A portion of the state passed to Russia in 1801, at the commencement of Alexander’s reign; but the formal surrender of the whole by treaty was not until 1810.

So day by day, while the young Emperor and his friends were living in their pleasant Utopia, Russia, with all its incoherent elements, with its vast energies, its vast riches, and its vast miseries, was expanding and assuming a more dominating position in Europe.  What would be done at St. Petersburg, was the question of supreme importance; and Alexander was being importuned to join the coalition against the common enemy Bonaparte.

The night before the 2d of October, 1805, the Russian Emperor and his young officers, as confident of victory as they were of their ability to reconstruct Russia, were impatiently waiting for the morrow, and the conflict at Austerlitz.  With a ridiculous assurance the young Alexander sent by the young Prince Dolgoruki a note addressed—­not to the Emperor—­but to the “Head of the French Nation,” stating his demands for the abandonment of Italy and immediate peace!  Before sundown the next day the “Battle of the Three Emperors” had been fought; the Russian army was scattered after frightful loss, and Alexander, attended by an orderly and two Cossacks, was galloping away as fast as his horse could carry him.  Then Napoleon was in Vienna—­Francis II. at his bidding took off his imperial crown—­the “Confederation of the Rhine” was formed out of Germanic States; and then the terrible and invincible man turned toward Prussia, defeated a Russian army which came to its rescue, and in 1806 was in Berlin—­master and arbiter of Europe!

Alexander, the romantic champion of right and justice, the dreamer of ideal dreams, had been carried by the whirlpool of events into currents too strong for him.  He stood alone on the continent of Europe face to face with the man who was subjugating it.  His army was broken in pieces, and perhaps an invasion of his own empire was at hand.  Should he make terms with this man whose career had so revolted him?—­or should he defy him and accept the risk of an invasion, which, by offering freedom to the serfs and independence to the Poles, might give the invader the immediate support of millions of his own subjects?  Then added to the conflict with his old self, there was the irresistible magic of Napoleon’s personal influence.  A two-hours’ interview on the raft at Tilsit—­June 25, 1807—­changed the whole direction of Alexander’s policy, and made him an ally of the despot he had detested, whom he now joined in determining the fate of Europe.  Together they decided who should occupy thrones and who should not; to whom there should be recompense, and who should be despoiled; and the Emperor of Russia consented to join the Emperor of the French in a war upon the commercial prosperity of England—­his old friend and ally—­by means of a continental blockade.

Times were changed.  It was not so long ago—­just one hundred years—­since Peter the Great had opened one small window for the light from civilized Europe to glimmer through; and now the Tsar of that same Russia, in a two-hours’ interview on a raft, was deciding what should be the fate of Europe!