The Next Empress of France – Napoleon vs the Romanovs: Part 1

A mother’s love. A brother’s shame. A pact made in a desperate hour of grief, used as a weapon to save two sisters’ honor.

File Under: Fascinating Royal and Noble Women

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The story of Napoleon and Josephine is one of the most famous in history. Their marriage began with a gold medallion inscribed “to destiny,” and ended in a tearful public divorce in front of Napoleon’s gloating siblings. Afterward, Napoleon married 18-year-old Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria, who gave him the son and heir he so badly wanted. That’s the story we all know, but there’s another part that’s almost never told.

Before he told Josephine he wanted a divorce, Napoleon had chosen his new bride – or thought he had. He wanted to marry a Russian grand duchess and was prepared to betray one of his most devoted allies to do it. This is the story of a doomed alliance, of two emperors waging a cold war with smiles and lies. It’s the story of a family, bound together by a dark tragedy, haunted by a past that threatened to repeat itself. But most of all, it’s the story of a mother’s love for her daughters – and what happens when that love is put to the ultimate test.

A Good Man Is Hard to Find

Before they were even born, Catherine the Great predicted it would be hard to marry off her granddaughters. To a friend, she wrote, “The girls will all be very badly married because nothing will be more unhappy and unbearable than a pr. de R [princess of Russia]. They won’t know how to accommodate themselves to anything, everything will seem petty to them; they will be sour, cantankerous, critical, beautiful…”¹

From its vast wealth to its art, architecture, and religion, the Russian imperial court was different from others in Europe. Catherine feared any granddaughter who left home would feel out of place and, quite possibly, miserable for the rest of her life. To prevent that, she decided to find them husbands who were royal, but not necessarily ruling sovereigns. Marrying a second or third son would give her granddaughters more freedom, less scrutiny, and a better chance at a happy life.

In 1795, she laid out her criteria for these hard-to-find men. “The ugly ones will be excluded, as will the foolish; poverty is not a vice. But the interior must also match a beautiful exterior.”² She wanted handsome men, smart men, good men, even poor men, but above all, she wanted loving and loyal men. It was a beautiful dream, but despite all her careful planning, Catherine would never see her five granddaughters married. Instead, their early lives would be overshadowed by an unspeakable family tragedy.

Catherine and her son and heir, Grand Duke Paul, had a troubled relationship from the moment he was born. The ruling empress, Elisabeth, snatched him from Catherine at birth and raised him on her own. Paul grew up among tutors and sycophants, with no friends his own age. Soon, he began to show personality traits that were…shall we say…undesirable. He could be charming and thoughtful one moment and haughty, vindictive, and cruel the next. As a child, his tutor warned him: “With the best intentions in the world, you will be hated, my lord.”³

In addition to a naturally stormy temperament, Paul had to deal with the anger he felt for his mother. In 1762, Catherine had led a coup against his father, dethroned him, and said “whoops” when her co-conspirators murdered him. To many Russians, seven-year-old Paul should have been the next ruler. But the country had enough problems without a child on the throne, and Catherine had the loyalty of the Imperial Guard. She remained on the throne, always wary of the son who saw her as a usurper.

The situation improved when Paul got married, as family life brought him a great deal of happiness. He was broken-hearted when his first wife died in childbirth in April of 1776. For his second wife, Catherine chose Princess Maria Dorothea of Württemberg. Tall, blonde, cheerful, and obedient, she became Grand Duchess Maria Feodorovna when she converted to Orthodoxy and married Paul on October 7, 1776.

She was patient, loving, and completely devoted to Paul. In a roughly 20-year time span, they had ten children, nine of whom survived to adulthood. But when Catherine took their two oldest sons to live with her, in the name of supervising their education, it stirred up all of Paul’s childhood anger and resentment – permanently. For the children, that resentment between generations was a fact of life, a tension always felt but never resolved.

Everything changed when Catherine died on November 17, 1796. After her reign of 34 years, everyone wondered what would happen now that Paul had no reason to keep his ambition or his temper in check. The French ambassador captured the sense of fear in the air when he wrote, “It wasn’t the empress, it was Russia that was buried.”⁴

Fear and Loathing in St. Petersburg

From his first moment as tsar, Paul tried to correct what he saw as his mother’s mistakes. In the first calendar year of his reign, the state secretary estimated that he issued 48,000 orders, the product of a manic desire to fix a society he saw as broken.⁵

Unfortunately, his new laws only made life more difficult. Because he thought the French Revolution was the worst thing to ever happen to the world, he forbid French books, music, and foreign travel.⁶ He banned the loose, flowing clothing made popular by the revolution, including round hats, trousers, frock coats, and shoes with laces.

Instead, you had to wear restrictive retro styles like tricorne hats, tight tunics, breeches, stockings, and square-toed shoes.⁷

If you saw a member of the imperial family in the street, you had to bow. If you were in a carriage, you had to stop your carriage, get out, and bow.8 This included seniors, pregnant women, and people with disabilities. If you didn’t bow soon enough, you went to jail for showing disrespect to the imperial family.

As if that weren’t disruptive enough, Paul instituted a 10 p.m. curfew in St. Petersburg.⁹ You had to report all your parties to the police, who sent an officer to attend and inform on guests who said anything that could be perceived as disloyal. In other words, Paul turned well-meaning police officers into the literal fun police.¹⁰ With so many new laws being issued, it was difficult if not impossible to keep up. You could be arrested for breaking a law that had been issued that morning, before it was ever publicized.

An atmosphere of fear and suspicion blanketed the country – and crept into the imperial family. A Bavarian visitor wrote, “You can imagine how depressing and sad life in the castle was. Brothers and sisters hardly dare to see and talk to each other…not a single letter is sent to St. Petersburg that is not opened and often misinterpreted. Even the grand duchesses are not spared from this tiresome inquisition.”¹¹ Paul’s daughter-in-law, Grand Duchess Elisabeth, told her mother that he had a supply officer beaten with a strong cane because he didn’t like the porridge served for dinner. “Except for a few cronies,” she wrote, “the bulk of the public hates him.”¹²

The turning point came when Paul’s bizarre choices affected Russia’s economy and foreign allies. Like most European rulers, Paul hated Napoleon and, as a result, he allied himself with Great Britain, Napoleon’s sworn enemy. But then he decided he admired Napoleon and hated the British, Russia’s main trading partner. He closed Russian ports to British ships, which crushed the economy. He even made plans to send Cossacks to attack the British army in India.¹³

People around Paul began to question his sanity. The Sardinian ambassador described him as “mad,” and the British ambassador, Earl Whitworth, wrote that “…the Emperor is litterally [sic] not in his senses…his disorder has gradually increased, and now manifests itself in such a manner as to fill everyone with the most obvious alarm.”¹⁴

Historians generally agree that Paul was not insane. He probably had one or more personality disorders that weren’t understood at the time. But no matter what a modern doctor would diagnose, Paul’s effect on his country was chaos, confusion, and fear. He even threatened to imprison his two oldest sons when he feared they were plotting against him. Paul’s son and heir, Grand Duke Alexander, poured out his troubles in a letter to his tutor. He wrote: “My unhappy country is now in a state of chaos which cannot be described…If and when my turn comes, I shall have to dedicate myself to my country, – not to let it become a toy in a madman’s hands.”¹⁵

Both the imperial family and the country were in danger. Something had to give.

The Promise

On the night of March 23, 1801, seven men snuck into the forbidding Mikhailovsky Palace, where Paul and his family lived. He had always feared assassination by strangling, what he referred to as “a severe sore throat,” so he designed this new palace as a fortress, complete with moat and drawbridges.¹⁶

The conspirators chose this particular night because the soldiers on duty were loyal to Grand Duke Alexander, the figure at the center of this conspiracy. It had taken shape that winter, spurred on by Paul’s erratic foreign policy choices. Its leaders included senators, government officials, and officers from the guards regiments. Alexander had agreed to let the conspirators force his father to abdicate on one condition: no harm must come to him. Now, at the nearby Winter Palace, over 50 conspirators waited to toast their success and swear allegiance to a new tsar.¹⁷

Two conspirators climbed the palace’s spiral staircase and subdued the guards in the adjoining room. Inside Paul’s room, they found his bed empty but still warm to the touch. One of the men pushed aside a folding screen in the corner of the room and revealed the tsar, hiding in his nightshirt. One conspirator went to find Alexander, while the other held Paul under guard. But when a second group of conspirators burst in, they had less restraint. In the struggle that ensued, Paul was murdered.¹⁸

Only minutes later, Alexander heard the news and burst into tears. A conspirator told him, “That’s enough of being a child. Go reign.”¹⁹ But Alexander’s young wife, now Empress Elisabeth, knew better. His soul, she wrote, “will remain forever torn.”²⁰

There were no witnesses at the first meeting between Alexander and his mother after the murder. When she arrived at the Winter Palace that morning and saw him, she screamed, “Alexander, are you guilty?”²¹ She wanted the conspirators punished. Alexander had to convince her it was impossible, that their only option was to move forward – or the same fate could befall them.

When they emerged from behind closed doors, all had been settled between them forever. In return for her acceptance and perhaps even her forgiveness, Alexander gave her the freedom to run their family and the court as she saw fit. In a pact born of blood and shame, Alexander’s mother became more powerful than she had ever been as Paul’s empress.

Apocalypse Now

Russia’s new tsar faced an enormous challenge. The Napoleonic Wars disrupted everything about European life. From the borders of its countries to its commerce to the massive army conscriptions to the families grieving for the hundreds of thousands of men who died, the world seemed like it was on fire. And every sovereign had a decision to make: were they for or against Napoleon?

If it were up to Maria Feodorovna, the choice was clear. She hated Napoleon with a passion and she wasn’t alone. An announcement from Russia’s Holy Synod called him “the beast of the Apocalypse.”²² But Alexander was more guarded and subtle with his emotions. As he told his mother, “The wisest of all policies is to await the right moment to act.”²³

In 1805, four years into his reign, he felt that moment had come. He chose to fight, but it did not end well. Napoleon defeated the Russians at Austerlitz and again at Friedland. The French emperor wrote home to Josephine, telling her he’d routed the whole Russian army and captured or killed 30,000 men.²⁴ Alexander had no choice but to make peace with the man his mother hated with the fire of a thousand suns.

On June 25, 1807, Alexander met Napoleon for the first time in the Prussian town of Tilsit, on a raft in the middle of a river so it could be considered neutral territory.²⁵ It was a glittering, slithering gathering of enemies pretending to be friends. The two emperors and their suites behaved with perfect courtesy, but despite every claim of respect and friendship, they knew it was a lie.

As the victor, Napoleon forced Alexander to join his Continental System, a trade embargo of Britain designed to wage economic warfare on his worst enemy. In return, Napoleon promised that Oldenburg – a small German duchy ruled by Romanov relatives – would not be forced into the new satellite state he was creating, called the Confederation of the Rhine.²⁶ After the meeting, Napoleon was pleased. He told Alexander, “We shall get the better of England, we shall pacify the world, and the peace of Tilsit will be a new epoch in the annals of the world.”²⁷

But when Alexander returned to Russia, his mother could barely stand to look at him.²⁸ She hated the idea of allying with Napoleon and at first, it looked like she was right. Losing Britain as a trading partner had a disastrous effect on the economy, tanking the value of the paper ruble by 50%.²⁹ Alexander’s courtiers and countrymen began to question his judgement. His father had made disastrous foreign policy decisions, too. Was he just going to repeat his father’s mistakes? Would the same type of intervention be needed?

But Alexander had a plan, even if his family thought he had betrayed Russia. He asked his mother to trust him. As long as Napoleon believed Russia was an ally, they could live to fight another day. If Napoleon ever doubted it, even for a moment, he would try to destroy them. But his mother wasn’t convinced. In her eyes, Napoleon was a godless peasant who had unseated monarchs, enthroned his siblings, stolen entire countries for France, and rearranged the borders of the ones he didn’t steal. He was a monster and must be stopped.

About six months after the meeting at Tilsit, rumors began to spread in the European press about an imperial divorce. Napoleon, they said, was going to divorce Josephine so he could marry a royal princess and have a son and heir. Some articles even speculated on which princess Napoleon might choose.

These rumors upset Josephine, so on December 6, 1807, Napoleon asked his Secretary of State to publish an anonymous notice of their own, a little fake news to fight fire with fire. It claimed Tsar Alexander’s sister was about to marry the Crown Prince of Bavaria. It wasn’t true, but it would soothe Josephine’s nerves and, for the moment, keep her from worrying about a potential rival.³⁰

If Josephine knew the truth, she might not have been so worried. Grand Duchess Catherine Pavlovna had no designs on Napoleon and, as it turned out, she and her brother had a very – shall we say – special relationship.

You Should See Me in a Crown

Catherine was born in 1788, the sixth child in a family of nine. She grew up to be fiery, flirtatious, intelligent, determined, a little devious, a little selfish…and oh-so determined to wear a crown.

Like her sisters, she had a very good education. They learned French, German, and a little English, in addition to Russian. They had lessons in math, history, geography, religion, botany, geometry, painting, and music.³¹ They also accompanied their mother on her many visits to hospitals, orphanages, schools, vocational institutes, and soup kitchens.³² Their mother believed their position came with the responsibility to care for those less fortunate by giving generously of their money and time. She raised her daughters to feel the same, and expected them to follow her example when they married and left home.

Catherine later described herself as “lively” and “fond of amusement.”³³ It didn’t take long for her to become Alexander’s confidante and favorite sister. And by favorite, I mean…favorite. Their letters are downright flirtatious, and if no one told you they were written by a brother and sister, you’d be forgiven for thinking they were a young married couple.

For example, in 1805, 27-year-old Alexander wrote to 18-year-old Catherine, “If you are a mad thing at least you are the most delicious one that ever existed. I vow to you in the first place that you have made quite a conquest of me and I am mad about you…I adore you!”³⁴ Two years later, he wrote, “I cannot say how much I miss you, nor the need I feel of seeing you and holding you in my arms.”³⁵ In yet another letter, he described having a “craving” for her and said he waited for the moment when they’d finally be together as if he were waiting for the Messiah.³⁶

He often referenced her petite snub nose, a feature not shared by her sisters. He wrote about wanting to send her moisturizer “to keep up that kind of softness in the muscles of the nose on which I press the tenderest of kisses.”³⁷ And elsewhere, he wrote, “How fares that dear nose I take such pleasure in flattening and kissing?”³⁸

But if Catherine got her way, she knew she’d eventually have to leave Alexander and Russia. After all, she wanted a crown – but which one? By 1807, she had already turned down proposals from Crown Prince Ludwig of Bavaria and Prince Heinrich of Prussia. Bavaria was allied with Napoleon, a crime in her eyes, and the Prussian prince was the king’s younger brother and would never wear a crown.

Then, on April 3, 1807, something happened that she believed would change her destiny forever: Maria Theresa of Naples and Sicily died. That made her husband, Emperor Franz I of Austria, a single man. Just three weeks after Maria Theresa’s death, Catherine wrote to Alexander to say she’d be a faithful wife to Franz and a good mother to his children. His dead wife hadn’t even been buried yet.

Alexander wasn’t thrilled with his sister’s new obsession. He told her, “It pains me to think that such an angel as you should fall to the share of a being like him.”³⁹ He thought the emperor was too old, too boring, and too ugly for his vibrant 19-year-old sister. But Catherine and her mother wanted to pursue the match, so he let them – all the while hoping it would fall through.

As it turned out, it wasn’t her brother who spoiled Catherine’s plans – it was Napoleon. When he and Alexander became allies at Tilsit, it changed the political landscape for Catherine, too. It meant that France’s enemies were now Russia’s enemies…and France’s enemies included Austria. Catherine would never be allowed to marry the Austrian emperor as long as Napoleon held sway in Europe and Alexander had to stay in his good graces.

After Tilsit, Catherine fumed. Not only was she denied her chance to be an empress, but what had Alexander won for Russia? A tiny bit of Polish territory. It wasn’t enough to make up for the humiliation of being a Bonaparte ally. She told her brother, “I want Russia to be inviolable, unassailable. I wish to see her respected, not in word but in reality, seeing that she certainly has the means and the right to be so. While I live I shall not get used to the idea of knowing that you pass your days with Bonaparte.”⁴⁰ With nowhere to channel her anger, she consoled herself by having an affair with a married general twice her age. Where, she wondered, would her crown come from now?

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

While her son bided his time as Napoleon’s faithful ally, Maria Feodorovna was determined to strike back using every tool at her disposal. If Alexander wouldn’t fight, she and her daughters would. Although Napoleon hadn’t yet divorced Josephine, she knew that he would – and that he would probably cast his eye on Catherine. The best way to keep her out of Napoleon’s hands was to find someone else for her to marry. The Austrian emperor might be out of the question…but what about an archduke? There were three likely candidates: Ferdinand, Karl, and Johann.

They weren’t in the direct line of succession, but that meant she could try to convince one to accept a Russian rank and title. But when a Russian diplomat offered Archduke Ferdinand a military rank, governorship, and large pension if he married Catherine, the Austrian emperor refused to allow it. Hadn’t Catherine just tried to marry him, after all? What kind of family was this? He was offended, plus he didn’t want to risk marriage with an ally of Napoleon. None of the single archdukes would be allowed to marry Catherine, he said, end of story.⁴¹

It had now been six months since Tilsit and Maria Feodorovna was no closer to a husband for Catherine. Her son was scheduled to meet Napoleon again in the fall, and she vowed to find a solution by then. This time, she looked a little closer to home and found a potential groom with multiple connections to her family – and a great need for a strong protector.

Her sister’s son, Prince George of Oldenburg, was 23 years old and descended from the same line as Catherine the Great’s husband. The duchy of Oldenburg was small but strategic, located southwest of Denmark, with its coast on the North Sea. Napoleon couldn’t have an effective blockade of Britain unless he controlled every port that could otherwise welcome British ships and trade. Although he’d originally promised to leave Oldenburg alone, what were the odds he was telling the truth? Oldenburg was the proverbial sitting duck.

Because Russia was now part of Napoleon’s much-hated Continental System, Maria Feodorovna couldn’t do anything to help Oldenburg overtly. But if her daughter married the son of its ruler, their wedding would send a strong signal that Oldenburg had powerful friends. The Romanovs discussed the plan behind closed doors. Before they had told anyone else – including the groom – they referred to Catherine’s engagement among themselves as if it were set in stone.⁴²

The very next month, in April of 1808, Prince George’s father sent him to St. Petersburg to look for work in the Russian army. Neither one knew what the Romanovs were planning. Two months later, after George had had time to catch up with friends and do a little sightseeing, Maria Feodorovna invited him to her country palace. There, she revealed her plan: he was going to join the Russian army and marry Catherine.

For George, a second son with few prospects, this was a windfall. George accepted, but instead of joining the army, asked to be given a civil service job. He hated war and fighting, and felt he could be of more use to civilians. He wrote, “You called me, now you must take me as I am!”⁴³ Maria Feodorovna was exasperated. These were times of war, and now her own future son-in-law refused to fight? But George insisted, and she eventually gave in.

George wrote home to ask his father for permission to marry Catherine and live in Russia. He said, “I am in love with all my heart and it is through this union that I base all my future happiness.” George and Catherine were cousins, so they weren’t complete strangers. But it does seem sudden that he would declare himself in love with her. This is testament to either Catherine’s charm or her mother’s power of persuasion. George even seems to have understood Catherine’s complex relationship with her brother, because he added, “…I am very grateful to the Grand Duchess Catherine, who, if I may say so, loves me like her brother.”⁴⁴ He asked his father to keep that particular tidbit to himself, indicating he knew there was something different in Catherine and Alexander’s relationship.

But George’s father wasn’t thrilled with the news. He knew the Russian court was dangerous, expensive, and full of intrigue. He urged George to get a job, work hard, and then consider marriage. He wrote, “…the thorns are numberless that surround this rose, and this dims your father’s joy infinitely, and I confess to you, I don’t know if I should be happy or I should grieve.”⁴⁵ The older man’s concerns were valid, but no match for Maria Feodorovna.

George and Catherine were engaged, but the secret was shared on a need-to-know basis. The court and the public were kept out of the loop, since Alexander’s second meeting with Napoleon was less than two months away. To keep Napoleon happy, it was crucial that nothing appear to have changed since Tilsit. More smiles, more lies, more deception. In other words, just another day at the Russian imperial court.

That’s the end of Part 1. Click here to jump to Part 2, where we’ll pick up the story and we’ll find out what happened when Napoleon divorced Josephine and realized there was only one single Romanov grand duchess left…

The End

About the Author

Jenni Wiltz

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Hi, I’m Jenni Wiltz, an award-winning writer obsessed with little-known royal women. With three degrees, including a master’s in English, I’m using my love of research and storytelling to bring you the stories of fascinating royal women and their jewels. I have two decades of experience in marketing and writing, with awards for my short fiction, romantic suspense, and creative non-fiction.

Notes

1. Grot, ed., SIRIO XXIII, 91
2. Grot, ed., SIRIO XXIII, 669
3. Poroshin, Russkiy Arkhiv, 1869, 15
4. Pachomova-Göres, 436
5. McGrew, 206
6. Almedingen, 201; Rey, 69
7. Almedingen, 154
8. Almedingen, 154
9. Rey, 68; McGrew, 210
10. Almedingen, 154
11. Shumigorskii, Russkaia Starina, 1899, 545
12. Mikhailowitch, I, 292
13. Almedingen, 193
14. Ragsdale, 107
15. Almedingen, 203
16. McGrew, 344
17. McGrew, 350; Rey, 6
18. McGrew, 352; Almedingen, 223
19. Rey, 8
20. Mikhailowitch, I, 268
21. Golovina, 237
22. Rey, 176
23. Palmer, 157
24. Napoleon, 273
25. Roberts, 456
26. Roberts, 457
27. Bingham, ed., 347
28. Jena, 54
29. Troyat, 114-15
30. Bingham, ed., 346
31. Pachomova-Göres, 426
32. Jena, 34
33. Alexander, 40
34. Alexander, 27
35. Alexander, 46
36. Alexander, 47
37. Alexander, 28
38. Alexander, 31
39. Alexander, 39
40. Alexander, 42
41. Jena, 67
42. Alexander, 45
43. Jena, 76
44. Jena, 76; 77
45. Jena, 78

Sources

These are all my sources for Part I and Part II of this story. Any URL after the listing is a free, public domain copy you can read online. Yay! Any link in the title is my Amazon affiliate link.

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Bonaparte, Napoleon. The Corsican: A Diary of Napoleon’s Life in His Own Words. Ed. R.M. Johnston. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1921. (URL)

Bonaparte, Napoleon. A Selection from the Letters and Despatches of the First Napoleon. Ed. D.A. Bingham. Vols. II & III. London: Chapman and Hall, 1884. (Vol II: URL)(Vol III: URL)

Bruce, Evangeline. Napoleon and Josephine: An Improbable Marriage. New York: Kensington Books, 1995. (Amazon affiliate link)

Caulaincourt, Armand-Augustin-Louis de. Napoleon and His Times. Philadelphia, 1838. (URL)

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Golovine, Countess Varvara. Memoirs of Countess Golovine. Tr. G.M. Fox-Davies. London: David Nutt, 1910. (URL)

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Jackman, S. W., ed. Romanov Relations. London: Macmillan, 1969. (Amazon affiliate link)

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Las Cases, Emmannuel, Count de. Journal of the Private Life and Conversations of the Emperor Napoleon at Saint Helena, vol III. London: Henry Colburn, 1824. (URL)

Lieven, Dorothea. The Unpublished Diary and Political Sketches of Princess Lieven Together with Some of Her Letters. Ed. Harold Temperley. London: Jonathan Cape, 1925. (URL)

Ludwig, Emil. Napoleon. Tr. Eden and Cedar Paul. New York: Horace Liveright, 1926. (Amazon affiliate link)

Martin, Marie. Maria Féodorovna En Son Temps, 1759-1828. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2003.

McGrew, Roderick E. Paul I of Russia 1754-1801. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. (Amazon affiliate link)

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Mikhailowitch, Grand-Duc Nicolas. L’Impératrice Élisabeth, épouse d’Alexandre Ier. Vol 1. St. Petersburg: Manufacture des Papiers de l’État, 1908.

Mowat, R.B. The Diplomacy of Napoleon. London: Edward Arnold & Co., 1924. (Amazon affiliate link)

Mukhanova, Maria Sergievna. “Iz zapisok Maria Sergievna Mukhanova.” Russky Arkhiv 16, no. 3 (1878): 299-325.

Pachomova-Göres, Wasilissa. “‘…sie ist sehr klug, für alles begabt und wird eine weise Jungfer.’ Maria Pawlowna und Russland.” In “Ihre Kaiserliche Hoheit” Maria Pawlowna Zarentochter am Weimaraner Hof, 421–528. Weimar: Stiftung Weimarer Klassik und Kunstsammlungen, 2004.

Palmer, Alan. Alexander I: Tsar of War and Peace. New York: Harper & Row, 1974. (Amazon affiliate link)

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Roberts, Andrew. Napoleon: A Life. New York: Penguin Books, 2015. (Amazon affiliate link)

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Additional Credits

• Header image: Catherine Pavlovna by an unknown artist, public domain via Wikimedia Commons. Alexander I by George Dawe, public domain via Wikimedia Commons. Napoleon by Jacques-Louis David, public domain via Wikimedia Commons.
• Music in audio post licensed via Envato Elements.

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