rooted in the communities they ruled. History and ancient myths, common religions and vernacular high cultures linked rulers to ruled.54

Above all, the geopolitics of Europe was different. General Levin von Bennigsen’s comments go to the heart of British geopolitical invulnerability in India. A would-be European emperor was faced with a much harder task. Any attempt to dominate the continent would bring down on one’s head a coalition of great powers with a common interest in preserving their independence and with military machines honed by generations of warfare at the cutting edge of technology and organization. Even if, as with Napoleon, the would-be emperor could conquer the continent’s heartland, he was still faced by two formidable peripheral concentrations of power in Britain and Russia. To make things worse, the conquest of these peripheries demanded that the conqueror mobilize simultaneously two different types of power. In the British case this meant seapower, in the Russian a military-logistical power sufficient to penetrate and sustain itself all the way to the Urals. This challenge – subsequently faced by the Germans in the twentieth century – was very difficult.

There are usually three stages in the creation of empires, though these stages often overlap. First comes the conquest of empire and the elimination of foreign threats. This is generally a question of military power, diplomatic craftiness, and geopolitical context. To survive, however, an empire needs institutions, otherwise it will disintegrate with the death of the conqueror and his charisma. Establishing these institutions is the second stage in creating an empire and is often harder than the first stage, particularly when huge conquests have occurred in a short period. The third stage requires the consolidation of imperial loyalties and identities in the subject populations, and above all, in the pre-modern world, in their elites.55

Napoleon made great progress in the first stage of empire-building, took some steps towards creating imperial institutions but still had a very long way to go in legitimizing his power. To do him justice, he faced a daunting task. A thousand years after the death of Charlemagne, it was rather late in the day to dream of restoring a European empire. Three hundred years after the printing of the vernacular Bible, the imposition of French as a pan-European imperial language was unimaginable. An imperial project backed by a universalist, totalitarian ideology might have gone some way towards establishing empire in Europe for a time. But Napoleon was in no sense a totalitarian ruler, nor was his empire much driven by ideology. On the contrary, he had put the lid on the French Revolution and done his best to banish ideology from French political life. Even the uprooting of local elites in conquered Europe went well beyond Napoleon’s desires or his power. In 1812 his empire was still very dependent on his personal charisma.56

Many European statesmen understood this and acted accordingly. On the eve of his departure for the Americas in 1809, Count Theodor von der Pahlen, the first Russian minister to the United States, wrote that

despite the triumphs of France and its current dominance, within less than fifty years nothing will remain to it but the empty glory of having overthrown and oppressed Europe. It will have acquired no real benefits from this for the French nation, which will find itself exhausted of men and treasure once it can no longer raise them from its neighbours. France’s immense current influence depends wholly on the existence of a single individual. His great talents, his astonishing energy and impetuous character will never allow him to put limits on his ambition, so that whether he dies today or in thirty years’ time he will leave matters no more consolidated than they are at present.

Meanwhile, added Pahlen, as a new European Thirty Years War continued, the Americas would grow enormously in strength. Of the European powers only the English would be in a position to derive any advantages from this.57

The implication of this comment is that in the eyes of history the triumphs and disasters of the Napoleonic era would seem the proverbial tale full of sound and fury, not (let us hope) told by an idiot but also not adding up to much. There is some truth in this. Aspects of the Napoleonic saga were more spectacular than significant. Nevertheless it would be wrong to be too dismissive of the fears and efforts of Europe’s statesmen in these years.

Like all political leaders, Russia’s rulers had to confront pressing contemporary realities. They could not live on hopes for a distant future. They might well share Theodor Pahlen’s longer-term perspectives and believe that, if they could buy time and postpone the conflict with Napoleon, it might actually pass them by. The emperor himself could die or lose his fire. That after all was the rationale behind Nesselrode’s spies assiduously reporting whether Napoleon was still eating a good breakfast. Unless fortune intervened, however, Russia’s leaders from mid-1810 had to confront the reality that Napoleon was preparing to invade their empire. No doubt if they caved in to his demands war might be averted for a time. But to subscribe to his current version of the Continental System was to undermine the financial and economic bases of Russia’s position as an independent power. By definition, this would leave it open to Napoleon to establish a powerful Polish client state which would shut Russia out of Europe.

The chances of Napoleon establishing a lasting empire across Europe may have been poor, though this was far from self-evident in 1812. His regime certainly could put down deep roots west of the Rhine and in northern Italy. It was also well within his power to implement the strategy set out in Champagny’s memorandum of 1810, which Russian espionage had acquired for Alexander. There was every reason to fear in 1812 that Napoleon would defeat the Russian army and force peace on Alexander I. This would have resulted in the creation of a powerful Polish satellite kingdom, with its own ambitions in Ukraine and Belorussia. Austria could easily have become the loyal client of Napoleon after 1812, as it became Prussia’s first lieutenant after 1866. With its ambitions turned to the Balkans and against Russia, it would have been a useful auxiliary of the French Empire against any threat from the east. Within Germany, a stroke of Napoleon’s pen could have abolished Prussia and compensated the King of Saxony for losing his largely theoretical sovereignty over Poland. Meanwhile for at least a generation the combination of French power and regional loyalties would have kept the Confederation of the Rhine (Rheinbund) under Paris’s thumb. Russia would be permanently under threat and at the mercy of a Europe organized along these lines. On top of this the consequences of defeat might well include a crushing indemnity and the sacrifices a victorious Napoleon might require Russia to bear in his ongoing war against the British. In 1812 the Russian state had much to fight for.58

Preparing for War

On 25 January 1808 General Aleksei Arakcheev was appointed minister of war. Joseph de Maistre commented that ‘opposed to Arakcheev’s nomination there were only both empresses, Count Lieven, General Uvarov, all the imperial aides-de-camp, the Tolstoys – in a word, everyone who has weight here’. Moreover, in appointing Arakcheev the emperor broke his own first rule of government, which was never to allow undivided authority over a key area to any one adviser. Previously the war minister had been balanced by the very powerful head of the emperor’s military chancellery. Arakcheev’s price for becoming minister was undisputed authority over the army and therefore the chancellery’s emasculation. Christoph von Lieven was diverted into a diplomatic career. His deputy, Prince Petr Mikhailovich Volkonsky, had already been sent to Paris to study the French general staff system. In the opinion of Joseph de Maistre, the Sardinian envoy in Petersburg, Alexander had acted in this way because of ‘the terrible disorder’ in the commissariat and victualling departments revealed in 1806–7. In addition, opposition sentiment within the Petersburg elite required an absolutely loyal ‘iron hand’ at the head of the army.1

At the time of his appointment Arakcheev was 38. He was of above average height, round-shouldered and with a long neck; one of his many enemies in the Petersburg aristocracy recalled that Arakcheev resembled an outsize monkey in uniform. His earthen complexion, big fleshy ears and hollow cheeks completed the impression. Perhaps matters might have improved had he ever smiled or joked but he very seldom did. Instead, a cold, gloomy and sardonic look greeted most of those who met him. Amidst the extravagant, fun-loving society of Petersburg and the glittering festivities of the imperial court he cut a strange figure. Up every morning at four, he dispatched his private and estate business first and then got down to affairs of state by six. He sometimes played cards for pennies with his few friends, but never went to the theatre or to balls, and ate and drank very sparingly.

To an extent, Arakcheev’s austere behaviour reflected his origins. Like most sons of run-of-the-mill gentry families at this time, the young Arakcheev was educated initially by the village sexton on his father’s small estate. His father owned just twenty male serfs and had to tighten his belt to pay for his son’s entry into a cadet corps, even though Aleksei’s place was subsidized. A strict, austere and very resolute mother formed the character and aroused the ambition of her eldest son. Starting well behind many of his peers, Arakcheev quickly made his mark at

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