with Talleyrand, Metternich and indirectly Alexander.

Once he was convinced that the allies would never accept a regency and that only Alexander was in favour of Orléans, he opened secret negotiations with Louis XVIII in Ghent. He had become the man of the moment, and woul...

Talleyrand was in something of a predicament. His loyalty to Louis XVIII was unshaken. But he feared that once Napoleon was defeated the King would be in no position to stand up to the royalist ultras, who would impose a reactionary government and unleash a wave of reprisal across the country, something with which Talleyrand not only did not wish to be associated but also feared personally.

Talleyrand might have to look elsewhere for a ruler of France.

Nor did he wish to find himself on the wrong side if Metternich and Francis were to convince Alexander to make some kind of deal with Napoleon on a regency for his son ...

The Duchess of Courland had fled from Paris at the approach of Napoleon and now turned up in Vienna, where she moved in with Talleyrand. Whether he found it amusing to have his mistress and ex-mistress, mother and daughter, under the same roof is doubtful, particularly as by now Dorothée was in the throes of her affair with Clam-Martinitz.

Through secret channels Talleyrand received an offer from Napoleon to restore his property if he agreed to work in his interest in brokering a peace. Another envoy from Napoleon, whose principal mission was an attempt to bribe Metternich, delivered a threat to Talleyrand that he would be tried for treason if he did not cooperate.

Talleyrand was the focus of universal suspicion. Although the order of the forces ranged against him was such that Napoleon’s chances of survival were slim, residual fear of him was so great that a degree of paranoia gripped Vienna. Every new arrival was seen as a spy, and everyone with a French connection as a potential plotter.

Metternich announced that the signing of the Final Act of the congress had been set for 9 June, and that they must agree a constitution by 8 June, so it could be included.

Diplomacy was moving back to the battlefield.26 No one was more alarmed by this than Talleyrand, who realised that the Treaty of Paris and all his subsequent gains for France would probably be challenged under pressure from the military. His triumph in bringing France out of isolation and into the circle of the Five had turned to ashes with the reappearance of Napoleon.

Cardinal Consalvi would not sign it, and instead delivered himself of a denunciation of the congress for having failed to return to the Pope his French fiefs of Avignon and the Comtat Venaissin and the city of Ferrara. Labrador also refused to endorse the proceedings, in protest at the arrangements reached in Italy. Nesselrode professed his eagerness to sign, but warned his colleagues that he could not do so until Alexander had read the document himself. He therefore raced off post haste to headquarters while the others appended their signatures and their seals, and the document was not finally signed by all until 26 June. By that time a war had been lost and won.

Napoleon had staked everything on a quick victory. It was only if he could knock out the forces mustering against him one by one that he could avoid being hopelessly outnumbered. So, on 4 June he presented his new army with its colours, and a week later set off to war.

With the 123,000 men under his command he marched out against Wellington, who had 112,000 British, Dutch and German troops, and Blücher, with another 116,000 Prussians and north Germans, who were cooperating closely. Napoleon’s only hope was to drive a wedge between them and defeat one after the other. At Ligny on 16 June he took on Blücher and his Prussians, and drove them back in some disorder while Marshal Ney held off the British at Quatre Bras. The following day he handed over the pursuit of the Prussians to General Grouchy, while he himself set out to defeat Wellington.

The two armies met on the morning of 18 June near the village of Waterloo. Wellington had taken up defensive positions and played safe. Napoleon launched a series of attacks which ground to a standstill in some of the most tenacious and vicious fighting of the Napoleonic Wars.

Blücher had not been as badly beaten as Napoleon had thought, and he had managed to dodge Grouchy’s pursuit. At 4 o’clock he appeared on Napoleon’s flank, and the fate of the French army was sealed.

Napoleon raced back to Paris and walked into the Élysée-Bourbon Palace early on the morning of 21 June. ‘The blow I have been dealt is a mortal one,’ he confided to Caulaincourt before getting into a hot bath, as he often did when he needed to collect his thoughts. He spent the next four days in a state of indecision. He eventually decided to abdicate in favour of his son, and left Paris for la Malmaison,

before making for the west coast with the intention of taking ship for America.

Percy had brought the Prince Regent a despatch from Wellington. The Waterloo Despatch, as it became known, was immediately made public. It is a fascinating document when considered in relation to the known events, as it clearly sets out to falsify the record by marginalising the Prussian role in the victory. Wellington may have been guided by personal vanity, patriotism or reasons of state. The fact remains that by making Waterloo appear as an essentially British victory he put himself in much the same position when he advanced on Paris as Alexander had been in the previous year. And this made him master of the situation in political terms. The immediate beneficiary of this was to be Louis XVIII.

Talleyrand was in no hurry. He did not want to leave Vienna before the Final Act was signed by all parties,

Not surprisingly, when Talleyrand did join the King, at Mons, he was given a frosty reception. Louis had fallen under the influence of his brother and his coterie of ultras, who bridled at Talleyrand’s suggestion that the King appoint a liberal government and issue a public proclamation admitting his errors. Talleyrand was dismissed by Louis,

Wellington was having none of it, and forced Louis to ask Talleyrand to form a provisional government with, at his own insistence, Fouché as Minister of Police. The ultra royalists were appalled.

Without reference to any of the other allies, Wellington in effect reinstalled Louis XVIII on the throne with a liberal government. ‘He is an admirable man,’ Talleyrand wrote to the Duchess of Courland. ‘His character is fine and straight.’

From the moment the Prussians entered Paris on 6 July it was clear that they regarded themselves as conquerors entitled to wreak their revenge on a prostrate enemy. Blücher issued a demand to the city authorities for an immediate payment of 100 million francs and a complete set of uniforms and boots for his 110,000 men.

Blücher decided that the Pont d’Iéna, named in commemoration of Napoleon’s victory over the Prussians in 1806, was an insult to Prussian arms, and his troops set about mining the bridge in order to blow it up. At Talleyrand’s suggestion, Louis XVIII, who had entered Paris two days after the Prussians, announced that he would seat himself on the bridge and defy them to blow him up with it. He also signed an edict to the effect that all streets, squares and bridges in the capital would reassume the names they bore in 1790. More to the point, Wellington wrote to Blücher in protest and sent a company of British soldiers to guard the bridge.

The arrival of Alexander on 10 July should have restored a sense of order, if not unity, among the allies. ‘The Prussians are conducting themselves in an inconceivable manner,’ a shocked Nesselrode wrote to his wife shortly after entering the capital with the Tsar. Alexander was horrified too, and urged restraint on the Prussians. But he refrained from imposing his authority.

Soon after reaching Paris, Humboldt submitted a memorandum to the other allies which argued that the surest way of restricting France’s ability to threaten the peace of Europe in the future was to reduce her territorially. He also asserted that the allies had every right to exact indemnities to cover the expenses of the war they had been obliged to fight. He suggested that France be stripped of Flanders, Alsace-Lorraine and the Franche-Comté, along with the towns of Dunkirk, Lille, Strasbourg, Metz, Mulhouse and Belfort, the lion’s share of which would go to Prussia.

Paris was in a volatile state, with crowds gathering at the slightest hint of trouble, ready to pick fights with allied soldiers.

Neither Wellington nor any of his colleagues had any idea where Napoleon might be, and this added to the tensions of the situation. More than anything else they feared that he might escape to the New World, where he would remain an uncomfortable presence.

The fear of Napoleon was such that the allies treated the problem almost as though it were a question of containing a contagious virus.

On 17 July, when it was still thought Napoleon might have managed to escape to America, Castlereagh wrote to Liverpool suggesting that the allied powers address themselves to President James Madison of the United States requesting him to send the fugitive back into their custody. He also urged that they should make the provisions of the treaty of 25 March proclaiming Napoleon an outlaw part of the binding law of Europe and extend it to his entire family.

Napoleon was pacing the deck of HMS Bellerophon en route for England. He had meant to sail for America, but wasted much time attempting to negotiate a safe passage with British naval captains blockading the French ports. On 15 July, fearing capture by French forces loyal to the Bourbons, he went aboard the Bellerophon, Captain Maitland, off Rochefort, and threw himself on the mercy of the Prince Regent.

the allies had agreed that when they caught him they would send him to Britain, where he would be imprisoned, probably at Fort St George in Scotland. But the idea of holding him on the British mainland appeared less attractive

Liverpool was desperate to get Napoleon away, to Malta, Gibraltar, St Helena, the Cape of Good Hope, or anywhere else. He was anxious lest the English tendency to make a hero out of a fallen man take on political dimensions. A group of sympathisers had already hired an eminent QC, who obtained a subpoena for Napoleon to appear at the Court of King’s Bench the following November, but the boat trying to serve it on the Emperor was threatened by Captain Maitland with being blown out of the water if it came any closer.

if he were to step ashore it would ‘pose very nice legal questions’.20

The final choice was the South Atlantic island of St Helena, whose climate was deemed by Liverpool to be ‘particularly healthy’. ‘At such a distance and in such a place,’ he wrote to Castlereagh on 21 July, ‘all intrigue would be impossible; and, being withdrawn so far from the European world, he would very soon be forgotten.