The Congress of Stockholm (4)
Around the end of May, two seemingly unrelated things happened in Stockholm; word got out that Caulaincourt was quietly meeting with Niels Rosenkrantz of Denmark, and Kapodistrias pressed Russian claims toward the Posen/Poznan area. The Russian ambassador hinted that the tsar might be willing to consider an alliance between France and Russia if he were denied this.

Historians continue to debate the exact role played by either Castlereagh or Metternich in what happened next. What is known is that on June 10, Karl August von Hardenburg and Leopold von Plessen, who represented both Mecklenburg grand duchies, made an announcement — that Prussia would cede Posen to Russia, and in return, the Grand Dukes of Mecklenburg-Schwerin and Mecklenburg-Strelitz would accept Prussian sovereignty. In return for this, the grand dukes would be permitted to divide the Duchy of Holstein between them.

There was only one problem — Holstein, although not a part of Denmark per se, was in personal union with that kingdom. This gave King Frederick VI a choice — to renounce his claim to the duchy, or to fight for it. If he chose to fight, and if France helped him by invading Prussia, it would greatly reduce the capacity of France to assist the Italian rebels.

As a counterfactual, in this author’s opinion both Denmark and France would have been better off if Frederick had chosen to cede Holstein peacefully. He could then have pursued an open alliance with France while retaining all overseas possessions. Unfortunately, at this point the king was cracking down on dissidents and constitutionalists at home. He could ill afford to show weakness in the foreign relations of the kingdom. By the end of the month, he had declared war.

France was also mobilizing — but not on Denmark’s behalf. The situation in Italy demanded most of the kingdom’s attention at the moment. According to Rosenkrantz’s letters, Caulaincourt had assured him that if Denmark could hold out until next spring, France would be able to spare an army for the northern campaign.

Caulaincourt never had a chance to make good on his promise. The Baltic Straits War was brief, brutal and humiliating. Prussia’s armies had by now completed their reforms and gained experience fighting Polish rebels, and were reinforced by the Mecklenburgs and Brunswick. To make matters worse for Denmark, Sweden had entered into the war. The fighting lasted six weeks.

When it ended, Denmark had lost not only Holstein, but Schleswig (of which Gneisenau was created duke). The dependency of Iceland was transferred to Sweden (which also acquired Greenland, for whatever that was worth). What was left of Denmark declared itself a British ally, in exchange for which it was allowed to keep the remainder of its overseas possessions.

For Prussia, it was proof that their nation had recovered its martial reputation after the catastrophe at Velaine. (Von Hardenburg pressed his luck by trying to persuade Castlereagh to ask Parliament to reconsider the Corn Law, but he did not succeed.)

H. Michael Wolcott, A History of Western International Diplomacy, 1648-1858
 
Just a thought on the Canadian Monarch, would it not be the ultimate Canadian compromise to have an elected Governor-General, who ran the executive, while the PM runs just the legislative?

A republic in all but the dress.
 
The Congress of Stockholm (5)
Wrede and Montgelas, the Bavarian representatives, were adamant that their king would not enter into military alliance with either France or Austria, despite the post-Nancy loss of Bavarian territory west of the Rhine. Nor would their kingdom provide any further assistance to the Austrian war effort in Italy. (The previous fall, Maxilimian von Montgelas had used Pope Pius VII’s ringing denunciation of Austrian war crimes as a pretext for Bavaria to withdraw all military support. Even veteran diplomats had been impressed that the anticlerical Montgelas could make such an argument with a straight face.)

However, they said, Bavaria would be willing to enter into a Zollverein (customs union) with Austria, Saxony, Baden, Württemberg and the Grand Duchy of Hesse. Partly in response to this, Prussia began forming a similar union with Brunswick, Waldeck, Nassau and the Electorate of Hesse. (Hanover, perhaps still hoping for closer ties to Britain, declined to join either.) The other minor states began choosing between them…


Caulaincourt might have hoped that the Dutch representative at Stockholm, Jan Willem Janssens, would remember his earlier service to Louis Bonaparte and accede to the plan to replace the king. If so, he was doomed to disappointment; Janssens was too busy trying to prove his loyalty to the current government. (His loyalty would be rewarded in 1821, when the king appointed him first governor of Temmasek.)[1]

But while the French foreign minister had been acting in the open, his dark knight Talleyrand had been working in secret. On Sunday, August 16, the streets of Amsterdam, the Hague, Rotterdam and Dordrecht were filled with demonstrators — many of them armed — calling for greater power for the States-General, the return of King Louis (and, incidentally, the return of territory south of the Waal). As William fled to Utrecht, his loyalists struggled first to restore order, then to reconquer the territory lost to the sudden uprising.

The unrest lasted about three weeks before William was able to restore something like order, but its effects would last for years in Dutch politics. The king and his loyalists would persist in regarding those who called for a constitution or an end to the prerogative of rule by “royal order” as agents of a foreign power. Those who had supported the uprising would never forget that the loyalists would have rather seen the Netherlands a rump state under King William than a (perhaps) restored nation under King Louis. And the rebellion would only exacerbate the fears of governments from London to Vienna that Talleyrand would seek to exploit domestic turmoil for his own purposes…


To summarize: by the fall of 1818, the peacemakers of the Congress of Stockholm had escalated one war, caused another and triggered an uprising in the Netherlands. On the other hand, the Congress had settled the borders of the United States and established the two Customs Unions. The assembled representatives might have abandoned their efforts then, but most of them chose to remain through the winter in the hopes that the warring sides in Italy would come to their senses.

H. Michael Wolcott, A History of Western International Diplomacy, 1648-1858



[1] OTL Singapore
 
Louis will be the Regency Council's unofficial go-to guy for issues involving the Dutch and German speaking parts of northern France. It's not exactly a kingship, though.
 
So Antwerp is staying French for the time being? That's going to keep Britain twitchy for quite a while.

Just to be clear, France controls the Rhineland as well, yeah?
 
Antwerp? Surely you mean "Anvers," monsieur.:D



Actually, the majority of it is still Prussian, but the parts that aren't Prussian are French.

The French really aren't setting themselves up to make any friends in the medium term, are they?


Say, regarding Austria. What's the popular reaction in their non-Italian Catholic territories to the Popes denunciation?
 
Well… they're making friends with Italy.:eek:

As far as Austria goes, the war is already pretty unpopular, and what the Pope said just makes it more so. The dissatisfaction is expressing itself in high desertion rates in the army and very low recruitment rates. (This is why the ambassadors to Stockholm are expecting a negotiated solution — they can see the writing on the wall even if Francis II can't.)


Here's a clumsily edited map, originally from Wikipedia (original author - kgberger), that shows what happened to the Rhineland, among other things.
The author or licensor does not endorse my use of their work. The author or licensor probably thinks I lured their work into the back of a windowless van by promising it candy.

DS 1818 Germany map.png
 
Lycaon pictus

Good to see an update but a couple of questions please?

a) You mentioned Wurtemburg being part of the Austrian customs union, along with other states, Bavaria, Saxony etc. However the map seems to show it as the same colour as Austria. Its not been absorbed in some way has it?

b) In mentioning the Congress you say it "had settled the borders of the United States" I don't see any mention of this and also given its traditional views on keeping its distance from Europe I suspect the US wouldn't recognise any European congress or that it had any say on matters in N America.

Notice the implicit fact that Singapore isn't formed, at least by Britain, which presumably means we don't get Malaya either. That could have some big impacts on developments in the Far East. Britain will be seeking bases for both trading and power projection so it will need to look elsewhere while the Dutch eastern empire may be a bit stronger.

Agree with King Henry that Britain will be worried about the status of Antwerp and neighbouring regions. Not to mention the vassaling of so much of western Europe by the French.

Steve
 
a) You mentioned Wurtemburg being part of the Austrian customs union, along with other states, Bavaria, Saxony etc. However the map seems to show it as the same colour as Austria. Its not been absorbed in some way has it?

No. (Actually, on my screen it's a very very slightly different shade of gold.)

b) In mentioning the Congress you say it "had settled the borders of the United States" I don't see any mention of this and also given its traditional views on keeping its distance from Europe I suspect the US wouldn't recognise any European congress or that it had any say on matters in N America.

It wasn't just a European conference — Henry Clay was there, as mentioned here (four months ago, so everybody probably forgot).

Notice the implicit fact that Singapore isn't formed, at least by Britain, which presumably means we don't get Malaya either. That could have some big impacts on developments in the Far East. Britain will be seeking bases for both trading and power projection so it will need to look elsewhere while the Dutch eastern empire may be a bit stronger.

Agree with King Henry that Britain will be worried about the status of Antwerp and neighbouring regions. Not to mention the vassaling of so much of western Europe by the French.

Steve

In Southeast Asia… let's see. The British already have Penang, and they're not getting along well with Burma, which is an enemy of Thailand. The French are currently the least unacceptable foreigners in Vietnam, also an enemy of Thailand. I wonder if it would be possible to win over Thailand as a British ally. (This is the part of the TL I'm kinda winging.)

In Europe, Franco-British rivalry for influence will become something of a dominant theme for the next… ain't sayin'.
 
No. (Actually, on my screen it's a very very slightly different shade of gold.)

Ok, thanks for clarifying.

It wasn't just a European conference — Henry Clay was there, as mentioned here (four months ago, so everybody probably forgot).

Again thanks. As you say a while ago and the memory isn't what it was.:(

In Southeast Asia… let's see. The British already have Penang, and they're not getting along well with Burma, which is an enemy of Thailand. The French are currently the least unacceptable foreigners in Vietnam, also an enemy of Thailand. I wonder if it would be possible to win over Thailand as a British ally. (This is the part of the TL I'm kinda winging.)

That could develop as the case. Although given what happened to Burma OTL it could be a case of friendly relations with Thailand and the two partitioning Burma.

In Europe, Franco-British rivalry for influence will become something of a dominant theme for the next… ain't sayin'.

Britain and France rivals. Whatever makes you come up with a crazy idea like that?:D

Good to see this active again.

Steve
 
Under Cover of Daylight (1)
In July of 1818, George Washington Parke Custis sold a substantial portion of the grounds of his District of Columbia estate to the federal government, although he retained the house itself. He used the money to clear his debts and establish a new and much larger experimental farm in Kentucky. Construction of the new War Department headquarters began that very fall, on a spot about 500 meters south of Arlington House.[1]
-- United States Department of War history brochure (1950 ed.)




A history student reading the speeches of the early Democratic-Republicans might conclude that Adams, Clay, Tompkins and the rest expected the next war against Great Britain to begin any day. In fact, all were in general agreement that such a war would not happen for at least a generation — and, in fact, that the longer it could be delayed, the better a position the United States would be in to wage it.

In the meantime, a larger standing army would be required. The question was how large — a too-large army sustained through decades of peacetime would bankrupt the nation. The initial 1817 budget called for an army of 30,000[2], a number that would be expanded under every census to reflect the growth of the population.

More important was a substantial officer corps, which would allow the army to expand quickly in time of war. As Tompkins put it, “West Point is a fine institution. Now we need at least two more just like it.” To that end, the states of Virginia and Pennsylvania cooperated with the federal government to establish two new military academies — Ferry Farm in 1818, near Fredericksburg, and Fort LeBoeuf in Waterford in 1819…

There were three proposed sites for the U.S. Naval Academy, all in Maryland — the state capital of Annapolis, the city of Baltimore (which had already proven itself in repelling a British attack) and Commodore Stephen Decatur’s home town of Sinepuxent. The deciding factor, oddly enough, was that the town of Sinepuxent had just been badly damaged by a hurricane, so land could be had there cheaply — Adams had many things to spend money on, and the Treasury was not infinite. The largest expense was dredging Sinepuxent Inlet, which had been made nearly unusable by the storm, and fortifying it against attack.
[3]
Stephen Hackworth, The Minuteman’s Musket: A History of American Military Readiness


[1] Right about where the Tomb of the Unknowns is IOTL.
[2] This sounds pathetic, I know, but it’s five times the size of the army Calhoun proposed IOTL.
[3] A little south of Ocean City, MD. IOTL the hurricane completely destroyed it and closed the inlet, so the town was abandoned. Thank you, butterflies.
 
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Under Cover of Daylight (2)
On August 8, John Leach wrote to two attorneys of Lincoln’s Inn, William Cooke and John Allen Powell. “By command of His Royal Highness the Prince Regent, and with the approbation of the Lord High Chancellor and the Earl of Liverpool, you are hereby authorized to proceed forthwith to Paris… for the purpose of making enquiries into the conduct of Her Royal Highness the Princess of Wales since she quitted England in the month of August 1814.” Leach moreover specifically instructed them to “engage all such assistance either legal or otherwise as in your judgment shall be expedient” (emphasis added) and to make regular progress reports. They would have the assistance of Sir Thomas Henry Browne of the British Embassy, and the banking firm of Thomas Coutts & Co. extended its financial support.

At this stage, the Prince Regent’s allies were still keeping their options open. As the Prime Minister said, “whatever might be the nature of the evidence obtained… the question of the expediency of any proceeding must always be considered as an open question, and as in no way decided by the establishment of the commission.”[1] Nonetheless, the Prince himself was determined — even, at this point, a little obsessed — with getting his own way…

Bertrand Martineau and P.G. Sherman, The Great Scheme


September 7, 1818
9:00 a.m.
Embassy of the United Kingdom, Paris

This was the sort of trick that could only be pulled off under cover of daylight.

Everyone in Paris knew that the D’Issy Commission had been sent from London to investigate the allegations that Princess Caroline had been unfaithful to her nominal husband, Prince George, whom she hadn’t seen in years. It was only natural that the Commission’s first step would be to come to the British embassy and question the ambassador, Sir Charles Stuart, for whatever he might know. And it was also natural that Stuart would attend this meeting accompanied by his faithful secretary and right-hand man, Sir Thomas Henry Browne.

Everyone in Paris also knew that Browne was a spy. What they didn’t know was that he wasn’t working for the Foreign Office, and wasn’t looking for French state or military secrets. (Although he had made one or two halfhearted efforts to obtain such secrets, just to keep up appearances.) Browne reported to the Prince Regent himself, and was spying on Princess Caroline. If they ever learned this, of course, the game would be up. So it was a very good thing that the Commission had a pretext for having Browne in the same room with them right there in the embassy, and didn’t have to sneak off somewhere in the dead of night to debrief him.

“Most of the allegations, as you know,” said Powell, “concern her relationship with her majordomo, Bartolomeo Pergami. The gossip about those two has reached as far as London. No doubt you’ve made a good many personal observations of them over the course of the past year.”

“They do appear together in public quite often,” said Browne. “I can’t be too obvious, of course, but I have managed to find an occasion or two to put myself in their path.”

“And?” said Cooke. “What have you seen?”

“They show all the signs of romantic attachment — more so than a good many married couples. I think anyone who saw them would say they were lovers.”

“We might have heard so much from anyone in Paris,” said Cooke, “and I dare say we shall. Let me put it this way — if she were to claim that he was nothing more than a good friend and a loyal servant, could you prove her a liar?”

“Not personally, no,” said Browne. “But there are those who could. One of them, at least, I could arrange for you to meet. His name is Gaetan Jeannot, and he serves as the Princess’s factor.

“Jeannot contacted me not long after I arrived. He’s quite the anglophile — that’s why he went to work for the Princess in the first place. When he heard a genuine English spy was in town, he could hardly wait to meet me. He’s fascinated by everything happening in the embassy and the Foreign Office. More to the point, he has witnessed her and Pergami in moments when they were… more than friendly with one another.

“Better still, he has spoken with others who have — in particular, one of her attendants, Aloïse St.-Leger. I have, on occasion, spoken with Mademoiselle St.-Leger myself. She can testify to the… physical… nature of their relationship.”

“She can,” said Powell. “Will she?”

“I regret to say that both Jeannot and St.-Leger require some… compensation… to take the risk of disclosing information to me. They would require more if they were to testify openly. Not without reason — publicly betraying an employer would make it rather hard for them to find another situation.

“There is more. On Jeannot’s advice, I also initiated correspondence with a Swiss woman, Louise Demont, who was dismissed from Her Highness’ employ late last year — she was apparently involved in a spot of embezzlement that Pergami ferreted out. She lives in Lausanne, and she is positively champing at the bit to testify against Caroline and Pergami.”

“Prior to her… dismissal, what position did she hold?” asked Cooke.

“She was Caroline’s secretary, and had intimate knowledge of all her… affairs.”

“Then if I understand you correctly, the two most likely witnesses for His Highness in any divorce proceeding against his wife would be two mercenaries and a vengeful sneakthief,” said Powell. “The problem is this: the Prince Regent’s enemies regard Caroline as a woman deeply wronged. Whether they believe in her innocence or not, they will forcefully assert it and will dismiss anything short of physical proof of her transgressions. Have we any hope of such proof?”

Stuart spoke up. “Given her… circumstances,” he said carefully, “it defies everything we know about human nature to suppose that she would remain celibate for the rest of her life with a man like Pergami available. But… physical proof? We have none.”

Cooke and Powell looked at each other. This was not what they had hoped for. In a year of espionage, Browne should have found something more substantial than a few dubious witnesses and a load of street gossip.

On the other hand, his Royal Highness’ previous secret agents had been fugitives from a farce. There was a Mr. Quentin, for example, who hadn’t been able to come up with any better cover story than that the Prince Regent had sent him all the way to Naples “to buy some horses.” As for Baron Ompteda, nobody seemed to know what had gone wrong there, but Pergami had found him out literally within hours of returning to the Villa d’Este. The story went that Caroline had made a formal ceremony out of Ompteda’s dismissal “in recognition of his services to the House of Hanover.”[2] By those standards, Browne had proven himself a master of the craft. And in any case, Prinny would probably take testimony from Baron Munchhausen if it gave him the answers he wanted.

“I do have a piece of news which may be of interest,” said Browne. “The Princess is planning to return to British shores this October.”

Everyone in the room sat there for a moment, blinking.

“Not permanently, of course — only for a couple of weeks. And Pergami, for once, will not be by her side.”


[1] Believe it or not, all of this is OTL, except for the part about Browne working for the embassy. Don’t take my word for it — look here.
[2] IOTL, she did something very much like this.
 
Under Cover of Daylight (3)
TO MR. MOORE.


Gaeta, September 19, 1818​

If the hiatus in my letters to yourself and my other friends and correspondents has stirred in your bosom any fears as to my well-being, I beg your forgiveness and assure you: though an ague troubled me the past week, yet it has passed and this morning I find myself much better in health.

Yet since last I took pen in hand to address you from this sun-drenched, blood-soaked earth, a great change has come over my very being, such that even I must struggle to find the words; and my former life I reckon but a long childhood in comparison to my current state. For too long I have remained in Rome,—the safest, or rather least perilous, place in all Italy,—and spoke and wrote cheerfully of freedom whilst braver men than I fought for it.

No more. Now at last I stand in the ranks of the fighters, putting aside (for the moment, dear Thomas, only for the moment) the poet’s pen to take up the musket of the soldier. You may have been expecting something of this nature since my last letter, in which I recounted my decision to join my friends in volunteering for the First Roman Regiment, to show that there is at least one Briton who knows where Honor and Justice dwell. I had expected to recount the manner of our training in the use of arms, and instruction in the other arts of the soldier.

But we were needed too urgently, and so off to the front we were sent with our training scarce half complete. From the ancient town of Antium,—now called Anzio—, we set forth through the malarial Pontine marshes (from whence, as I believe, came the ague I have already mentioned). In the face of this dismal jouney, I confess the inspiring words of the warrior-pope Pius seemed hard to bear in mind. Yet I dare say our arrival at dusk out of the marsh came as a great surprise to the louts and hirelings laying siege to Gaeta at the behest of the soi-dissant King of the Two Sicilies! That we were successful, and the siege was broken, you may already know. I can add little to what has appeared in the papers, beyond my own part in it; and it is this that I now struggle to write of.

When we emerged from marsh onto open ground, the first thing I saw was a burly, bearded villain in a threadbare Neapolitan uniform. We saw one another at the same moment, for he stood not fifty feet away. He fired at me in haste, and missed (I heard the musket-ball as it passed a foot or so over my head). Seeing that I would be upon him before he could reload his weapon, he cast it aside and drew his sword— but now my own musket was at the ready. For the first time in my life, I fired it with deadly purpose, aiming for the very center of his chest—yet the recoil of it spoiled my aim, sending the ball above and to the left of his heart.

The wound was mortal, but not instantly so. He fell to the ground in great agony. His eyes beseeched me to put an end to his suffering, which for a long and dreadful moment I hesitated to do; yet at last my bayonet completed the work my bullet had begun. Of the rest of the battle I remember but little; my brothers in arms had advanced far ahead of me by then, and soon the foe was in full flight. (I remember only a fearsome old sergeant shouting at me to clean the blood from my bayonet, lest it rust,—which I hastened to do.)

It was this day that aroused such a multitude of strange and terrible feelings in my bosom, sentiments for which there are no words of which I know in English or Italian. A man like any other, whose face I did not clearly see, whose name I shall never know;— a man who might have come here only for pay, or for the chance to plunder and outrage the peasants, or perhaps even out of some strange loyalty to Mr. Ferdinand Bourbon:— that man who one hour ago had been among the living was now dead at my hands. For aught I know, he may have had a living mother, or perhaps a wife; but I confess I did not look to his fingers to see if they were graced by any rings.

I am a poet—I know what words can do, and what they cannot—and I do not think they can convey what I felt, in the wake of that awful moment, to the bosom of one who has not shed blood in war. But know, dear Thomas, that it was not only the ague that set me a-tremble in the nights that followed.

Do not mistake this for regret. For there was never yet a war fought in which no men lost their lives—and have I not said many times that the war against these foul kings was a war worthy to be fought? Whatever else may come of this, now all shall know that I am neither coward nor hypocrite; that I mean what I say, that I reckon my principles more precious than my life and that I can do such deeds as I have exhorted other men to do.

And I shall do them again, and again, and again. Wherever tyrants hold sway and men dare to defy them, I shall rank myself among the defiant. So long as a soul on this Earth bides in slavery and oppression, I shall not be at rest. I mean to make of myself a sword in the hand of Nemesis.

I know now why I was born.

I remain very much yours, etc.,
B.​
 
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The whole idea of the Warrior-Pope is going to get a lot of use in anti-Austrian propaganda, isn't it?

Actually, given the Pope's public denunciation of the Austrians, and the generally extremely catholic nature of French Legitimists, what's the royalist opinion of the Italian war? Or the English opinion, come to think of it, given how romantic a figure Byron must seem.
 
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