mildred_of_midgard: (Default)
From: [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard
Like Britain, France is going to get short shrift from me in this write-up. I have Broglie's book on the King's Secret, and I have mentions of France in works from other countries' perspective, but I don't have a dedicated book on French foreign policy other than Broglie, and one bio of Vergennes. And you really need more than one book to even begin to do decent research. So this installment is going to be heavy on the Duc de Broglie quotes, light on everything else.

But hey, the Duc de Broglie opens his chapter on 1764-1770 with a bang, commenting on the Comte de Broglie and the current foreign minister, the Duc de Choiseul:

If the narrative which he has just read has possessed any interest for the reader, a piquant detail which has not yet been given will perhaps render it still more curious in his eyes. He must picture to himself that while Count de Broglie and the Duke de Choiseul were in a state of hidden hostility, aiming blows at each other in the dark, they were in the habit of meeting every evening in the same salons, with smiles on their lips, and that they belonged to the same social circle.

Now, Choiseul's main goal at this point is to make up for the losses of the Seven Years' War. France's traditional allies are the Turks (historically against Austria, now against Russia), and Sweden (historically for interfering in Germany against Austria, now against Russia), and now it has Austria as an ally too. Choiseul's post-1770 successor, D'Aiguillon, will also see Russia as the traditional ally.

Throughout the 1760s, France tries, without success, to get (bribe) the Turks to care what happens in Poland and to help prevent Poniatowski's election. But the Turks only care insofar as Russian aggrandizement is involved, and they see the danger too late. They're fine with Poniatowski ruling, and it's only when Russia has fully occupied Poland and a civil war has broken out that has spilled over to Ottoman territory in 1768 that the Turks finally get involved. As we know from this write-up, the Russians are able to handily defeat the Turks during the 1768-1774 Russo-Turkish War.

To remind you what the Comte de Broglie has been up to, after being recalled from Dresden and Warsaw upon Fritz's occupation of Saxony, the Comte de Broglie tried to get stuff done in France, failed, and ended up exiled to his country estate after a military kerfluffle involving his older brother (aka the Marshal de Broglie), whose side the Comte took. On this exile, the 19th century Duc de Broglie comments:

One would need to have lived the factitious life of a courtier of the old time to be able to appreciate the severity of that kind of punishment, inflicted only on a social class which now no longer exists, called "exile to one's own estates." It was a sudden transition from life to nonentity! To leave Versailles or the army for a provincial town, or for the country, was to enter into the land of oblivion and the valley of the shadow of death. Silence was kept around the poor exile, oppressed by the weight of solitude and inaction. No communication existed for him with the outside world, rarely did even some stray Court gazette bear to him the tardy echo of accomplished events. The post was slow, irregular, and little to be trusted; no one (and less than any other, one suspected and out of favour at Court) would have ventured to offer or receive confidences by means of it. There was no active employment on the spot; feudal dignities had long since dwindled into mere empty titles, which entailed cost without conferring power. The "King's men," the bailiff or local judge had a hundred times more authority in the smallest hamlet than the lord of the manor. The administration of private revenues was left to agents, for it would have been held beneath the attention of a gentleman. Nothing was really left to disappointed ambition but that resource which Saint-Simon, so learned in the maladies of his fellow-creatures, calls (when speaking of the Minister Chamillart ) "the ennui of walks and books."

But now the Comte de Broglie has been allowed back to court (although not given a prestigious position), and starting to pay attention to the wider world and not just the infighting in France that made me skip several hundred pages:

The Empress of Russia continues to exhibit a spectacle to Europe which we could not have expected from a princess born in a more civilised region than Siberia. She exterminates the race of the true sovereigns of her own empire, and forces a sovereign on a neighbouring kingdom, and she does not see that a crown can be better placed than on the head of one who has had the good fortune to please her. If she thinks herself obliged to treat all those who have had, or shall have, the same privilege in the same way, there will not be thrones enough in Europe to fulfil her intentions. But what charms me is the patience with which every one regards her conduct, without perceiving that this event, and the inevitable results it must have, are about to give a new form to the whole of the North. But what am I about, talking politics in this way? It is a remnant of taste for the profession."

As both the Comte and Duc de Broglie see it, France has two choices: support a French-backed candidate against Poniatowski, or pick their battles and adopt a position of neutrality. They both agree that France's alliance with Russia during the Seven Years' War cost them all the support they had in Poland–remember that Poland used to be a two-party system, pro-French and pro-Russian–and the people who don't want Catherine's ex-boyfriend in power and Russia calling all the shots are hardly going to trust France to be an opponent they can count on. Especially after France repeatedly got their butts kicked by Prussians and Brits during the Seven Years' War and came out of it not only financially crippled but with a great loss of territory.

So the Broglies, 18th and 19th century, both think neutrality was a good course, because it might allow them to get on Poniatowski's good side by not opposing his election, and that might allow them to get some use out of his future goodwill.

And the French are in luck! Poniatowski approaches the French agent in Warsaw to say, "Hey, I know Catherine will support me in *getting* the throne, but I don't know how much she's going to support my ideas afterward, like abolishing the liberum veto. So to be on the safe side, I'd like to get France's support. Can I count on you guys?"

French angel: "I would love to say yes! This sounds very exciting! But there are multiple diplomacies in France, I have many bosses, and they all have many opinions, some of which are secret, and all of which are contradictory. So I can't really commit us to the opposite of the course France has been pursuing for almost a century now. I'll need to write back home in hopes of getting clear, non-contradictory, timely instructions on how to proceed."

He is clearly no Comte de Broglie, who would have taken the initiative here.

Instead, he, and Poniatowski, wait for those clear, non-contradictory, and timely instructions. And wait. And wait.

At some point, August III dies.

Louis XV finally writes to the French agent: "Your proposal has been made useless by the death of August. Please revise as necessary."

19th century Duc de Broglie: "...Useless. I'm confused. The whole idea is to support Poniatowski as king when August is dead. August is now dead. The question you are being asked is whether to support Poniatowski. How is a plan for this EXACT event not the opposite of useless when this event happens???"

Instead, a minister is sent to France to support a Saxon candidate, one of August III's sons (Reminder that August III's daughter is married to the Dauphin), but not too much.

"Do the thing but also its opposite" and "do the thing but not too much" are basically France's foreign policy in the age of the King's Secret, and this is no exception.

After giving the official diplomat official instructions to "support the Saxons but not too much", the French minister sends a secret agent to Poland with secret instructions to go along with Poniatowski's proposal and support him (but secretly).

Comte de Broglie, stuck in France observing, with his hands tied: "This is a bad idea. Bad, bad idea. STUPID idea."

Duc de Broglie, writing with the benefit of hindsight 100 years later: "He was not wrong."

The official envoy shows up and timidly mentions a Saxon candidate occasionally, which everyone takes to mean "This is France's official stance, because it's in line with their policy of the last seventy years!"

Then the secret agent shows up.

If he had been advised to act in silence and to speak with discretion, he paid little attention to his instructions. He resumed, on the contrary, his former relations with the Czartoryski, letting it be clearly understood that he was acting thus ostentatiously by command.

So now you've got three French agents on the ground in Warsaw: the official agent half-heartedly supporting Saxony; the not-so-secret agent supporting Russia and Poniatowski; and the original agent who passed on the offer from Poniatowski and who wrote asking for instructions, and who has no idea what's going on with the other two.

Insert facepalming here.

So, the farce of French diplomacy continues to play out in this vein, and Poniatowski, as we know, is elected, and the French, as we can imagine, now just look like idiots to everyone. Duc de Broglie snarks that it was:

...as if the Cabinet of Versailles, placed in one of those difficult positions in which only a choice of errors is possible, had resolved to commit them all in succession without omitting one.

Then Fritz and Catherine sign their treaty in 1764. Fritz summarizes these events in his "Memoirs", and the Duc de Broglie has opinions about that too:

The mocking and insulting tone of the royal author makes us angry, even after a century has elapsed.

Tell us how you really feel, Duc de Broglie!

After Catherine imposed her candidate on the Polish throne via military occupation, the French withdraw their ambassador in protest. But they leave the Resident, and tell him that it is not the goal of France to show any dissatisfaction with what just happened.

Duc de Broglie: "You literally just withdrew your ambassador. How is that not a sign of dissatisfaction?"

Mildred: Well, sometimes people do it to save money, but yeah, I know what you mean.

Ah, I see the Duc de Broglie is one of the historians who thinks Catherine knew perfectly well what she was doing when she decided to force an impossible enlightened condition down the throats of the Poles (full political rights for the dissenters): she wanted an excuse to intervene militarily when it inevitably failed.
Edited Date: 2024-01-28 05:48 pm (UTC)
selenak: (Default)
From: [personal profile] selenak
From the safe distance of centuries, this is hilarious. Including that true 19th century hypocritical snobbishness:

The Empress of Russia continues to exhibit a spectacle to Europe which we could not have expected from a princess born in a more civilised region than Siberia.

Yeah, because France, GB, Spain and other European powers installing and deposing governments in countries they wish to colonize as an early move to that end goal is ever so much more civilized. Admit it, Monsieur Le Duc, what you object to is Catherine doing this to white people. Also She exterminates the race of the true sovereigns of her own empire is hilarious coming from a representative of La Grande Nation post 1789. I mean, it wasn't just the lawyers gone Jacobin, very high born Philippe "L'Egalité" D'Orleans voted for beheading Cousin Louis, too. And wasn't Philippe's kid King of France when the Duc was writing this? Or did he write post 1848? (In which case the Bonapartes were back.)

The mocking and insulting tone of the royal author makes us angry, even after a century has elapsed.

Tell us how you really feel, Duc de Broglie!


Fritz would be proud! As Voltaire said, this was one of his goals in life. (Voltaire being Voltaire, he had no problem with Fritz mocking the French, given he knew he was mocking Fritz both to his face and to posterity even more effectively. *g*)

Duc de Broglie: "You literally just withdrew your ambassador. How is that not a sign of dissatisfaction?"

Mildred: Well, sometimes people do it to save money, but yeah, I know what you mean.


Reminder to [personal profile] cahn that this was why Prussia didn't have a proper envoy in London but a "resident" who was Swiss and whom Fritz had never met for years and years.


Diplomats

Date: 2024-02-04 10:58 pm (UTC)
mildred_of_midgard: (Default)
From: [personal profile] mildred_of_midgard
And wasn't Philippe's kid King of France when the Duc was writing this? Or did he write post 1848? (In which case the Bonapartes were back.)

The book was published in 1878, which means we're into the Third Republic already.

Reminder to [personal profile] cahn that this was why Prussia didn't have a proper envoy in London but a "resident" who was Swiss and whom Fritz had never met for years and years.

A primer on 18th century diplomatic posts:

Resident: A minister permanently posted abroad, who acts as a point of contact, gathers information, and sends reports back home, but is not authorized to negotiate anything.

Envoy extraordinaire: A diplomat authorized to negotiate one particular issue.

Envoy plenipotentiary: A diplomat authorized to negotiate any issue.

Ambassador: Like an envoy plenipotentiary, but fancier. Highest ranked and best paid. Has to be treated with a lot of ceremony by the hosting country; has a lot of representational duties with commensurate out-of-pocket expenses. Needs to be rich, basically.

It wasn't unusual for someone who was accredited at one rank not to let on right away that they had that rank; sometimes to be able to collect information without putting everyone on their guard; sometimes to save money. I assume the latter is why Hanbury-Williams tells Catherine that when she's empress, he hopes to be able to be sent back as ambassador (more money), but he will keep his letter of accreditation in his pocket (fewer expenses).

Abram Michell, the Swiss resident/legation-secretary who was left in London after Andrie left, would thus have been cheaper than sending Peter as an envoy. Because Fritz didn't have anything he needed negotiated at the moment (1747), he didn't feel the need to pay anyone the salary he would have to pay someone who was of a rank to negotiate, and he could save money. Because Michell was just a civil servant and not authorized to negotiate anything, it mattered less that he hadn't taken the Prussian oath of loyalty. And because Peter was not rich, Fritz didn't want to send him at a rank that would empower him to negotiate and cause him a lot of expenses. (Either he thinks Peter will be susceptible to bribes, or else he thinks Peter just won't be able to afford the lifestyle of an envoy.)
luzula: a Luzula pilosa, or hairy wood-rush (Default)
From: [personal profile] luzula
Re: exile to one's own estates. A fate worse than death, truly! *irony*

...as if the Cabinet of Versailles, placed in one of those difficult positions in which only a choice of errors is possible, had resolved to commit them all in succession without omitting one.
That is excellent snark. : D

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