Marche Consulaire: A Napoleonic Timeline

[TRH]

Well, grad school is pretty draining, but on the other hand, writing and researching for this is a good distraction from all the work I'm dealing with. So much so I had most of this done on Monday, but wanted to fine-tune it a bit more. Here's a look at Eldon's Britain, and Chapter 25 will return us to the Ottoman Empire in the wake of Naxos. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Triumvirate​

Excerpted from The Age of Revolutions by A.F. Stoddard, 2006.​

If the Canning Ministry, with its tentative and haphazard stabs at social reform, represented listlessness in post-Madrid Britain, then the counter-revolutionary tenor of Lord Eldon’s government marked the first effort by London to take stock of the post-Napoleonic world. For the most part, this meant increased repression of dissent at home, combined with measured isolation from the outside world, and an aversion to high-stakes foreign entanglements.

Eldon’s foreign policy may seem puzzling on initial inspection. Certainly, he had supported the war against Napoleon with all due zeal, so his moves towards reconciliation with the Emperor while in office present a paradox. There are two main reasons for the Prime Minister’s caution. First, he felt that Britain was ill-prepared for another conflict, burdened as it still was by war debts, industrial discontent, and a sluggish economic recovery.

“Men delude themselves by supposing that war contains only a proclamation, a battle, a victory, and a triumph,” he wrote. “Of the soldiers’ widows and the soldiers’ orphans, after the husbands and fathers are buried, the survivors know nothing.” [1]

Perhaps more importantly, Eldon and his allies saw the foreign stage from a different perspective than Canning or Castlereagh had. The balance of power on the Continent had decisively shifted in France’s favor, and the High Tories saw few prospects of changing that in the foreseeable future. With that painful truth in mind, they instead prioritized ideological threats. To them, revolution was a contagion, as evidenced by the spread of republican fervor from America to France, and from there to the Netherlands, to Poland, to Latin America, to Spain, and to Greece. And with the example of Arthur Thistlewood, they couldn’t dismiss the possibility that Britain was equally vulnerable.

Because of this, the Eldon Ministry cooperated with France and Austria in an effort to counteract revolutionary movements on the Continent. The primary success from this alignment was the restoration of the Bourbons to Spain. These efforts bore a heavy cost, however; with London unwilling to check him, the Emperor strengthened his hand in the Mediterranean through the 1820’s, while also installing a Francophilic monarch on the throne in Madrid.

This tradeoff was a calculated risk on Eldon’s part. A painstaking study conducted by Sir John Kinneir examined the threat France posed to British India, concluding that the Persian Gulf would be a poor staging ground for such an offensive. [2] Because of this, the Eldon government felt safe allowing French maneuvering in the Mediterranean, confident that it posed little threat to their interests. And the more Napoleon was steered into suppressing revolutionary movements, the less credibility the Emperor would enjoy among liberal circles across the Continent. French self-interest could thus be used to box them into a more conservative role in European politics.

Domestically, many historians have drawn comparisons between the rise of the High Tories and the Second Terror that engulfed France half a century later. In both cases, movements for social change and the disappointment of a failed war led to widespread unrest, culminating in acts of shocking political violence. After that, a reactionary backlash ensued, with a pliant press and public empowering the national government to purge society of its cancers, with horrific results.

To be sure, Lord Eldon and his allies lacked the mad ambition and obliterationary zeal of the clique that governed the late French Empire. [3] As a result, the crackdown in 1820’s Britain was far more tempered. Nevertheless, a crackdown it was, with the remnants of the Spenceans and the Luddites either executed, exiled to Australia, or forced deep underground. In addition, Sidmouth’s Six Acts banned events that offered weapons training without government sanction, limited bail for defendants, and gave local authorities the power to search and seize weapons, as well as disperse public meetings concerned with either church or state. Despite several of these laws including sunset provisions, the government made sure to renew all six statutes whenever they came close to expiring. [4]

Despite this repression of violent agitators, political opposition and dissent was still permitted, in several different forms. In Parliament, the opposition was comprised of three main factions. The first of these were the Whigs, who had finally ousted George Ponsonby after their disastrous performance in 1820. His replacement, Charles Grey, proved a more vigorous critic of the ruling government, castigating Viscount Sidmouth and Spencer Perceval for sabotaging Canning’s Emancipation initiative and “slighting the memory of the former Minister, angling for power before his body was even cold.”

Charles Grey provided the most vigorous leadership the Whigs had seen since the death of Charles James Fox.

For their part, Canning’s surviving supporters also opposed the High Tories. Their program was less ambitious than Grey’s, but they also supported Emancipation. As well, the Canningite Tories, now led by Lord Melbourne, called for repeal of the Corn Law, arguing that an end to trade barriers would enable British goods to contest the French in the European market.

Lastly, there was a small group of politicians who, under any other circumstances would likely have been loyal Tories, but for whom the excesses of Eldon’s government were simply intolerable. The two most prominent examples of Middle Tories, as they were known, were Sir Arthur Wellesley and Sir Robert Peel. The former had resigned his army commission and run for office following the death of his brother, Lord Wellesley. A conservative by inclination, Arthur nevertheless found himself at odds with the High Tories on the question of Catholicism. Emancipation had been his brother’s main focus at the time of his murder, and Arthur felt compelled to pursue the same cause, even if it meant alignment with the Canningites.

Peel, for his part, was disturbed by the changes in the British police under Lord Sidmouth’s stewardship. Peel felt strongly that effective and ethical law enforcement depended on mutual trust between the government and the public, and so took issue with the Six Acts, as well as Sidmouth’s use of plainclothes officers and suspension of habeas corpus. Like Wellesley, his main political ally, he found himself in an alliance of convenience with the Canning faction, begrudgingly backing Emancipation in exchange for the post of Home Secretary should the Canningites form a government.

Of course, the Middle Tories’ begrudging concessions towards Emancipation would not have occurred had the grassroots movement in Ireland not gained the strength that it did in the 1820’s. Daniel O’Connor’s Catholic Association upended the status quo in British politics through its mass-based membership strategy. By charging one penny a month, the Association was able to attract a devoted following among poorer Irishmen, providing a foundation for O’Connell’s reformist campaigns. Conservatives like Wellesley and Peel supported Emancipation in no small part in the hopes of preventing even more radical upheavals in Ireland in the future.

An American poster depicting O'Connell as "The Champion of Liberty."

Opposition to the Eldon government also extended outside of political circles, into the economic and artistic spheres as well. In the former, economist David Ricardo was an outspoken critic of the Corn Law. His theories of comparative advantage made the case that tariffs were inherently inefficient, and merely reinforced the tendency of the rentier class to capture profits incommensurate to their productivity. Ricardo died in 1824, but his children Osman and David carried on his legacy, with both eventually standing for office as Whigs.

Even in literary circles, the High Tories found staunch opposition to their regime. Lord Byron, the one-time apologist for the Luddites, proved a thorn in their side from within the House of Lords, skewering the government with his characteristic laconic wit. His fellow poet Percy Shelley was equally acerbic, mocking Lord Eldon as an insincere hypocrite, dismissing his remarks about widows and orphans as “the tears of a crocodile.” [5]

Despite these voices of protest, the unraveling of the Triumvirate came from within. No one member of the trio could keep the government in working order without both of the other men’s skills. This fact mitigated infighting between the three, but it also meant that the removal of one would leave the entire structure unstable. The death of Spencer Perceval in 1827 weakened the government’s grip on its backbenches. Without Perceval to keep them in line, some MPs began to defect to the Canningites, concerned by the effects of the Corn Law on their constituencies. The Tories could no longer unite effectively behind the protectionist agenda.

These tensions weakened the Tories electorally. When the country went to the polls again in 1828, they found themselves assailed by both the Canningites and the Whigs, and their majority suffered as a result, dropping from over a hundred to under sixty seats. Eldon was still able to form a government afterward, but he was forced to rescind plans for additional farm tariffs to forestall a backbench revolt. To make matters worse, Daniel O’Connell had won a seat in the Commons, which he could not fill due to his refusal to take the Oath of Supremacy, further exacerbating unrest in Ireland. Despite the Triumvirate’s best efforts, change was coming to Britain. The coming decade would prove a decisive one for the political development of the United Kingdom.

[1] This is a paraphrase of an OTL quote from Eldon.

[2] This is also OTL. Kinneir examined potential invasion routes to India from the perspective of several potential enemies, attributing some as likely choices for ‘a Napoleon’ and others as better bets for Russia. He was pretty skeptical about most possible invasion strategies.

[3] Obliterationism is essentially TTL’s equivalent to totalitarianism. The idea is that these kinds of ideologies obliterate the individual and their identity.

[4] The Six Acts are OTL, but at least two of them lapsed within a few years. Sidmouth ITTL doesn’t want to let any of them go if he can help it.

[5] Shelley was also quite critical of Lord Eldon IOTL, and naturally has a lot more reason to be here.

 

[BootOnFace]

Britain's crackdown is fascinating. Their continued protectionism and conservatism can't be helping Britain's relations with the United States, though. I bet many of the Americans who looked towards Britain as a force for progress and liberalism(or at least against tyranny) are now looking to France.

And in regards to obliterationism, is it a derogatory term used entirely by those opposed to the political movements that spawned such behavior? Because totalitarianism is a fairly organic outgrowth of the terms fascists used to describe their political organization (Totalstaat, totalitario.) The fascists took pride in that there was supposed to be no separation between the state and the people. They insisted they were one in the same and thus the state had authority over all spheres of life. I would assume that the theorists who invented obliterationism weren't phrasing it in terms of obliterating the individual, but more obliterating the contradiction between the individual and society or the state.

 

[TRH]

Britain's crackdown is fascinating. Their continued protectionism and conservatism can't be helping Britain's relations with the United States, though. I bet many of the Americans who looked towards Britain as a force for progress and liberalism(or at least against tyranny) are now looking to France.

Well, with TTL's Tariff of Abominations having just passed with bipartisan support, America can't really talk when it comes to protectionism right now. As for foreign role models, though, France isn't helping its own case with its repeated actions against continental revolutions. And they're not really a democracy right now, anyways. I'd say that some circles in the States may look to Argentina as a fellow republic, but otherwise, they'll be more concerned with their immediate neighbors.

And in regards to obliterationism, is it a derogatory term used entirely by those opposed to the political movements that spawned such behavior? Because totalitarianism is a fairly organic outgrowth of the terms fascists used to describe their political organization (Totalstaat, totalitario.) The fascists took pride in that there was supposed to be no separation between the state and the people. They insisted they were one in the same and thus the state had authority over all spheres of life. I would assume that the theorists who invented obliterationism weren't phrasing it in terms of obliterating the individual, but more obliterating the contradiction between the individual and society or the state.

Yes, obliterationism is a term that emerged from academic/journalistic discussion rather than something any adherents chose for themselves. I haven't planned everything regarding particular ideologies, but in general I imagine most of these movements being more relegated to the fringe than OTL. The early example of France frightens a lot of people into being more vigilant during the 20th Century.

And you're also right that I meant obliteration of the state/personal divide. Although given the propensity of such regimes to make their people sacrifice themselves for the common "good", there's likely a fair amount of literal obliteration of the individual involved too.

 

[TRH]

It's been entirely too long since I updated this, but yeah, grad school is kind of kicking my ass over here. And honestly, I didn't want to rush this chapter out in any case, for reasons you'll see shortly. Today we're looking at the Egyptian-Ottoman War, so enjoy.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Aegyptus Surgit​

Excerpted from The Age of Revolutions by A.F. Stoddard, 2006.​

It’s a common adage that the treaty ending one war lays the groundwork for the new one, by pitting the victors’ ambitions against one another. In the case of Naxos, however, the reverse was true. The Khedive of Egypt, smarting from the loss of his navy, began agitating for new concessions almost immediately. With the French taking Crete for themselves, Muhammad Ali demanded that the Sultan cede Syria to him as compensation for his losses in the war with the Greeks.

Mustafa IV, for his part, was unimpressed by the Khedive’s demands. The Sultan declared himself unbound by obligations his predecessor may have made during the Greek Revolution, and certainly saw no reason to reward the Egyptians for a failed campaign. Moreover, the personal friction between the two men was far more acute than that between Ali and Selim.

Despite their occasional conflicting ambitions, the Khedive respected the previous Sultan for his progressive outlook, as well as his struggles against reactionary elements within the Empire. [1] Mustafa commanded far less respect in Cairo, since in Ali’s eyes, he combined the worst of reaction and opportunism in one abrasive figure. This interpersonal tension may explain the tenor of Ali’s exchanges with his nominal sovereign, which often verged on outright insubordination.

In any event, Mustafa’s snub proved the final straw for Ali, and set his ambitions on a collision course with Constantinople. He had coveted control over the Levant for years, and now felt no compunctions about taking it by force. For the next several years, Ali bided his time, rebuilding his army and navy in preparation for a confrontation with the Sublime Porte. In October 1829, using a minor commercial dispute as a pretext, the Egyptians invaded the Levant.

The balance of forces favored the Egyptians in the war’s early days. Ali’s forces, led by his son Ibrahim, were veterans of many battles. In addition to fighting the Greeks, the Khedive’s armies had also conducted successful campaigns along the Red Sea coast, bringing the holy cities of Mecca and Medina under the Sultan’s control. To compound this advantage, the governor of Sidon lacked access to well-trained and equipped forces like Ibrahim’s or the men of the Nizam-i-Djedid, a legacy of Selim’s reluctance to arm his governors with powerful armies that could be turned against him. Egyptian naval superiority also slowed the arrival of reinforcements from Constantinople, resulting in the surrender of Acre by March.

From there, Ibrahim’s forces advanced up the coast, capturing Damascus and other key cities over the course of the next several months. By September 1830, Ottoman reinforcements began to slow the Egyptian advance, checking Ibrahim at the Battle of Antep in southeastern Anatolia. Chastened by this defeat, the Crown Prince switched tactics, wheeling his forces northwestwards towards Adana. The Turkish army marched in pursuit, just as Ibrahim had hoped. On the Cilician Plain east of Adana, the Egyptians could make proper use of their superior cavalry, defeating the larger Ottoman force.

Defeated, but not broken, the Ottomans withdrew into central Anatolia, with Ibrahim pursuing this time. Subsequent confrontations at Konya and Eskişehir were bitterly contested, but the Egyptians prevailed despite significant losses. [2] With Muhammad Ali’s forces encroaching ever closer to the capital, a sense of panic set in in Constantinople. Mustafa’s executions of his brother and cousin meant that should he die, the last heir to the Osman dynasty would be his 10-year-old son Abdul Hamid II. To many observers, the Ottoman Empire’s final hour had come.

This was a frightening prospect, not only for the Ottomans themselves, but for governments across Europe. The Eldon Ministry, which had previously been disengaged with the eastern Mediterranean as a part of their geopolitical strategy, began building up land and naval forces in Sicily. Russia and Austria also kept a close eye on the campaign in Anatolia. Of course, the most important response would be the French one. And developments in France would soon exacerbate the Turkish crisis even further.

By the late 1820’s, Napoleon’s health was failing. His leg wound from Regensburg began aggravating him severely, forcing the Emperor to rely on opiates to combat the pain. This came with its own problems, however. Under the influence of opium, the Emperor grew increasingly lethargic and withdrawn, rarely leaving Fontainebleau. [3]

“I fear the spark of inspiration has left him,” lamented the Marquis de Caulaincourt in 1829. “The man who once towered over a continent is little better than an invalid now. One can do nothing but despair in witnessing this.”

Napoleon, in his moments of clarity, was equally despondent about his deteriorating condition.

“Pain and fatigue nearly overwhelm me,” he told Marie Louise. “Perhaps it would have been better were I a Hannibal instead. Only failed conquerors may die with dignity.” [4]

With the Emperor unfit to lead on the Egyptian question, his government was left divided on how to respond to the latest Ottoman upheaval. Muhammad Ali enjoyed cordial relations with the French, but some were concerned about the implications should the Turks face too comprehensive a defeat. Were the Ottoman Empire to collapse, then there would likely be a mad rush between the great powers of Europe to seize as much territory and influence as they could. This could even re-ignite war with Britain, who continued to marshal forces on Sicily and Malta as the crisis continued.

Marshal Savary, leader of the French war faction in 1830.

Talleyrand, as always, was the voice of diplomacy. He suggested that the great powers intercede to broker a peace settlement between Ali and the Sultan. In light of the events of the Greek Revolution, neither man would be so foolish as to ignore such an ultimatum, and it would ratchet down tensions in the region. Others took a more hawkish bent, however. Led by Marshal Anne-Jean-Marie-René Savary, this faction welcomed the prospect of a general war. The French navy was still outnumbered by the British overall, but enjoyed local superiority in most of the Mediterranean. By buying off Austria, Russia and Spain with gains from the Turks and Gibraltar, respectively, the hawks believed they could expel the British from the Mediterranean altogether, while also claiming significant ground in the former Turkish lands.

Savary’s faction outnumbered Talleryand’s supporters in the Conservative Senate, but neither side was willing to act with the Emperor’s passing seemingly imminent. They did make sure to prevail upon Napoleon II, and try swaying the Prince Imperial to their point of view, but the prince kept his own counsel. He and his mother rarely left Fontainebleau during October 1830, as the Emperor began losing weight rapidly due to vomiting. Finally, on November 10th, the Emperor breathed his last.

With all of Europe on the precipice of war, it now fell to Napoleon’s 18-year-old successor to chart the course of his father’s Empire.

[1] As per OTL, Muhammad Ali dispatched the Mamluks in much the same manner that TTL’s Selim disposed of the Janissaries. In fact, he likely used Selim’s example as a model for tactical execution here.

[2] The Turkish army is more formidable than OTL, but they lost most of their artillery at Adana, and have had to disperse some of their forces to guard against cavalry raids.

[3] I read up a little on opiate addiction to try and present a realistic portrayal of Napoleon sliding into heavy drug abuse. Hopefully I did that justice.

[4] I came up with that line ages ago. Probably had Jason Isbell’s Elephant on the brain when I wrote it, with the idea that there’s no such thing as a peaceful death. Hopefully not laying that on too thick here.

 

[BootOnFace]

I really like the Hannibal line. It sounds like something he would actually say.

 

[TRH]

It's been a year since I started this little story, and it's certainly been one hell of a ride. I wouldn't have been able to stick with this for so long if it weren't for you guys, so thank you, one and all! Today, we've got a Where Are They Now update to wrap up this second arc. This is a little different from past updates, in that it's not from the perspective of a book. It's also set in present tense, from the perspective of 1830. In any case, stay tuned for the next chapter, where I intend to go meta with this story. Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Six: Where Are They Now?​

Klemens von Metternich: As the architect of the Franco-Austrian détente that helped bring the Napoleonic Wars to a close, Prince Metternich gained acclaim throughout Europe for his shrewd decisionmaking. Ironically enough, the Austrian Foreign Minister’s loudest detractor during the post-war years was himself. Metternich spent the latter half of the 1820’s looking on in alarm as France expanded its influence to its South and East.

The 1825 intervention in Greece and the French invasion of Algiers two years later left the Mediterranean a French lake, as well as weakening the already precarious Ottoman Empire. Prince Metternich is currently working towards a diplomatic solution to the Egyptian crisis, for fear of escalation into a much larger war.

Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette: A longstanding and outspoken opponent of the Napoleonic regime, the Marquis de Lafayette spent years refusing all offers of political office from the Emperor. The passing of his wife Adrienne left the Marquis devastated, and largely disconnected from the political scene. The Treaty of Madrid rendered Napoleon politically unassailable, which has further diminished Lafayette’s hopes for a democratic France.

With little to salvage at home, Lafayette divided his time between entertaining guests at La Grange, who have never been in short supply, as well as occasional visits to the United States. The most recent trip involved a multi-year tour of the country in anticipation of its 50th anniversary. During this time, he consulted with William Crawford, Dewitt Clinton, and Henry Clay, giving his perspective on the state of the Democratic-Republicans in exchange for advice on how to advance his liberal agenda back home. [1]

Large crowds of well-wishers turned out to greet Lafayette in Philadelphia.

These consultations, along with the slow decline of the Emperor’s health after 1827 renewed the Marquis’ interest in politics. He belatedly accepted the standing offer of appointment to the Senate, and is currently working to form a coalition that will pressure Napoleon II, in the hopes that the new Emperor will be willing to transition the country towards a more democratic system.

Alexandre Dumas: The son of a disgraced Afro-Caribbean general, Alexandre Dumas has spent much of his young life languishing in poverty. He writes newspaper articles and the occasional play to make ends meet, but without patronage of any kind, his work remains obscure and unappreciated.

Marie-Henri Beyle: As Commissioner of War Supplies for the Grande Armée, Marie-Henri Beyle is currently tasked with preparing forces for a French intervention into the roiling Egyptian crisis. [2] As a steadfast Romantic and admirer of foreign cultures, Beyle has also found time to write travel memoirs of his time in Germany and Italy. His 1822 book Île de la Faucille has sparked widespread interest in the island of Corfu, which offers natural beauty along with the best of French, Italian, and Greek culture.

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel: An abstruse yet penetrating political thinker, Hegel has devoted years to creating a model of human advancement, and where the French Revolution fits in the story of our race. Hegel’s teleological vision postulates that the internal contradictions and strife endemic to human society are not so chaotic as they seem, but simply represent stages of self-discovery and learning. By testing seemingly contradictory ideals against each other, we are able to reconcile them into a more comprehensive understanding of our place in the universe.

An artist's depiction of Hegel's fateful encounter with Napoleon while the French army marched through Jena, 1806.

To Hegel, the story of the French Revolution represents this process in miniature. The radicalism of the early Jacobins prompted a counter-revolution, the Thermidor reaction, which held sway until the rise of Napoleon, who came to power with a synthesis of both of the movements preceding him. Hegel sees conflicts such as this as waypoints along the path towards perfect self-awareness, a state that our society may reach in some future time, but which must currently remain a dream for the future. [3]

Pauline Léon: After her release from prison in 1794, the radical French feminist spent the following quarter-century living in obscurity. Nothing is known about this phase of her life, other than that her husband Théophile Leclerc passed away, and that some length of these years was spent in the Vendée. Finally, in 1819, she returned to political life as suddenly as she’d left, joining the Saint-Simonian newsletter L’Organisateur. [4]

This second stint in public life is proving a tenuous one, as the journal faces constant scrutiny from La Sûreté. Nevertheless, Saint-Simon’s allies continue to agitate for women’s rights as well as the rights of workers. Léon is currently working alongside the younger writer Claire Démar on a piece exploring the implications for women in the Declaration of the Rights of Man and Citizen.

Wilhelm von Humboldt: Philosopher, linguist, schoolmaster, and diplomat, Wilhelm von Humboldt is a man of many talents, and equally numerous responsibilities. As the Foreign Minister of Prussia, Humboldt has had to steer the Kingdom through its darkest hours, with Napoleon’s encroaching influence encircling it, and leaving Prussia a shell of its former self.

Direct confrontation with the French is unthinkable, given Berlin’s vulnerability in the wake of Tilsit, and conspiring with France’s other rivals is equally dangerous. As such, Humboldt’s focus has been on conciliatory measures that improve Prussia’s long-term security without alarming the French. These have included private reassurances to Tsar Alexander that Prussia has abandoned all claims to its former possessions in Poland, as well as negotiating the marriage of Prussian Prince Frederick to Charlotte, Princess of Wales. [5] In time, Humboldt hopes to break the French grip on its German satellites, allowing Prussia to reassert itself and regain its former glory.

Pierre Louis Roederer: As the Minister of Finance for King Joseph of Naples, Pierre Louis Roederer has been a key architect behind many of Joseph’s accomplishments in Italy. Roederer’s administrative skill, combined with Joseph’s progressive idealism have made Naples by far the best-governed of Napoleon’s satellite states. And with the threat of renewed war between Britain and France looming, both men hope that this is the opportunity they need to capture Sicily, reuniting their fractured domain at long last.

Victor Hugo: A Romantic in the tradition of Chateaubriand, Victor Hugo is considered by many to be France’s most promising up-and-coming poet. His 1826 compilation Odes et Ballades is already hailed by many as a classic, showing all the lyrical dexterity of a veteran wordsmith.

Like his father, Hugo is a steadfast admirer of Napoleon, a fact that cynics often cite to explain his rapid rise to prominence. But regardless of one’s opinion of the man, there is no denying his success and artistic influence, and with his first foray into playwriting expected next year, all of Paris eagerly awaits the young writer’s upcoming comedy.

[1] I don’t know how much advice Lafayette solicited during this trip IOTL, but he certainly rubbed shoulders with a lot of notable figures along the way. ITTL, he was less active during the 1810’s because Napoleon seemed completely untouchable, and it was only when he fell into his opium addiction and had to start delegating his responsibilities that Gilbert saw an opening to try and do some good again.

[2] Stendhal had this post IOTL during the retreat from Russia. Soldiering didn’t go so well for him, but he was apparently better with logistics.

[3] Hegel isn’t exactly easy to understand, so I hope I didn’t butcher this too much. What’s important ITTL is that Hegel doesn’t consider 1830’s Prussia to be the pinnacle of human achievement – he can’t, considering how weak it is. And that conviction that the Weltgeist is still leading us somewhere important will be an influential one in the decades to come.

[4] The Saint-Simonians had a number of prominent feminists in their ranks IOTL, including Démar. It seems like the most hospitable environment available for Léon’s return to politics.

[5] These two were probably an item IOTL, depending on who you believe. And I mentioned before that Charlotte has a role to play, so we’ll get to that soon enough.

 

[TRH]

And to truly bring this arc to a close, here's a map of the world in 1830, as the Turkish-Egyptian War and the Portuguese Civil War still rage. Credit to @Kikkomaan for the map. Enjoy!

 

[TRH]

My term is winding down, so hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently for a while. In any case, I've got something special planned for this update: in-universe alternate history! This gives me a few different opportunities in terms of storytelling. The obvious one is that I get to explore crazy dystopia ideas that I don't want to pursue in the main continuity of the timeline. Of course, since that's such an obvious draw, I've decided to go the other direction for this first installment, and introduce a crazy utopian idea that I don't want to pursue ITTL. Also, a ton of additional foreshadowing!

More than that, though, I think it's interesting to think about the historiography of an alternate history. We have an idea of decisive or pivotal moments in our timeline, which often say a lot about us, so thinking about what people in your fictional timeline think are important events can be just as revealing. Of course, this might just be my head disappearing up my own ass, so feel free to let me know if you think more in-universe timelines are worth pursuing. I just wrote up an analysis/review of a timeline for this one, but I can definitely see myself including excerpts in future installments if you guys are interested.

In any case, next time I'll return to France to see how the new Emperor handles the Egyptian crisis. So stay tuned for that!

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Tales from an Alternate History​

Excerpted from An Allohistorical Anthology by Agnetha Karlsson, 1998.​

Allohistory is the lamentation of people who think they’ve been robbed. Mencken wrote this less than a decade after the end of the Eurasian War, and although it’s an unfair generalization, the jibe still hits uncomfortably close to home. Patriotism has a way of insinuating itself into allohistorical fiction, and the study of what could have been is subsumed by a writer’s conception of what should have been.

To understand the utopian tendency within this genre, we will explore one of its oldest and most influential entries, one that exemplifies the Whiggish optimism of its time. If Mencken had any particular story in mind when he gave his take on allohistory, then he undoubtedly thought of Robert Quick’s 1890 essay A Stillborn Revolution. From the initial premise, where Princess Charlotte of Wales dies in childbirth in 1817, the book explores a Britain that might have been, had it been deprived of The People’s Princess. [1]

Before we start, it’s important not to sell short the audacity of Quick’s story. He recognized that the death of Charlotte, a key symbol of liberal reform in the British Empire, would have its most profound impact not on British liberalism, but on the reputation of the monarchy itself. Quick had ample reason to reach this conclusion, given the political climate of 1820’s Europe, but to portray a republican revolution as utopian was, and still is, a radical sentiment in Britain. Quick was certainly forced to downplay the sentiment behind his work, labeling it a thought experiment instead of a description of his ideal world. Nevertheless, observers at the time and today were convinced that this thought experiment was the product of conviction as much as intellectual curiosity.

Synopsis: Princess Charlotte of Wales dies while giving birth to her first child in 1817. From there, little changes in Britain or elsewhere in the short term. George Canning is still assassinated in 1820 by Arthur Thistlewood, resulting in Lord Eldon and his Tory allies taking power. The allohistory begins in earnest a decade after Charlotte’s death, when Spencer Perceval dies, leaving the High Tories in turmoil.

From the history we know, Princess Charlotte was rarely allowed to interact freely with the general public, but her rebellious streak was well-known, and the British people thought her far more amiable than her father or grandfather, while also lacking their psychotic tendencies. As such, she became a symbol of resistance against the Eldon government, but was also seen as evidence that the monarchy could be better than what George IV and George III had represented. Her cooperation with Sir Robert Peel and Charles Grey in passing parliamentary reform was a critical moment in British history. [2]

In Quick’s narrative, the conservatives do not yield their power gracefully. William IV proves a weak ruler, easily swayed by Viscount Sidmouth and Lord Eldon. The selective electoral reforms undertaken by the Tories in the wake of the failed 1828 Corn Law further calcify Parliament. By increasing the number of boroughs and enfranchising at-will tenants, they are able to strengthen the hand of landlords to mitigate the rising Whig sentiment among the middle and lower classes. [3] The continued enforcement of the Six Acts also makes it difficult for even peaceful demonstrations to be organized against the sitting government.

With the Commons controlled by a Tory coalition that’s a minority government in every sense of the term, and the Lords steadfastly refusing to consider reform, violence ensues. Starting in April 1833, riots sweep the country from Edinburgh to Bristol. Viscount Sidmouth’s mansion in Richmond Park is burned to the ground during the riots, along with the estates of several other lords. The British army is mobilized to quell the rioting, but the campaign for popular sovereignty and an end to the Six Acts refuses to yield.

With direct force proving insufficient, the radicals, led by Thomas Attwood and William Cobbett, decided to change tactics. An organized bank run ensued, putting the Bank of England’s solvency at risk, while an alliance of Whigs and Canningites resolved to withhold confidence from the Eldon government. With Eldon unable to maintain a government, new elections are called, with the Whig-Canningite coalition prevailing. Despite all of this, the House of Lords remains obstinate, refusing to consider Grey’s stab at moderate reforms to the franchise. This proves the final straw, and a second wave of riots begins in November 1833. This time, the army refuses to move against the protesters, and both William and the Lords, fearing violent retribution, are forced to flee.

When the dust settles, the Whigs, in accordance with the now overwhelming popular will, begin the transition towards a republican government. Many of their early reforms are acts Grey historically enacted with the approval of Queen Charlotte, including an end to rotten boroughs and a repeal of the Six Acts. Others are forced upon him by the situation: with the royal family and many Lords having departed for Hanover, Spain, Prussia, or other places, the British parliamentary system is revised, becoming a unicameral legislature, with a President serving as the new head of state.

From here, Quick’s narrative becomes less detailed. The new Republic of Great Britain and Ireland selectively asserts itself on the international stage, but always with careful consideration and righteous conviction. By embracing mass popular mobilization in wartime, the republic fields larger armies than the Britain we know, which proves vital in winning the War of the Five Cousins in the 1850’s. More than that, Britain becomes a force for liberty, supporting anti-slave interests in the Sectional War and the Riverine Wars during that same decade.

Most striking of all, however, the republic intervenes in France to put an end to the Second Terror. Where the Royal Navy historically refused to challenge the French blockade of the Marseille Commune, the republicans act, sweeping aside the blockading ships to relieve the ill-fated rebellion. From there, British forces supplement a groundswell of popular resentment against the tyrannical French government, putting an end to its genocidal designs. The story ends as the tricolor is once again hoisted over the Bastille, and all across Paris, renditions of La Marseillaise and Rule Britannia can be heard well into the night.

Analysis: A Stillborn Revolution certainly challenges British faith in its monarchy as a force for good, both then and now. But more than that, it also challenged Quick’s own contemporaries, and the school of Whig History that he’s so commonly associated with. Far from being, or even progressing towards, the perfect realization of human liberty, Quick’s essay suggests that the world may, in fact, have missed important opportunities for progress. Had those opportunities been realized, then we would live in a better, freer world than the one we see now.

From that perspective, Quick’s utopianism is more than just sentimentality – it’s a challenge. After all, the divergence in his story, a tragedy that most would see as a setback to liberalism, is presented as an opportunity in disguise. Quick’s challenge to the human race is to find the silver linings, and live the virtues that we want to see win out in the world. That’s what makes his story resonate, despite being an otherwise breezy narrative by the standards of allohistory.

It’s also proof that Mencken was wrong about the utopianism of this genre of historical fiction. Far from being a feeble lament that we’ve been robbed of a better, more gratifying reality, utopian allohistory is a call to seize and to create that better world for ourselves. And as the 20th century comes to a close, with the Byzantine power struggles between the Council of Ten and the MISTIC bloc continuing with no end in sight, that’s a call we’d do well to heed.

[1] My inspiration for this is essentially Arnold Toynbee’s speculation about Alexander the Great surviving in his book Some Problems in Greek History. This story is less about the future and more about how 1830’s Britain would get to a republican government, and its design. The idea of it consciously acting as a beacon of liberty, well, honestly I think I’m pulling from a lot of timelines on this site that have Britain or the US or whoever doing that. If you’ve been here long enough, you’ve seen a lot of those.

[2] Compared to William, she’s more willing to threaten to appoint new Lords, so TTL’s standoff over reform is shorter and less turbulent than OTL. This in turn, makes Quick’s suggestion that this period was a golden opportunity for republican revolution all the more startling ITTL, while seeming more convincing from our OTL perspective. Or maybe less convincing, since Charlotte did die IOTL and we know that didn't doom the monarchy. Head spinning yet?

[3] An OTL provision from the 1832 Reform Act to mollify the Tories. Here (ITTL and in Quick’s TL) they just enfranchise at-will tenants on their own to try and hold onto government as long as they can.

 

[HIM Dogson]

Just finished this. Really good and deserves more attention, interested to see where this goes.

 

[BootOnFace]

I like in-timeline Althist, as long as it doesn’t become too much of a circlejerk.

Also this timeline is super definitely underrated. I think people may just be tired of Napoleonic victory TLs thanks to seeing so many poorly-written ones.

 

[TRH]

I like in-timeline Althist, as long as it doesn’t become too much of a circlejerk.

Well, one idea I have to keep them fresh is to make sure each entry has a different tone from the others. I've got two other ideas right now, one a dystopia scenario, and one a black comedy. They'll show up around the in-universe time of their PODs, so the 1860's for the black comedy, and the 1940's for the dystopia. And I suppose if I come up with other ideas in between, I'll try and insert them when their PODs should occur in the story.

Also this timeline is super definitely underrated. I think people may just be tired of Napoleonic victory TLs thanks to seeing so many poorly-written ones.

What's funny is that I first started giving this serious consideration around 2014 or so, and at the time, it felt like we didn't have much in the way of serious Napoleon timelines. Like, I knew of Zach's Pax Napoleonica, and that was basically it. But I only started writing at the end of 2017, and I believe there were three other lengthy Napoleon timelines that got started in the previous year alone, so yeah, my timing could have been better. Still, I think one of those finished up already and the other two have been discontinued, while I'm definitely sticking with this for the long haul, so I'll see where we are in another year or two.

 

[TRH]

Hope everyone's enjoying the holidays. I've been planning the resolution to the Egyptian crisis for a long time now, and I'll admit, I initially had a much more convoluted/dramatic ending in mind, with some bait-and-switches and obfuscating stupidity from Napoleon II. In the end, I decided that would be too risky and needlessly complicated to get what he wants from this, so we've got a shorter chapter than I expected. In any case, this is where the third arc starts in earnest, so enjoy! Next time, we'll return to Portugal to see how their civil war is going.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: L’Empereur Est Mort…​

Excerpted from The Road to War: 1830-1852 by Alexander Peterson, 1971.​

The 1850’s are remembered as a decade of conflict, one that presaged the industrialized butchery of the 20th Century. But because observers tend to see the wars of this period as merely preludes to later conflicts, their own causes often go unexamined. This book seeks to rectify these oversights, and present an organised analysis of the origins of the War of the Five Cousins, the Sectional War, and the Riverine Wars, and why these struggles sundered three continents. [1]

Because the popular explanations for these wars consider only their connection to 20th Century struggles, they tend to be systemic explanations that emphasise a broad continuity. The burgeoning appeal of nationalism in Europe, the sectional polarisation in the United States, the rise of the Trust with its disruptive effects on international business, and the fallout from the Portuguese Civil War and the wars of independence in Spanish America are all commonly cited causes. [2]

These explanations are insufficient for a complete understanding of the midcentury wars. Their failing is not simply that in eyeing systemic factors, they ignore the influence of individual actors. Rather, individuals and systems interact in complex ways, which are not nearly as predictable as many scholars assume. No man encapsulated this truth as completely as Napoleon II, which is why this analysis begins with his ascent to the French throne following the death of his father.

The passing of Napoleon I certainly shook the nation, and indeed, the world. And yet even as the Emperor’s body was being interred in Les Invalides, the internal debate over the Egyptian crisis continued in the background. By November 1830, Ibrahim Pasha’s army had reached northern Anatolia. Come spring, it would be able to push on towards Constantinople, with only an increasingly demoralised Turkish army standing in the way. The French Senate stood divided between hawks under Marshal Savary, who wanted to speed the Sublime Porte on its slide towards oblivion, and doves led by Talleyrand, who preferred to broker a diplomatic end to the Turkish-Egyptian war.

Like his father, Napoleon II's coronation took place at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

During his father’s incapacitation, the Prince had been guarded in his sympathies, refusing to side with either Savary or Talleyrand. This did not change upon his coronation: instead of endorsing either the hawkish or dovish approach, Napoleon II chose a different strategy entirely. A French fleet set off from Taranto, but instead of aiding Muhammad Ali, their orders were to side with the Sultan. The French army under Marshal Jourdan reached the Dardanelles in mid-December, with ample time to fortify their position and prevent the Egyptians from advancing any further.

The French force was accompanied by a contingent of diplomats. Led by Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourienne, a veteran negotiator and an old friend of the former Emperor, the French delegation approached Ibrahim Pasha to negotiate a ceasefire. The Egyptian, remembering well his past defeats at French hands, was quick to agree, especially upon learning that a second French fleet had been sent to blockade Alexandria, and if necessary, bombard it. Turkish representatives were invited to join Ibrahim and Bourienne at Eskişehir, where the Egyptians were wintering, to broker a peace deal.

The Convention of Eskişehir was favorable to the Egyptians, at least on paper. Ali’s claims to Syria were vindicated, and he received the provinces of Syria and Sidon at the Convention. However, there were secret bilateral agreements between the French and the Ottomans at Eskişehir designed to alleviate Turkish security concerns. For one, the French agreed to intercede again on the side of the Porte in the event of another war with Muhammad Ali. For another, the French agreed to send a mission to Constantinople to aid the Turkish army in meeting European standards. Lastly, the Turks agreed to purchase a sizable number of French artillery to refit their forces.

It’s here that we see how Napoleon II differed from his father in his approach to war and diplomacy. Unlike previous French moves in the region, he sought no territorial gains from either side in exchange for his aid. Instead, his focus was on cultivating long-term dependency on French support for both the Turks and the Egyptians. One of the public treaty provisions required both Ali and Sultan Mustafa to open their markets to French imports. This would hinder Ali’s efforts to cultivate an Egyptian textile industry to compete with those in the West, while also benefiting his country’s cotton growers. While the economics of the time was rudimentary at best, it does seem that the young Emperor had recognised the potential of Ricardianism to strengthen industrial powers like France at the expense of less advanced economies. [3]

His military commitments to the Sultan followed similar logic. The sale of advanced French artillery to the Turks was less concerned with profits from the transaction, and more with increasing Turkish dependency on French advisers who were familiar with the equipment. Combined with the economic influence that France would gain within the Empire, these security commitments would give the Emperor considerable leverage over the Sultan in the coming decades.

In a larger sense, however, Napoleon II had effectively sided with Talleyrand over Savary; he did not agree that the time was ripe for a general European war. The Emperor believed, as few hawks ever do, that time was on France’s side, and that his Empire would only gain strength compared to its rivals as the years went by. [4] This optimism would eventually be tested, but for the time being, it made the young Emperor committed to peace on the continent. And for the immediate future, he would get his wish.

[1] This is my first time experimenting with an author using British spelling. It doesn’t come naturally to me, of course, so if anyone spots inconsistencies, I’ll be happy to correct them.

[2] I think this is kind of the default approach for historians, or at least for history classes. They think their job is to explain why things happened rather than how they might not have, so there’s a bias towards determinism. And systems are (seem?) more predictable than people, so that becomes the model of choice. Peterson presents one of the counterpoints I’ve come up with in arguing that people and systems aren’t mutually exclusive. How can they be, when systemic explanations still rely on people most of the time?

[3] As I mentioned back in Chapter 14, I’ve seen scholarship claiming that the French actually did more than the British to spread free trade in the 19th Century. Now that they’ve got a true believer in capitalism at the helm, that trend will accelerate.

[4] That really is what singles out a hawk when you think about it. Why else would they want war now rather than later?

 

[BootOnFace]

Napoleon II seems like a very competent successor to Ol Boney

 

[TRH]

Napoleon II seems like a very competent successor to Ol Boney

Yes, I'm writing him to be a sneaky and cunning bastard. Of course, he's different from his father in many ways, but also shares similar weaknesses, which will become more apparent later on. I'll go into his mindset in more detail in a later update.

In the meantime, here's the wrapup to the Portuguese Civil War. This sets up tensions that will fester for a while ITTL's South America, and prove especially potent in the 1850's, when everything goes to shit everywhere, pretty much. Enjoy, and stay tuned for the next chapter, where I'll return to France to explore their domestic situation.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Whose Sacrifice?​

Excerpted from The Road to War: 1830-1852 by Alexander Peterson, 1971.​

The Portuguese Civil War is often portrayed, especially by Whig historians, as a war of contrasts. A usurper against the rightful heir to the throne, the Old World and the New, liberalism versus conservatism. But these contrasts elide a more fundamental similarity between Miguel and his older brother Pedro. Namely, that both men were reluctant to confront each other decisively while their domestic political positions steadily deteriorated.

Given his ultimate defeat, the weakness of Miguel’s regime receives more attention. The failed rebellions against his rule in Porto and the Azores, along with the latter’s capture by Pedro’s forces in 1831, are well-remembered. What’s less well-known is that Pedro faced similar uprisings in Brazil as he prepared to reclaim Lisbon.

Ironically, although he had been sent to Brazil by his father to establish a regime with more local accountability, Pedro did much the opposite. Like his father, Pedro was an absolutist at heart, and only tolerated other governing bodies insofar as they gave him free rein to pursue his own agenda. As such, Pedro’s Council of State composed a Constitution for Brazil that centralized governing authority in the King, giving little autonomy to provincial authorities or to the National Assembly. [1]

This autocratic arrangement became all the more galling for Brazilians in the years following 1825, as Pedro began mobilizing the country to reconquer Portugal. The army and navy were expanded in size. French Admiral Guy-Victor Duperré, the hero of Grand Port, was offered command of the Royal Brazilian Navy. To pay for this expansion, the crown was forced to levy high import duties on goods such as wine, textiles, and perfumes. [2] By necessity, these tariffs put a heavy burden on the Kingdom’s elites, the only reliable source of revenue in the country.

Unsurprisingly, these measures were the cause of significant unrest across Brazil. Slaveholders and other local magnates made common cause with regional separatists, united by their desire for greater financial and political autonomy. The first of these revolutionary movements arose in 1826 in Pernambuco and neighboring provinces in the northeast of the country, but others followed. In 1829, the Riograndense Republic was declared in Rio Grande do Sul. This rebellion proved especially tenacious, backed as it was by a vengeful Argentina. The fiercest conflict of all, however, came from Grão-Pará, where poor Indians, slaves, and mixed-race Brazilians established the Paraence Republic in 1831. [3]

The Brazilian army marching to put down rebellions in the provinces.

These irregular wars divided Pedro’s attention, and delayed his reckoning with Miguel for year after year, with no end in sight. By 1832, the Brazilian King decided to make his move, before matters in Brazil could spiral even farther out of control. He had not received as much foreign assistance as he’d hoped, but he did have assurances from the governments of Britain, France and Spain that they would not interfere in an internal Portuguese dispute, and that was enough.

On June 10th, a decisive naval battle took place off Porto, where Duperré’s ships destroyed Miguel’s fleet. With naval superiority assured, the Brazilian army was able to land in Porto and march on Lisbon. This alone did not end the war, however. Pedro had support from the middle class in liberal cities like Porto and Lisbon, but the rural south of the country remained loyal to Miguel. The Portuguese-Brazilian loyalist army was forced into a lengthy campaign to eliminate Miguelite resistance south of the Tagus, with fighting continuing into 1833. Finally, by July 1833, Miguel’s forces surrendered, with the erstwhile King going into exile in Britain.

Pedro's Loyalists engage the Miguelite fleet at the Battle of the Douro.

Success in Portugal didn’t alleviate Pedro’s problems in Brazil – if anything, it exacerbated them. The Brazilian people resented the heavy taxes and repression they suffered simply so that a European prince could pursue his own ambitions at home. And with Pedro and his army committed in Europe, there was nothing to prevent revolution any longer. As such, in May 1833, just as the campaign against the Miguelites was winding down, riots in Rio de Janeiro metastasized into a more serious rebellion. The National Assembly, previously supine to Pedro’s whims, decided to throw its weight behind the popular demonstrations. Just as Pedro had secured his Portuguese inheritance, he had lost his American one, with the Assembly proclaiming Brazil a republic.

As much as Pedro may have wanted to redress this betrayal, he was in a poor position to do so. The Portuguese army was weakened both by the civil war and by the purges that had preceded it. And there was little desire for a personal union in either Portugal or Brazil. In a final act of charity before this parting of the ways, Pedro offered passage to Brazil for any soldiers in the loyalist army who wanted to return home. He would not contest the declaration of independence in any way.

In any event, the Portuguese Civil War carried implications far beyond the dissolution of the union between Portugal and Brazil. In Europe, Pedro would prove a cautious and even-handed ruler, chastened by his experiences with discontent in the New World. In Brazil, the Assembly, riven by factionalism and still confronted with violent secessionist movements, would struggle to maintain order in what would ultimately prove a cataclysmic 19th Century.

[1] Something Pedro said IOTL was that he would “do everything for the people and nothing by the people.” That was right before he got run out of Brazil by revolutionaries, so that tells you something.

[2] Popular import items to Brazil during this period.

[3] All of these rebellions were OTL, although I moved up the latter two to take place during this period. Since the Portuguese court didn’t move to Brazil ITTL, there’s less kinship felt with Pedro and the crown generally.

 

[BootOnFace]

It would be interesting to finally see a timeline where Brazil is split up during independence.

 

[TRH]

It would be interesting to finally see a timeline where Brazil is split up during independence.

That wasn't originally part of my plan, but we'll see. To be honest, I wasn't the happiest with this last update; felt like I was going through the motions a bit. So I'll probably come back to Brazil before the decade's over to cover those provincial rebellions in more detail and see where that gets us.

 

[isabella]

Hope everyone's enjoying the holidays. I've been planning the resolution to the Egyptian crisis for a long time now, and I'll admit, I initially had a much more convoluted/dramatic ending in mind, with some bait-and-switches and obfuscating stupidity from Napoleon II. In the end, I decided that would be too risky and needlessly complicated to get what he wants from this, so we've got a shorter chapter than I expected. In any case, this is where the third arc starts in earnest, so enjoy! Next time, we'll return to Portugal to see how their civil war is going.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: L’Empereur Est Mort…​

Excerpted from The Road to War: 1830-1852 by Alexander Peterson, 1971.​

The 1850’s are remembered as a decade of conflict, one that presaged the industrialized butchery of the 20th Century. But because observers tend to see the wars of this period as merely preludes to later conflicts, their own causes often go unexamined. This book seeks to rectify these oversights, and present an organised analysis of the origins of the War of the Five Cousins, the Sectional War, and the Riverine Wars, and why these struggles sundered three continents. [1]

Because the popular explanations for these wars consider only their connection to 20th Century struggles, they tend to be systemic explanations that emphasise a broad continuity. The burgeoning appeal of nationalism in Europe, the sectional polarisation in the United States, the rise of the Trust with its disruptive effects on international business, and the fallout from the Portuguese Civil War and the wars of independence in Spanish America are all commonly cited causes. [2]

These explanations are insufficient for a complete understanding of the midcentury wars. Their failing is not simply that in eyeing systemic factors, they ignore the influence of individual actors. Rather, individuals and systems interact in complex ways, which are not nearly as predictable as many scholars assume. No man encapsulated this truth as completely as Napoleon II, which is why this analysis begins with his ascent to the French throne following the death of his father.

The passing of Napoleon I certainly shook the nation, and indeed, the world. And yet even as the Emperor’s body was being interred in Notre Dame, the internal debate over the Egyptian crisis continued in the background. [3] By November 1830, Ibrahim Pasha’s army had reached northern Anatolia. Come spring, it would be able to push on towards Constantinople, with only an increasingly demoralised Turkish army standing in the way. The French Senate stood divided between hawks under Marshal Savary, who wanted to speed the Sublime Porte on its slide towards oblivion, and doves led by Talleyrand, who preferred to broker a diplomatic end to the Turkish-Egyptian war.

View attachment 428427
Both Napoleon I's funeral and his son's coronation took place at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.

During his father’s incapacitation, the Prince had been guarded in his sympathies, refusing to side with either Savary or Talleyrand. This did not change upon his coronation: instead of endorsing either the hawkish or dovish approach, Napoleon II chose a different strategy entirely. A French fleet set off from Taranto, but instead of aiding Muhammad Ali, their orders were to side with the Sultan. The French army under Marshal Jourdan reached the Dardanelles in mid-December, with ample time to fortify their position and prevent the Egyptians from advancing any further.

The French force was accompanied by a contingent of diplomats. Led by Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourienne, a veteran negotiator and an old friend of the former Emperor, the French delegation approached Ibrahim Pasha to negotiate a ceasefire. The Egyptian, remembering well his past defeats at French hands, was quick to agree, especially upon learning that a second French fleet had been sent to blockade Alexandria, and if necessary, bombard it. Turkish representatives were invited to join Ibrahim and Bourienne at Eskişehir, where the Egyptians were wintering, to broker a peace deal.

The Convention of Eskişehir was favorable to the Egyptians, at least on paper. Ali’s claims to Syria were vindicated, and he received the provinces of Syria and Sidon at the Convention. However, there were secret bilateral agreements between the French and the Ottomans at Eskişehir designed to alleviate Turkish security concerns. For one, the French agreed to intercede again on the side of the Porte in the event of another war with Muhammad Ali. For another, the French agreed to send a mission to Constantinople to aid the Turkish army in meeting European standards. Lastly, the Turks agreed to purchase a sizable number of French artillery to refit their forces.

It’s here that we see how Napoleon II differed from his father in his approach to war and diplomacy. Unlike previous French moves in the region, he sought no territorial gains from either side in exchange for his aid. Instead, his focus was on cultivating long-term dependency on French support for both the Turks and the Egyptians. One of the public treaty provisions required both Ali and Sultan Mustafa to open their markets to French imports. This would hinder Ali’s efforts to cultivate an Egyptian textile industry to compete with those in the West, while also benefiting his country’s cotton growers. While the economics of the time was rudimentary at best, it does seem that the young Emperor had recognised the potential of Ricardianism to strengthen industrial powers like France at the expense of less advanced economies. [4]

His military commitments to the Sultan followed similar logic. The sale of advanced French artillery to the Turks was less concerned with profits from the transaction, and more with increasing Turkish dependency on French advisers who were familiar with the equipment. Combined with the economic influence that France would gain within the Empire, these security commitments would give the Emperor considerable leverage over the Sultan in the coming decades.

In a larger sense, however, Napoleon II had effectively sided with Talleyrand over Savary; he did not agree that the time was ripe for a general European war. The Emperor believed, as few hawks ever do, that time was on France’s side, and that his Empire would only gain strength compared to its rivals as the years went by. [5] This optimism would eventually be tested, but for the time being, it made the young Emperor committed to peace on the continent. And for the immediate future, he would get his wish.

[1] This is my first time experimenting with an author using British spelling. It doesn’t come naturally to me, of course, so if anyone spots inconsistencies, I’ll be happy to correct them.

[2] I think this is kind of the default approach for historians, or at least for history classes. They think their job is to explain why things happened rather than how they might not have, so there’s a bias towards determinism. And systems are (seem?) more predictable than people, so that becomes the model of choice. Peterson presents one of the counterpoints I’ve come up with in arguing that people and systems aren’t mutually exclusive. How can they be, when systemic explanations still rely on people most of the time?

[3] I wasn’t sure if people would want to bury him there or at Saint Denis. I was actually leaning towards the latter until I found out that some people actually were buried at Notre Dame IOTL, albeit none of them monarchs. With that in mind, the break with the Bourbons would dictate he go somewhere else.

[4] As I mentioned back in Chapter 14, I’ve seen scholarship claiming that the French actually did more than the British to spread free trade in the 19th Century. Now that they’ve got a true believer in capitalism at the helm, that trend will accelerate.

[5] That really is what singles out a hawk when you think about it. Why else would they want war now rather than later?

One thing: Napoleon will never be buried in either Saint Denis or Notre Dame... He had already choised and designated the place of burial for his dynasty (and some of his generals) aka Les Invalides https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Invalides who is also the place in which are the tombs of Napoleon and his son

 

[TRH]

One thing: Napoleon will never be buried in either Saint Denis or Notre Dame... He had already choised and designated the place of burial for his dynasty (and some of his generals) aka Les Invalides https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Invalides who is also the place in which are the tombs of Napoleon and his son

Fixed. Thanks for the catch.

 

[TRH]

Just in time for Turtledove season, we've got a new update. I'd intended for this to touch on domestic affairs in France, but I'd wanted to start with some description of TTL's Napoleon II, a radically different beast from OTL's, and that explanation drifted into foreign policy quickly. So that's the main focus for today, accompanied by a shitton of footnotes. Next time, we'll look at internal affairs, and then it's back to the United States to look at the Van Buren Administration. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty: …Vive L’Empereur!​

Excerpted from The Road to War: 1830-1852 by Alexander Peterson, 1971.​

From a biographer’s standpoint, Napoleon II is a far more challenging subject than his father. From a young age, the prince understood the value of information control, and of keeping his knowledge and opinions as carefully guarded secrets. As a result, his personal writings are harder to come by than those of Napoleon I, and what correspondence has survived is often terse to the point of indecipherability. As a result, scholars tend to rely on the observations of the Emperor’s servants and confidants to divine his motivations and intentions.

One particularly well-remembered observation came from Bourienne, who noticed that the young prince’s fascination with the Spanish Revolution, and in particular with the negotiations between his father and King Ferdinand for French help in restoring the Bourbons.

“The sight of a proud King reduced to the role of petitioner in the court of France…seems to mesmerise the prince,” Bourienne noted.

In the eyes of many observers, Napoleon II never let go of his childhood fancy, of the Emperor of France sovereign over all Europe, with other Kings and Emperors as courtiers. If this is true, however, then the Emperor made a servant of his vanity rather than a master – his self-regard became the cornerstone of French strategy during the mid-19th Century. [1]

An adolescent portrait of Napoleon II.

French foreign policy during this period was, in many ways, a continuation of Napoleon I’s post-Madrid approach, with its judicious and opportunistic use of direct force. However, the son refined his father’s tactics by combining conventional military and diplomatic strength with other disciplines, such as economics, espionage, and internal political intrigue. This sophisticated approach was calculated to ensconce as many nations as possible into mutually beneficial relationships with the French Empire. This both minimised the risk of direct conflict, while also leaving France in an indispensable position as the continent’s primary peacemaker, without whom orderly conflict resolution was impossible. [2]

In Europe, this strategy was the driving logic between the 1833 and 1834 commercial treaties between France and Austria and Prussia, respectively, lowering trade barriers between the three countries. As Finance Minister Georges Humann noted, allowing these countries to traffic their goods through French ports freely would improve general prosperity, but it would also leave the smaller powers vulnerable should they defy French direction. [3]

French strategy in the colonial arena was more complex, for two reasons. The first is that unlike the continent, France’s position in Africa and Asia was tenuous at best. Despite Napoleon I’s successful efforts to rebuild the French navy in the wake of Trafalgar, they were still outnumbered and outclassed by the Royal Navy, especially outside European waters. Any moves in other theaters had to be judged carefully, lest they provoke an unfavourable conflict with London. By the same token, however, French distance from other theaters meant that the consequences of war were only significant if European powers came to blows. Otherwise, war on distant continents had few meaningful consequences for France itself.

These considerations resulted in a delicate approach from Napoleon II overseas; he attempted to court allies in distant theaters that might test British strength in the event of war, while also taking pains to prevent open war between his client states and the British Empire. French intrigue in India was a case in point. Although the Treaty of Madrid had ended overt French designs on the subcontinent, it did not prevent them from acting through local proxies. Ranjit Singh of the Sikh Empire was a particularly valuable asset by virtue of his strength and position. His domain controlled the strategic Khyber Pass, through which an invading army could penetrate India via Afghanistan. Moreover, the Sikhs themselves possessed a powerful army, which the East India Company feared rivaled their own.

Fortuitously, the French already had a well-placed asset in Ranjit’s court by the time of Napoleon II. Jean-François Allard, a soldier of fortune, had spent the years after the Napoleonic Wars travelling the Middle East, eventually finding his way into Sikh service as a general.

Jean-François Allard, General of the Sikh Empire.

It is only speculation as to whether the French Emperor had a hand in it, but in 1832, Allard convinced Ranjit to temporarily suspend his long-standing conflict with Afghanistan and turn his eyes southwest, towards Balochistan. The tribes inhabiting the region were ill-armed and politically disorganised, so through a combination of force and intrigue, Allard and the Sikh army gradually brought them to heel. By the time of Allard’s death in 1837, Ranjit Singh’s authority stretched as far as the Indian Ocean. [4]

At the same time, however, the wily Ranjit played a double game, entertaining British missions and signing treaties with the East India Company even as he asserted himself in Balochistan. Governor-General Lord Bentinck made the calculation that the Sikhs could be trusted to defend their northern borders against encroachment, indirectly shielding British India. [5]

While French efforts to distract Britain are self-explanatory, Napoleon II departed from his father’s policy by attempting to impede Russian ambitions as well. This was likely a result of anxiety: the Greek Revolution and the Egyptian crisis exposed the Ottoman Empire as deeply vulnerable to pressure, even despite French and British attempts to bolster its military. The Osman dynasty was still delicate, and its collapse would instigate the very Anglo-French conflict that the Emperor hoped to postpone.

This explains Napoleon’s intervention in the Egyptian crisis, but it also is the reason for French missions to Persia during this period. The Qajar dynasty had retreated in on itself following its traumatic defeat by Russia in 1812. This did not equate to idleness, however, as Crown Prince Abbas Mirza took to reforming the Shah’s army to avenge the failures of 1812. The opportunity for action against Russia never came, but Mirza was able to win a minor border war with the Turks in 1824, vindicating his efforts as well as his leadership skill. [6] And upon the death of Shah Fath Ali, Mirza took the throne in 1833.

Persian cavalry at the Battle of Erzerum, 1824.

Mirza made no secret of his admiration of Napoleon I, but his dealings with the Emperor’s successor were driven by more pragmatic considerations. [7] Of the three great powers of Europe, France had the lightest presence in the Middle East, and so seemed the least likely to exploit Persia for regional gains. As such, although the new Shah invited military advisers from several neighboring countries, it was the French whom he trusted with modernizing Persia itself. [8]

The city of Tabriz, which had become a critical frontier bastion following Nakhichavan, also became the nucleus for the gradual attunement of Persia. [9] The University of Tabriz, founded in 1840, combined classical education with the latest insights from the sciences and economics, along with several foreign languages. By introducing the French language, along with the ideals of liberalism and Ricardianism, the teachers at Tabriz played their own subtle role in bringing the Shah’s domain under French influence.

Although it is Louis XI that the French remember as L’Universelle Aragne, that title may better apply to Napoleon II. Where his father forged a powerful empire through military strength and cunning, the son’s prudence proved critical in maintaining it. Although later events would test that prudence, Napoleon II’s proficiency for transactions and intrigue made him the right man for the right time in the mid-19th Century.

[1] Because he was born after this timeline’s POD, I’m already well within my rights to do whatever I want with Napoleon II, who bears very little resemblance to OTL. That said, I do think it’s important to consider just what about his different environment and upbringing is different here. As was mentioned, he got to see the King of Spain groveling in front of his father at a young age, and that had a major effect. Also, he was too young to see his father’s military successes, but he did see plenty of political intrigue, so that became more interesting to him than just being a great general like his old man.

[2] You’ll notice this is largely a refinement of what Napoleon I was doing from the Fourth Coalition onwards. The status quo is favorable to France, so French Emperors should present themselves as defending the status quo even as they find sneaky ways to profit on the side. Napoleon II, with his multidisciplinary approach to politics, is especially adept at finding fringe benefits to transactions.

[3] That said, this sounds more cunning than it really is. The World Wars of OTL tell us that economics alone won’t prevent a war if it’s set to happen, and the lack of trade doesn’t impede belligerents quite as much as we assume it will. Time will tell if Napoleon II learns this lesson the hard way.

[4] Allard’s exploits were OTL, but this Balochi campaign isn’t. The British also relied on diplomacy more than force to subjugate this region IOTL, so the Sikhs are primarily relying on a somewhat more forceful variation of the same strategy.

[5] The first change in attitude we can detect from Britain’s new Whig government is that they’re more open-minded on foreign policy. This is kind of inspired by their OTL engagement with Abdur Rahman that ended the Second Anglo-Afghan War, where they realized that an enemy proxy could be bought off if they made a better offer.

[6] The Persians and Turks fought a war like this IOTL, too. It was delayed slightly because the Persians decided the Greek Revolution was the perfect time to pick a fight with the Porte.

[7] Conjecture on my part, but Mirza did keep a number of Napoleon portraits, along with those of other figures he admired.

[8] French officials helped revamp Persian education IOTL too, from what I read.

[9] Attunement is a TTL social science term I'll explain later on. It's...interesting stuff when taken to extremes.

 

[Nyvis]

[3] That said, this sounds more cunning than it really is. The World Wars of OTL tell us that economics alone won’t prevent a war if it’s set to happen, and the lack of trade doesn’t impede belligerents quite as much as we assume it will. Time will tell if Napoleon II learns this lesson the hard way.

Lack of trade did in fact hurt Germany quite a bit during WW1. The risk is that you also become dependent on the benefits of that trade in turn.