Mercenary Swedes : French subsidies to Sweden 1631-1796 9789188909039, 9188909034

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mercenary swedes

Svante Norrhem Riksäpplet Arkeologiska perspektiv på ett Mercenary Swedes bortglömt regalskepp French subsidies to Sweden 1631–1796

Niklas Eriksson Translated by Charlotte Merton

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Copying or other kinds of reproduction of this work requires specific permission from the publisher.

Nordic Academic Press P.O. Box 148 SE-221 00 Lund Sweden www.nordicacademicpress.com

© Nordic Academic Press and Svante Norrhem 2019 Typesetting: Stilbildarna i Mölle, Frederic Täckström Translation: Charlotte Merton Cover design: Lönegård & Co Print: Scandbook, Falun 2019 e-pdf ISBN 978-91-88909-03-9

Contents Acknowledgements

Early modern currency

1. Subsidies—an introduction Reaping what others sow Reaping the whirlwind Why subsidies? Argument Method

7

8

9

9 13 15 21 23

2. Treaties, context, and content

27

3. Subsidies, dependence, and independence

51

The Treaty of Bärwalde The Peace of Westphalia Interlude—absolutism and the Great Reduction Liberty The return of the king The common thread Follow the money The 1630s and 1640s After 1648 The eighteenth century The mechanics of subsidies Great power and great freedom?

4. Subsidies and honour Whose honour?

5. French objectives and interests Vote-rigging Destabilization politics Dynastic politics Patrons, clients, and ‘protection’ Subsidies France’s interest in Sweden Shifting alliances

28 32 38 40 48 49 53 56 61 72 76 82

85

100

105

106 108 110 112 113 116 126

6. Rivalries, conflicts, and complications

129

7. Subsidies, history, and enduring friendship

159

8. Subsidies, resistance, and criticism

171

9. The impact of subsidies—migration, mobility, and mortality

197

10. The impact of subsidies—three case studies

229

11. Concluding discussion

243



Conflicting objectives 132 Casus belli 144 New century, same old tensions 145 Practical complications, complicated individuals 149 Asymmetric friendship 155

An uncomfortable past A special friendship

Swedish shame, French betrayal The pamphleteers The root of the problem



Princes and states The impact of subsidies on Sweden War, death, and suffering Women’s lives Infrastructure and infraknowledge Officers and officials Bankers and financiers Diplomats, politicians, and negotiators Soft power and luxury consumption Concluding remarks

The Peace of Westphalia War, the Great Reduction, and autocracy The coup of 1772 Concluding comments

166 168 174 184 192

197 200 207 210 211 215 218 221 223 225 229 231 234 241

Notes 249 References 277 Index of names

288

Index of treaties

292

Acknowledgements I wish to thank the Swedish Foundation for the Humanities and Social Sciences (Riksbankens Jubileumsfond) for a three-year award that gave me the opportunity to concentrate on this study. I also wish to thank the Åke Wiberg Foundation, the Torsten Söderberg Foundation, and the Magnus Bergvall Foundation who all made it possible for me to do research in the archives in Stockholm and Paris. The Torsten Söderberg Foundation has also generously paid for the translation of the manuscript from Swedish to English. I am grateful to the Swedish Institute, which arranged for me to stay three weeks at Villa San Michele at Capri for three intensive weeks in the final year of the study. I owe a debt of thanks to generous colleagues who have pro-­ v­ided advice, feedback, and criticism. The senior history seminar at Umeå University helped me get started by offering vital comments at the beginning of the project, and the senior history seminar at Lund University has since commented on the project as a whole. I am especially grateful for the advice, encouragement, and support given by Peter Lindström for reading and commenting on the whole book, and Harald Gustafsson, Martin Almbjär, and Erik Bodensten for reading and commenting on earlier drafts. I am forever indebted to Erik Bodensten for generously letting me use his vast collection of unpublished source materials. Erik Thomson has for many years been a constant inspiration, and I owe him thanks for listening patiently to my often fragmentary thoughts and sharing his impressive knowledge of early modern European history. I also would like to express my gratitude to Johannes Ljungberg for extracting and translating sources, which meant I could work through them in 7

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far larger numbers than would otherwise have been possible. The French embassy in Stockholm, and especially Reine Linde, went to great length to help me clarify who were French envoys to Sweden during the 1790s. For this I would like to express my thanks. Finally, I would like to thank my friend Annika Olsson at Nordic Academic Press, whose healthy straightforwardness is a great help for an author at the end of the research process. Thank you!

Early modern currency One problem that faces historians is that the sources are not always clear about which currencies were used when negotiating or accounting for the foreign subsidies that are the subject of this book. In Sweden the choice was between riksdaler (rdr), daler silvermynt (dsm), and daler kopparmynt (dkm). The riksdaler was the standard accounting currency for subsidies, however, and this was usually clearly stated. In France it was écus or livres; where there has been doubt, and where it has been possible to check against other sources, the answer almost always turns out to be livres. Currency exchange rates were relatively straightforward in the seventeenth century, but later became increasingly complex, especially in the latter part of the eighteenth century when the Swedish currencies were less stable. Broadly speaking, 1 riksdaler was worth 1 écu or 3 livres. The complications begin when the accounting currencies used were daler silvermynt (dsm) or daler kopparmynt (dkm), as their value fell against riksdaler: a riksdaler was worth roughly 1.75 dsm until about 1675, then 2 dsm in 1681–1719, and finally 3 dsm, while 1 dsm was worth 3 dkm. In the book I always state the currency used in the source, but for Sweden I have used the Marteau Early 18th-Century Currency Converter to give an approximation in riksdaler as well in order to reduce the confusion (www. pierre-marteau.com/currency/converter.html).

8

chapter 1

Subsidies—an introduction Reaping what others sow In the first half of the seventeenth century the vast majority of people living within France’s borders were farmers. They lived in villages, where they grew crops and kept a few hens and perhaps a cow to support their families and in order to pay the taxes and dues they owed. They lived by the land, and like peasants all over the world their success or failure was entirely dependent on the wind and the weather. The French government of the day was equally dependent on the land, and above all the peasants who worked it. The income of the French state derived largely from agriculture, for, unlike the nobility, merchants, and other privileged groups who were exempt from the many forms of taxation, the peasantry could not avoid paying taxes on the land they owned.1 The taxes, tailles, paid by the peasants accounted for half the French government’s income. Unlike the peasants in villages across France, though, the government could afford to ignore the state of the harvest, however poor, for in contrast to the Church it did not take a proportion, but rather decided what it wanted, and levied that sum regardless. In 1630–39 the tax burden on French peasants doubled compared to the previous decade, 1620–29, and it continued thereafter at the same high level until the eighteenth century, when it first levelled out and then even began to fall shortly before the Revolution.2 Historians who have tried to calculate how much of the harvest went in taxes have found it difficult to pinpoint exactly, but examples from the seventeenth century show that most of a 9

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peasant family’s harvest—as much as three-quarters of it—was paid in taxes and dues to the government, Church, and local authorities. The family had to provide for all its adults, children, and possible employees from what was left.3 One catch in these figures is that women’s sales of eggs and dairy produce are not included, meaning that household incomes were probably slightly larger than appears at first glance.4 Rising taxes, however, drove many peasants into bankruptcy, forcing them to sell their land. The buyers were often merchants, who were exempt from a number of taxes that farmers had to pay. The result was a sharp rise in the sale of agricultural land to merchants.5 Elsewhere in Europe, in northern Sweden, and specifically the small village of Andersvattnet in the parish of Bygdeå, life in the first half of the seventeenth century was similar to that in much of rural France: there were 28 villagers between four farms, and they grew crops and kept cows and sheep. The climate being tough in this part of Europe, they almost only grew barley. Of the 30 or so barrels of barley that the people of Andersvattnet harvested per annum, half went in taxes or was kept as seedcorn for the following year. What remained was sufficient for about one-third of the villagers’ needs. To make up the difference, the villagers traded grain and cash for butter, fish, pelts, wool, tar, and wild game. They used cash to buy salt and a range of other necessities.6 The people of Andersvattnet, like villagers across Sweden, not only faced high taxes, but also military conscription. Sweden had been at war almost continuously since the 1610s, to the point that between 1621 and 1632 at least 50,000 of the country’s fighting men were killed in battle and many were injured. In December 1631, Sweden had 83,200 soldiers in the field in Germany, and three years later 118,200. Admittedly they were not all Swedes or Finns (Finland then being part of Sweden), but with a population of just over 1 million, the rural labour shortage was noticeable, and it put pressure not only on women, but also on the men and boys who were either too old or too young to fight. The increase in the number of soldiers, which was the result of Sweden entering the 10

subsidies—an introduction

Thirty Years War in 1630, took its toll in lives and money. One of the many men who paid with his life was Sakarias Andersson from Andersvattnet. When he died in Germany in 1633 at the age of 38, he had served seventeen years in the Swedish army. Since 1617 he had fought around the Baltic and in Prussia, served in the navy off Danzig, and finally was killed somewhere in Germany, fighting for the Lutheran faith.7 There was a direct link between the hardworking, heavily taxed peasants in rural France and the families in Andersvattnet in northern Sweden. The French government took most of its peasants’ income and spent it on foreign affairs and war. Between 1628 and 1768, it spent between 71 and 95 per cent of its revenue on its armed forces, foreign policy, and servicing its debt (most of which was incurred in war).8 The endless wars that France fought or financed added to its costly bureaucracy, which pushed taxes up even further. One of the campaigns that France financed was Sweden’s involvement in the Thirty Years War.9 The French peasants, labouring to pay their taxes, dues, and debts, were inextricably linked to the death in Germany of Sakarias Andersson and the hardship that faced those he left behind in Andersvattnet, and that link went by the name of foreign subsidies. Sweden, a poor country ruled by a king who was the self-appointed defender of the Lutheran faith, had to turn abroad to find the wherewithal to wage war on the Catholics, who supposedly threatened Lutherans across Europe. One of Sweden’s tactics was to force farmers and townspeople in its newly occupied territories to pay for the very army that terrorized them, but it also sought to supplement that with alternative sources of revenue, among them subsidies from foreign powers. In 1631, only a year after France had experienced one of the worst harvest failures in the seventeenth century, Sweden and France agreed what was known as a subsidy treaty, by which France undertook to help finance Sweden’s participation in the great European war then raging between the Catholic and Protestant powers.10 The outcome was that the tax burden in France increased, with the ultimate result that French peasants, who were overwhelmingly Catholic, ended up paying for Sakarias Andersson to be shipped to Germany to fight for 11

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the Lutheran cause against Catholicism, in the bloody war that went down in history as the Thirty Years War. By the time the war was over and peace finally secured in 1648, millions across Europe had lost their lives. Women in their hundreds of thousands had been widowed, men widowered, children orphaned. Entire populations bore untold physical and mental wounds from the sexual abuse, razed villages and farms, bombed cities, and blooddrenched battles. People far from the theatre of war were affected by conscription, soaring taxes, and ever-harder conditions. Yet in the seventeenth century, when a country’s leaders considered going to war and how best to finance their campaigns, they gave very little thought to the effect it would have on the population. The fact that war meant hardship was taken as a given, but was thought a necessary evil compared to a slight on the sovereign’s honour, and entirely justified if the defence of the country’s religion, territory, and trade demanded it. The popular hatred of rising taxes exploded occasionally in uprisings, which served to impose some limits on what governments thought was possible; however, it was not until the second half of the eighteenth century that there was concerted resistance to the idea that young men should be sent off to fight on behalf of other—paying—countries, a resistance driven by an express desire to protect human life. This book is concerned specifically with foreign subsidies, the sums of money paid by one country to another to finance war. As these first examples show, the system had an all-too-real impact on individuals and groups, and indeed on entire countries. Subsidies lubricated the machinery of war, and made it possible for Sweden, a small country population-wise, to become a key player in European politics in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The entire system was founded on the flow of tax revenue from French peasants to the French state, whereupon it was converted into subsidies paid to the Swedish state so that it could send its peasants, Swedish or otherwise, into battle.

12

subsidies—an introduction

Reaping the whirlwind For the Swedish government, subsidies, their negotiation, and the occasional refusal to accept them were all integral to political life for most of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Subsidies were always needed, and the subsidy treaty agreed between France and Sweden in 1631 was the beginning not only of a long relationship, but also a series of substantial French subsidies that only ended in 1796. In no fewer than 90 of those 166 years, Sweden was in receipt of French subsidies, and it frequently accepted payments from other subsidizers such as Britain, Spain, the Dutch Republic, Austria, and the Ottoman Empire. Subsidies of this kind were sums of money that one country agreed to pay to another for military or strategic purposes. In the period in question this was usually framed in terms of one prince paying either another prince or a royal house such as ‘the house of Austria’. Where there was no prince to pay it was the principality that was the recipient—Genoa, for example, or the Grisons, or the Dutch Republic. For Sweden in the eighteenth century, during the so-called Age of Liberty when the king’s power was weak and the Diet was the strongest political body, payments were said to have been made to ‘the Crown of Sweden’. However, I have chosen to use the term state or government when discussing the subsidy treaties between Sweden and France, since they were agreements between two states, and only in the strictest formal sense between two princes. Usually, one government subsidized another in the expectation that it would commit its army or navy to an ongoing war, or that it would position its forces to menace the other combatants even if it did not engage them, or that it would refrain from intervening in a conflict. Sweden, for example, never surrendered command of its army or fleet to other countries, but other, smaller countries’ subsidy treaties did tend to specify that their armed forces were being hired out, or that the subsidizer was permitted to recruit soldiers within the recipient’s borders. Subsidy treaties could also bring other benefits to the subsidizer: the right to march freely across a certain territory, for example, or access to certain fortifications or harbours. More often than not subsidies were paid in wartime, but they were not 13

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unknown in peacetime, when they were largely designed to ensure the recipient could repair its military strength, or to build or improve fortifications. Depending on how far-reaching the subsidy treaties were, they were thus designed to encroach on the recipient country’s independence, while at the same time marking the subsidizer’s need for allies. The subsidy system should be seen as part of the move in Europe towards stronger nation-states and modern war finance in the early modern period.11 Efficiency in mobilizing resources was taken further in the e­ igh­t­eenth century, this time in the shape of government bonds that permitted states to raise substantial long-term loans at home.12 Government debt could then be left to grow without having to make large repayments. The first adopters were the Dutch Republic and Britain; Sweden waited until 1789, when it opened a National Debt Office (Riksgäldskontoret). Before that date, it had had to find cash by increasing taxes, borrowing from private financiers and other governments, and, of course, foreign subsidies. It is worth at this point saying something about ‘pensions’. I would argue that one must distinguish between subsidies, which were transactions between states, and pensions, which were paid to individuals. At the same time, it should be noted that subsidies and pensions were not that different in intent, as both were intended to influence the policies of another country. Individuals who were paid foreign pensions were therefore invariably best placed to act in the interests of those paying them. When it came to Sweden, France used pensions as a substitute for subsidies in the periods when there were no large payments government to government. Also, as contemporary sources make plain, there was not always that clear a distinction. I therefore return to the issue of pensions occasionally, since they were an accurate reflection of France and Sweden’s interest in maintaining good international relations. War in seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century Europe was expensive and tested all forms of war finance to the limit. Subsidies were one way in which resources could be secured and transferred, and for this to happen there had to be at least some degree of interaction 14

subsidies—an introduction

between states on the one hand (whether subsidizers or recipients) and bankers, businessmen, and entrepreneurs on the other. States paid or received the subsidies, while the intermediaries—private entrepreneurs—ensured the money was moved from one place to another, often over long distances. Subsidies thus formed a system that was founded on close dealings between states and individuals. Subsidies had been used between European states in the Middle Ages, but in the sixteenth century there was a jump in their complexity and size. The reason was France’s determination to gain control over a number of Swiss cantons, in part for geopolitical reasons, but also as a recruiting ground for its army. For a general picture of France’s subsidies in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there is a useful list of subsidy treaties compiled by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs for the period 1630 to 1786. The list numbers no fewer than 102 subsidy treaties with 22 different states, and even then a number are missing, including the treaty with Sweden finalized in Bärwalde in 1631.13 In other words, France agreed a new subsidy treaty—generally with principalities in the Holy Roman Empire or with a Scandinavian country—on average once every eighteen months. It was common for subsidies to be offered and accepted across the Continent and beyond throughout the period. In the seventeenth century the countries that paid the largest subsidies were (in no particular order) France, Austria, Spain, the Dutch Republic, and Britain, while those which received the most were Sweden, Denmark, the Swiss Confederacy, the Dutch Republic, and several German and Italian states. In the eighteenth century, in addition to Sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, the Dutch Republic, and the German and Italian states, the list of largest beneficiaries grew with the addition of Austria and Russia, while the largest subsidizers were Britain and France.14

Why subsidies? The key questions are why Sweden accepted subsidies in the first place, and why in such quantities from France of all countries? What need did the subsidies meet? Sweden, throughout the period from 15

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the Treaty of Bärwalde in 1631 to the French Revolution, was at times wholly dependent on the financial support of foreign powers in order to play a part in European high politics, and at times simply to guarantee its own independence. The simple answer, of course, was that Sweden needed the money to maintain what it considered a sufficient military capability to participate in European power polit­ ics whenever the opportunity presented itself, and at other times to protect it from foreign attack. Behind this lay a determination to join in the European power game, and to protect itself from aggressive neighbours such as Russia, Denmark, and Prussia. Naturally enough, the political reasons why Sweden thought it should accept subsidies varied over the two centuries studied here. The alliance with France that heralded Sweden’s entry into the Thirty Years War was thought justified in order to support Lutheran Europe, while later alliances were thought justified because they enabled Sweden to keep the peace together with France, or because they protected it from neighbours that were thought to pose a particular threat. At first glance, it seems strange that the relationship between Sweden and France evolved into one of the most long-lived alliances in early modern Europe. While France was Europe’s most populous country—it had about 20 million inhabitants in the seventeenth cent­ ury and 28 million at the time of the French Revolution—Sweden was sparsely populated, with only 1 million inhabitants in the early seventeenth century and just over twice that by the late eighteenth century. Strictly speaking, there was any number of reasons why Sweden and France could have failed to sustain a long, fruitful relationship, so if nothing else there are good grounds to study it in detail. The first reason why the Franco-Swedish alliance should have been problematic was the price that had to be paid because of the dependence it entailed. The subsidy treaties ensured mutual dependence, which for the Swedes as recipients forced them to bow to France’s demands and wishes, while France in turn remained dependent because of its desperation to find and keep allies. Both parties thus had much to gain, but almost as much to lose. The degree of acceptance is interesting, because the one thing that should have 16

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spoken strongly against an enduring relationship was religion. Being a Lutheran nation, it is possible to see why it might have been in Sweden’s interest to join the Thirty Years War, and there were pragmatic and geopolitical reasons why Sweden and France might have become allies, but it is far harder to explain the relationship in terms of religious history. Sweden had strict anti-Catholic policies in place against the much-feared influence of Rome, matched by a growing anti-Calvinist policy that strengthened considerably in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.15 In France, meanwhile, tighter religious controls were heralded by the repeal of the Edict of Nantes in 1685. Thus in both countries there was not only close regulation of religious practice, but it became stricter as time progressed, and was matched by a growing religious conformity.16 Another factor that one might imagine would reduce France’s interest in a continued alliance was the dramatic change in Sweden’s international standing after 1721, which left it needing a prop more than an ally. With the loss of its Baltic Empire, Sweden’s importance as a trading partner collapsed, and its political significance faded fast. As an ally, Sweden appeared much weaker. A third factor that could potentially have dampened France’s enthusiasm—and Sweden’s for that matter—was that the end of the Great Northern War gave Sweden a new and very different system of government, which was viewed with great scepticism by France. The Swedish Constitution, which between 1719 and 1772 centred on a strong Diet and much-reduced royal power, was thought to have weakened the country, yet despite that there were repeated Franco-Swedish alliances throughout the period. Against this was the range of benefits that subsidies brought. The decisive factor in the existence of the subsidy system was that governments were otherwise unable to maintain standing armies of the size they wanted, and foreign subsidies were a fairly effective and speedy way to put together an army. Instead of recruiting at home, the subsidizer could simply buy control of an existing army abroad. Even better, costs were limited to the period when the soldiers were actually on campaign.17 Spain, the Dutch Republic, Venice, and B ­ ritain were all examples of countries that at times found it difficult to 17

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recruit sufficient numbers of soldiers at home.18 Another advantage of paying to access other countries’ armies was that it was usually less detrimental to the subsidizer’s domestic economy, because the workforce remained at work rather than being marched off to war. But perhaps the most important political reason to pay subsidies, however, was that it gave strong states control of weaker states, and could prevent strong enemies from forming alliances. The benefits of subsidies were largely commercial. Armies could be maintained and hired out, with the upshot that there were countries where soldiers became a key export, as some historians have noted. Any surplus generated by such exports could be used to advance the dynastic ambitions of the rulers and even their subjects.19 Subsidy treaties also meant that a smaller state—and its prince—could ally with a major power, meaning that the subsidy treaties themselves were thus economically and politically important. For several decades after 1739, Sweden was one of many European states to receive repeated subsidies from France: it was joined by the kings of Prussia, the princes of Bavaria, the Palatinate, Cologne, and Hesse-Kassel, the Canton of Graubünden (in what is now Switzerland), and a number of unspecified princes in smaller states in the Holy Roman Empire as longstanding recipients of France’s largesse. The Danish Crown was included in their number in 1747, and duly appeared in the French accounts of payments to foreign princes and governments.20 The largest recipient of French subsidies in the period 1756–73 was Austria, which only a few years after it came to an understanding with its arch-rival was being paid colossal sums of money. The second largest single recipient was the Holy Roman Emperor Charles VII, who came to power with French support in 1742, and in his brief three-year reign accepted 12 million livres per annum. After that came Prussia, and finally, spread over a longer period, Sweden.21 Subsidies were a mechanism that governed agreements and the flow of resources within and between European states for decades at a time.22 They were based on an exchange of resources, and in turn served to integrate European states into a connected system not 18

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only of international trade, diplomacy, and dynastic marriage, but also of peace treaties and declarations of war. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, the need to generate cash for military purposes lessened when the introduction of short-dated government bonds meant that domestic national debt could soar—and also that France was no longer the same financial force to be reckoned with, because it was overtaken economically by the then much stronger Britain.23 Sweden’s acceptance of subsidies has been covered in detail in the literature, and above all in the early research on Swedish foreign policy, in which subsidies and subsidy negotiations often played a prominent role.24 The influence on early modern Sweden of its relationships with other countries seems to have been of interest to historians only until the later twentieth century; more recent Swedish research has tended to gloss over the subject, a fact reflected in the leading university textbooks, which in some instances do not mention subsidies at all, while others refer to them in passing without problematizing why Sweden accepted them for so long or what significance this may have had.25 Common to the literature of all dates is that it rarely takes the long view, and instead focuses on individual subsidy treaties, and their causes and immediate consequences. Sweden’s acceptance of subsidies has arguably not been treated in much depth, because historians have chosen to focus on individual cases rather than the generalities and long-term effects. The purpose of this book, then, is to do just that, by building on existing research and taking a much wider line that spans from the 1630s to the 1790s. Each subsidy treaty came at the end of a set of negotiations, each had consequences, and the interval between negotiation and outcome could be long. For this reason, and because each subsidy treaty was one in a line of such agreements, it is important to consider them part of an extended process as well as the sum of a long relationship. One question to be answered is, of all the types of resources that made up the wider system of military finance, why pick subsidies as the one to analyse? A country’s economy was far more than subsidies, of course: taxes, custom and excise duties, loans, 19

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and grants (voluntary and involuntary) all contributed to the war chest, and all had their particular effects. It could be argued that by singling out subsidies there is a risk that the full picture of resource mobilization might be missed. However, foreign subsidies differed from other sources of revenue because they were subject to treaties with another state; both parties—subsidizers and recipients—were made dependent on each other in the process, and were drawn into the other’s geopolitical aspirations; they shaped alliances between countries in a way that affected other international relationships; and they raised questions of dependence and honour that had to be addressed by the recipient country in particular. At first glance the immediate comparison might be with foreign loans, but loans did not form the basis of relationships like those that resulted from subsidy treaties. All these sources of income might not have been so different in terms of the actual cash they brought in, but subsidies took a very different form, and that is the basis of this study. The book is limited to an examination of Franco-Swedish relations because France was not only a key player in Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, but was also one of the leading subsidizers throughout the period, while Sweden was one of the countries that accepted enormous sums, and through those subsidies France and Sweden were bound together in an enduring relationship. Their differences in military strength, religion, and form of government merely underscored the importance of the subsidy system. Two issues are examined here: first, the motives for the Franco-­ Swedish relationship: why France paid subsidies to Sweden again and again over a period of almost 170 years, and why Sweden accepted them; and second, the ramifications of that relationship for the two countries. It is a common and not unreasonable assumption that treaties between two countries come about because both believe they have something to win by the arrangement. They might very well have similar goals in mind, but it is not strictly necessary. Similarly, the point of such an alliance can be to join forces, although to achieve very different aims, and it will succeed as long as the various goals do not conflict. In essence, however, an alliance is 20

subsidies—an introduction

about working towards an achievable goal, whether that be peace, security, war, territorial gains, prestige, economic advantage, or something else.26

Argument Beginning with the broad outlines of the alliance between Sweden and France from the 1630s to the 1790s, the book is divided into a number of thematic chapters that address the key questions about the nature of that relationship. The issue of dependence and in­dependence is thus treated as the first of these themes. When in the 1630s the Chancellor of the Realm (Rikskansler) Axel Oxenstierna told the Council of the Realm (Riksrådet) that Sweden was dependent on foreign money, it was a bald statement of fact that many of those who followed in his footsteps in high politics would be forced to accept. To enter into an alliance with France was to restrict the Swedish king’s freedom to decide as he saw fit, Oxenstierna continued. The key question here was how Sweden and France would respond to this asymmetry, which was inevitable when one country subsidized another. At the same time, it should be noted that theirs was not a one-sided dependence: the fact that France kept turning to Sweden showed that it was equally reliant on having an ally, even if the country in question was by far the weaker resource-wise. Another theme related to dependence and independence was the question of honour. The seventeenth century was one in which honour played a vital role both for individuals and countries. In the 1630s Oxenstierna warned that the Swedish government risked harming the king’s honour by accepting money, again pinpointing a problem that many of his successors had to face. What did France really want? This was a question asked in the 1630s, so insistently in fact that it warrants examination as a distinct theme. It was in evidence when Axel Oxenstierna wrote to Gustav II Adolf that the French wanted Sweden to join the war in Germany, while they refused to risk anything themselves. This time, as on numerous occasions in the future, Sweden’s rulers had to ask 21

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themselves whether France’s aims were compatible with Sweden’s interests. This theme was closely related to the question of rivalry, conflict, and the general complications of the relationship between France and Sweden. Throughout the period, international alliances with common goals nevertheless contained a strong element of distrust and conflict. In 1630, Johan Skytte spelt this out at a Council meeting, when he claimed that France probably had other interests to prioritize, especially in northern Italy where it was embroiled in a struggle for the duchy of Mantua. Not only was it drawing focus from Sweden’s interests, it also meant that in Skytte’s opinion the French could only be trusted so far. He was far from alone in suspecting France’s intentions towards Sweden; it was a view shared by many councillors in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. History remained central to the arguments for or against new subsidy treaties, and the Treaty of Bärwalde was referred to countless times over the next 170 years. The history and significance of France and Sweden’s long friendship is a theme of its own, where the part played by history and the full significance of the special relationship for continued confidence between the parties—and for further treaties—will be discussed. The risk, given the long sequence of subsidy treaties that followed on from one another, is that it might be thought something that both parties not only decided upon, but agreed was a good thing. Rather, each treaty must be recognized as a focal point for a slew of conflicts and contradictions, and above all disappointments. In time, the ideological objections to subsidies gained ground, and with that a suspicion of alliances with France in particular. ­Another particular theme is thus the criticism of alliances and subsidies heard in a variety of forums, concentrating on the targets of people’s anger and concern. The final theme is the impact on Sweden of its long relationship with France. Whom did it benefit? Whom did it disadvantage? Embarking on the Thirty Years War, Gustav II Adolf hoped that his country’s intervention, made possible by France, would benefit Protestants across Europe. Councillor Gabriel Oxenstierna used a 22

subsidies—an introduction

related argument when he said that collaboration with France might give the Hanseatic city of Stralsund the protection it wanted from Imperial forces. Both of these issues—religion and Sweden’s inter­ vention in the Holy Roman Empire—would remain crucial, especially in the latter case for France. It is not just the impact on Sweden of France’s transfer of resources that will be addressed, however, but also the effect on dynasties, families, and individuals, all of which were integral to the Swedish polity.

Method The origins and outcomes of the subsidy treaties have been traced using a variety of primary sources. A subsidy treaty between France and Sweden could be mooted by either side. If it was on Sweden’s initiative it was recorded in the Council minutes, usually when it was decided that the need for a subsidy warranted action, whereupon the French ambassador in Stockholm was contacted, or the Swedish ambassador in Paris was instructed to approach French politicians. There were occasions when Sweden sent an envoy to Paris specially to open negotiations. If France initiated proceedings, meanwhile, it can be seen in the discussions of the Swedish Council and in French diplomatic reports from Stockholm. The Swedish government’s deliberations on international relations survive in the Council’s invariably detailed and well-preserved discussion minutes (it was the Council of the Realm for most of the period, although for a brief period it was renamed the Royal Council). Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the councillors were drawn from the country’s most influential group politically, economically, and socially—the nobility. Their number varied: in the seventeenth century there were about 25 and sometimes as many as 40 councillors, and in the Age of Liberty (1718–1772) anything from 16 to 23. The exact degree of control the Council had over national policy varied, but with the exception of a period of absolute rule between 1680 and 1718 when its powers were limited—although never non-existent—its influence was always significant. It was at its 23

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strongest during the two regencies in 1632–44 and 1660–72. It fell to the Council to manage government business and to advise the king in the long intervals between Diets. In the seventeenth century, the Council’s meetings were closed and their dealings were secret—and the minutes of their meetings too—but in the Age of Liberty, the discussion minutes were made available for consultation when the Diet was sitting. This presumably influenced its discussions, but how is difficult to say. Key here, however, was that throughout the period a special minutes secretary kept the discussion minutes, which recorded who said what at Council meetings. This makes it possible to follow who held which opinion, the arguments they put forward, and how they voted in Council. When it came to voting, it was open to individual councillors to defend their position in written arguments, which could range from a few pages to over more than twenty. By following the run of discussion minutes over a period of years, it is possible to assemble a picture of the various groupings in the Council and their views on the issues that came up for debate. While the Council’s proceedings were heated at times, consensus always prevailed in the end. Having hashed out the pros and cons behind closed doors and put them to a vote, the Council was expected to unite around the decision. The motives behind the subsidies can be traced by taking the stated reasons in the subsidy treaties and comparing them to the sources that described the negotiations. Subsidy treaties could take months if not years to prepare, and there were many involved who hoped to bring negotiations to a successful conclusion, not least the politicians and diplomats who did the actual negotiating and stood to gain personally from one or other party. Usually, things came to a head once a French envoy was dispatched to Stockholm to negotiate on behalf of the French king with select representatives of the Swedish king or Swedish government. The envoy was always given instructions in advance as to what he could offer and what he could agree to. The exact course of the negotiations, with all the proposals and counterproposals, can usually be followed in the Council minutes and the envoy’s reports home to Paris or 24

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Versailles. Parallel negotiations were often underway in Paris, and if proceedings in Stockholm went badly it was not unknown for the Swedish government to use its ambassador to France to effect a change in the instructions Paris sent to the French ambassador to Sweden. All this can be charted in the Swedish diplomatic reports. Once the negotiators had reached an agreement, the subsidy treaty was ratified in both Stockholm and Paris. The decision to ratify was taken in Sweden by the king and the Council, and later in the eighteenth century by the Council alone (in which the king had two votes); in France, it was taken by the king. Ratification was the final confirmation and made the treaty officially valid. This meant both parties had to exchange treaty texts and agree on an interval of time during which ratification had to take place. Failure to keep to the timetable would mean that the painstakingly negotiated agreement would lack legal force. At times it must have been nerve-racking to be in the middle of a negotiation with a number of known obstacles ahead. For the histor­ ian following from afar, it is striking how much patience everyone had to show. In order to trace the process from the first notion that a subsidy might be needed right through to the ratification of the treaty, the best sources for Sweden are both diplomatic (instructions and reports) and political (the record of proceedings in the Diet, government archives, and the treaty itself), while for France, they are generally diplomatic (instructions, reports, minutes of the actual negotiations, and correspondence). Together these sources set out both the stated and the unspoken motives for France’s and Sweden’s actions. Once all was settled and the treaty signed by both parties, they embarked on the equally tricky business of paying the subsidies. The sources are full of discussions between the Swedish and French representatives about whether the subsidies had indeed been paid as agreed or whether there had been a breach of contract. These discussions could take months, and some payment claims remained outstanding for years. As we will see, what the treaty stipulated was one thing and how the money was spent was another. One source of friction between 25

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France and Sweden was that the one could accuse the other of failing to observe terms. To establish what was paid, how it was spent, and to what effect, I have used the Swedish financial records, verified by the French equivalents. In Sweden, foreign subsidies were usually accounted for separately, with an indication of how they had been spent, but there are lacunae in the sources. The French material is more scattered and partly lost. The difficulties were not limited to the international stage. Sweden faced dissent at home too, especially over whether it was correct to accept subsidies in the first place, and from France of all countries. Similar debates were heard in the Council, but in order to chart all the arguments, the present study has also analysed pamphlets from the late eighteenth century. The present study thus uses a variety of sources in Swedish and French archives to examine the reasons for the subsidies, while the various outcomes have been studied using financial records that show which individuals and groups received subsidies and what the money was used for. Exactly how this was done is described in greater detail later in the book (Chapters 9 & 10).

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chapter 2

Treaties, context, and content This chapter provides the background, in which I consider the v­ arious subsidy treaties between Sweden and France, their purpose, and the gist of their contents, placing each in its wider context in order to establish why the two countries entertained the idea of subsidies in the first place. While necessarily repetitive in certain details, it provides a useful picture of the long line of subsidy treaties and the enduring Franco-Swedish relationship. The history of Sweden’s acceptance of French subsidies falls into two periods. The first ran from 1631 to 1680, with a hiatus of a few years in the early and mid-1650s. There were then no subsidies for most of Charles XI’s (1672–97) and Charles XII’s (1697–1718) reigns, as they did not resume until 1715, and only then for three years. The second period can be said to have begun with the treaty that took Sweden into the Hanoverian Alliance, and which saw it accept subsidies from both France and Britain in the three-year period 1727–1729. True, France did not pay anything between 1729 and 1739, and in the interim the countries found time to agree (although not ratify) yet another subsidy in 1735, but the seven decades after 1727 were still arguably a coherent period, in the sense that subsidy treaties were plainly not only possible but were thought desirable by leading Swedish and French politicians. The longest single subsidy ran from 1739 to 1766 for fully twenty-seven years, one of the longest continuous periods for a foreign subsidy in early modern European history.27 27

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The Treaty of Bärwalde When the heir to Sweden’s throne, Prince Sigismund, son of King John III and Katarina Jagellonica, was elected King of Poland in 1587 as Zygmunt III Waza, it was the first step in a long series of religious, geopolitical, and ultimately dynastic conflicts. On John III’s death in 1592, Zygmunt, a Roman Catholic, became king of Sweden as Sigismund I, and the stage was set for a power struggle. The king’s uncle, Duke Charles of Södermanland, saw his opportunity to seize power. In what was a civil war in all but name, in the late 1590s Duke Charles defeated Sigismund in battle and forced him to retreat to Poland, but, crucially, without ever surrendering his pretensions to the Swedish Crown. When Sigismund died in 1632—the same year as his first cousin, Gustav II Adolf—his claim passed to his son Władysław IV Waza. By the late 1620s, Sweden and Poland had been circling each other or at open war for thirty years. The conflict was not limited to the Polish Vasas’ dynastic claims to the Swedish Crown, however; it included the borders of Baltic territories conquered by the Swedish Empire and areas considered to belong to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The strong familial links between the Polish kings and the Holy Roman Emperors, and Polish attempts to ally with Russia, were a source of concern to Sweden. When what would later be called the Thirty Years War first broke out in 1618 and rapidly spiralled into an extensive religious war, there was a risk that Germany in its entirety would go over to Roman Catholicism, and with Poland would form a strong bloc that posed a direct threat to Sweden. It was these geopolitical, religious, and dynastic complications that informed Sweden’s entry into the Thirty Years War, and the fact that Sweden chose to ally itself with France. There was another dimension to this, which was France’s determin­ ation to avoid being surrounded by its enemies. Spain, meanwhile, was keen that the two Habsburg powers—itself and the Holy Roman Empire—should stick together in order to bolster each other’s pos­ ition in Europe.28 This inevitably led to Spain and the Holy Roman Empire being perceived as a threat to French interests, and thus to 28

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conflicts in northern Italy and Flanders. France decided to counteract the growing Habsburg influence by acquiring allies in northern Italy, the German principalities, Poland, and northern Europe, thus deflecting the attempt to surround it, and strengthening French influence at the cost of Habsburg power.29 Denmark’s entry into the Thirty Years War in the 1620s, like the later Swedish intervention in the early 1630s—both engineered by French subsidies—was one element in the network of alliances designed to keep France from being encircled and to counterbalance Habsburg might.30 The run-up to the Treaty of Bärwalde will be considered in some detail here in order to introduce the reader to the nature of proceedings in the Swedish Council in the seventeenth century. It was not self-evident that Sweden would accept France’s offer of an alliance and subsidies in return for joining in the fighting in Germany. In the autumn of 1629, the Council returned to the burning issue of the day. Should Sweden enter the Great War on the Continent between Protestants and Catholics? It was standard for this type of discussion to go through the list of pros and cons, and so armed with the discussion minutes we can see who argued what, councillor by councillor. This was exactly what happened when the Council met on 29 October 1629. King Gustav II Adolf presented the argument against joining the war. Following the armistice agreed between Poland and Sweden in Altmark the month before, and after almost thirty years of war, Sweden’s soldiers were now finally free to return from the Polish campaign, where, supplemented with a fresh round of conscription, they would form the backbone of a strong home army. This army, along with 48 warships, would allow Sweden to patrol the Baltic and blockade German ports. A home army of this sort would also be able to keep the Dutch Republic at arm’s length. Furthermore, it would boost the Swedish economy, and no neighbour would dare attack. It would be status quo, in other words, but a strong status quo. A campaign in Germany would make it impossible for the country to rally, the king believed. Another argument against going on the offensive was of a more private nature, the king said: he had been fighting for many years and was ‘loathe’ to continue. 29

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He saw only ‘unthank’, distress, and death if he were to carry on. Moreover, and here the king referred to the trials and tribulations his subjects had endured for years on end, many would be happy about the Polish peace, but would dread a war in Germany; Sweden, he said, ­needed to be built up. (It should be noted that this was one of the very rare occasions over the course of the two centuries when ordinary ­people’s needs were said to have any significance.) One option was to bring in foreign soldiers, the king continued, but it was a gamble, as they were ‘faithless’, and if they were not paid they would likely desert or, worse, go over to the enemy. An attack in Germany would probably persuade the Danish, Germans, British, and Dutch to see Sweden as the enemy, and if that were not enough, Sweden’s armies would be pitted against some famously successful generals, including Johann Tserclaes, Count of Tilly, and of course Wallenstein. The best army Sweden could ship to Germany would not be strong enough to chance that, yet even so it would be expensive.31 The arguments against war were many and persuasive. Once the king had gone through the arguments why a war in Germany would be disastrous, one of the councillors, Johan Skytte, asked to speak, and he too argued against an offensive. Skytte was certain the Imperial armies were too strong for Sweden: the fact that Denmark and a number of other countries had failed to defeat the Imperial armies in battle proved this. Moreover, Skytte feared that France would prioritize its interests in Italy, where it was already at loggerheads with the Holy Roman Emperor over the small but strategic duchy of Mantua, and therefore could not be trusted to provide support. Here the king added that they should not forget that nine months earlier in January France had offered Sweden a larger advance if it decided to enter the war.32 The arguments against war in Germany having been tabled, the king ran through the factors that spoke in its favour. First, he underscored the religious reasons that he believed justified intervening. The Emperor’s goal, he claimed, was to eject everyone who was not Roman Catholic. It would be impossible to come to any sort of agreement with the Emperor, for he was intent on ‘universal 30

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imperium’. The only way forward was to wage the war that the king said was already underway, and Sweden with it. They had to come to their co-religionists’ aid, and failure to do so would be indefensible before God. Councillor Gabriel Gustafsson Oxenstierna added the more prosaic point that Stralsund had to be protected.33 When the Council put it to a vote a few days later, it was the arguments for intervention that carried the day.34 The deciding factors here were religion and concern about Sweden’s defences against the Emperor, and not the promise of alliances with France or French subsidies; however, when Sweden joined the war on the Continent in the summer of 1630, the promise of French subsidies was decisive. In January 1631, France and Sweden agreed a subsidy treaty in Bärwalde (now Mieszkowice in western Poland), which promised Sweden 400,000 rdr per annum for five years in return for putting 30,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry into the field.35 There was also an additional sum as a retroactive payment for actions taken by the Swedes in 1630. The Treaty of Bärwalde proved short-lived. It came to an abrupt end with the death of Gustav II Adolf in battle, because the treaty had been between the two kings, not between the two states of France and Sweden. Both countries moved quickly to renew it, however.36 Although this round of negotiations appears not to have been as protracted, there was an abiding distrust of France’s attitude towards Sweden, as voiced by Axel Oxenstierna in a memorandum addressed to the Council on 6 May 1633. The French wanted to come to an agreement with Sweden and several other parties at once, but in Oxenstierna’s view there was a strong element of high-handedness in France’s dealings, and it was belittling towards Sweden. Sweden wanted a separate treaty, not to be lumped in with the rest. He also wrote that Sweden had to be careful because of religion, although he seemed to think it was not an insurmountable problem.37 The new subsidy treaty was agreed in Heilbronn in 1633, and closely resembled the Bärwalde treaty in content, with one significant difference—it was not time-limited, but rather would continue until the war ended.38 There were further subsidy treaties in Hamburg 31

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in 1638 and 1641. The latter gave Sweden 480,000 rdr per annum, continuing until such time as a general peace was concluded.39 The purpose of these treaties was to keep Sweden in the war against the Emperor on the Continent.

The Peace of Westphalia The Peace of Westphalia in 1648 was a milestone for both Sweden and France as for so many others, and for decades to come would play a key role in the international relations between the two countries. True, the one thing it did not bring was enduring peace. It was not long before a number of wars had broken out across Europe. France, for example, went to war with Spain—in fact, a continuation of the conflict that ultimately ran from 1635 to 1659—and Sweden declared war on Poland in 1655 and Denmark in 1657.40 Yet despite that, the Peace of Westphalia accorded Sweden a role in Europe unlike any it had had before. Beginning in 1648, Sweden was one of the guarantors of peace in the Holy Roman Empire, together with its ally France. In practice, this meant that if two parties in the Holy Roman Empire were unable to agree after a period of three years, and one party asked Sweden or France to intervene, then that guarantor had the right and obligation to do so.41 In diplomatic manoeuvres over a century later Sweden was still being held to this. The Peace of Westphalia gave Sweden an officially accepted role which could be used to justify its position—which it duly did—but also which other powers could use to make calls on Sweden’s time and ­resources—which they too did. In the early 1650s, the disruption caused by the civil war known as the Fronde left France unable to pay Sweden the agreed subsidies. In fact, it was not until 1657 that it was able to meet its obligations again.42 In the interim, however, Sweden had made representations to France, and put considerable effort into negotiating the payment of the subsidies it believed to be owing from the years before 1648.43 In other words, there was no question of letting civil war get in the way of negotiating or collecting subsidies. By 1658 the Swedish government, with money raised at home from 32

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the likes of Queen Christina’s former favourite Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie and the famous General Hans Christoff von Königsmarck, had been at war with Poland since 1655 and Denmark since 1657.44 The latter ended in total defeat for Denmark, and the Treaty of Roskilde in 1658 gave Sweden most of the east of the country (the provinces of Skåne, Halland, and Blekinge) along with the Baltic island of Bornholm, and the Norwegian provinces of Bohuslän, Jämtland, Härjedalen, and Trondheim. The accounts for 1657–60 show that Sweden took receipt of 100,000–200,000 rdr per annum in French subsidies in those years.45 France’s interest in supporting Sweden was now governed by the fact that Europe was awaiting the election of a new Emperor to succeed Ferdinand III, who had died in April 1657. Ferdinand’s son, Leopold, had not yet turned 18, which gave Louis XIV’s chief minister Cardinal Mazarin an opening to press the case for a pro-French candidate—something that would have also been in Sweden’s interest. The French were unsuccessful, however, because, despite being a minor, Leopold was elected Emperor in 1658. For the Swedish king, Charles X Gustav, the situation in 1658 was such that he either had to continue to fight or he had to disband his army. It was more than the Swedish economy could do to maintain a standing army at home. As a result, not long after the Treaty of Roskilde he decided to resume the war, this time with designs on Denmark’s heartlands. The Swedish army successfully reoccupied Denmark, with the exception of the capital, Copenhagen, which with Dutch naval assistance managed to withstand a Swedish siege. The outcome was the Treaty of Copenhagen in 1660 at the mediation of the French and British. The same year saw the end of the ­­Swedish–Polish war that had begun in 1655. The Treaty of Copenhagen between Sweden and Denmark, and the Peace of Oliva between Sweden, Poland, Brandenburg, and the Holy Roman Emperor, both signed in 1660, meant that Sweden was at peace for the first time in many years. Territorially, Sweden was now an empire, holding what today are Sweden and Finland, parts of northern Germany such as Pomerania and Bremen-Verden, and the Baltic states. Peace brought its own economic problems, however. 33

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The costs of a peacetime army that could guarantee Sweden’s many possessions and ensure it appeared a credible guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia were too great for the country itself to bear. The ­Swedish regency government, led by the pro-French Chancellor, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, who took charge on the death of Charles X Gustav in 1660, felt that the years of cooperation with France had greatly benefited the country. It was therefore natural to turn to France for support, and the result was the Treaty of Fontainebleau, a ten-year treaty between the two countries agreed in September 1661. France’s then interests were dictated by the political situation in Poland, where the throne was occupied by a childless royal couple, and Louis XIV was keen to ensure the election of a pro-French heir. Ultimately this was a common interest, because both France and Sweden wanted to avoid a strong Russian or Imperial presence in Poland. The public articles of the Treaty of Fontainebleau underscored that its part in consolidating the Peace of Westphalia, and continued with some bromides about trade. It was the secret articles that had a direct bearing on the French subsidies. Here, France and Sweden agreed that if in future a Polish king’s election were to be disrupted by foreign power, Sweden would intervene with 6,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry no later than four months after the Polish government asked for its help. Troops were to remain under Swedish command, but would operate alongside Polish forces. In return for this, Sweden would receive 480,000 rdr per annum for the duration of the war, plus 266,666 rdr per annum for six years, regardless of when the war ended. In addition, Sweden and France would work together to oppose the election of a Russian, Habsburg, or Brandenburg candidate to the Polish throne, and Sweden would support France’s candidate, the Duke of Enghien.46 As a guarantee for Sweden, it was also agreed that if Sweden, when fighting in Poland, came under attack by Imperial troops or by Denmark, France would come to its assistance, again within four months. The treaty was welcomed by the Swedes, and was accepted by the regency government in Stockholm without much discussion. Their view was that it was a relief to have secured the money to pay for the army, albeit at risk of having to 34

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go to war again, but also to have the Franco-Swedish relationship back on a stable footing. A Swedish envoy was sent to Paris with the ratified treaty and a request that the French pay the first tranche as soon as possible.47 Interestingly, while the Swedes seemed pleased with the deal, it was Louis XIV’s opinion that despite the cost to France, it was still nowhere near enough to maintain an army in peacetime. ‘Even though in my estimation the sum is excessive, it does not approach what is necessary for the maintenance of an army in a friendly country’, he noted in February 1662.48 However, this subsidy treaty would prove difficult to conclude. As the draft of the treaty made its way from Fontainebleau to Stockholm and back again, events took a new turn in Poland, which meant that enthusiasm for the treaty began to wane. The Polish queen, Marie Louise, had originally welcomed the idea of Sweden and France as guarantors against foreign intervention in the expected election, but now the situation was such that it was internal forces that threatened the election of a French candidate. To help resolve the situation the queen asked Louis XIV to pay any subsidies to her and her followers, and not to Sweden. Louis XIV refused, and countered that the treaty should be rewritten so that the Swedes would not only guarantee against foreign intervention but also against opposition forces within Poland. It was fortunate for the French that the Swedish envoy, Klas Tott, who was to present the copy of the subsidy treaty signed by the Swedes, had been delayed, and arrived in Paris four days after the treaty was meant to have been submitted. It was now open to the French to claim on formal grounds that the treaty had been broken and had to be renegotiated. After some frantic thought—there was no question of getting advice from home, time was too short—Klas Tott agreed to the amendments, whereupon 100,000 rdr in subsidies was immediately paid out. That was not the end of it, though. Worse was to come when news arrived from Poland that made it plain to all concerned that the French plans had come to naught. In Poland, a new law had been adopted that forbade royal elections while the ruling monarch was alive. The French had to abandon the idea that they could get their candidate elected in advance, and with that they 35

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did not need the Swedes at all. Fortunately for them, though, as the new treaty signed by Tott had not yet reached Stockholm for signature, all Louis XIV had to do was to announce that it was redundant. As a result, Sweden lost out on some very large subsidies.49 It fell to the French ambassador in Stockholm, Hugues de Terlon, to secure France’s friendship with Sweden by offering the far less attractive sum of 100,000 écus/rdr per annum for six years. Terlon, however, merely succeeded in making a testy situation worse by enraging the Swedes with his arrogance, and by ‘brusquement’ placing the blame for the failure of the Treaty of Fontainebleau squarely on Tott and his late arrival in Paris.50 Terlon went on that the Swedes had been slow in arranging the treaty, causing France considerable damage. It was not until the winter of 1662–3 that a new treaty was agreed, which gave Sweden 100,000 rdr per annum over the next four years, and that accepted that it could keep the 100,000 rdr that had already been paid out.51 When Louis XIV assumed government on Cardinal Mazarin’s death, France began to act in a manner that the Swedes took to be contrary to the intentions of the Peace of Westphalia. Sweden felt it necessary to make overtures to Britain in the hope of striking a new balance in Europe. However, the issue of the Polish succession was still unresolved, and Sweden and France still had a shared interest in having a say in Poland’s government. This led France in 1666 to take the initiative in a renewed alliance with Sweden. In any future royal election, France considered it essential to have Swedish military support to protect a French candidate—a view shared by the Polish queen.52 A treaty negotiated in Stockholm by ambassador Simon Arnauld de Pomponne would have given Sweden 1 million livres (333,333 rdr) per annum in peacetime and twice that in war, in return for France being able to count on Swedish support in Flanders and Alsace. However, this could not be invoked if Sweden were occupied with another war. The treaty came to nothing, though, because back in France it was feared it was not enough to guarantee a Swedish intervention on France’s side.53 For Sweden, the main worry in the 1660s was how to maintain a standing army without subsidies, and 36

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it drove them to take money wherever they could find it: subsidies from Britain and Spain alternated with relatively modest and shortlived subsidies from France. At the end of the decade Sweden was without a subsidy treaty with France for a brief period, during which time it resolved its financial problems by entering into a triple alliance (1668) with Britain and the Dutch Republic in return for promises of money from Britain and Spain. The promises were worthless because the peace agreed between France and Spain in Aachen on 2 May 1668 meant that Britain, the Dutch Republic, and Spain suddenly had no need of Sweden.54 What the 1660s taught the Swedes was that when the great powers thought they needed Sweden they offered subsidies, but that could change rapidly and their promises were not worth the paper they were written on. After a lull of a few years in Franco-Swedish relations, a new subsidy treaty was signed in 1672 and renewed in 1675. Both of these treaties had an enduring significance and a negative impact on the picture of France in Sweden. Later, in the eighteenth century, France’s critics in Sweden referred back to them to argue against relying on France, and almost a century later they were still being mentioned when negotiating new subsidy treaties. In 1672 there had been a complete upheaval because it was found that France had agreed with Britain in the Secret Treaty of Dover in 1670 to attack the Dutch Republic. The triple alliance between Britain, the Dutch Republic, and Sweden collapsed, and France now once again wanted Sweden as an ally—which seemed more likely because Sweden’s Spanish subsidies had not been forthcoming for an uncomfortably long time.55 The resultant subsidy treaty was for 400,000 rdr per annum in peacetime and 600,000 rdr in wartime against Sweden putting 16,000 men in the field in Germany, except in 1672 when it was limited to 6,000 men.56 The treaty was renewed in 1675 almost unaltered, which meant that French payments to Sweden continued until 1680.

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Interlude—absolutism and the Great Reduction In thirty-three of the fifty years from 1631 to 1680 Sweden received subsidies from France. It was also paid subsidies by Britain, the Dutch Republic, and Spain, although for only a handful of years. In the period from the early 1680s to the end of the Great Northern War (1700–21), however, it was Swedish policy to attempt to balance France and the Holy Roman Empire. There were no subsidy treaties with France until 1715, and instead Sweden attempted to marshal its own resources and keep expenditure in proportion to revenue. The long interlude from the 1680s to 1715 did not mean that subsidies were not discussed, but rather that France’s proposals were rejected by Sweden.57 This was because of the underlying disappointment with the French, but there was also a pressing need to address the shortcomings of Sweden’s military and financial systems. What made it possible to ignore the offered subsidies for so long was a combination of factors: the imposition of royal absolutism; military reform; the so-called Great Reduction, in which the king revoked the aristocracy’s privileges and claims to land; and a flat refusal to commit the country to war. The Diet in 1680 recognized that the country’s finances were dire, and there was no confidence in the manner in which the regency, which had ruled the country for twelve years to 1672, had met its commitments. It was believed that several of the councillors had been in France’s pocket, and were thus guilty of the costly failures on the battlefield in the 1670s. A result of the Diet was that a commission was appointed to investigate the councillors’ responsibility for the mess and how much they personally should pay in compensation to the treasury. A total of sixty people were sentenced to pay large fines. Even more important in terms of finance was the decision to stage the Great Reduction, overturning countless grants of land. The decision was taken with the support of the commoners and government officials, pitted against the landed nobility who had received large land grants as thanks for their efforts in the many wars of the seventeenth century. All land grants made after 1604 were now reversed, which for individuals such as the Chancellor Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie was a personal disaster, as 38

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his wealth was based almost exclusively on land he had been granted, and when that was removed he lost not only his capital and income, but also the foundations of his political power.58 The ascendancy of royal power was a setback for the country’s political elite, spelt out in the Council’s subordination to the king—the Council of the Realm was renamed the Royal Council, in a decisive step towards royal autocracy.59 The result can be said to have been a more robust economy, which made it possible to reform and expand the armed forces. Swedish foreign policy in the 1680s and 1690s was largely designed to strike a balance; neither the Emperor nor France should be allowed to grow too strong, and there was a fear that France was intent on expansion. For Charles XI, France’s actions were a personal insult because the duchy of Zweibrücken, of which he had become ruler in 1681, had been occupied by France. The French said he could have Zweibrücken if he paid an annual consideration to the French king—in practice, subordinating Charles XI to Louis XIV—or he would simply have to accept it was lost. Neither option was acceptable to the Swedish king. It was not until 1715, then, that Sweden once again allied itself to France, again in the form of a subsidy treaty, and only because of the strains of the Great Northern War. Sweden found itself at war with Russia (which had occupied Finland), Denmark, Saxony, Poland, Prussia, and Hanover. Sweden’s German provinces were hard-pressed and would soon fall. There was a desperate need for an alliance and money to pay for the country’s defences. The Great Northern War had at first been a military success for Sweden, but soon brought severe economic crisis to the country. The Russian campaign of 1707–1709 having ended in utter defeat, and with Russia, Saxony, and Denmark menacing not only its German territories but even the mainland, Sweden was forced to turn to France for help. The first step was a loan in 1712. Then, at an acute stage when the Swedish army was struggling to defend Stralsund and Wismar, its last fortresses on German soil, on 4 April 1715 a three-year subsidy treaty was agreed between Sweden and France whereby Sweden received 600,000 écus/rdr per annum.60 The man 39

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who managed to push it through was the Swedish ambassador to Paris, Erik Sparre af Sundby. Sparre, who came from one of the most Francophile aristocratic families with a tradition of close ties with France, had been in French service for many years. It was no coincidence that he was sent to Paris in 1712 to negotiate the loan to the Swedish government, or that he led the embassy to Paris in 1715 to try to extract some sort of subsidy.61 Sweden’s position was desperate. The catch was that the regency government ushered in by Louis XIV’s death in September 1715 showed not the least interest in supporting Sweden, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that they were prevailed upon to help.62 It would seem what little concern France showed was limited to Sweden’s loss of its German possessions, and that was as nothing to what Sweden would soon lose to its enemies.63

Liberty After the end of the Great Northern War, Sweden reacted to the absolutism of Charles XI’s and Charles XII’s reigns by adopting a form of government that was a very unusual for the time. From the early 1720s until 1772, when it ended in an autocoup, there was half a century of parliamentary rule now known as the Age of Liberty. The Diet played a central role in government, and the Council was compelled to adhere to the framework decreed by the Diet. The Diet met at least once every three years and had the right to convene itself, which by design made it impossible for a monarch or the Council to rule in the complete absence of the Diet. Royal authority was considerably weakened. The monarch had a seat and two votes in the Council, and still had power over appointments to office, but while not entirely without influence it was still nothing compared to what had gone before. As the Diet was the force to be reckoned with, it was not long before various factions emerged to play an ever-increasing role. In the 1730s this crystallized into two main political groupings, the Hats (Hattarna) and the Caps (Mössorna), who vied with varying degrees 40

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of success until the king’s autocoup in 1772, when royal authority was asserted once again and the power of the Diet imploded. In the most simplistic terms, the Hats can be described as Francophile and revanchist, for they were determined that Sweden would retake the Baltic. The Hats were in power on the two occasions in the Age of Liberty when Sweden went to war—in the early 1740s against Russia and in 1757 against Prussia—and both times it was with the support of French subsidies. The Caps were initially more concerned with the doings of the great maritime powers, trade, and keeping the peace with Russia. The Age of Liberty has been described as a period in Swedish history when political agency spread to far more social groups, not least because of the Diet’s influence, but also because of the newfound freedom of the press following the reforms of 1765. There was a shift in the balance of power between the four Estates in the Diet—clergy, nobility, burghers, and peasants—to the advantage of the burghers. Meanwhile, the increased importance of the Diet also meant that the attention paid by foreign powers to the Council and the most senior government officials was now redirected to the Diet and its factions. There is plenty of research that shows that France, Britain, Russia, and others poured huge sums of money into parlia­mentary pockets to buy their support for proposed alliances of one sort or another.64 A prime example was the French ambassador Charles-Louis de Biaudos, Count de Castéja, who when negotiating a new subsidy treaty in 1734–5 spent vast amounts on members of the Diet and senior officials alike, while offering attractive positions in Paris to the sons of the decision makers, and paying backhanders to a source in the Royal Chancery.65 Broadly speaking, national politics from 1721 to the early 1740s was wholly occupied with Sweden’s recovery from the ­catastrophic years at the start of the century. The period from the 1740s to 1765 was dominated by a Hats-led regime that looked to France, and Sweden was paid its subsidies largely without interruption. In 1765, Hats were replaced by the Caps in government, but it was shortlived as the Hats returned to power in 1769. Then in 1772 came the bloodless coup that 41

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restored power to the young, Francophile ­Gustav III at the expense of the Diet, ending Sweden’s first experiment with party politics. In 1789 there was another autocoup, this time to reintroduce royal autocracy in all but name. The Council was abolished, the power of the Diet dramatically curtailed. This political configuration lasted until 1809, when Gustav III’s son Gustav IV Adolf was deposed in a coup d’état. Over the course of the eighteenth century, Sweden was paid subsidies by France in two longer and three shorter periods. The two longer periods were between 1739 and 1766, when the Hats were in power, and between 1772 and 1789, once the Age of Liberty had ended and, with French support, royal authority restored. The three shorter periods were 1715–18, the final throes of the Great Northern War; 1727–29, when Sweden joined the Hanoverian Alliance; and 1795–96. In addition, the accounts for 1719 and 1721 show that Sweden received subsidies from France in those years too.66 This meant that from 1715, when French subsidies were resumed, until 1796—a total of 71 years—Sweden received French payments in a total of 53 years, or 75 per cent of the time. In 1727–29 Sweden was paid subsidies not only by France but also by Britain, as a result of having joined the Hanoverian Alliance, first agreed by France, Britain, and Prussia in 1725 in response to the Treaty of Vienna the same year, which brought together Spain, Austria, and Russia. When Sweden joined the Hanoverian Alliance in 1727, there was a provision in the secret articles of the treaty that France and Britain would pay £50,000 (c.220,000 rdr) per annum in return for Sweden providing 7,000 foot and 3,000 cavalry if need be.67 In the 1730s Sweden was dragged back into European high politics, partly by Britain in effect breaking the Hanoverian Alliance in 1731 by coming to an agreement with Austria, which changed the balance of power considerably, and partly because Poland once again faced a royal election. The French were toying with the idea of a Franco-­ Swedish alliance to counterbalance Britain, while both countries had an interest in who would succeed the Polish king, August II, who died in 1733—a shared interest, in fact, in the shape of Stanisław Leszczyński, who had ruled Poland as a Swedish puppet between 42

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1704 and 1709. The Swedes hoped that were he on the throne they would have greater control over their largest neighbour to the south. For France it was also a question of control, just as it had always been, but now it was equally a matter of honour. Leszczyński was the father of Louis XV’s wife, Queen Marie, and for both her prestige and that of the Bourbon dynasty it would be best if her father were able to regain the throne he lost.68 For France, it was also a question of creating a buffer zone against Russia by forming alliances with Turkey, Poland, and Sweden, while simultaneously preventing the Holy Roman Empire from gaining ground. Unsurprisingly, Russia, Prussia, and the Holy Roman Empire supported another candidate rather than Stanisław Leszczyński.69 The negotiations of 1734–35 were conducted against the backdrop of Austrian military successes in northern Italy, which shook France.70 It brought pressure to bear on Swedish politicians, using its largesse to try to force them to actively intervene in what had escalated into full war—the War of the Polish Succession. The plan had been that Sweden and France would support Stanisław Leszczyński militarily, but that came to naught because Sweden lacked the resources needed for a forceful intervention, and France concentrated its forces in the Rhine Valley and northern Italy to fight the Habsburgs. Sweden also held back because the political elite was divided over foreign policy. While one group welcomed stronger links with France, another feared how it might be viewed in Russia and argued for a policy that would do nothing to provoke their Russian neighbours. In one sense, though, the French lobbying was successful, for in 1735 a treaty was agreed that involved subsidies, but because of the Swedes’ hesitation and general unwillingness to jeopardize peace with Russia, Louis XV refused to ratify it. In 1738, when the War of the Polish Succession was over and Stanisław Leszczyński, having been elected for a second time, had had to abdicate the throne, a ten-year Franco-Swedish Treaty of Friendship was signed (with the possibility of an extension) which guaranteed Sweden subsidies of 450,000 écus/rdr per annum for three years.71 For the Swedish part, it had been in the interest of the new 43

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Hats regime to make advances to France, the hope being that with its aid Sweden would be able to take revenge for all the territory lost in the Great Northern War. They took reassurance from the fact that Russia was at war with Turkey in 1735–9. For the French part, the fear was that the Turkish–Russian war would end, leaving Sweden at risk as Russia swung its gaze west. There was also a suspicion, probably unfounded, that Britain too was preparing to offer Sweden subsidies. The only thing that was certain was that Sweden needed financial support, and that was what France duly offered. Their Treaty of Friendship required that neither enter into an alliance with another country without the other party’s consent.72 In reality this was considered less binding for France than for Sweden, as the Diet’s Secret Committee—which oversaw foreign policy—acknowledged.73 Sweden was thus bound to France for a decade to come. The treaty agreed on 30 October/10 November 1738 was later extended twice (in 1747 and 1754), and guaranteed Sweden subsidies for a great many years, for it was in operation from 1739 to 1766, with one smaller final payment in 1767. If this was not a European record for the longest run of subsidies received from a single country, then it must have been at least one of the longest series of subsidies in European history. The content of the Treaty of Friendship varied slightly between versions: under the terms of the extension signed on 17 January 1754, Sweden was to garrison 8,000 soldiers in Finland for twelve years starting in 1756. This was a new level of specific detail not seen in previous treaties. The amount France was to pay was 133,333 écus per annum.74 The 1738 treaty would turn out to be crucial for Sweden in its offensive war against Russia in 1741–43, known in Sweden variously as the Hats’ Russian War or the War of the Hats after the nickname of the ruling party. When the war was in the planning, the hope had been that the Russian–Turkish war would engage much of the Russian army’s strength, a weakness compounded by the internal divisions within the Russian leadership. In both cases the hope was misplaced: Russia made peace with the Ottoman Empire in 1739, and when Sweden attacked in the autumn of 1741 it triggered the 44

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hoped-for coup d’état in which the Empress Anna was deposed and replaced by the Empress Elizabeth, but without the consequences the Swedes had foreseen. For instead of rewarding the Swedes, which had been the plan, Elizabeth decided to continue the war against Sweden. The result was that Sweden suddenly found itself completely without allies in a war with the full might of Russia, and armed only with French subsidies. Under the humiliating Treaty of Turku in 1743, Sweden lost part of Finland and was forced to accept that Russia was going to dictate the Swedish succession, as at Elizabeth’s insistence her nephew Adolf Frederick of Holstein-Gottorp was chosen as heir apparent to the childless widower Fredrik I. In 1757 there was another Franco-Swedish subsidy treaty, this time a three-way agreement with Austria too, in response to the outbreak of war between France, Russia, and the Holy Roman Empire on the one side and Prussia, Britain, and Hanover on the other. The new treaty, concluded on 22 September 1757, included a promise by Sweden to keep 20,000 men in Pomerania—16,000 foot and 4,000 cavalry— and a considerable force of artillery. Sweden guaranteed that its troops would be in place in Pomerania by the end of the year. The third article of the treaty stated that in return France and Austria would pay 4,200,000 livres (c.1,400,000 rdr) for the first year and thereafter 3,150,000 livres (c.1,050,000 rdr) per annum as long as the war lasted. The subsidies were to be paid half each by the king and the empress six months in advance, starting on 15 September 1757. The fourth article added that if the Swedish king were to find it possible to send 20,000 foot and 5,000 cavalry, the subsidies would accordingly increase to 4.2 million per annum.75 The following year saw a further subsidy treaty, but this time only between France and Sweden. There was a pressing need for more soldiers in Germany because the expected Franco-Swedish successes on the battlefield had yet to materialize. Under the new treaty, Sweden would send another 6,000 foot and 4,000 cavalry, bringing the total to 22,000 foot and 8,000 cavalry. In return, a subsidy totalling 6,000,000 livres (c.2,000,000 rdr) would be paid from the time that the Swedish forces were in place.76 45

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What had happened here was that the so-called ­Diplomatic ­Revolution of 1756 had taken place, reversing past relations between the major European powers: Britain and Prussia formed an a­ lliance, which persuaded the arch-enemies France and Austria first to approach each other and then to conclude their own alliance, which later included Russia.77 Circumstances dictated that Sweden would be directly affected by this. First, there was the fact that Sweden, along with France, was under the Peace of Westphalia still the guarantor of the current order in the Holy Roman Empire. Second, France had an interest in bringing in Sweden on its side. Third, domestic politics in Sweden made it attractive to risk some sabre-rattling against the Prussian king, Frederick II. When Prussia in 1756 marched into Saxony, Austria took it to be an invitation to the two guarantors of peace, France and Sweden, to take action and restore the status quo, or alternatively to relinquish their role as guarantors. For Sweden, this would have been a major loss of prestige. It was also in the French interest to bring Sweden into the war, and it therefore promised new subsidies if Sweden were to intervene in Pomerania with a 20,000-strong force. Sweden’s ruling politicians hesitated, but in the end let themselves be persuaded by two strong arguments. The first was that in the summer of 1756 the Swedish queen Lovisa Ulrika had been involved in a failed coup, staged to strengthen royal authority. Because she was Frederick II’s sister, a Swedish attack on Prussia—with the backing of France, Austria, and Russia—would be a just revenge, further humiliating the already humiliated queen and her clique. Moreover, it was thought a certain victory against a hard-pressed Prussia, which would e­ nable Sweden to retake the territory in eastern Pomerania that it had previously lost. The temptations were too great, and on 21 March 1757 Sweden signed a Convention on the Guarantee of the Peace of Westphalia, in which it undertook to continue as co-guarantor of German peace. This was followed on 22 September 1757 by a subsidy treaty that would provide French money in return for Swedish soldiers in Pomerania.78 The following year, in a subsidy treaty signed on 13 April 1758, the sum was increased against a Swedish promise to field 30,000 foot and to play a more active role in the war.79 46

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As a result, Britain and Prussia (and Hanover, Hesse-Kassel, and Brunswick which were all subsidized by Britain) went up against France, Austria, and Russia (and Sweden, Saxony, and Würzburg, all heavily subsidized). The upshot was not good for Sweden; its part in the Seven Years War was a failure. Prussia turned out to be far less pressed than the Swedes anticipated, the Swedish troops paled in comparison to the Prussians when it came to the fight, and to top it all the war was far more costly than originally thought. The whole sorry business ended badly for the Swedish regime, both at home and abroad. When the Empress Elizabeth died in January 1762 and was succeeded by the Prussophile Peter III, the Swedes realized with alarm that Russia might switch sides and become Sweden’s enemy. Faced with this dangerous prospect, the Swedish government entered into peace talks with Prussia.80 Having failed on the battlefield failure in the negotiations was inevitable, and instead of winning back territory in Pomerania, Sweden stood to suffer further losses. However, Frederick II let the Swedish government off lightly by inflicting a different sort of humiliation, for he informed them that if they beseeched their queen, his sister Queen Lovisa Ulrika, to draft the peace treaty, it would be accepted by Prussia—whereupon the Swedish government would have to offer an official vote of thanks to the queen for her intervention.81 Sweden was thus able to make peace with Prussia without relinquishing more land, but the regime was now beholden to the queen they had tried to humble. With peace in 1762 the ordinary subsidy payments ceased, but the following year France agreed to pay Sweden 3 million livres— about 1 million rdr—in outstanding subsidies. The year after that they signed a new subsidy treaty for 1,500,000 livres (c.500,000 rdr) per annum until 1772, and although the treaty was suspended in 1765/1766 when a power shift in Sweden ushered in a less pro-French group, the new government still held that the suspension of French subsidy payments was a breach of contract.82

47

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The return of the king Franco-Swedish relations entered a new phase when Crown Prince Gustav became King Gustav III in February 1771. A notable Franco­ phile, who had been brought up by his mother Lovisa Ulrika to embrace the Enlightenment ideals of the enlightened despot, he liked to model himself on his uncle Frederick II of Prussia and drew inspiration from the French monarchy in the shape of Louis XV. Indeed, he was visiting Paris when news reached him of his father King Adolf Fredrik’s death. Only a year after he succeeded to the throne, Gustav III staged an autocoup that changed Sweden’s political landscape. His plan was to return to the status quo ante that pertained in Gustav II Adolf ’s day, which meant that his power was greatly strengthened at the expense of the Diet and the Council. Gustav III was egged on by France, who guaranteed it would protect Sweden if Russia, Prussia, or Denmark—all keen to see a weak Sweden—were to take the opportunity to attack. France had furnished various members of the royal family and leading politicians with large sums of money prior to the coup, and once the new regime was in place it was time for French subsidies. First, the subsidies withheld after the collapse of the 1764 treaty were now paid out, to the tune of 1,500,000 livres (c.500,000 rdr) per annum. In addition, Gustav III elicited additional subsidies, which, according to the subsidy treaty of 27 February 1773, provided 800,000 livres (c.266,666 rdr) per annum to reinforce the Swedish army.83 When that expired after three years, it was extended for another three, but with the amount almost doubled to 1,500,000 livres (c.500,000 rdr) per annum. On 19 July 1784, it was once again time for a new subsidy treaty. This time it was for 100,000 livres a month for five years—a total of 6,000,000 livres (c.2,000,000 rdr)—and was to run to 1789. With the new revolutionary French government, Sweden agreed a defensive alliance worth 10 million livres in peacetime and fully 18 million livres in wartime—an impressive 6 million rdr per annum on paper. However, only a small amount was ever paid out, a mere 300,000 livres (c.100,000 rdr). On 14 September 1795 Sweden officially 48

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recognized the French Republic, and in return for its support for neutral free trade France agreed to pay 10 million livres, 4 million (1.33 million rdr) of which immediately.84 The subsidies France paid during Gustav III’s reign were designed to bolster Sweden’s position in northern Europe. This, after all, had been France’s plan ever since the 1720s. Sweden was only interesting as an ally if it could show it had sufficient military capability, and it was in France’s interest to create that capability. Helping finance the coup and enhancing the king’s power were thus essential elements in this policy. The fact that the new French regime wanted an alliance with Sweden can be explained by its need to find allies, or at least to buy the neutrality of other European powers.

The common thread In order to understand Franco-Swedish relations, one must take into account a number of important variables that together were the common thread throughout the period under review. One was Sweden’s position in the Holy Roman Empire. Both Sweden and France had a vested interest in Sweden retaining possession of its German provinces, for it thus had a valid reason to play an active role in the Empire. Sweden was represented not only in the Imperial Diet, but also the so-called Circle Diets of the Lower Saxon Circle and the Upper Saxon Circle (the circles administered defence and taxation), while the presence of Sweden’s armies garrisoned in its German provinces was an obstacle to France’s enemies. This was also decisive for another key factor—Sweden’s position as co-guarantor with France of the Peace of Westphalia. It was essential to guaranteeing the peace that Sweden hold German territory; another, of course, that France did not violate the spirit of the peace treaty and create an imbalance in European relations by pursuing an aggressive foreign policy. Poland was a constant factor also. Here, Sweden’s and France’s interests often coincided: Sweden hoped to neutralize Poland; Sweden and France both wanted to prevent Russia or the Holy Roman Empire from gaining the upper hand there. In order for 49

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Sweden to have a legitimate say in the business of the Holy Roman Empire or Poland, it had to have sufficient resources, and that was where French subsidies came in.

50

chapter 3

Subsidies, dependence, and independence When in the early 1630s Axel Oxenstierna gave his views on a possible alliance with France, a couple of his objections touched on the matter of dependence and independence. Oxenstierna had three reasons for avoiding an alliance with France: Sweden would be free to continue to fight or to stop, as it saw fit; the king would not have to follow France’s counsel, especially in questions of religion or the Church; and Oxenstierna was certain France wanted Sweden as a distraction in northern Europe so it could concentrate on winning its war in Italy. He concluded with the hope that Sweden would be able to supply its troops in their winter quarters in Germany from its own resources, and then receive funds from its own territories, for example Livonia.85 The question of dependence and independence was raised on almost all occasions when new or renewed alliances were deliberated by Sweden’s decision makers, from the 1630s right through to the late eighteenth century. French negotiators and decision makers too dwelt on the issue, as when the French ambassador to Stockholm, Breteuil, concluded a letter to the Duke of Choiseul in June 1766 by remarking that Sweden was no longer in a position to survive without France’s support.86 In order to cope without it, Sweden would have to raise taxes sharply while reducing public spending. Admittedly, Breteuil knew that Britain had offered Sweden subsidies, but he was now convinced that the British were not prepared for sums of 51

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the order paid by the French king. The subtext was that France in fact had no rival, and thus that Sweden was wholly dependent on French subsidies.87 Dependence here refers to several different realities. First, it was about Sweden’s financial dependence on subsidies in the period in question. Just how reliant was it? Second, there was the question of how dependent Sweden was on France and how that was depicted. Third, there was France’s dependence on Sweden, and if there was a mutual dependence how did the two countries view it—as a problem or as an advantage? Dependence born of financial reliance on ­another state could be problematic, obviously, but what if the other state was instead reliant on you? That surely would be to your advantage. Under these circumstances it is not wrong to try to gauge the degree of one state’s dependence on another. Here three m ­ ethods have been tried: first, the number of years in which subsidies were paid, and as far as possible the size of the subsidies relative to the S­ wedish ­government’s revenue and expenditure; second, what ­Swedish Council and other official bodies said in their deliberations about Sweden’s need for foreign aid; and third, whether Sweden’s hands were tied when it came to spending the subsidies, and what control France had over the use of the funds. As Peter Wilson has observed, few European states in early modern times were capable of financing a war unaided.88 This was certainly true of Sweden. Any country intending to go to war had to ask itself not whether it should find an ally, but whom it should pick as an ally; without allies, it had to keep the peace and disband its armies. For much of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Swedish government considered it necessary to apply for subsidies from foreign powers. It was far from inevitable that their choice would fall on France, and there were several examples from the Council’s deliberations of their willingness to accept subsidies from anyone willing to pay. Thus it should be noted that in principle the Council did not consider itself wholly dependent on French subsidies; rather, it was dependent on subsidies full stop.89 Without subsidies, they thought it would be impossible to play their hoped-for role in 52

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European politics, and at times to safeguard their own borders.90 As we have seen, France was in practice Sweden’s predominant ally— between 1631 and 1796 more treaties were agreed between France and Sweden than between Sweden and all the other powers combined. On average, Sweden concluded a subsidy treaty with France about once a decade. This may not seem so frequent, but given that France was not the only country Sweden accepted subsidies from, that negotiations for a subsidy treaty could take years, that there were more negotiations underway than ever ended in an agreement, and that once a treaty had been drawn up, its interpretation could still be disputed, requiring equally long discussions, it would be fair to say that subsidies were an almost ever-present issue in Swedish political life. The same was largely true in France too, as France did not only subsidize Sweden in this period, but had dealings with over twenty other countries across Europe.91

Follow the money Historians agree that it is hard to make accurate estimates of govern­ ment revenue and expenditure in the early modern period.92 For France, there are considerable problems, most of which stem from the destruction of the source material; for Sweden, however, the primary source material is quite good, and studies of the subsidies’ financial significance have therefore been attempted by various researchers. Estimates for 1632 indicate that French subsidies that year accounted for 15 per cent of Sweden’s war costs. For 1630–34, one estimate has subsidies—regardless of subsidizer—being 15 per cent of war costs and 9 per cent of the treasury’s total revenue.93 Another estimate is that French subsidies constituted 25 per cent of Swedish government revenue in 1631, and thus an even higher proportion of its war costs.94 The figures vary, but still give a sense of the proportion of government revenue or costs that were foreign subsidies. For Sweden, the plan in 1630 had been that most of its war finance would come from Sweden itself, but this proved impossible. The 53

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financial situation when Sweden entered the war was such that the proportion that came from domestic resources was far from 100 per cent, and in 1631 subsidies from France and the Netherlands, as well as grain purchases from Russia at favourable prices, accounted for almost half (45 per cent) of Sweden’s war finances. Russia had allowed Sweden to buy grain to sell at a profit in Amsterdam in 1628–33 because Russia was at war with Poland, and therefore approached Sweden as the enemy of its enemy.95 Events in 1630–33, however, indicate that despite the rapid escalation of its war effort, the burden on Sweden did not increase, which then became the accepted strategy, but nevertheless increased its reliance on foreign funding. Subsidies were one source of income, but the campaigns in southern Germany would also be financed by Mainz’s contributions, as well as the tolls from the Rhine and Main rivers. In other words, the German cities and territories under Swedish occupation were obliged to pay for the Swedish army on campaign, so that in the spring of 1632 cities such as Landshut, Freising, Munich, Ulm, Achim, and Schrobenhausen were forced to pay their occupier.96 Sweden’s dependence on subsidies and contributions was a problem, because it was predicated on a steady, continuous flow, which could not be guaranteed: occupied territory could be temporarily or completely lost, and the expected contributions therefore lost, and subsidy payments could be delayed. The Swedes therefore had considerable problems paying their officers and men, with the consequent risk of desertion or mutiny.97 That said, researchers who have analysed France’s compliance in paying what was agreed have found that in the Thirty Years War Sweden received 95 per cent of the agreed sum, albeit often after a delay. One could say that Sweden’s ability to wage war was financially dependent on external revenue, and that such revenues were largely the result of its successes in war. It should be considered heavily dependent on other countries. In the eighteenth century, too, Sweden’s financial dependence was at times significant. According to estimates of the proportion of revenue in the Swedish government budget that was generated by subsidies in the 29 years in which Sweden received subsidies between 54

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1727 and 1776, it never fell below 2 per cent.98 For 18 of those 29 years, the subsidies amounted to at least 5 per cent of revenue; for 10 of the 29 years over 10 per cent; and in some years, as much as 20 per cent or more.99 According to Karl Åmark, who calculated the figures for the proportion of subsidies in Swedish government finance in 1719–1767, they are likely to be underestimates, because some subsidy revenue was channelled into Sweden without being labelled as subsidies by central government. It was therefore likely that subsidies formed an even larger proportion of government revenue, although it is unclear how much larger.100 Another e­ xample of Sweden’s dependence on subsidies in the eighteenth century has been charted by Patrik Winton. Winton has concentrated on ­Sweden’s financial situation in the Seven Years War, showing that for 1757 to 1762 in particular, French subsidies accounted for 20 per cent (11,186,215 dsm) of Sweden’s war costs. In addition, there were various loans, which covered 67 per cent of war costs, and the rest came from other income.101 Sweden was in good company as a recipient of subsidies in the eighteenth century, but at the same time it was one of the single largest recipients of French subsidies. The 20 per cent of Sweden’s war costs incurred by France in the Seven Years War corresponded almost exactly to the share of Prussia’s war costs that were met by Britain, and those were the largest subsidies that Britain paid to any ally during the war.102 Estimates for 1757 indicate that France stood for at least 35 per cent of Austria’s war costs that year.103 In a longer perspective, France accounted for between 15 and 65 per cent of individual Swiss canton revenues and between 40 and 50 per cent of the landgrave of Hesse-Kassel’s finances in the first half of the eighteenth century.104 For Denmark, subsidies from Britain, France, and the Dutch Republic amounted to at least 33 per cent of its total government revenue in 1625–1627, when Denmark was at war in Germany.105 Interesting though subsidies as a proportion of government revenue may be, it mattered even more that Sweden was one of the countries that accepted subsidies for the longest periods—meaning 55

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that it was one of the countries most dependent on France, at least in monetary terms. Sweden’s economic dependence on others was no secret. The Imperial ambassador to Stockholm, Hermann von Basserode, said in the summer of 1667 that Austria and France were then competing for Sweden with money, and that without it there was no chance of winning Sweden over. In his eyes, there was a definite danger that Sweden would pick the highest bidder, as the Swedish army was in urgent need of funds.106 Basserode’s successor, Wratislaus von Sternberg, noted in the autumn of 1673, when France had managed to conclude an alliance with Sweden, that ‘With gold one can obtain much here’. It was not only the country that had sold itself to France, but a large section of the political leadership, Sternberg was certain: ‘The French ambassador, as I suspected, has regaled or will regale all the senators here with money.’107

The 1630s and 1640s The problem with cash sums, war costs, and government revenue is of course that they are not easy data from which to estimate dependence. At what point can a state be said to have been dependent on another? Was it the very moment it took receipt of something? Was it when 5 per cent of government revenue came from subsidies? 10 per cent? More? Or was 5 per cent on one occasion more significant than 10 per cent on another? In order to attempt an assessment of Sweden’s degree of dependence, then, the Council minutes have been studied, and for the later period the minutes of the Secret Committee. In the 1630s, relations with France were a routine topic of debate in Council. There were two key themes, one of which was ­Sweden’s dependence on France, and the other was France’s position as funder of the Swedish war effort. In the late autumn of 1636, the Council discussed whether the new treaty concluded in Wismar in 1635 would be ratified or not. The Chancellor, Axel Oxenstierna, pres­ ented the substance of the agreement on 17 November, saying that it demonstrated all the requisite respect for the Swedish Crown. France promised ‘a considerable sum of money’ and accepted the 56

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aims of the Treaty of Heilbronn from 1633.108 What spoke for their continued alliance was the risk of offending France as the stronger party. If Sweden were not to continue the alliance and France then pulled out of the war, Sweden would be left in a dangerous position. Peace between France and the Emperor would be very serious, because it would cast Sweden as the Emperor’s principal enemy and the Lutheran states in Germany would be left without protection. Added to which, if they decided not to continue as France’s ally it could be perceived as a breach of the treaty, which in turn would lead to France approaching Sweden’s enemies. Oxenstierna also thought it was highly unlikely Sweden could make peace without France’s cooperation. Thus far the alliance had been described as a necessary evil, but more positive arguments were also heard: sub­ sidies of two to three barrels of gold, equivalent to 300,000 rdr, were well worth having, for example, or France was powerful and very difficult to defeat, and being its ally was a matter of prestige that impressed both the soldiery and the Imperial Estates, and without a treaty Sweden risked losing not only French support, but also the support of others too.109 What spoke against ratification was the fact that if Sweden remained allied with France, it would be harder to make a separate peace. A treaty meant that Sweden was either locked into the war or, in the event that it tried to stop fighting, would be seen as a treaty-breaker. France’s strong position in Europe, which on the one had could be used as an argument in favour of an alliance, could also be turned into an argument against it. When the time finally came for peace negotiations, and if Sweden were its ally at that point, France as a great power would have precedence in the negotiations and Sweden would be a mere appendage, ‘appendices’. Finally, it was acknowledged that there were ‘points of difference’ between the two countries, and that Sweden might reasonably suspect that France only wanted an alliance to detain Sweden until France could extract itself from the war.110 The points on which they differed seem to have been how long they thought the treaty should last. It might say three years in the treaty, said Oxenstierna, but France’s intention was to keep Sweden 57

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‘fast and bound’. Sweden did not want to be coerced into remaining France’s ally until the end of the war; it wanted greater latitude. Oxenstierna also made the standard comment that with subsidies Sweden could continue the war, but without them it would be forced to sue for peace. Peace, he thought, was by far the best option, but only if Sweden came out of it covered in glory.111 The choice was between accepting subsidies, which meant they could continue the war but at the price of being France’s ally for the foreseeable future, or rejecting the subsidies, whereupon they would be forced to sue for peace and would have to face France’s wrath.112 To continue the war, Sweden was in any event dependent on French subsidies, and judging by the arguments they were between a rock and a hard place, as a continued alliance with France was ­inescapable. In the ensuing discussion, subsidies were thought of in positive terms, but there was also a strong suspicion that France could not be trusted to pay them. The Council’s lack of confidence in France’s willingness to pay was also raised in the discussion, as were doubts about France’s intentions and credibility in general. However, strikingly, Sweden’s acceptance of subsidies was not discussed as a moral issue per se, or indeed as something that would put the country at a disadvantage. After the Chancellor had commented at some length, they decided to inform France that once a few small queries had been straightened out Sweden would ratify the treaty.113 Sweden’s intervention in the Thirty Years War had been dependent on external funds, as both the figures and deliberations show, and they were aware of this at the time, with the Council openly acknowledging that they were reliant on foreign resources in order to fight the war. The same was evident in Johan Adler Salvius’ letters to Axel Oxenstierna in the early 1630s. Salvius was the representative of the Swedish king, and after his death the Swedish government, in north-western Germany, and was in charge of much of the financial and civilian administration there. Having been involved in the preliminary negotiations for the French subsidies a few years earlier, he had some insight into what they were about and how crucial they were to Sweden’s situation in continental Europe. His 58

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letters to Oxenstierna show how central the subsidies were, how he repeatedly had to ask for help in order to access the promised subsidies, and how difficult it was for the Swedish Crown to obtain credit from German merchants when its French subsidy payments were delayed.114 Given the Council debates in the mid-1630s, plainly both the size of the subsidies and their timely payment continued to be a problem—and it begged the question of how reliable an ally France really was. The Swedish-led troops initially met with great success, but their run of luck ended at the Battle of Nördlingen in August 1634, after which they fared steadily worse. By the autumn of 1635 the situation was so bad that the Council discussed trying to withdraw from the war. One problem was that subsidy payments were often delayed, a source of great irritation to the Swedes.115 In discussing how they could afford to continue, relations with France were central, naturally enough. One option was to stay loyal to the French, but at the same time they recognized the risks in trusting them: if they decided to pull out, Sweden would be left in an untenable position. Perhaps it would be better to pre-empt them? Without money, it would be impossible to continue. For the pro-French Lord High Constable, Jacob De la Gardie, father of Magnus Gabriel, French money was the solution; for others, the Dutch Republic or Britain beckoned as alternative subsidizers; but all were agreed that without money there would be no war.116 Two years later, a query came from France about Sweden’s opinion on a possible armistice for a term of ten to twelve years. The Council discussed it for the first time on 28 November 1637. Interestingly, their comments show that even in a situation where the Swedes would not be fighting, the Council considered financial support from France to be essential—the feeling was that the condition for agreeing to an armistice should be that France would continue to support Sweden, and not only with weapons, but also with four barrels of gold per annum. They also wanted to insist that France had to guarantee Sweden’s troops and allies would be satisfied.117 They slept on it, and when they reconvened the next day seem to have felt 59

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that they might have overplayed their hand. In the end they agreed on three conditions, one of which was that Sweden would have guarantees for its north German provinces and that France would assist Sweden financially—but without specifying any amounts.118 Despite the subsidies, the Swedes had trouble supplying the army, paying its officers, and sourcing merchandise from merchants, who were demanding payment for their services. A new subsidy treaty in 1641 gave Sweden 480,000 rdr per annum to be paid half-yearly in May and November until a general peace had been concluded. In the negotiations, the Swedes had succeeded in getting the annual total raised, but had had to give way on two points: the treaty was going to apply as long as the war continued, something Sweden had ­previously opposed, and France’s war in southern Europe was excluded from the agreement. It had obtained the requested guarantees from the French king for a ‘validius bellum’, a vigorous war against the Emperor, and that Louis intended to be ‘the Crown of Sweden’s most faithful brother and friend unto death’.119 The kind of problems they were facing are described in Johan Adler Salvius’ correspondence, for example, who in January 1643 wrote that the garrisons had no clothes for the soldiers—‘the soldiers go naked’—and that Colonel Erik Hansson Ulfsparre was under orders to attack Dömitz with 2,000 men but lacked the money to do so. Foreign officers in Swedish service were after him demanding to be paid, and Salvius noted that they of all people had to be kept in good spirits. He would pay out of his own pocket for now—Salvius was an extremely rich man, having married into money—but he wanted guarantees that he would be reimbursed by the government if the subsidies were not forthcoming. He was now waiting for the most recent subsidies to be paid, but given the difficult circumstances with not enough money to go round he wanted advice on what to prioritize.120 This duality, where Sweden’s dependence on France’s military and financial strength was set against its suspicion of France’s intentions and the genuineness of its protestations of support, would resurface repeatedly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. As early as the autumn of 1640, when the subsidy treaty was up for renewal and 60

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negotiations were held in Hamburg between Johan Adler Salvius and French ambassador, Claude de Mesmes d’Avaux, Sweden’s distrust was on show. Salvius was instructed to conclude the treaty, but only with an increased subsidy, while Salvius himself was critical of his counterpart and how reliable he was. In fact he had misgivings about the French government too, not just its representative. As Salvius said of France in September 1640 to his master Oxenstierna, ‘Whatever France promises, he will not abide by it any longer than it suits him’.121 D’Avaux was equally suspect, as Salvius was quick to point out with his derogatory remarks about the reliability of Catholics ‘the Papists oft have other things in mind than are on their tongue, and they hold their honour likewise wholly without consideration’.122 However, the course of the negotiations shows that the Swedes were at a disadvantage, being in constant need of new funds to cover their war costs.123

After 1648 The cries for help heard from the representatives of the Swedish government were not limited to the Thirty Years War. Hence in December 1666 the French ambassador Pomponne met with the stern injunction ‘that if France does not want Sweden to come to grief, then Sweden must be supported with timely subsidies’.124 No French money meant no army. Similarly, when France proposed an alliance in 1734, it was discussed by both the Secret Committee and the Council. In the Council, Ture Gabriel Bielke said that there was no other nation in Europe that could help Sweden in regaining the possessions it lost in the peace of 1721. Instead of beating around the bush, would it not be better to say it as it is? wondered Bielke, and went on that it was not possible for Sweden to help France with less than they contributed in subsidies. They had to understand, he said, that it was not for lack of will ‘but of strength’.125 In February 1743, when Sweden, supported by French subsidies, was at war with Russia, the Swedish ambassador Clas Ekeblad went to the French foreign minister, Jean-Jacques Amelot de Chaillou, and Cardinal Fleury on 61

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several occasions to inform them of ‘Sweden’s present unavoidable need’ for new subsidies to save an apparently hopeless situation.126 In September 1757 the message for France was equally blunt: ‘It is Sweden’s need that makes subsidies necessary’, the Swedish Council warned when the country was yet again on the brink of war.127 Just over a decade later, in January 1770, the Swedish ambassador in Paris, Gustaf Philip Creutz, tried to persuade the Duke of Choiseul to support the new Swedish government with subsidies, which Creutz said the government relied on.128 All these examples show the Swedish government repeatedly turning to France for help. There were exceptions, however. In 1649, in the middle of the Fronde, the Swedes wondered whether they might obtain subsidies from France despite the turmoil. The following year, when they deemed their chances of getting anything from the hard-pressed French regime to be small, the Council discussed the possibility of Sweden intervening on the French government’s side by sending in German troops. Chanut, the French ambassador, referring to the friendship and long alliance between the two monarchs, had presented a request on behalf of his government that Sweden pay for German troops to support France. Both Queen Christina and Chancellor Oxenstierna said they thought it would be a good idea to oblige the French, as long as they could raise the money to do so. The risk otherwise, they said, was that France would weaken relative to Spain and the Emperor. France had never before faced such a threat, they said with one voice, and Oxenstierna pointed out that the civil war—‘interni motus’—was extremely serious. The queen for her part stressed that a Swedish intervention would be honourable, and given France’s precarious position any aid would put France in Sweden’s debt, which would be useful in future. The opportunity should not be allowed ‘to slip through our hands’. The Council decided to assist by paying for a thousand cavalry or so for a month.129 An exception to the rule that it was Sweden that was the dependant, this was an interesting episode, for it shows that both Oxenstierna and the queen took it for granted that as soon as order was restored in France, their relationship would resume and Sweden 62

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would still be dependent on France. And sure enough, in 1651 there were fresh negotiations where Sweden was the intended recipient and France was the subsidizer. The alliance had benefited Sweden in the past, said the Diet in the summer of 1651 when an extension to a subsidy treaty was on the cards, and it had earned Sweden great respect among German princes. There was no one else better to have an alliance with than France.130 The treaties of Roskilde (1658), Copenhagen (1660), and Oliva (1660) ended Sweden’s wars against Denmark and Poland, and brought both new territories and dynastic gains. The eastern Danish provinces of Halland, Skåne, and Blekinge and the Norwegian province of Bohuslän were now incorporated into Sweden. In Germany, Sweden acquired Bremen and Verden, and the Hanseatic city of Wismar. Poland surrendered many of its possessions around the Baltic, but what mattered to Sweden from a dynastic perspective was that the Polish king Jan II Kazimierz Waza (1609–72) resigned all claims to the Swedish throne for himself and his descendants. The dream of making the Baltic Sea into a Swedish lake suddenly seemed almost possible. The Swedish Empire was large, and the cost of administering and defending was equally large. Resources were a key issue for Sweden’s political class, and more specifically how they were to be obtained. There was as always the opportunity to seek foreign allies—primarily France—but there were also those who entertained the idea of Sweden standing on its own two feet. In the 1660s, Franco-Swedish relations were severely tested, when their much-noted mutual dependence led to protracted negotiations for subsidies and alliances, and which repeatedly descended into a war of words. The Treaty of Fontainebleau in 1661, which never amounted to anything, was painful evidence of Sweden’s asymmetric relationship with France. That said, the Swedes’ disappointment did bring home to France that it could not take Sweden entirely for granted as an ally. What the Swedes viewed as France’s betrayal when the Treaty of Fontainebleau was not ratified, convinced them to search for other sources of subsidies for the rest of the 1660s. Yet however 63

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bruised Swedish egos may have been, they were not so offended as to exclude France from the list of alternatives, alongside the Dutch Republic, Britain, Austria, and Spain. The Chancellor Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie was as usual the one who was most enthusiastic about France as a subsidizer, although he too said they were not always to be trusted. It had always proved a good friend in the past, he said, and he believed that they could not simply abandon that relationship ‘not having any more certain friend instead’ to turn to.131 The fundamental problem at this stage was that the Swedish government did not think it could afford its army in Germany, especially in the province of Bremen. It was said openly in the Council—and in front of the French—that they would have to disband the Swedish army in Germany if they could not find external funding for it.132 It was even said that it would be feasible to obtain subsidies from several different countries.133 The Swedes were in a bind: if no foreign money was forthcoming, the army was likely to revolt and they would indeed be forced to disband it, and without an army they would not be able to raise any money.134 There were several interlinked problems. Disbanding the army was not only a safety concern in the sense that it left the country defenceless; it also meant, as Klas Rålamb pointed out to the Council, thinking of the army as a commodity, the smaller it was the less its value—and thus the less Sweden’s worth as an ally.135 Another dilemma was that disbandment itself was costly, because the soldiers had to be paid in full, including all the cash wages that had been postponed as long as it was possible to supply the army in kind or by allowing it to loot and plunder.136 The risk with being too eager to accept subsidies this time was that Sweden would appear more interested in the money than in the cause. ‘Si pecuniam sumimus libertatum vendimus’, said the Francophobe Bengt Oxenstierna—‘If we take the money we sell our freedom’. Even Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie was worried: ‘Is it meet to be mercenary and to do a thing solely for the money, without regard for what benefit one might have of it.’137 The French for their part realized that the Swedish situation was precarious. Pomponne, the French king’s ambassador to Stockholm in 64

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1666–68, and who would later run French foreign policy, was of the view that subsidies were always the basis of Sweden’s alliances with foreign powers. He compared Sweden with the Swiss Confederation, with the comment that neither Swedes nor Swiss did anything if they were not paid to do it. He believed that Sweden’s main resource was its army, but without foreign money it was an irrelevancy.138 In other words, the Swedish army, so well-organized by contemporary standards, could only be made operational by foreign money. At the end of the decade Sweden was briefly without a subsidy treaty with France, its financial problems solved by forming the Triple Alliance (1668) with Britain and the Dutch Republic, and by accepting money from Britain and Spain. As we have seen, one of France’s objectives in the 1660s had been to secure the Polish throne for a pro-French—and preferably French— candidate. It hoped to achieve this by leaning on the incumbent king, Jan II Kazimierz, to abdicate and so force a royal election, and at the end of July 1666 it seemed France had managed to persuade the Polish king to take the final step. The French ambassador was convinced there was support for a French candidate among the Polish nobility. However, notable by its absence was a strong French military presence, and thus France found itself interested in Sweden again. The late summer of 1666 was thus a prime example of how events could conspire to make France dependent on an alliance with Sweden in order to reach its political goals, this time in Poland. Without a treaty with Sweden it would be reckless to make the Polish king abdicate, warned the French ambassador to the Polish court.139 His colleague in Stockholm, Pomponne, was thus instructed to induce the Swedes to sign a new treaty with France, which in turn would mean it had Swedish support for a pro-French candidate for the Polish throne. The catch was that this time the Swedish Council had other options to choose from, plus France faced an uphill struggle because the Swedes’ strong sense of betrayal was so fresh in their memory. When the Council met on 13 October 1666, it decided that when it came to subsidies, what Pomponne had offered could not match the Viennese court, which had promised ‘millions’.140 Four days later, 65

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on 17 October, Chancellor De La Gardie reported that Pomponne was now offering subsidies subject to Sweden not disbanding its army, higher subsidies if Sweden fielded the army, and subsidies to protect Bremen. The amount then on the table seems to have been 50,000 rdr—a sum that the Chancellor called ‘shameful’—while the Seneschal of the Realm (Riksdrots) said optimistically that history showed it was possible to improve on the first offer, and referred to the negotiations for the Treaty of Bärwalde.141 The discussion ended there, but on 27 October Pomponne had returned with yet another proposal, this time about Swedish assistance in Flanders. France wanted 20,000 soldiers in return for its subsidies, and Sweden would be reimbursed with subsidies proportionate to their number and service.142 The Swedes had said they wanted the same subsidies as promised in the Treaty of Fontainebleau, but Pomponne said that was unreasonable, whereupon they agreed to discuss the objectives first and only then the subsidies. By this point it was clear to the French that the Swedish army, which they acknowledged to be Sweden’s greatest asset, was far too expensive for the Swedes to maintain on their own. They were certain that the costs of the army’s keep and artillery train could only be covered by subsidies, and they were used to having subsidies from France.143 Despite this analysis, which was essentially correct, they still failed to agree on a new and more substantial subsidy treaty. It seems that the disappointments of the Treaty of Fontainebleau meant Sweden adopted a tougher attitude towards France, with a clear assertion of their independence and a stronger emphasis on the element of mutuality in their interdependence. One phrase heard repeatedly in the Council’s deliberations in the 1660s was that Sweden should have ‘a free hand’ to act without allies, and especially without France. Another was ‘friendship’ and the extent to which Sweden should be France’s friend—or indeed some other country’s—and whether France’s friendship was worth having.144 In general, it was the Chancellor, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, a strong supporter of France, who promoted the idea that Sweden should have good French contacts. However there were limits, even for him. Even though the 66

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French government had not acted in an entirely satisfactory manner, he said in Council in early November 1664, their friendship should continue. Sweden had to demonstrate greater authority, and only accept an alliance where ‘we shift for ourselves, and are nothing dependent on France’s indulgence’.145 Sweden could afford such an attitude, said De la Gardie, because if contrary to expectation there was a ‘desunion’ between the two countries, it would be more harmful to France. Klas Tott, who had been Sweden’s ambassador in Paris, said that the Swedish government should not ‘fall out’ with France, but the Chancellor replied that it was never his intention, but repeated that the Swedish government must act ‘firmly’ so that the country could cope unaided.146 Importantly, said the Francophile Chancellor, Sweden should not appear to be a country that depended on France—and ‘dependerar’ was the word he used.147 It was important always to strike a balance between maintaining friendly relations with France and—in a perfect world—having a free hand and not being bound by French demands. By the late 1660s, after several years of bitter squabbles between their re­presentatives, it became apparent that the Swedes still wanted to prove their friendship in order not to drift away from France. The theme of a Council discussion in early July 1668 was how best to achieve this. The Seneschal, Per Brahe, one of the leading councillors, dismissed the idea of a new treaty, saying that France ‘would thereby fall into their old habit, and give it to be known’ that Sweden and France were negotiating. Brahe was probably worried that France would make it known that Sweden was a close ally which, given the asymmetric relationship—which was apparent to all European states—would risk giving the impression that Sweden was on France’s leash. The Chancellor, De la Gardie, responded by talking about how the ­countries had been friends, ever since Gustav Vasa and the 1550s. His suggestion that they demand subsidies from France was rejected by several of his colleagues. Brahe said the situation now that Sweden and France had slipped apart was regrettable, and that Sweden had only ever wanted to balance France’s growing power in Europe. If Sweden now appeared too friendly to France, they would, as usual, 67

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start rumours that would ‘make us suspect’ to other countries. The Chancellor then pointed out that the friendship with France was still there, and it was important ‘not to say that the friendship is over’.148 Sweden’s relations with France were well-known in Europe.149 While the Swedes disliked the rumours that the friendship between the countries was failing, they also disliked the idea of appearing completely ‘inseparable from France’. If they were too strongly bound to France it might prevent them from allying with others or even initiating discussions about alliances with others.150 The more wary Swedish attitude worried France. As the Peace of Westphalia was a cornerstone of Franco-Swedish relations, with the two countries the guarantors of the peace, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie voiced this particular concern in Council in February 1669. A French official, whom De la Gardie left unnamed, had implied that the French king was so keen to patch up the friendship that he thought it worth a few barrels of gold in subsidies to do so. The Chancellor himself advised that Sweden ally with France to their ‘benefit and strength’. The Council seems to have agreed, the suggestion being that they accept money from France as long as Austria did not take it badly.151 These examples show how the Swedes tackled the question of dependence and independence. There was a need and a desire to be allied with a great power, France, but on the other hand a fear of appearing its client. The Swedes obviously guarded their reputation jealously. The question remains, though, why they did not do more to actively pursue their independence. There were several reasons why their choice so often fell on France: it was a powerful country and a prestigious ally, which had the capacity to provide the military and financial aid Sweden wanted. In addition, they had a clear common interest in curbing the Emperor’s ambitions in Europe. It was the latter that led to the seemingly contradictory alliance between Sweden, the supporter of Lutherans in Europe, and Catholic France. Sweden, however, was not only looking for an ally, it was looking for an ally that could offer subsidies. The reliance on foreign financial support was a perennial topic of discussion in the Council and between representatives of the two countries. What they talked 68

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about, directly or indirectly, were the issues of dependence, independence, and pride. France’s reliance on Sweden and how to use that to Sweden’s advantage featured in the Council’s deliberations in 1672, before the new subsidy treaty. Again, Pomponne had been sent to Stockholm to persuade the Swedes of importance of the alliance. Apparently Sweden was not the self-evident choice of ally, though, which complicated matters. Just as Pomponne arrived in Sweden, news came that Louis XIV had changed his mind, and instead of a treaty with Sweden he was going to approach a number of German princes to offer subsidies in return for alliances. Soon after yet another message came from France, instructing Pomponne to open negotiations in Stockholm after all. Things became even more convoluted when Pomponne, mid visit, was appointed minister of foreign affairs out of the blue, and was summoned back to Paris, to be replaced by a new French ambassador, Honoré Courtin. Thus with France hesitating and Sweden still stinging from the last betrayal, the two parties began to negotiate. They each needed the other to an extent, but they each had serious doubts about the wisdom of an alliance. In Council circles, there seems to have been a consensus that France needed Sweden, and that therefore there was a degree of reciprocity to the relationship. Klas Tott said that the French could hardly discard Sweden as an ally, even if the Swedes did demand larger subsidies, and they were ‘likely to hesitate to abandon us’.152 In order to get the discussion moving, the Chancellor said he wanted to ask ‘some simple questions’. Could Sweden manage without an ally? And if Sweden had to have an ally, who should it be—France and Britain or the Dutch Republic and Spain? Klas Tott replied that Sweden had ‘to have some wise friend’ and that they should let ­‘nothing separate us from France and England’. The Chancellor answered his own questions by saying that no one would blame them if they allied with France, because it was in line with the provisions of the Peace of Westphalia. The comments show how Sweden’s rulers, alert to any threat to the country’s reputation, often worried about what the rest of Europe thought.153 69

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They then considered the extent to which France was reliable. The Lord High Constable Carl Gustav Wrangel began with a pointed rhetorical question: What help had Sweden had when the Emperor and Brandenburg attacked Pomerania? What help could Sweden count on if Denmark attacks? he continued, but Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie was quick to answer that Sweden could be certain of having ‘both people and money’ from the French. Knut Kurck shared Wrangel’s scepticism, and pointed out that France might have with Denmark ‘a closer alliance than with us’, while Wrangel added that France ‘dealt with us passing well in the German war, especially in Bavaria’. The Chancellor De la Gardie now chipped in to say that the question should not be decided by emotion, but by what was in the country’s interest. Jöran Gyllenstierna wondered whether, given Sweden was currently negotiating subsidies from the Dutch Republic, they could be induced to offer more money? Wrangel said a little later that in conversation with the Dutch ambassador he found out that their subsidies might ‘be brought to a million’, but De la Gardie answered that ‘the money is only an adjunct, but above all else we must look to our safety and our interest’.154 The Chancellor seemed to argue that if there were more than one source of money, they should choose the one that could best guarantee Sweden’s security, and in his eyes that was France. Sweden’s reliance on subsidies was also evident in a rather more surprising comment by De la Gardie, when in December 1672 he wondered aloud whether the abdicated queen Christina might be able to obtain Italian subsidies? Johan Gyllenstierna was sceptical, saying that ‘it is possible to suggest such means, but not make much of it’.155 The Swedes apparently needed all the help they could get. In 1674, when the Council considered the possible renewal of the 1672 treaty, which was to expire in 1675, France’s intentions were raised again. The Council had for a while feared there would be a European religious war, and that the French king would ally with the Holy Roman Emperor to completely eradicate the Protestant faith. That was no longer a concern. The question was how strong France really was. Did it have the means to support Sweden? Bengt Horn 70

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asked a quasi-rhetorical question about a past Council decision— surely it had already decided to pick the ally that had the most similar interests as Sweden?—to which Nils Brahe answered yes. Austria, said Brahe, had always wanted Sweden’s possessions in Germany in its hope for a “Monarchiam Universalem”. As regards France, Brahe said that it never wanted Sweden to have ‘so great an advantage in Germany’, but that should not concern the Council much because ‘no states are wont to become such close friends. The others have nonetheless usually had a good friendship with the Swedish Crown. But with France’s many mighty enemies against them, they must disburse a store of coin here and there’.156 After another councillor suggested that Sweden should try to opt out of the ongoing conflicts altogether, Brahe listed what Sweden needed in a ‘friend’: that ‘his rise is not our fall’; that he has ‘a common’ interest with Sweden; that he has never been to war against S­ weden ‘but has always been our friend and done great service to His Majesty’s forefathers’ in a manner that meant Sweden could safely ‘conclude that he is Your Majesty’s surest friend’. Finally, he said that only France lived up to this, and that the conclusion must be that they should turn and fight. In a reply to Brahe, the Chancellor said if Sweden refrained from all war, the country would leave all to the Emperor’s caprice. They needed ‘such friends as are both willing and able to take us under the arms’, as the expression then went.157 Just as on earlier occasions when subsidy treaties had been discussed in Council, he went on to give examples of France’s long friendship. Like Nils Brahe, he said that France had not always supported Sweden as one might have wished, but when they were allies it had ‘done us good service’. Even when there was no treaty, they had supported Charles X ­Gustav against all his enemies in the 1650s. France was a ‘good friend’, said De la Gardie. He added that if Sweden did not support France, France could now weaken, which in turn would affect Europe’s Protestants. At the same time as De la Gardie singled out what he considered to be the clear mutual interest of the two countries, it was also an expression of changing attitudes, from the earlier fear that France would wipe out the Dutch Republic and thereby threaten 71

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Protestantism to the idea that France was Protestantism’s support.158 The various councillors’ historical arguments were repeated at other Council meetings the same year. Even though the key issue was to guarantee the Peace of Westphalia, one must also remember, said the Chancellor, that France ever since the days of Gustav Vasa had ‘seconded’ the Swedish kings and helped the Swedes with money.159

The eighteenth century Confirmation of the two countries’ mutual dependence was evident from the fact that France repeatedly signed treaties with Sweden. The Swedes were probably correct to assume that it was from pure self-interest, without a shred of altruism. In a diplomatic report in 1746, ambassador Marc-Antoine de Lanmary reviewed the situation in Sweden in the run-up to the next Diet, including the importance of his country’s subsidies for Sweden.160 According to Lanmary, the subsidies, together with the establishment of a banking system in Stockholm, had helped lift Sweden after the ill-starred peace of 1721. Sweden had not only benefited from that, but also from the fact that France and Britain had competed for its favour by offering money. The profits had made it possible to secretly distribute cash to individuals.161 While the report noted that Sweden, as always, was in financial difficulties, it was also an indirect indication of France’s interest in having Sweden as an ally—or at least ensuring that Sweden did not ally with an enemy. It was well known that not only France and Britain, but also Russia and the Dutch Republic used large sums of money to influence Swedish politics, especially in the second half of the eighteenth century.162 Sweden’s need ‘to be helped along’ or ‘taken under the arms’ was a recurring theme in the eighteenth-century debates about relations with France. Swedes themselves made much of it on the assumption that it was just as much in France’s interest as theirs that Sweden regained its former possessions and ‘help us along’, as Gustav Bonde said to the Council in 1734. In that year there were intensive negotiations between Castéja the French ambassador and representatives 72

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of the Swedish government, which meant that both the Council and the Secret Committee had the opportunity to discuss a possible new alliance and associated subsidy treaties. With French assistance Sweden could ‘spring up’ again, which was why it was important that Sweden was its main ally, not Prussia or Denmark.163 Jacob Cronstedt explained at length to the Council that year that it would be unfortunate if Sweden did not agree with France, because they would miss out on 27 barrels of gold ‘for helping it up and making it ready’. To his mind, it was preferable to accept subsidies from France over any other country that made an offer. Plus it would be strategically stupid to reject France, because they might then go to a different country, meaning one of Sweden’s enemies.164 Cronstedt’s comment shows that the Swedish side were well aware that France’s reliance on an ally in the North was not necessarily the same as being dependent on Sweden as an ally—although it seems Sweden was often the preferred partner. Thus despite the fact that Sweden was dependent on subsidies first and French subsidies second, it nevertheless was dependent on France simply because the French had other options to choose from. At the same time, it was important for the Swedes to strike a balance between being helped back to their glory days and not being forced to accede to French demands that might impinge on Sweden’s independence. The councillor Gustav Bonde wrote in a long memorandum, presented to the Council in November 1734, that a ‘free and independent nation’ such as Sweden could not possibly agree to a treaty that prevented it from entering into third-party agreements as long as the treaty with France was in force. France, after all, had wanted a treaty conditional on neither it nor Sweden entering into agreements with any other party for the duration of the treaty. To agree ‘to place themselves in such dependence for a few coins’ was out of the question for Bonde, and he had the support of several other councillors, who stressed the importance of Sweden having a ‘free hand’ and not ‘for the sake of some subsidies let their hands be so tied that no other offer beneficial to the realm could be entertained’.165 73

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In February 1735, when discussing the conditions under which Sweden could accept subsidies, Fredrik I talked about what he said had happened in 1672: ‘France then demanded, against the promised subsidies, that we would have a certain number of troops ready, but that done they then did not want to pay any subsidies until the troops had entered Brandenburg.’ What the king meant was that subsidies could come with conditions attached that one could not predict in advance. However, Arvid Horn said that they should not saddle the current French regime with what the previous one had done. More generally, the Council believed that France could not reasonably expect Sweden to abandon existing agreements with other states. But they were suspicious of what France’s intentions really were, ‘Since one can be certain that France, no more than any other power, does not make this offer from pure love of Sweden, but in the pursuit of its own interests.’166 ‘No money can match and replace Sweden’s freedom’, said the Council about a month later. France had sweetened its subsidy offer in the interim without the Swedes having to ask for it. They might possibly be able to accept, said the Council, but only if no further conditions were imposed by France. Chancellor Arvid Horn said he had been paid a visit by the French ambassador, Castéja, who felt that the Swedes were being slow in handling the case, and ­wondered why, given that it had been Sweden that had asked for the subsidies. Horn, astonished, had replied that he did not know who had requested them, but was certain that the offer had come from France. He also added that even if they were given ‘100 million, I cannot see that we would abandon our freedom and independence’, whereupon Castéja in turn wondered who had demanded that.167 The French were at pains to promise the Swedes that their strength was a shared goal. In conversation with Castéja, Secretary of State Cedercreutz had heard some of the reactions to a Swedish draft of the treaty. Castéja then gave a verbal assurance that France did not want to involve Sweden in anything untoward, ‘but to put you in a position to excel in the world, and it is up to you to profit from it, either now or in the future’.168 Carl Gyllenborg, who supported an 74

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alliance with France, argued that any dependence on France had to be weighed against dependence on any other state. Sweden, said Gyllenborg, ‘this penurious and hard-pressed realm’, could without French subsidies end up in a ‘wholly disastrous dependence’ on Russia; unlike dependence on their Russian neighbour, dependence on France and governed by a treaty could be terminated, which would be preferable.169 The instructions for Lanmary the new French ambassador in 1741 make interesting reading on the question of dependence and reciprocity. Sweden was described as being completely impoverished, preventing its government from taking part in European affairs, and that it would be dependent on the same countries that had benefited from its ruin (‘dépouille’) if it failed to safeguard the opportunities offered ‘in the course of general events’—in other words, if they did not choose to cooperate with France. The men with the greatest power on the Council supported France, Lanmary’s instructions noted, adding that the Swedish king if he were to have new powers would want to resume ‘this most ancient alliance’. In the final ana­ lysis, when circumstances were pressing, the country was poor and could do little more than support foreign powers, but at the same time the Swedes did not hide the fact that their nation was honour­ able, and thus sensitive to anything that may make it think that France wanted to take advantage.170 Lanmary’s instructions seemed to exude cautious optimism, but at the same time raised a warning finger about proceeding carefully lest he offend this touchy nation. France’s position was clear: Sweden was too weak to act on its own, too vulnerable, and thus dependent on those around it. This was reinforced by the appeals from the Swedish ambassador in Paris, who in various ways emphasized that French money was needed because Sweden’s ‘welfare and improvement so much depends’ on it, or that ‘Sweden’s welfare and rescue’ was dependent on French subsidies.171 When Russia mobilized its army and fleet in 1796 and Sweden was threatened with war, it needed resources quickly to mount a defence of Finland, the eastern half of the kingdom, and the money from French subsidies was immediately dispatched to Helsinki.172 At the 75

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same time, fresh instructions for the new ambassador to Stockholm described Sweden’s economy as parlous and subsidies as a way of improving it. Sweden, it was noted, found it was important to be associated with a strong France, strengthening the order ‘which nature has established’ between the two countries. Yet there was another side to this dependence. For France, the political situation in Europe, alongside Sweden’s need for financial support, meant that Sweden met the French revolutionary government’s need for allies.173

The mechanics of subsidies Besides gauging the proportion of government or war costs covered by subsidies, or how the Council described the country’s dependence, one further way of assessing Sweden’s and France’s dependence is to consider the extent to which France controlled Swedish decisions using the funds it delivered, and how the management of subsidies was monitored and reviewed. A review of how the subsidies were used, based on accounts for a total of eighteen years in the seventeenth century and a total of ten years in the eighteenth century, shows that in the years in question in the seventeenth century, 85.1 per cent of the subsidies were spent on what can be said in broad terms to have been military or indirect military purposes; 11.5 per cent on diplomacy, 2.3 per cent on the royal court and 0.8 per cent on civilian administration, such as wages for the Council and senior officials, as well as the costs of the Chancery, the Reduction Board, the law courts, and years of grace;174 in the eighteenth century, meanwhile, 83.9 per cent of the subsidies were spent on military or indirect military purposes, 7.4 per cent on diplomacy, 4 per cent on the royal court, and 4.8 per cent on miscellaneous expenses, especially foreign loans.175 Overall, based on these sources, 84.5 per cent of the funds were used for military or indirect military purposes and 9.5 per cent for diplomacy, 3.2 per cent for the royal court, and 2.8 per cent for other administration or other expenses. At the same time, the subsidy treaties stipulated that the money had to be used for specific military purposes. 76

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There are a number of drawbacks to this picture. First, it only builds on one-third of the years in which Sweden was paid sub­ sidies. This has been dictated by the source materials, and the years in which it is possible to distinguish between the various categories of expenditure that tally with the stated goals in the subsidy treaties. Another objection is that averages of this kind conceal the fact that the variations between the different years can be large: at its lowest only 56 per cent (1765) were used for military or indirect military purposes and at most 97.5 per cent (1715–17). Expenditure on diplomacy varied from at least 0.5 per cent in the 1790s to 26 per cent in 1659. Similarly, the use of subsidies for the royal court varied from zero in several years to as much as 15.6 per cent in the 1720s. Third, the very large category which for the sake of simplicity I have termed military or indirect military spending hides a large number of expenses that were not included in the Franco-Swedish subsidy treaties. It includes, for example, the cost of building grain stores and the purchase of grain for the army; shipbuilding and the reconstruction and repair of fortifications; the regiments in Sweden, despite the fact that the treaties only envisaged military missions in Germany; and the navy, despite only the army and cavalry being mentioned in the treaties. Difficulties apart, there are still two conclusions to be drawn. One is that a significant proportion of the French subsidies paid to Sweden in the years when the source material permits an analysis was spent on Swedish diplomacy, the royal court, and other expenses unrelated to the subsidy treaties. The second is that of the remaining 85 per cent or so, most costs were not mentioned in the subsidy treaties.176 Thus, the question is the extent to which the use of subsidies related to what was agreed in the subsidy treaties, and thus how far the Swedes were free to allocate funds at their own discretion. A review of three occasions when a comparison of the subsidy treaty texts and the financial accounts is possible shows that there was a difference between what the treaties said Sweden should use the money for and what it was actually spent on. The periods in question were 1632, 1675–77, and 1727–29, and they show that the 77

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discrepancy between intent and use was greater in the 1670s and 1720s than in 1632. In the 1670s and 1720s, 15–20 per cent of the funds were used for non-military purposes, but as we have seen, a significant proportion of the money used for military purposes was spent in ways not specified in the treaties. One could argue that this was only an artefact of the bookkeeping methods, and that other money was used to cover the difference; however, this is unlikely because the Swedish government in the periods when the difference was greatest also differentiated between the subsidies and other government accounts. On the other hand, there were occasional examples of subsidies being used to meet temporary financial needs. One such occasion was 1672, when it transpired that some of the subsidies were used to pay for the royal household. The then Chancellor, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, protested, saying that there were troop musters that had to be prioritized. No one contradicted him, and it was decided that the royal household would instead be funded with the tax on copper production. On the other hand, there was a lengthy discussion about whether the subsidies should be used primarily for new troop musters or to pay for existing troops. This and similar examples show just how much the Swedish government was living a hand-to-mouth existence, with no reserves to speak of to cover unforeseen expenses. Other possible explanations of why they used funds in this way were that the Swedish negotiators were skilled in extracting more money than was actually needed, or that the French either were cheated, or knew it but were prepared to look the other way. There is no real evidence that the Swedes exaggerated their needs; if anything, the problem seems to have been that the subsidies were often woefully insufficient for their intended purposes. At one point, however, there were protests in the Council against the idea of trying to obtain more funds than the treaties specified. On 18 May 1757, they discussed the sum to ask for once a new treaty was in place that would cover Swedish soldiers destined for Pomerania. According to the estimates the Council had seen, it would be possible to pay 24,000 men if they had 24 barrels of gold per annum, which meant they would need 78

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4 million livres (c.1.33 million rdr) in the first year and then 3 million per annum for as long as the soldiers remained in Germany. Councillors Löwenhielm, Stromberg, and Ruth said it would be better to ask for 5 million for the first year and then 4 million thereafter, their reasons being the almost complete failure of the harvest and a lousy exchange rate. The economy was already in a disastrous state, and without a significant boost the Estates would have to be summoned to increase taxation, and an extraordinary Diet of that kind was an inconvenience for its members and an un­necessary expense. Other councillors protested at this, saying it would be indecent to ask for more than one had reckoned on to cover the actual costs. There was not only the moral aspect, though. The danger with requesting too much was that they could lose the entire subsidy. If it became too expensive for France to employ Sweden, it would become worth France’s while to recruit and equip its own army.177 The Council had already debated this in 1734 when formulating its demands for an alliance. The Chancery had suggested that Sweden claim it needed an army of 50,000 soldiers in Poland in order to expel Russia and Saxony, but several councillors countered that it was an unreasonable suggestion which the French would never agree to, because Charles XII had managed to drive off the same enemies with fewer than 30,000 soldiers. When someone then mentioned the Battle of Narva to argue that they could not in fairness claim they needed so many soldiers, King Frederick objected on the grounds that Narva had been a miracle, plus the Russian army of 1734 was a very different proposition to what it had been in 1700. The Council decided the Chancery’s proposal was best, and it asked for a main army of 50,000, of which Sweden would contribute 10,000.178 The example shows that the Council carefully considered what was reasonable to ask from France, and calculated what Sweden really needed to live up to the agreement. The fact remained, though, that while Swedish politicians argued that the country was dependent on subsidies, and while Sweden’s image in France—and elsewhere in Europe—was that of a country that welcomed subsidies, once they had arrived they had a fairly free 79

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hand. It seems reasonable to conclude that Sweden’s independence relative to France was respected, or at least tolerated, by its subsidizer. The French did occasionally attempt to check how the Swedes had used the money, but it seems that the Swedes generally managed to deflect them. In 1726, when the Council discussed whether to accept subsidies from France, a salutary warning from the 1670s was mentioned.179 France had asked how its subsidies had been used, but in vain. On the other hand, a meeting of the Council in 1680 had been told that Jean-Baptiste Colbert—who was responsible for France’s finances—had said that before any new subsidies were paid an envoy should be sent to Stockholm to investigate how they were spent, although this never happened because there was no new subsidy treaty until 1715.180 Also some time before, when France refused to ratify the Treaty of Fontainebleau in 1662, its ambassador Hugues de Terlon was instructed that if necessary he was to tell the Swedes that the reason was that the Swedish government had misused its subsidies. It was apparent from the context that this was in fact a pretext. The real reason why France did not want to ratify the treaty was the changed situation in Poland, which meant it had less use for Sweden as an ally.181 Although France obviously had an interest in monitoring how its subsidies were used, it had its reasons for failing to do so. One was that the Swedes strenuously opposed it. In January 1665, when the Council was discussing subsidies, the Chancellor, De La Gardie, said that Sweden should accept 300,000 rdr as long as it was without conditions. Conditional subsidies would be unacceptable in their current situation, because they had to defend the Crown’s ‘respect and honour, which the French held so cheap’.182 There is another glimpse of Swedish attitudes towards the handling of subsidies when Sten Bielke told the Council in February 1672 that it might not be necessary to keep 6,000 soldiers in Bremen, even though that was the number specified in the treaty, because it would be almost impossible for the French to double-check.183 Obviously, in Sweden’s ruling circles such treaties were not considered absolute and binding. Sweden never lived up to the treaties agreed in the 1670s, yet despite 80

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that in 1680 they considered demanding that France pay all subsidies in full. Their reasoning was that Bremen had suffered greatly in the war.184 It was decided to approach France with a cautious proposal to obtain the subsidies, but in the end the French refused. At a meeting in Paris in 1682, the Swedish ambassador was told that, given the size of Sweden’s debt to the French king for all it had done and the recent peace, it was strange that Sweden had decided to act against French interests.185 The use of subsidies for non-agreed, non-military purposes was rarely discussed, and it is quite remarkable that the violation of the 1672 treaty was never raised in the Council. Their failure to live up to a treaty and their decision to spend the money on anything but the intended purposes was not something they felt the need to discuss. France continued to try to supervise its subsidy payments, without success. In 1734, the Swedish ambassador to Paris, Niklas Peter von Gedda, reported that Cardinal Fleury had said that the treaty they were negotiating would have to be very specific as to the uses of the money. This prompted the Swedish Chancellor, Arvid Horn, to protest. It was quite simply none of their business.186 In a conver­sa­ tion with the French ambassador to Stockholm, Horn said that the subsidies would only be used as they had agreed, and that his word should suffice. Similar expressions of France’s interest in monitoring its money were made in a report in 1746, in which ambassador Lanmary proposed a more restrictive policy with greater financial controls. It was repeated in 1774 in the instructions for the new French ambassador to Stockholm.187 When it came to financial compliance, the representatives of the Swedish Crown behaved in the same way as German princes. Tryntje Helfferich has pointed out that as soon as France tried to control subsidy use, there was an outraged response from the recipients designed to defend the prince’s honour.188 France was clearly not entirely happy with the way its money was being spent. Nevertheless, in the periods 1675–77 and 1727–29 the Swedish government was able to get away with using subsidies on very different projects to those agreed. Whether this was the result 81

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of France paying more than was actually needed so that Sweden could live up to its undertakings—consciously or not—cannot be determined. France’s tolerance of the Swedish government’s somewhat haphazard use of the subsidies can be partly explained by its interest in building up the Swedish government, as its diplomatic correspondence shows. France wanted a Scandinavian ally who would play an assertive role in the Holy Roman Empire and in the eighteenth century would act as a buffer against Russia. As long as Sweden was improving its defences by modernizing its fortifications, especially in the Finnish part of the kingdom, or by building a fleet, it was in France’s interest.189 The Swedish Council reacted in much the same fashion.190 Another factor that may explain France’s attitude was Sweden’s nervousness at appearing dependent in France. Swedish governments were quick to defend their country’s independence and honour, and this forced France to tread carefully in order to retain its Swedish ally.191

Great power and great freedom? In Swedish historiography, the period studied here falls into two standard chronologies. The first is the Swedish Empire and refers to the period between 1611 and 1718; the other is the Age of ­Liberty which extends from 1718 to 1772. The first period is described as a time when Sweden played a prominent role in Europe while expanding overseas, while the other was the period when Swedes were free from oppression at the hands of an absolute monarch. It is ironic that in order for Sweden to have an empire it was wholly dependent on other countries—and especially France—for economic, military, and political support, and that the period known as the Age of Liberty was a time when foreign powers intervened in Sweden’s domestic politics on a scale rarely seen before or since. Instead of being an independent empire or a free nation, Sweden was closely interlinked with other European states in a reciprocal dependence that was also abidingly asymmetric. ‘The idea that Sweden fought in Germany to a substantial degree on French money and was, in that sense, France’s 82

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mercenary, is perfectly correct,’ writes Boris Porshnev about Sweden’s participation in the Thirty Years War, while Robert I. Frost talks of Sweden in the 1670s as ‘a French marionette, barely able to defend its own territory and in possession of much of its empire after 1679 only by the grace of Louis XIV’.192 Jean Bérenger argues that Sweden in the early 1680s, after fifty years of dependence on France, had in principle ceased to pursue its own foreign policy, and had instead become a ‘mercenaire de la France en l’ Europe du Nord’.193 Hamish Scott, another leading historian, believes that Sweden in the Age of Liberty retreated to become a ‘second-rank power at best, one which was at the mercy of Russia and even Denmark, her traditional rival on the other side of the Sound.’ In comparison with Poland, Scott says that while Sweden admittedly did not collapse into chaos, it still ‘shared Poland’s fate of repeated and increasing foreign intervention in her domestic politics. This strengthened the loss of political ­independence which was to be the leading characteristic of the Age of Liberty.’194 Göran Rystad, meanwhile, has called Gustav III a French ‘protégé or even a client’, who for that reason found it hard to pursue an independent foreign policy.195 As Patrik Winton suggests, one explanation for Sweden’s dependence on the great powers in the eighteenth century was that it had little else to offer other than its army. In a comparative study of Denmark and Sweden in the eighteenth century, Winton argues that while Denmark had a relatively large fleet and army flanking the Öresund, Sweden was weaker and less strategically important. Furthermore, with its colonies and trading posts around the world, and chartered companies operating globally, Denmark had something substantial to offer the great powers which allowed it to accept financial support without having to go to war. Winton’s conclusion is that for Sweden to be interesting as an ally, it had to expose itself to greater risks, which in turn explains why Sweden, armed with French subsidies, waged two wars of aggression while Denmark remained at peace.196 The fact that for most of the period between 1631 to 1796 Sweden was dependent on subsidies to maintain its military capabilities and to be part of European high politics is evident from the financial records 83

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and the Swedish Council minutes. Thanks to France and Sweden’s coinciding geopolitical interests—in Poland and the Holy Roman Empire—and because of France’s relative economic strength, Sweden became more dependent on France than on any other subsidizer. Despite this, though, France’s hold on Sweden was balanced by the fact that theirs was a mutual dependence. The Swedish government managed to retain substantial freedoms, deciding itself how the subsidies would be spent, despite France’s sporadic attempts to exercise a modicum of control. The reason why its freedoms were not more eroded was France’s need to have Sweden as an ally in Northern Europe to serve as a buffer against Russia and to protect French interests in the Holy Roman Empire. Swedish self-esteem, or perhaps the lack of it, may also have been a factor. France was sufficiently reliant on Sweden as an ally to have to show some consideration for Sweden’s honour. In order to avoid conflicts that could potentially derail their relationship, France seems to have been willing to allow Sweden a certain latitude in handling its subsidies.

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Subsidies and honour When Axel Oxenstierna argued in November 1636 the pros and cons of prolonging a subsidy treaty with France, he was at pains to underline that ‘the alliance instils respect for us in both the soldiery and the Imperial Estates in Germany, or else we lose respect’.197 It went without saying that a subsidy would give them the resources they needed to wage a successful war, but it also commanded the respect ofthe enemy and the respect and, crucially, the loyalty of their own forces. It was also about securing Sweden’s position and status in the Holy Roman Empire—where an alliance with a great power such as France was a bonus. However, being paid by others to wage war did not always impress; it could be pointed to as evidence of something very different. In his memoirs, the Duke of Gramont (1604–78), a Marshal of France, described how in 1657 the Austrian diplomat Isaac Wolmar was angrily discussing who would succeed the late Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III (1608–57) when he burst out that the Swedes were ‘Galliae Mercenarois’—French mercenaries. Unsurprisingly, this enraged the Swedish delegation, and the Swedish envoy at the negotiations Mattias Björnklou was incensed.198 As both examples indicate, accepting subsidies could be a double-­ edged sword. Tryntje Helfferich has found that French subsidies paid to smaller German states were assumed to gauge the value that France put on each. Equally, subsidies added to the anxiety that France would exploit its superior position vis-à-vis smaller states, taking sovereign rulers of independent countries and reducing them to the level of mere military leaders in the service of the French king.199 To 85

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French minds it was somewhat disreputable, if not humiliating, to have to accept subsidies, as Anuschka Tischer has shown.200 A slight to one’s honour was no small matter and often ended in violence. For individuals it was closely bound up with notions of manliness, male independence, and mastery of one’s own household.201 Because princely honour and national honour were as good as synonymous, any insult to the national honour or to the country’s representatives was also taken as an insult to the prince’s honour. For Sweden this was a dilemma. When it used subsidy alliances to seek glory or to reclaim lost prestige, it laid itself open to accusations that it was taking the king’s shilling—from the king of another country. It was the stuff of Swedish politicians’ nightmares that their king and the Swedish people would be derided as the hired help of another power; a gross insult. Dependence on foreign cash, usually French, was a sensitive issue, and the exact description of the relationship between subsidizer and subsidized was crucial. The extent to which Sweden succeeded in preserving its national honour was determined by the views of the Swedish political elite, of France, and not least of all the countries outside the Franco-Swedish relationship. As previously mentioned, the relationship engendered by subsidies could be key to a country’s reputation, both because an alliance with a greater power in Europe was in itself prestigious, but also because the money could help a princely dynasty rise through the rigid hierarchy of power relations between European states.202 This hierarchy was particularly visible in diplomacy. Diplomacy in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was not international relations between states, but between princes or people with princely status. There was n ­ othing in the least abstract about it as an international system, it was no more and no less than ‘a society of princes’. This meant that the social status of the people involved was decisive to the relationship, as was evident from the often very intricate and sensitive ceremonies of the day. It was an especially delicate issue for up-and-coming princely dynasties, or indeed those on the way out.203 The literature offers plenty of examples of the importance of ceremony and the spats it caused—most of them ridiculous to modern eyes.204 86

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Ceremonies, however, did not only exist to reflect power; they could also create and shape power relations, as can be seen in the way Swedish diplomats had to be extremely careful in how they expressed requests for subsidies or alterations to treaties, so as not to openly acknowledge Sweden’s subordination to France. In a letter to Oxenstierna from Hamburg in September 1640, Johan Adler Salvius touched on the dilemma. In negotiations with France’s representative, Claude D’Avaux, Salvius had pushed to get increased subsidies. He wrote, ‘As for the raising of the subsidies, I have thus far taken the line that for honour’s sake I must hold back so I do not prostitute the reputation of the realm by too much import­uning’. As the representative of the Swedish Empire, there were limits to what Salvius could do to demand increased subsidies without presenting Sweden in a bad light and compromising its honour by showing too great an interest in money. When Salvius had to meet d’Avaux again, he would pursue the question of an increase with ‘as much honour as may be’. If it came to a choice, Salvius thought it better to accept what was possible rather than break with France completely.205 The need for cash to pay Sweden’s troops in Germany was too great, which Salvius in Hamburg was only too well aware of. In 1715 Erik Sparre, who was negotiating in Paris, found himself in a similarly awkward situation. Sweden frantically needed money and the French king was ill, but Sparre wrote that he had attempted to speak with Louis XIV no fewer than six times, but without, as he said with emphasis, ‘taking any step that might impinge on the dignity of the office of which I was possessed’;206 he was alluding to the fact that according to protocol, as the Swedish king’s envoy, he was considered his king’s proxy, and everything he did that might possibly harm his own prestige would have a direct effect on Charles XII himself.207 The French for their part were well aware that the Swedes were alert to the smallest insult. In a history of the two countries’ alliance between 1569 and 1680, written in 1716, much was made of the fact that during the negotiations for the Treaty of Bärwalde in 1631 Gustav II Adolf refused to accept the French king being mentioned first in the two copies of the treaty. Both kings had 87

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received their crowns from God and therefore were equal in rank, and negotiations were thus interrupted a couple of times before a solution to the quandary was found.208 Plainly, the Swedes were easily offended by any suggestion that others thought Sweden was dependent on France, or that the French took Sweden to be the weaker party in their frequent alliances. The Chancellor, Axel Oxenstierna, was in Germany for the negotiations of the Treaty of Bärwalde. Doubtless Sweden’s most prominent politi­ cian beside Gustav II Adolf, Oxenstierna was also governor-general of Sweden’s provinces in Germany, and was absent from Sweden for almost a decade from 1626 to 1636, busy communicating with the king and other leading politicians all the while. In the spring and summer of 1630, when Swedish troops were about to be shipped to Germany, he repeatedly expressed his doubts as to the wisdom of allying with France in return for subsidies. France wanted to drag Sweden into the German war without risk to itself, he wrote to Gustav II Adolf in early April 1630. He suggested that they wait and see, certain that what the French were offering was too little.209 In later letters, Oxenstierna admitted that they needed cash, and yes it could be obtained from Britain or France, ‘But to sell his Royal Highness the King’s and the Swedish Crown’s high honour and fair name in honour and dignity with other kings in the world (as I understand Charnacé has intended), and not such judicia patientere of others, but acto proprio et propria confessione ad perpetuam sui ignominiam praeiudicere themselves and agnoscere een superiorem the sum of the money owed, is distasteful that his Royal Highness the King should have to stoop to ask.’210 Both the king’s and the country’s honour were at stake. The French ambassador to Stockholm, Hugues Terlon, managed to rile the Swedish Council several times in the early 1660s by using turns of phrase that the Swedes considered ‘ill-considered’.211 France’s behaviour over the Treaty of Fontainebleau was beginning to be seen as a betrayal and the Swedes were finding that difficult to swallow, as Terlon realized only too well. ‘There is nothing embarrasses them more than being reduced to a subsidy of 100,000 écus like the least of 88

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princes in Germany’, he wrote to Louis XIV on 4 November 1662.212 The Swedes, meanwhile, were indignant at what had occurred as ‘unheard between friends, much less between Sweden and France, which for so many years so closely allied to the amazement of other countries’.213 The Swedes directed their anger at Terlon, but to all appearances his behaviour was an accurate reflection of France’s attitude towards the countries that accepted its subsidies.214 It was one thing for T ­ erlon to be undiplomatic at times, quite another that what he relayed from his superior in Paris was not always well received in Sweden. In early 1665, Terlon made it known that his king was willing to renew the subsidies, but the Swedes found the sum beneath them, verging on the offensive. It was on a par with what Brandenburg was then being paid by Spain, and what the small German principality of Anhalt had been paid at an earlier point. He was fairly certain, said the Chancellor at a meeting of the Council, that Denmark was being paid a far larger amount ‘sous main’, secretly. With such a risible amount offered, it showed how little respect France had for Sweden’s honour.215 Two years later, when Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie told the Council about a conversation he had had with the French ambassador, Pomponne, he said he had stressed that the French subsidies under discussion must be ‘commensurate with the dignity of the realm and the thing itself ’.216 Sten Bielke said he hoped that France’s intentions were good, but equally that the French always wanted to belittle Sweden.217 Similar arguments were made by Johan Gyllenstierna in a rider to a Council vote. France ‘would seem to wish to use us to its own best advantage and caprice’, adding ‘Nor is it to the dignity of Regis et Regni Sueciae to so announce to the world our necessity and poverty, that a whole Crown of such greatness, repute, and grandiloquence as Sweden’s should not be able to maintain such a small army as this is, or so provide for itself without seeking help from foreign potentates for the preservation and safety of the realm.’218 During 1734 and much of 1735 there were intensive negotiations between France and Sweden for a new subsidy treaty. The French 89

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delegation in Stockholm was held by Ambassador Castéja as the representative of Louis XV and Cardinal Fleury. The Swedes were led by the Chancellor, Count Arvid Horn, who had a long career in politics and the military behind him. The country’s leading politician from 1720 to 1738, it is often said he played a key role in Sweden’s relatively speedy recovery from the Great Northern War, and his strategy was to strengthen the new Swedish constitution and maintain peace. The reason France approached Sweden in 1734 about an alliance was the Polish War of Succession, which had erupted a year earlier. Back in 1704 Stanisław Leszczyński (1677–1766) had been elected to the Polish throne as Swedish puppet, thanks in part to Arvid Horn’s efforts at the negotiating table. After Sweden’s disasters in the war against Russia he was deposed in 1709. Come 1733 the situation was such that Stanisław was able to stage a return following the death of King Augustus II. France had its political reasons for wanting to control Poland, but it was just as much a matter of honour. Leszczyński was the father of Louis XV’s wife, Queen Marie, and it would be a substantial boost to the prestige of both her and the Bourbon dynasty were he able to regain his throne.219 For Sweden, the fate of Poland had been a concern since the sixteenth century, and when it came to Stanisław Leszczyński it was a matter of honour to offer support. France therefore suggested that Sweden and France together send troops to Poland. Arvid Horn did not dismiss the idea of intervention out of hand, but after some nudging from the British government decided not to rush into a decision and recalled the Diet in 1734. To Horn’s astonishment, the Diet welcomed a treaty with France. The Secret Committee noted at a meeting on 5 August 1734 that the eyes of the world were on Sweden, wondering what steps it would take in Europe in general and Poland in particular. ‘The belief is that Sweden’s honour demands it be kindly disposed towards King Stanisław’s person’, and that Sweden should intervene on his behalf, they noted. Another example of how the notion of honour was used in negotiations was when Gustav Bonde reported on a conversation with French ambassador, Castéja. According to Bonde, Castéja said it 90

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would be to Sweden’s honour—and its own interest—to support King Stanisław Leszczyński and to ensure that no pro-Russian candidate came to the Polish throne. Furthermore, it was in Sweden’s interest not to lose Danzig, so it should send 4,000 men who would be paid for by France, including transport there and back, with a one-off payment. Should Sweden be attacked, on the other hand, the proffered French subsidy would come into force, along with the support of French ships.220 It was not only the French ambassador who believed that Swedish honour demanded that it intervene in Poland. At a Council meeting in 1734, Carl Gustaf Tessin read out the minutes of the Secret Committee about the precarious situation in Poland and the bloodshed required to change it. France was plainly eager for Sweden to join it, and the Secret Committee’s remarks concluded that Sweden’s honour demanded that Stanisław Leszczyński, first placed on the throne by the Swedish king—meaning Charles XII—now be supported in his hour of need. In order to get Stanisław Leszczyński elected King of Poland, the Secret Committee advised that the moribund negotiations with France be reopened, so that the world did not get the idea that Sweden was abandoning Stanisław Leszczyński, but rather that the fault lay with France’s ‘cold and weak ministére’.221 This was in Sweden’s best interest because a successful outcome to such a venture would bind France to Sweden, while Poland would be wrenched from Russia’s hands.222 For the Francophiles, the argument that a successful cooperation could weaken Russia fuelled their dreams of retaking Sweden’s lost territories. France was offering good terms, but, as has been seen, the stumbling block was that it demanded that during the life of the treaty Sweden desist from all other treaties if not approved by France. Nevertheless, the treaty was ratified in Sweden and sent to Paris for the French king’s ratification. There, events overtook it. The reason was that Arvid Horn and the Council had just accepted a proposal from Russia that the old pact between them agreed in 1724 should be renewed. This was Horn’s way of demonstrating Sweden’s independence from France while establishing better relations with Russia, but the result was that the treaty with France never came into force. 91

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There do not seem to have been any absolutes in what was honour­ able for a country, or even in matters of one’s personal honour. That there was scope for a measure of pragmatism was demonstrated by Carl Gyllenborg’s comments to the Council on 14 April 1735. ­Gyllenborg, a councillor and Chancellor, wrote in his statement that if Sweden rejected French subsidies it find ‘its reputation depended on its mightiest neighbour’, Russia. For this reason, he argued that it would probably be regarded as honourable for a kingdom to accept money if it was in the spirit of reciprocity and friendship: ‘All forced submission and dependence is shameful and insufferable for a kingdom, and moreover no loyal patriot or true subject could put his hand to it’, but, he continued, ‘I have a simple belief that to make small accommodations to each other when it is reciprocal, with friendly offers and to one’s own considerable advantage, in no way detracts from a kingdom’s honour and reputation’. Who knew, wrote Gyllenborg, if an overly ‘scrupulous insistence on having a free hand’ might not lead France to believe that Sweden had a hidden agenda, and withdraw its offer—an offer that Sweden itself had asked for, he noted. If France were to retract its offer, it would give Sweden’s ‘neighbour carte blanche to play what game it wished with us’. Gyllenborg’s pragmatic stance on the question of honour should be read in the light of his view that Sweden was on ‘the brink of its final downfall’.223 The treaty agreed between Sweden and France in 1735, but never ratified by the French, had repercussions long afterwards in which the question of honour would be a factor. Gustav Bonde was one of the loudest objectors to the formulation of the treaty, but he was not alone. Bonde and the faction in the Council he belonged to in 1735 would later be condemned for the failure to ratify the treaty and so push through the subsidy treaty with France. The criticism stemmed from the Council decision in 1735 to renew the defensive alliance with Russia, which left it open to France to refuse to ratify the subsidy treaty. The Council’s choice to side with Russia explicitly endangered its friendship with France, and not just the promised 27 barrels of gold in subsidies. Their critics also believed that the 92

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defensive alliance was at complete odds with the principle that Sweden should recover the territory it had lost to Russia.224 There was strong sentiment in favour of regaining a stronger position in Europe with others’ help. Leading politicians long held the view that with foreign aid it was realistic for Sweden to retake at least some of its old territories from its days as a great power. The Council’s discussions give an insight into their reasoning and what they thought possible, but also the problems as they saw them. One chance at its old lands—and glory—was to attack Russia. That was the view of the men on the Council who advocated a revanchist foreign policy. This would later come back to bite the councillors who were thought to have fumbled Sweden’s chances at a good deal with France in 1735. When the Council was held to account in 1738, they answered as one that they were under the impression that the Estates of the Realm (the four chambers of the Diet) in the previous session had no objections to defensive alliance with Russia, claiming that in order to attack Russia Sweden would have had to be safe from Denmark, and would have needed subsidies and naval assistance (without saying who from). In addition, they believed that the Ottoman Empire was not necessarily the distraction Sweden needed to carry through a successful attack on Russia. They also thought France’s own interests an obstacle to it providing the support Sweden would have needed, and French subsidies as they were would not have been sufficient to finance an attack on Russia.225 As for those 27 barrels of gold France would have paid, the Council said that France had not been given cause to withhold them or indeed to refuse to ratify the agreement. And since now, in 1738, a subsidy treaty had been ratified, they said they had been proved correct. As for Stanisław Leszczyński, they said nothing could have been done to save him once France had withdrawn from Poland, leaving Danzig to fall to Russia in the early summer of 1734.226 The Council, under fire from the Diet, was also pressed to explain its views on friendship with France. The Council replied that in 1735 it could not bring itself to rely on France, the country which in 1717 had agreed with Russia to recognize all Russia’s territorial 93

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gains made at Sweden’s expense, which in 1721 had demonstrably sought friendship with Russia, which in 1734 had tried to renew the 1717 treaty, and to top it all in 1735 had suspended its treaty with Sweden. If nothing else, it showed that Sweden had to be careful in its dealings with France. France had given every appearance of supporting Stanisław Leszczyński, paving the way for Sweden to retake its old territories, but it proved to be a false hope because the French king abandoned his own father-in-law. The Council went on that it had always been their standpoint to avoid anyone, whoever they might be, who wanted to use their riches to ‘hold Sweden in insufferable dependence’. When assessing which powers could help Sweden recover ‘lost lands’, the Council said in a clear reference to France that it could not trust in those who offered an ‘insufficient sum of money’. Only the maritime powers had the capability to assist with both money and ships. It was pointless to look for support from those who lacked both inclination and ability. True, the Council said, there was none better placed than France to aid Sweden in retaking its lost territories. It could if it wanted not only help with ‘money, but also watch our backs’, but, as the Council admitted, ‘there is a great distinction between could and would’. And with the peace that France had just agreed with Russia, likely naught would come of it for Sweden. And for ‘mere friendship’ they would not do anything so costly.227 There were further reasons to distrust their old ally, continued the Council. It noted a letter of 7 June 1736, in which French ambassador Castéja supposedly claimed that the subsidies France paid to Sweden were ‘gratis, by grace and favour, or alms’. In so doing he neglected to show the respect and ‘regard’ he should have shown Sweden’s king. The Constitution set down that no insult to the king could be disregarded, and the Council said there were numerous examples from other countries where ambassadors who said something similar were banished from court or given twenty-four hours to leave the country. Referring to the Dutch diplomat Abraham de Wicquefort—most probably his book about the duties of an ambassador228—the Council said that it was a calculated insult for a prince 94

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to select an envoy who is ‘desagréable’ to his host. Friendship can never be maintained between two courts under those circumstances, the Council explained. The king’s honour was something the Council had to cherish, because by that the Crown itself was honoured and respected. It was Council’s duty to keep the friends and aiders who had shared interests with His Majesty and Sweden, and who had proved themselves to have his best interests at heart.229 To imply that subsidies were gifts, as Castéja had done, was a thorny issue—and an affront. The same response to the question of gifts versus sub­ sidies was also evident in the reaction of the Swedish envoy in Paris in 1720, Erik Sparre, to France’s offer of ‘some honest means’ to the Swedish Crown. Sparre had answered politely but evasively, since his king’s dignity dictated it ‘were not fitting to accept it under the name of gift or generosité’.230 In the early 1740s, Sweden hoped to renew the subsidy treaties with France. In the Council, Samuel Åkerhielm (1684–1768) expressed his concern that France might be drawn into the war between Britain and Spain, which would hamper Sweden’s ability to obtain further subsidies.231 Subsidies were needed to pay the troops in Finland, but Baron Sparre reminded his fellow councillors that the Swedish ambassador to Paris, Carl Gustav Tessin, had said it was too soon to raise the question, because not all the earlier subsidies had been paid. Also, the French would wonder what they stood to gain by supporting Sweden on this particular occasion, Sparre continued. One headache for the Swedish government was that Fredrik I, as Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel, had recently agreed with Britain his principality would accept British subsidies, even though France had also made an offer. The Council were left wondering what France would say to new overtures from Sweden. If the government suggested writing a new subsidy treaty and its French counterpart rejected the idea, it would be ‘the vilest ignominy’ to the king, and ‘the realm would suffer’. Better to wait for a better opportunity, said Sparre, and avoid the embarrassment of being rebuffed. Sparre did not doubt that ‘France, given time and opportunity, would not fail to come to Sweden’s assistance’, and other councillors agreed.232 95

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It was essential the Swedes now persuade France to differentiate between Fredrik I’s various roles—that as a German landgrave it was natural to prefer British money, and that as Sweden’s king he welcomed French money. The task might not have been so very difficult at the time, but the risk was the French king’s honour had been damaged by Hesse-Kassel turning down his offer, and that would be a very real and immediate problem. Yet as the Swedes remarked, although only among themselves, now that France did not have to pay Hesse-Kassel it should have enough to pay Sweden its sub­sidies.233 The French ambassador, Saint-Sévérin, clearly caught wind of it, though, for he sent a warning to France that the Swedes were gearing up to ask about subsidies. His superior, Foreign Minister Amelot, wrote back to Saint-Sévérin that in order to control Swedish politics at the forthcoming Diet, which would be in session from March to December, France would have to disburse considerable sums. Nothing but money would give France the upper hand—‘la supériorité’, as he put it. They had to throw money at the problem.234 Just as expected, the French reacted badly to Hesse-Kassel’s de­ cision to accept the British offer of subsidies instead. Saint-Sévérin was therefore instructed to seek an audience with the Swedish king in order to communicate the French king’s surprise—in all probability the diplomatic term for rage—at the agreement. In his report on his audience with Fredrik I, Saint-Sévérin said the king had received him in his bedchamber, and he and Saint-Sévérin were alone throughout. For Fredrik I this was his chance to try to lessen the fallout from his Hesse-Kassel decision, and Saint-Sévérin said he had begun by sending his greetings to Louis XV and Cardinal Fleury, whom he hoped would remain on friendly terms, and he assured them he would do justice to their ‘good heart’. He was eager that a decision he had made as a member of the House of Hesse should not be thought a hostile act against France, and he regretted his involvement with Britain. The king had reminded Saint-Sévérin that he must know of his – Fredrik’s – efforts to conclude the alliance with France, but he had been forced to take the other side for family reasons—he declared that it should not be taken as proof of his feelings towards His Majesty the French king.235 96

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Late in the summer of 1740, Carl Gyllenborg paid a call on SaintSévérin to ask if the ambassador could advise on how best to broach the subject of new subsidies. The ambassador answered that since the subsidies had just been paid, France would want to know what the new money was needed for and how it would advance their shared interests. His advice was to wait. Gyllenborg had also asked if the ambassador would consider helping Sweden obtain the subsidies, but Saint-Sévérin had refused.236 For the Council, this meant a frustrating wait. The king continued to point out that France plainly had money available, but Council feared a ‘refus’ if they were premature in asking. It was unthinkable to ask and be refused.237 And then the situation changed. Word came from Vienna that Emperor Charles VI (1685–1740) had suddenly died aged only 55. He had devoted much of his time to securing the throne for his daughter Maria Theresa in the teeth of resistance from most of Europe, and the expectation now was that there would be unrest, leaving France in greater need of Sweden as an ally.238 Sweden’s ambassador to Paris, Carl Gustav Tessin, suggested while in discussion with Cardinal Fleury that Sweden and France could together keep Russia at bay, and that it was ‘indisputable that in these times France has need of Sweden’.239 In terms of honour, one of Tessin’s arguments to elicit subsidies is interesting. When the French hesitated, faced with difficulties in raising the cash needed for a subsidy because the harvest had been disastrous, Tessin countered that really the sum was not so very great, and above all how important it was that ‘Sweden now be placed in a position to be of future use to France’.240 There was considerable hope for a successful outcome of a Russian war, and Tessin considered it a prime opportunity to ‘curb Russian might, restore the old balance to Scandinavia, and thus place Sweden in a position hereafter, just as hitherto, to be a help and aid to its friends and allies.’241 From the negotiations, it is evident that Tessin played up the advantages to France—that Sweden, duly reinforced, could regain a standing and strength that France and its German allies could benefit from. But it also emphasized just how subordinate Sweden’s position was. Sweden, in view of the new situation in Europe, was hurrying to 97

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send reinforcements to Finland, and it was decided that 100,000 rdr of the existing subsidies should be transferred there immediately.242 Now the French tone also changed, and Sweden’s honour is once again referred to in a French document, this time arguing why Sweden should declare war on Russia in 1741—one of the reasons given was the ‘honour and independence’ of the Swedish realm, ‘and the restoration of balance to Scandinavia’243. Sweden’s honour was a constantly returning theme. Before deciding whether, in return for subsidies from France and Austria, Sweden would enter into what would later be known as the Seven Years War in 1757, its honour was discussed in detail. Sweden’s part would be to attack Prussia, and it was tempting both because the Prussian king stood alone against what seemed a formidable array of enemies, and because Sweden would finally make a start on winning back its lost lands. However, some in the Council voiced concerns about whether an attack on Prussia was really a good idea. Gustav Fredrik von Rosen pointed out that although the Prussian king was now under attack from several quarters, the well-known example of Charles XII should serve to remind them that a beleaguered king does not always know he is beaten. Should the war drag on, things would become difficult for Sweden because of the distance to Pomerania. Carl Lagerberg also feared that Britain would support Prussia, and if anything unfortunate were to befall the Swedish army, then Denmark ‘going by past example would be less secure and safe for us’. The answer given to Lagerberg and von Rosen was that in this case the question was whether Sweden would live up to the demands put on it as guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia. The question, said the pro-French Carl Fredrik Scheffer, was whether Sweden uphold its end of the bargain and ‘restore its reputation in the German Empire’.244 Carl Gyllenborg said something very similar during the negotiations when he said Sweden had to act, because its responsibility as guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia demanded it, as did ‘the dignity of the realm’.245 On 21 March 1757, the Swedish Hats government signed a convention with France and Austria. It was by virtue of this agreement 98

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that Sweden and France went to the Imperial Diet and explained that, in accordance with the Peace of Westphalia, they would uphold Germany’s freedom. Reassured by France’s promise of subsidies, the Hats government in June that year put words into action by sending 20,000 men to Germany. On 13 September the Swedish army moved into Prussian Pomerania. At the beginning of September, when the Swedish troops had arrived in Germany but had not yet engaged the enemy, France offered subsidies equivalent to 800,000 rdr for 20,000 men for the first war year, and then the equivalent of 600,000 rdr a year—unless Sweden were to increase the number to 30,000, as the French and Viennese courts hoped, whereupon the subsidy would be 800,000 rdr a year. The troops were to be used against Prussia. The Swedish Chancellor had a conversation with the French ambassador, during which he indicated that it would be a costly undertaking for Sweden, but also that Sweden had given proof of its preparedness to act. The ambassador gave a verbal promise that if Sweden displayed its willingness and put 25,000 men into the field, the subsidies would be raised to 800,000 rdr per annum. In addition, he promised that France would pay the difference in the exchange rates. The Council deliberated whether to settle for 20,000 men and 600,000 rdr a year, or to try for 25,000 men. The argument for going ahead with the French agreement was the chance to retake its lost Pomeranian possessions and establish ‘its ancient reputation in the German Empire’, not to act contrary to its own ‘gloire’. The logic appears to have been that while they would not get what they wanted, they nevertheless had to risk national security for ‘some barrels of gold’, because if they declined it would end their relationship with France altogether. ‘It is Sweden’s need that makes subsidies indispensable’, said the Council, and to refuse to accept the offer was to risk losing the friendship of the Viennese and French courts. The two royal courts that had promised to get ‘territories and possessions’ for Sweden. Thus, the Council held to the idea that one should not see the reduction in subsidies as a falling off in French amity, especially as it was known that France had serious economic problems, and in the past had paid 99

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subsidies without ‘conditions’, meaning without any expectation of a return. They decided to ‘hold the plan honourable for His Majesty and needful for the realm’. The Swedish ambassador in Paris, Ulric Scheffer, was instructed to speak with the French ministers and to underline how swiftly Sweden had acted in dispatching its troops, that this speed had come at a cost, and that Sweden had done it for the common good of Sweden and France. That should be more than enough to persuade France to consider an increase in its subsidies. The money would not only be used in Sweden’s cause, but for their joint ventures.246

Whose honour? So whose honour are we are talking about? Given the primary sources used in this study, there is not a clear picture of how widely it was known among Swedes that Swedish armies were part financed by French money in the seventeenth century. It was probably less well known than it would be in, say, the second half of the eighteenth century. There was no real debate about subsidies outside the small political and social elite that ruled Sweden. Relatively few people would have had reason to feel their honour questioned because Sweden had had to take another country’s political leadership into account. When politicians talked about Sweden’s honour or the king’s honour the feelings of the Swedish people beyond the ruling elite were presumably of very little account. The fact that Sweden’s victories in battle in the seventeenth century—and the honour and international reputation it was thought this brought—came largely as a result of French subsidies was something that few talked about, and they protested loudly when they considered themselves treated ‘like Switzers’ or on a par with a small German principality. Seven­ teenth-century French propaganda aimed at the home audience depicted France’s victories in the Thirty Years War as just that— French. Anna Maria Forssberg notes in a study of early modern propaganda in France and Sweden that the celebratory Te Deum rarely mentioned France’s allies Sweden, the Dutch Republic, or 100

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Hesse-Kassel. Neither the Swedish nor the French governments were interested in acknowledging to their own people that other countries had a hand in their nation’s honour. In the eighteenth century it became increasingly difficult for the authorities to control what was known about foreign subsidies and by whom, in Sweden at any rate. Handwritten political pamphlets were distributed in the streets of Stockholm, circulated among friends, transcribed, and sometimes spread beyond the capital.247 And they reached an exponentially larger readership after the Freedom of the Press Act was passed in 1765, for once printed they could circulate in a way never seen before, and a far larger proportion of the population had access to what could be called public debate. More voices were heard; more readers had reason and opportunity to have opinions about Sweden having accepted subsidies in the past and continuing to accept them in the present. The return to glory and reputation which eighteenth-century politicians longed for after Sweden’s crushing defeats in the reign of Charles XII was also largely associated with French support. The thought that Sweden might regain its position and high reputation on its own, without the backing of foreign allies, does not appear to have dawned on anyone in the political elite. Even so, there were plenty of Swedes who clung to the proud self-image which Jonas Nordin sums up in a quotation from a specula principum written for the future Gustav III: the crown prince should be brought up to be a model for ‘a poor but free nation’.248 Freedom here meant the Swedes should be able to choose their destiny, and its existence explained the harmonious nature of society.249 Theirs was a freedom they had used to give Charles XI absolute power, but it was also a freedom that breathed life into the constitution in the Age of Liberty. By the same logic, to limit the nation’s freedom, tie its hands, or limit its independence was an insult to Swedish pride. Peter Burke, writing about myths and propaganda associated with Louis XIV, shows how the image of the king’s and France’s prestige were intertwined, and how important it was that the image of the successful king was broadcast to Europe. Success in war, like the king’s 101

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supposed part in it, was glorified in medals, pamphlets, paintings, tapestries, publications, and plays.250 From the French point of view, Sweden, like France’s other allies, was part of the construct that was the French king’s gloire. This last, notes Raymond Aron, was absolutely central. Security and power were certainly important goals for Louis XIV, but transcending all else was the honour—gloire—that came from being admired by other princes.251 Nowhere could the prestige of the Sun King be seen more clearly than at Versailles, and in all the court ceremonial that evolved there. It would be religiously imitated too: Drottningholm Palace outside Stockholm, sometimes referred to as the Versailles of the North, was built by Dowager Queen Hedvig Eleonora, mother of the autocrat Charles XI, to the glory of her husband and in honour of her son’s military exploits. Yet just as much as Drottningholm Palace was an attempt to win repute by copying the great role model of the age, so Sweden contributed to the honour and reputation of the French King. This was Sweden’s dilemma too. Being the weaker party in an asymmetric relationship meant that it might be able to build its reputation with the help of the stronger party, but it could equally lose status simply because the relationship was so unequal. The adulation of Louis XIV in the 1670s and France’s golden reputation in Europe exemplified this particularly clearly: while the Swedes reluctantly went to war on the Continent, and then with the support of French subsidies, only to suffer the inglorious defeat that was the Battle of Fehrbellin in 1675, Charles Le Brun lauded Louis XIV in his masterpiece the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles in a wholly unprecedented fashion. It was not only the dimensions of the room which were outstanding, but also the way in which the king of France and his gloire were projected, all condensed into a statement of the lofty position of the Sun King in history and in Europe.252 The notion of honour was referred to frequently in discussions about subsidies. Among pro-French Swedish politicians, it was used in positive terms as one reason why subsidy treaties and alliances with France would help restore Sweden’s reputation in the Holy Roman Empire. In a similar vein, they could also argue that Sweden’s 102

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reputation only benefited when it took on the role of guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia. Honour was thus used to justify Swedish intervention in support of Stanisław Leszczyński: it was Sweden’s honour that demanded that the king be restored to the Polish throne—and with French help. By this reasoning, subsidies could logically only enhance Sweden’s reputation and honour, as France’s representatives mentioned during their subsidy negotiations. As we have seen, though, there were frictions in how an asymmetric relationship of this type was handled by the two parties. French expressions of superiority or Swedish dependence were taken very badly and could derail everything, which the French seem to have been aware of and tried to avoid. Ambassador Terlon, a man especially provoking to the Swedes, had detailed instructions from Paris to be careful not to give offence. It was this Swedish touchiness which was key to France’s attitude, and at times its indulgence towards Sweden.

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French objectives and interests France has now wisely found out that a little money well applied in peace may save millions in war and what is worst of all for us enable her to continue the peace or begin a new war with almost a certainty of success whenever her interest or ambition shall incline her to it. France may thus reduce Britain to a state of dependency or even by another Jacobite rising overturn the constitution. … If they go on in buying up all the powers upon the Continent when they have bought those which are to be sold they will get the others from fear.253

This was the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State for the Northern Department, writing privately to the Earl of Hardwicke, the Chancellor, in the summer of 1749. Sweden was not mentioned by name in the letter, but was one of the group subsidized by France that Newcastle referred to. What Newcastle wanted to warn about was that France’s peacetime use of subsidies threatened Britain’s ability to act on the Continent, and would end in complete French domin­ ation. And this was France’s goal; Newcastle was convinced of it. The fact that France wanted to see itself as the greatest power in Europe went almost without saying, but the question remains what role it saw for Sweden. ‘One may even say with the wisdom of hindsight that Sweden’s full forces cannot be deployed in a manner useful to the allies of this Crown’254—the words of the Duke of Choiseul in 1766, when he was pondering how best to strengthen Sweden to make it useful to France. The question was what Sweden was good 105

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for? Why did France pay Sweden for so many years for such an extended period? For it bears repeating that the number of years in which France paid subsidies could have been far greater, if only Sweden had been amenable. And there were of course years when Sweden wanted subsidies, but it was France’s turn to say no. This chapter deals with Sweden’s significance in the geopolitical context in which France operated in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, although with the caveat that one should not focus solely on Sweden, as it was only one of many countries that France interacted with in order to achieve its ends. The place to begin is with the various ways in which the French state tried to control its world.

Vote-rigging Expansion through violent conquest was just one way in which France could destabilize any neighbours it considered a threat. In the two centuries to 1800, France followed an activist policy in Europe not only by waging war and occupying territories, which it then incorporated into the French kingdom, but also by other means. It tried and sometimes managed to influence royal, imperial, and papal elections by supporting its chosen candidates with money to buy votes; it tried to bring its allies together with carefully arranged marriages and by exploiting dynastic relations; it paid to determine the religion of countries and princes; it paid leading individuals in other countries to bring them round to pro-French policies; and it was generous in its support of rebellions in other countries, o ­ p­position groups, and allied princes in exile. In terms of royal elections, Poland provided frequent opportunities for foreign powers to try their hand at controlling this vast kingdom on the Baltic. France had been interested in Polish politics ever since 1573, when Prince Henry of France was elected Poland’s king.255 It was a brief reign because his older brother King Charles IX unexpectedly died in 1575, leaving the French throne to Henry, who immediately made for home as King Henry III. Despite its briefness, this excursion into Polish politics in the 1570s was the starting 106

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point for an enduring French dynastic interest in Poland, which led to repeated interventions to buy votes for its chosen candidates in a series of royal elections. There were pro-French candidates to be backed in the elections of 1668, 1674, 1697, and 1733. In the 1660s and 1730s, France also tried to rally military support, looking to Sweden in particular to ensure that the right person came to the Polish throne. It met with little success, although in 1674, 1697, and 1733 the French candidate did at least win. On the last occasion, when the choice was Stanisław Leszczyński, the results were called into question and Stanisław was forced into exile in 1736 in the War of the Polish Succession. The election of a Holy Roman Emperor was also of great interest to France, and when Charles Albrecht of Bavaria (1697–1745), with the backing of France and Spain, was elected in 1742 it was a great if short-lived triumph— short-lived because he died in 1745, but also because he never managed to secure the Empire. When he was elected, Marshal Belle Isle was dispatched to travel to Germany to rally support for the Francophile Emperor. With him, he had 1.8 million livres to give weight to France’s arguments. In his three-year reign, Emperor Charles received an annual contribution of 12 million livres from the French treasury, which was the single largest sum paid to any individual or state in the 1730s and 1740s.256 Despite this, his election should be considered as a failure for France. The papacy was also interesting for French foreign policy. For the papal conclave in 1740 following the death of Pope Clement XII, France pumped in not only the usual sums it paid every year to proFrench cardinals, but also 4.2 million livres extra in an undefined sum, and another 400,000 livres destined for French cardinals.257 The conclave was an example of France’s efforts backfiring, as it seems that France’s first choice, Pietro Ottoboni (1667–1740), who had been in poll position, was handicapped by the fact that he was considered too close to France. Either way, he died before the conclave ended, and France’s second-choice candidate, Pompeo Aldrovandi (1668–1752) could not muster sufficient support to be elected. Even very large amounts of money were not enough to buy an election, 107

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yet failure says as much as success, for it demonstrated the French government’s determination to influence what it considered to be its sphere of interest.

Destabilization politics The French enthusiasm for influencing imperial and royal elections and papal conclaves came from its interest in tying its allies to its apron strings while indirectly trying to weaken its enemies. It was Louis XIV who refined the techniques for destabilizing his ­enemies—hence the alliances with Sweden as well as with G ­ erman and Italian princes in order to weaken the Habsburgs in both ­Austria and Spain.258 Another way to influence the policies of other count­ ries was to support monarchs in exile. Stanisław Leszczyński of Poland was a prime example, for he received generous financial aid every year and in time was made Duke of Lorraine. In the list of payments there were also the Stuart heirs, who claimed the English and Scottish thrones well into the eighteenth century. In 1730–34, James Stuart (1688–1766) received an annual allowance, and when his son Charles Edward landed in Scotland to attempt a Stuart restoration, France in 1745–46 paid a total of 12.3 million livres for various unspecified costs in Scotland. When the attempt failed, it continued to pay pensions to both Charles Edward and his younger brother the Cardinal Duke of York for some time.259 The so-called patriots who rebelled against the Dutch Stadtholder Willem V in the 1780s, and for a time managed to drive him into exile in Britain, had initially been encouraged by France. When it turned out the rebels were actually far more radical than France had realized at first—in reality, they were full-blown revolutionaries—the French regime’s interest in supporting them faded rapidly.260 However, when the revolt collapsed, a number of leading figures including Johan Valkenaer, Pierre Alexandre Dumont-Pigalle, and Eduard Marius van Beijma were given refuge in France, where they were given financial aid by the Crown.261 With its political and financial support for pretenders and opposition parties in exile, the French 108

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state was in effect trying to create unrest and so destabilize other countries. It should also be seen as part of the continuous low-level trade war between the countries of Europe—one that did not have the economic and political consequences of full war. Although France was pragmatic in its support of Protestant ­princes—even those whose opponents were Roman Catholics—it remained in its interest to influence the religious affiliation of other princes and states. When in 1662 Duke Christian I of Mecklenburg-Schwerin (1623–1692) turned to France for help with his insurmountable financial difficulties, his visit to Paris resulted not only in an agreement for financial support, but also the duke’s conversion to Catholicism, and his new godfather Louis XIV’s name added to his own. Exactly what pressure had been brought to bear on Duke Christian Louis, what financial assistance had been conditional on certain choices, is hard to say, but suffice to say his conversion did not damage his case in the negotiations.262 At around the same time, Hugues de Terlon, who had been appointed ambassador to Copenhagen, was instructed to secretly investigate what effect if any a marriage between Denmark’s heir to the throne, Prince Christian (1646–99) and a French princess could have for the Catholic religion in Denmark. The French had heard rumours that the Danes might be interested in such a match, and Terlon was told to find out where they originated, the hope being that it would have a positive effect on Danish Catholicism, especially if the right princess were chosen who would take the chance to exert influence over her husband.263 Terlon’s conclusions are unknown, but a marriage between the houses of Oldenburg and Bourbon was not to be. The significance of conversion was plainer when Louis XIV and his British cousin Charles II agreed the Treaty of Dover in 1670. The treaty set down that French subsidies would be paid if Charles declared himself a Catholic and went to war against the Dutch Republic.264 Just as its support for the Stuart pretenders in the eighteenth century created uncertainty in the British political system, its backing of Charles II also saw France tinkering with the balance of power in the ­British political system, this time by offering the king the money and thus 109

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the scope to act in a way that Parliament prevented him from doing. And just as the subsidy treaty with Charles II demanded he make his conversion public, support for the Stuarts—if they had been restored to the throne—would have had the potential to strengthen Catholicism in Britain.

Dynastic politics Thanks to the existence of Catholic dynasties in regions of interest, France had an opportunity to enlarge its role by exploiting to the full the dynastic conditions that resulted from marital alliances between members of the House of Bourbon and other princely houses. The duchy of Savoy, a key conglomerate state on the border between the Holy Roman Empire and France, was brought into the French fold in the seventeenth century by Louis XIII’s sister, Savoy’s dowager duchess and regent (1637–48), and the pro-French dowager duchess, Marie Jeanne Baptiste of Savoy-Nemours (1675–80). However, the continuation of this dynastic policy, centred on an arranged marriage between Louis XIV’s granddaughter and Charles Emmanuel II, Duke of Savoy, took a wrong turn when Charles Emmanuel chose to side with the Holy Roman Emperor, which left France to assert its authority over Savoy by force. Louis XIV’s troops occupied Savoy in 1690–96 and again in 1703–1713.265 The small duchy of Mantua in northern Italy was another principality that caught the French kings’ interest, and resulted in support for the claims of the French-born Charles Gonzaga, Duke of Nevers, in the War of the Mantuan Succession (1628–31). The outcome was that Nevers became the new Duke of Mantua and Montferrat, and subsequent rulers remained faithful to France until the duchy was divided between Savoy and the Holy Roman Empire in the early eighteenth century. The dynastic twist to all this was that his daughter, Marie Louise Gonzaga, in 1645 married Władysław IV Waza, King of Poland. The driving force behind this marriage was Cardinal Mazarin, who was intent on reassuring himself that Poland would remain immune to Habsburg influence and favourable to 110

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France. As Poland’s queen from 1645 until her death 1667, Marie Louise would play an active—and pro-French—role in the country’s politics. France already had an interest in the Polish royal elections, as we have seen, so when in 1733 Stanisław Leszczyński, Louis XV’s father-in-law, made a second bid for the throne, there was again a clear dynastic interest on France’s part. Parma, another small Italian principality, also had dynastic ties to France. Louis XV’s son-in-law Philip, Duke of Parma, second son of Philip V of Spain and grandchild of Louis XIV, could claim the duchy by dint of his mother Elisabeth Farnese’s lineage. His claim had the political and not least financial backing of France. By his marriage to Louise of France in 1739, Philip already enjoyed some financial support, which had risen in 1740s with a sharp fivefold increase in 1749 on the grounds that the couple needed the money to settle down in their duchy of Parma. Francesco III d’Este (1698–1780), who ruled the duchy of Modena and Reggio from 1737 until his death, was another of the many Italian princes who were paid by France; in his case, he was connected to the House of Bourbon through his marriage to Princess Marie Aglaé of Orleans in 1721. The French penchant for financially troubled Italian rulers continued with the Prince of Carignano,266 who received French money for several years in the 1730s and 1740s.267 When it came to Flanders, dynastic connections again played a decisive role in France’s actions. When Spain’s King Philip IV died in 1665 and Charles II, his son by his second marriage, became king, Louis XIV announced that it was his wife Maria Theresa of Spain who was the rightful heir to the Spanish Netherlands. When they married she had renounced all claim to Spanish territory, but according to Louis this was only valid on condition that her dowry was paid on time—and it had not been. For this reason, and since inheritance law in Brabant gave the children of a first marriage precedence over the children of a second, ergo Maria Theresa was the rightful heir to the Spanish Netherlands. This was the basis of Louis’ assertion of France’s right, which he acted upon by seizing part of the Spanish Netherlands, albeit less than he had first demanded. 111

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The most far-reaching consequences of European dynastic ­politics and its resultant French aggression were of course the result of ­Louis XIV’s assertion of his sister-in-law’s right to Palatinate-Simmern in 1685, which was the pretext for the Nine Year War (1688–97), and of his grandson’s right to the throne of Charles II of Spain, which sparked the War of the Spanish Succession.

Patrons, clients, and ‘protection’ There were limits to what conquest or dynastic manoeuvrings could achieve when taking control of other territories, largely determined by distance and religion. Not even France had the resources to take countries by force if they were not near neighbours, and it did not form dynastic alliances with non-Catholic princes. Pragmatism did not stretch that far. To draw in more distant states, or those governed by Protestant dynasties, other methods were needed. Tilman Haug gives examples of how France used its ‘protection’ to bring smaller countries into line, weaving together alliance-building with patronage and protection from the German prince-electors. Haug shows that France’s relationship with Mainz and Cologne in the seventeenth century and its contacts with individuals there was the key strategy in its ambition to gain control of the two, often in competition with the Holy Roman Empire.268 Affiliation with leading figures in the two electorates gave France a degree of influence over foreign policy there.269 Anuschka Tischer argues that France’s protection policy was directed at weaker parts of the Holy Roman Empire in order to undermine the influence of the Habsburgs.270 France established similar patron–client relationships with individual Swedes and Swedish aristocratic families, which I will return to. The sheer extensiveness of this system of payments to individuals in every corner of Europe is striking, as is how long it lasted. The lists of disbursements included everything from payments to 52 people under the heading ‘Italie’ and 28 people under ‘Piedmont’ (duchesses, nobles, and cardinals) in the 1640s and to thirty-odd Russians in the 1680s, to inducements paid to individuals all over 112

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Europe in the 1730s, and secret pensions for Swedes in the 1770s.271 In the 1730s and 1740s, the costs of pensions and bribes to foreigners accounted for between 14 and 27 per cent of the secret sums paid to ­individuals, princes, and states, of which subsidies were another part.272 By using financial compensation, attractive careers prospects, and offers of strengthening people’s political position at home, it persuaded people and groups to commit to promote French interests in the countries—and questions—it wished to control.

Subsidies ‘If Sweden were to leave this war without us, there is no doubt that all the forces of the Empire, in whatever state to which they have been reduced, coming to unite against us, would completely change the face of affairs, reducing us to a defensive struggle and, perhaps, taking from us in a short time the fruits and advantages [acquired during] this long war.’273 The quote is taken from a letter by Abel Servien, Marquis de Sablé et de Boisdauphin, Comte de La Roche des Aubiers, and one of the negotiators of the Peace of Westphalia to Hugues de Lionne in February 1645. Later the same year he wrote to Lionne that France had been wholly dependent on alliance-building in order to wage war on ‘the House of Austria’.274 Both of his letters point to the obvious—that it was essential that France find allies. In order to be worthwhile allies, though, they had to show they were strong enough to assist France, something that Sweden was able to manage, with French help, during the Thirty Years War, but which later became a significant problem. France operated a consistent stabilization policy towards Sweden— stable from the French point of view, that is—designed to boost those who were close to France, and through them Sweden’s ability to play a role in European politics. France not only set out to influence the composition of the Swedish power elite, but on occasion, low be it spoken, even succeeded in doing so. One technique it used was to support Francophile aristocratic families with cash, gifts of various sorts, and offers of careers in France.275 During the Age of Liberty, 113

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another was to pump money into Sweden’s quasi-parties, the Hats and Caps—primarily the Hats—in an attempt to buy influence over the politically crucial choice of Speaker of the Diet and elections to the Secret Committee when the Diet was in session.276 It even pushed to amend the Swedish Constitution, which for France was the crux of the problem, for it detracted from Sweden’s capabilities as a strong ally in the North. Subsidies were thus only one of several ways to keep Sweden close. For Sweden, its relationship with France was certainly not the only one, but the French nevertheless held a special position in Swedish foreign policy for a great many years. True, Sweden entered into shorter alliances with such states as Britain, the Dutch Republic and Spain, and discussed a range of other possible alliances, while non-alignment was always an alternative, of course, but ultimately France retained its unusual attraction. For a great power like France, Sweden was just one of many countries to hold in a long-term relationship by the transferral of financial resources. The French sources from the seventeenth century are less detailed than they would be for the eighteenth century, but there are still insights to be had about the extent of the subsidies. In 1683 and 1684, subsidies were recorded as being paid to Denmark, Brandenburg, Cologne, Mainz, Münster, the Palatinate, Mantua, the Duke of Savoy, and the King of England.277 At the very start of the eighteenth century during the Spanish civil war, Louis XIV tried to detach Prussia from the Grand Alliance with promises of subsidies, recognition of Fredrik I’s royal title, and some minor lands, but he failed to do so.278 Between 1730 and 1773, a couple of sources indicate the sums that France paid, and to whom. For the period 1730 to 1749, the list ran from the Swedish Crown, the kings of Sardinia, Denmark, and Prussia, the Infante of Spain (Duke of Parma after 1748), Emperor Charles VII, the prince-electors of Bavaria, Cologne, and the Palatinate, the Duke of Modena, the pretenders to the British throne, the Prince of Hesse, the Prince of Carignano, the Swiss canton of Graubünden, the Polish king in exile Stanisław Leszczyński, assorted cardinals in Rome, and the 114

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Republic of Genoa to a number of anonymous German princes.279 This particular source referred to the money paid as subsidies, but at least when it came to Sweden it should probably be thought of as costs incurred influencing Swedish domestic politics, because it included years in which Sweden and France had no subsidy treaty. For example, it was well known that the French ambassador spent heavily in the early 1730s in order to win over Swedish politicians and later the entire Diet.280 Plainly, the Swedish Crown was one of the single largest beneficiaries of French largesse: the proportion of French funds destined for Sweden varied from 2.6 per cent to as much as 31 per cent of the total, with an average of 8.7 per cent over the period in question. The source that covered 1750 to 1773 divided the payments up in an apparently consistent manner between subsidies and costs for the Swedish Diet or costs for gifts for individuals. The subsidies in question went to fifteen different recipients—Sweden, Denmark, Bavaria, Austria, Zweibrücken, the Palatinate, Mecklenburg, Genoa, Nassau-Saarbrücken, Brunswick, Mainz, Cologne, Bayreuth, Württemberg, and Liège—of which Sweden, Denmark, and the Palatinate were those paid subsidies for the greatest number of years (almost the entire period, in effect), while Austria, although a recipient for a more limited period, evidently received the largest payments. Of the total subsidies paid, Austria received 44.5 per cent, Sweden 19.5 per cent, Denmark 8 per cent, and the Palatinate 6.3 per cent, while the rest accounted for a mere 0.2 to 4.2 per cent.281 The primary sources for how much of France’s national budget went on subsidies are few and far between, especially for the seven­ teenth century. The cost of its subsidies to Sweden in 1631 has been estimated to have been fully 2 per cent of the state budget, however.282 Jump forward to the period 1730–1749, by contrast, and reasonably firm calculations become possible. Taking the financial accounts of subsidy payments, which also include summaries of total government income for 1733–36, they have been set against the overview of state spending put together by James C. Riley.283 In these years, expenditure on subsidies ranged from 1.8 per cent of the French Crown’s total 115

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expenditure at its lowest in 1730 to 11.3 per cent at its greatest in 1745. The figures were low starting in 1730, but after 1733 spending on subsidies increased to between 5 and just under 10 per cent of state expenditure in the years up to 1749.284 By way of comparison, it is interesting that the subsidies paid by Britain to various European powers in 1702–1712, in the thick of the War of the Spanish Succession, amounted to 6.6 per cent of state expenditure. It then fell, only to rise sharply in the late 1730s and 1740s, reaching a peak in 1748 when subsidy payments amounted to 18.8 per cent of the state expenditure. The main recipient at that point was Austria, but there was also Hanover, Hesse-Kassel, and Sardinia on the list.285 In the same period France was paying subsidies to a number of German states, with Bavaria accepting the largest sums, and of course Sweden. In total, France paid about a third as much again, but that only amounted to 9 per cent of the French treasury’s outlay, or about half the proportion that Britain spent.286 Of course, it is not always easy to gauge whether 2, 6.6, and 9 per cent counted as a high proportion of a national budget, but it should be noted that the bulk of it was tax revenues paid by the general populace of the subsidizing nation. The peasants were by no means impoverished to a man, not even in the early modern period, but many were not far off, and were wholly dependent on the harvest, which in turn was determined by the weather. Any increase in levies in the form of taxation, corvée, or conscription could be enough to ruin those already living on the edge of destitution, just as a bad harvest could do for others. In that sense, incremental increases even at the margins could have substantial negative effects.

France’s interest in Sweden The subsidies France paid to Sweden and other countries were thus just one of the many techniques used to bind them close, influence their political elites, destabilize them, or force them to submit. In the light of the arguments advanced during the negotiations of the various subsidy treaties, we can say that there were two enduring 116

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reasons why France wanted Sweden as an ally. The first, seen in all the treaties in the two centuries in question, was a demonstrable need for an ally in northern Europe to help prevent the emergence of a united Catholic Germany under Austria’s leadership; to prevent the Emperor or Russia from gaining control over Poland; and to upset Habsburg ambitions by Sweden’s stance in the Holy Roman Empire and importance as a guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia.287 It took subsidies to keep Sweden as an ally, because the Swedish government suffered from a constant lack of resources that prevented it from playing the part France wanted and needed, and without subsidies France risked losing Sweden to another country which was willing to pay. The second turned not only on the question of equipping armies to fight in Germany, Poland, or wherever France saw a need for Swedish troops, but also on building up the Swedish government so it would be strong enough to be a significant partner in the North, yet while keeping it as only one of several allies in Europe. Sweden was part of France’s strategy of encircling all the Habsburg lands, including Poland to the north-east, the northern Italian states to the south, and the Ottoman Empire to the south-east. As I pointed out in the introduction to this book, Franco-Swedish relations can appear contradictory at times. Despite the religious differences between the two countries, despite the fact that confessionalization was increasingly important because of the conflicts between the French state and its Protestant minority in the seventeenth century, and despite the growing emphasis on Lutheranism in Sweden at the same time, Catholic France collaborated with Lutheran Sweden. There was a logic to it, of course: Sweden and France had a shared interest in halting the expansion of Habsburg rule and feared a Poland ruled by either Habsburg or Russian interests, which drove Sweden to go to war on the Continent in the first half of the seventeenth century, and ensured France would back Sweden’s actions, despite them being designed to strengthen Protestantism in northern Europe. As long as the Protestants divided the Holy Roman Empire, France was for geopolitical reasons completely in favour, despite doing everything in its power to counteract Protestantism at home. 117

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Another contradiction related to the political systems of the eighteenth century. In France, royal power was absolutist for almost all of the century, while at the same time Sweden’s constitution was designed to minimize royal power. They then switched positions, leaving the French regime after the Revolution a stark contrast to a Sweden where strong royal absolutism had just been reintroduced. In purely ideological terms the two were poles apart, but here too geopolitics weighed more for both countries. The Swedish Consti­ tution was a thorn in French flesh, but for practical rather than ideological reasons: quite simply, it was thought to weaken Sweden and thus reduce its value as an ally. The dissimilarities in both religion and constitution seem to have been viewed as practical difficulties, for which there were pragmatic solutions. There were, however, other differences that had to be overcome. In the seventeenth century, both France and Sweden expanded territorially, but Sweden after 1721 shrank rapidly. Seven­ teenth-century Sweden had expanded eastwards, southwards, and westwards by occupying much of the Baltic coast, northern Germany, substantial parts of Denmark, and Norway. In northern Sweden, government presence and control, primarily through taxation, had been on the rise since the sixteenth century, and interest in the north of the country increased steadily in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. France expanded to the south, east, and north through the incorporation of the Spanish province of Rosselló and parts of Cerdanya as the French province of Roussillon in 1659, the same year as when Artois was seized from the Spanish Netherlands, along with Dunkirk and Lille in the same area in the 1660s, while in the 1670s Alsace, Lorraine, Franche-Comté, Strasbourg, and Luxembourg to the north-east and east were added to the list. In addition to its expansion in Europe, France also colonized large areas of North America, where New France was the largest European colony in terms of land area until after the Seven Years War. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it had its colonies in Africa, where Senegal was the most important, and in Asia, where Chandan­nagar in north-eastern India (1673) and Puducherry (1674) in south-eastern India were key. In 118

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the eighteenth century, new territories were added to create French India. Sweden’s colonial presence outside Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was in comparison to most European countries’ modest and short-lived. In North America, there was an attempt to establish a Swedish colony by the name of New Sweden between 1638 and 1655 in Delaware, while in 1650 it bought the trading colony of Cabo Corso in today’s Ghana, but eight years later the colony was captured by Danish privateers, only to return to Swedish control briefly between 1660 and 1663. In 1733, a fleeting attempt that lasted only a matter of months was made to establish a Swedish colony called Porto Novo in India. The longest-lived of Sweden’s colonies was the West Indian island of Saint Barthélemy, bought from France in 1784 and sold back again in 1878. French expansion overseas, alongside that of other great powers and the trading companies, led to the globalization of the conflicts between France, Britain, Spain, and the Dutch Republic. Sweden’s overseas expansion was non-existent in the eighteenth century, with the exception of increased control over what is now northern Sweden, and yet Franco–Swedish relations continued to be as active as before, if not more so. France was still a force to be reckoned with not only in Europe but worldwide, while after the Peace of Nystad Sweden was on the retreat both territorially and as a major player in European high politics. As French diplomats and Swedish politicians often pointed out, Sweden was penniless after the Great Northern War, but it was still sufficiently interesting for France to pay huge sums to bring it back into a condition where it was strong enough to act. Looking at the eighteenth-century subsidy negotiations in a broader context, especially in view of Sweden’s changing position in Europe, the obvious question is what persuaded France to continue to seek alliances with Sweden regardless. Both countries were quite clear about the desperate state of Sweden’s economy and weakening position in Europe. Its finances were in tatters, its population denuded of men and generally war-weary, its political system reformed in a manner not to France’s taste, its geographical footprint had changed dramatically—gone were its 119

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Baltic possessions and parts of Finland, all lost to Russia, and gone too were its German possessions of Bremen–Verden and parts of Pomerania, lost to Britain and Prussia respectively—but to top it all, its reputation as a military power had been shattered. It is against these wider geopolitical realities that Franco-Swedish relations in the eighteenth century must be seen. It was France’s interest in as far as possible neutralizing Habsburg rule that created its need for allies in the North, and led to Sweden being a promising prospect in France’s expansion policy in the seventeenth century. To the east, the Ottoman Empire was an interesting partner because it impinged on the Habsburg sphere in the east and the Russian sphere to the south. To the south, it was northern Italian states such as Savoy and Genoa that would be important allies. In the eighteenth century, when France was forced to accept a clearer balance of power in Europe, Sweden, despite its diminished position, remained an important ally, but less as part of a glorious expansion and more as a prop to France’s existing position in Europe.288 It is just possible that the fact Sweden was so much weaker after 1721, while Russia and Prussia were all the stronger, made it even more important to France in the murderous competition for European ascendancy. If so, this would have been especially true after 1763, when France was economically vulnerable following the Seven Years War.289 The subsidies paid to Sweden in the seventeenth century were designed to improve its military capabilities in conflicts where France needed the support of an ally. Ambassador Pomponne noted in 1668 that France was more interested than the other great powers in shoring up Sweden’s position in the German states and thus in preventing the royal court in Vienna from taking measures that might weaken that position.290 However, my focus here is the eighteenth century, because the significant difference between payments in the seventeenth century and those during the Age of Liberty was that in the latter period France’s designs were revealed in both words and actions. French subsidies were intended to achieve something of fundamental importance, despite Sweden’s desperate position. The negotiations that took place in 1734–35 were proof of France’s 120

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interest in supporting Sweden and thus rebuilding the country’s strength. One obstacle to this, however, at least in French eyes, was the new political order. In order to make Sweden an ally worthy of the name, France had to influence its domestic politics, and preferably change it altogether. This in essence was France’s ambition with the alliance: to build up Sweden’s external strength so it could act forcefully on France’s behalf; and to build up Sweden’s inner strength to make it more resilient. In a report on Sweden in 1746, the then French ambassador Lanmary said he had high hopes of the relatively new crown prince, Adolf Fredrik—chosen at the dictates of Russia—that on his accession he would claim all the powers that the old Vasa kings had had. Lanmary said that the Vasas had had ‘bonne administration’, ‘courage’, and ‘consideration’, and the mere idea that it might be possible was reason enough for France to continue to pay subsidies to the Swedish government.291 In the written instructions on Lanmary’s appointment to Sweden five years before, France’s intentions with its support of Sweden had been spelt out. Its primary concern was to bolster Sweden’s position in Germany, so that by virtue of Sweden’s provinces there it could engineer a return to what was described as glorious times for both France and Sweden, when both crowns acted together to defend freedom in the Holy Roman Empire.292 The objective was for Sweden to restore its reputation with the leading imperial powers. Sweden, by dint of its possessions in Pomerania, also had a position by right in the Holy Roman Empire that France could use to its advantage. At the end of the Thirty Years War in 1648, Pomerania had not broken away from the Holy Roman Empire, and because it was still a member country the Swedish king was thus represented in the Imperial Diet and the Imperial Circles.293 Lanmary’s instructions in 1741 were very specific on how Sweden’s position in Germany could be used for French purposes, especially at the forthcoming Imperial election in Frankfurt, where France was keen to see Charles Albrecht of Bavaria (1697–1745) elected emperor. The instructions said that France’s interest in the matter should not be hidden from the Swedish king or government ministers. 121

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Furthermore, given Sweden and France’s role as the guarantors of the Peace of Westphalia, the French wanted to be certain that the Swedish representative in Frankfurt was instructed to do whatever ‘will be in France’s interest and serve the Empire’. He was going to figure either as the Swedish Pomeranian representative or as a ­plenipotentiary (‘plénipotentiaire’) acting in concert with the French to guarantee Germany’s freedoms, secured for the Imperial electors by the Peace of Westphalia. If he appeared only as a Pomeranian minister, he risked having little influence in the deliberations. But were he present as the ‘ministre plénipotentiaire’ of the Crown of Sweden, his status would be far greater. The latter was therefore preferable to the French. True, the instructions admitted, the S­ wedish Crown no longer had the wherewithal to act as a guarantor for the Holy Roman Empire having lost so many territories, including parts of Swedish Pomerania, but when it acted in unison with the French king as guarantor of the treaties of Münster and Osnabrück, it would be possible to ensure it regained its former reputation. This was one of the key points Lanmary was to make to the Chancellor, Gyllenborg, and the other councillors—that the union with France had the advantage that the Swedish Crown could once again use its alliance with France when pursuing all its future interests in the Holy Roman Empire.294 However, the problems were considerable and the route to a stronger Sweden was a winding one, as Lanmary intimated. He described Sweden as destitute, and therefore selfish and impotent, and its politicians only out to line their own pockets. Worse, the country laboured under a ‘monstrous form of government’, and in their poverty the Swedes were not interested in anything but money, said Lanmary. France could hardly expect they would show the least concern for either their own or their allies’ best interests. Their behaviour gave ample proof of the fact that they hoped to sell themselves to the highest bidder, and there was nothing to indicate the least wish to do anything else, even if it meant passing on Sweden’s chance to play a leading role in European politics. Another problem for France, as Lanmary saw it, was the deplorable state of 122

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the ruling government. Council deliberations were dominated by treacherous self-interest and factional politics. Such political decisions as were taken showed no concern for the good of the country, and the king was powerless to do anything about it. It was even the case that the new government, which had come to power after the Diet of 1738, had personal reasons to mistrust the king, and had set about further limiting his powers. The oligarchy first established by the Diet of 1720 had descended into anarchy, and if there were any patriotic statesmen left in Sweden, Lanmary was certain they were too discouraged and disgusted by the powerlessness that gripped the country because of this ‘monstrous’ form of government to dare take any initiative, or propose anything that might speed the restoration of good rule to the country.295 France’s eagerness to prop up Sweden in order to use it to secure France’s own position, balanced by a jaundiced view of Sweden’s ability to even begin to contribute to its own reconstruction, were evident from the diplomatic correspondence in the early 1740s and the early stages of the Russian War, which had been made possible by French subsidies. Doubts were cast on Sweden’s military p ­ reparedness and there were complaints at its extreme slowness in gearing up for an attack on Russia. The French seem to have been wary of paying the subsidy as long as the Swedes had no great military effort to show for it, to which the Swedes retorted that without subsidies they could not arm for war. This was the catch-22 that revealed the extent of Sweden’s vulnerability and dependence on French money.296 The situation was thought to have brightened a little because of the positive reactions to Crown Prince Adolf Fredrik’s marriage to Lovisa Ulrika of Prussia in 1744. The dynastic alliance with Prussia held out the hope that Sweden might yet be a counterweight to Russia.297 What was more certain was a potential alliance between Prussia and Sweden, financed by French subsidies. The latter was something the Swedes were prepared to consider, according to Lanmary. Without French subsidies it would not be beneficial for either Prussia or Sweden, especially because of the Swedish government’s present ‘extreme weakness and misery’, which left it incapable of doing the 123

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smallest thing for itself or for its allies. An alliance that had French backing would benefit both Prussia and Sweden, though. For Sweden, such an alliance would give it greater freedom to look to its own interests in its dealings with the great powers. ‘The subsidies must be distributed with moderation, neither more nor less than needed … and in the extreme misery into which the Swedes have fallen … they have turned to trickery, in various ways … to extract as much money as possible from France to meet their needs.’298 In the event, all the hopes that Crown Prince Adolf Fredrik would make the most of his accession to strengthen the monarchy, and would thus rid Sweden of what the French considered its debilitating political system, were to come to nothing. If anything, Adolf Fredrik’s reign (1751–1771) merely eroded royal power even further. This was what the French would concentrate on in the late 1760s. They decided to take action to change the Swedish political system, and the way to do so was to support young Crown Prince Gustav. In 1766, when France chose to cancel its subsidies to Sweden in spite of an existing treaty, the ambassador Louis Charles Auguste le Tonnelier, Baron de Breteuil, Baron de Preuilly (1730–1807) informed Paris that he had been at pains to assure the king and queen of the French king’s ‘l’amitié tendre’, a declaration of friendship that he plainly repeated several times to underline that France’s break with Sweden did not mean a break with the royal family.299 Also, at the celebrations in Drottningholm Palace for the wedding of Crown Prince Gustav and Sofia Magdalena of Denmark, he had had the opportunity to speak alone with Queen Lovisa Ulrika and the bridegroom for two hours. Indeed, the Crown Prince and Breteuil developed a ­personal friendship that lasted for decades and contributed to the close ­re­lations between Gustav and France.300 Breteuil also worked to maintain support among France’s adherents in Sweden, and therefore asked in his reports for continued French support for its ‘friends’, who were to lose their pensions when the subsidies ceased. Among those mentioned were several of the country’s leading aristocrats and other leading figures. His recommendations were followed. In some instances it was a question of outbidding or at least matching 124

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the bids made to Swedish politicians by other countries’ ambassadors.301 It would be several years, however, before Sweden managed to shed its abominable form of government in a series of events that I will return to later. Strengthening Sweden was the common thread in all the Franco-­ Swedish negotiations from the 1730s to the end of the century. When Count Pierre Chrysostème d’Usson de Bonnac (1724–82) was appointed the new French ambassador to Stockholm in 1773, he was of course armed with new instructions. They were emphatic that it was essential he understand the long history of the relations between the courts of Versailles and Stockholm, and the principles and events that had nurtured this close relationship without interruption for almost one and a half centuries. He should know of the various commitments that had evolved between the two parties, the events which prepared and set in motion the 1772 revolution in Sweden’s Constitution, France’s past interests, and the money it had paid to smooth the path to success. According to the instructions, the purpose of this successful revolution was to rescue Sweden from the anarchy into which it had descended.302 Evidently, the French government saw itself as having not just an active part but a significant part to play in rebuilding Sweden and restoring good government. It is also apparent that it was fundamental to its Swedish policy that France contribute to the maintenance of what it thought of as the independence of the Swedish government, giving it the strength (vigeur) it needed. The language was significant: the instructions ordered d’Usson to use the words independence and strength on every occasion, both in his communications and in his behaviour.303 The point to be made was that alliances with states other than France made Sweden subordinate, and that recently the court of St Petersburg had managed to tear Sweden apart into conflicting factions, making Sweden its ‘maîtresse’, weakening the king’s authority, and luring it into complete anarchy—and to the brink of ruin. These things were in Russia’s interests, said d’Usson’s instruction, but they were not in France’s.304 France was clearly concerned that even after Gustav’s autocoup Sweden lacked the strength and ability to be a full ally. 125

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It was ‘peace’ and ‘economy’—meaning peace beyond its borders and a thriving domestic economy—that were the keywords in the set of instructions issued to yet another new French ambassador to Sweden, this time in 1783, that would help Sweden increase in power, as was still France’s intent.305 The revolutionary government in turn also recognized that Sweden was one of a group of weak states, but armed with French subsidies it nevertheless had a role to play as an ally, and so strengthen France’s position.306 The offer of subsidies in 1793 and suggested international cooperation in 1796 thus completed a long tradition.

Shifting alliances Whereas in the seventeenth century France had pursued an aggressively expansionist policy in alliance with heavily subsidized allies, combined with an activist policy to manipulate the domestic politics of other states using dynastic relations, clientelism, and various forms of destabilization, it was forced to change tack in the e­ ighteenth century. As Colin Jones points out, France went from being an aggressor, an expansive great power, in the seventeenth century to erring on the side of caution, intent on maintaining a balance of power in Europe, in the eighteenth century, a change due in part to the changed circumstances of its allies. It was increasingly difficult to persuade Poland to anything once it had come under Russia’s influence, and eventually ceased to exist; the Hungarian and Transylvanian nobility who had enjoyed French protection were an ever-diminishing threat to the Habsburgs; and in Germany, Bavaria had failed to raise its status, while the far more unreliable Prussia was now ascendant. Sweden, finally, had been bled dry by the Great Northern War and was on its last legs.307 However, this did not prevent France from continuing to pay subsidies to its allies, or actively working to influence or destabilize both its allies and its enemies. The economic realities of the second half of the eighteenth century governed how best Sweden could be used as an ally, however. The Seven Years War was a blow to the economies of all the countries 126

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involved, but France’s huge costs to keep its allies in the field made its situation even more precarious. This was behind the decision in the mid-1760s to stop paying Sweden subsidies in their current form, because the results were almost non-existent. In 1766 the Duke of Choiseul reflected self-critically on the fact that France had long been wrong to invest such large sums of money in trying to influence Sweden from within instead of focusing on changing the entire political system in all fundamentals. In the long run, it would be better for Sweden to become a country like any other, and thus one it was politically worthwhile to support financially, said Choiseul.308 Despite the religious differences, despite the fact that Sweden was severely weakened and much reduced in size in the eighteenth century, and despite the differences between their political systems, France still believed it needed it as an ally in northern Europe. S­ weden was one in a series of larger alliances designed to assure France its place as a great power not only in Europe, but also far beyond its boundaries. It was worth France’s while to attempt to overcome Sweden’s weaknesses and even to fix its horrible political system—and the two were closely linked. The result was that Sweden was one of the countries France assiduously supported, and, as we will see, Sweden’s system of government changed direction entirely into one that was welcomed, and nudged along, by the French.

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Rivalries, conflicts, and complications Read the discussions about subsidies in the Swedish and French sources in the early modern period, and it is amazing how time and again the countries managed to agree treaties and talk of friendship given their very different goals, their often openly stated mutual distrust, and the disputes and complications that arose along the way. One example was when the Swedish Council in 1636 decided to ratify a new subsidy treaty with France, despite explicitly noting that the two states had ‘various differences’, and its strong suspicion that France only wanted to retain Sweden until France could extract itself from the war.309 As this shows, while it was often the case that an alliance was used to promote a common interest between two states, it did not rule out other interests affecting the nature of the power dynamic between the parties. Either one of the parties, or indeed both, could have shared interests with a third party. In order to understand how Franco-Swedish subsidy treaties related to the concept of alliance, I have drawn on the work of the Italian political scientist Marco Cesa, who has a more complex and nuanced picture of international alliances than the one that has been traditionally described.310 Conflicting objectives and differences between the parties did not preclude jointly agreed goals—something that must be taken into account when studying alliances.311 Cesa, for example, emphasizes that a common objective is never the only dimension to an alliance. Often, one party tries to control the other, 129

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and while both may want to achieve the same goal, one may want to monitor the other and limit its scope for action. Cesa criticizes what he calls the realist school’s simplistic definition of an alliance, which in essence is that the purpose of any alliance is collaboration, that the collaboration is established in a formal treaty, and that it exists to create security for those involved. The oversimplification in such a definition, Cesa writes, is that it ignores the fact that cooperation between allies can equally be defined by rivalry, sometimes even antagonism.312 The fact that it is a cooperation based on a formal agreement does not mean that it is exclusive. It is an axiom for the realist school that alliances exist to strengthen the parties against a third party. Their common interest is usually described as ‘security’ and is intended to achieve a balance of power. As Cesa says, this means there is a further dimension, since each ally has at least two relations—one with its ally and one with a third party—and these relationships affect one another.313 For an example of how complicated an alliance based on subsidies could become, one need look no further than Britain and Prussia in the Seven Years War. Even when it was ratified in 1758 tensions were already running high, and the two parties distrusted each other because of the compromises they had been forced to make, while Frederick II was of the opinion that the British did nothing if it were not in their own interest. He for his part was quite prepared to break the agreement if it would benefit Prussia and enable it to sue for a separate peace.314 When the alliance was due to be renewed in 1761, it was plain that Britain’s and Prussia’s differing needs were a source of conflict. They were still dependent on each other—Prussia not least for economic reasons—but even so they obviously distrusted each other’s intentions. Britain wanted to be make peace on its own if needs be, but also recognized that the subsidies it paid Prussia meant that Prussia could agree an honourable peace while retaining its territorial integrity, which was in Britain’s interest. When Prussia approached Russia in 1762, the British were nervous that it in fact intended to use its subsidies to gain new territories.315 Similar conflicts bedevilled Franco-Swedish relations in a variety of contexts. 130

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Cesa continues that there are several different types of alliances depending on the nature of the agreement, but also the degree of proximity between the parties. There are thus both internal and external dimensions to any alliance that have to be taken into consideration. The internal dimension centres on what Glenn H. Snyder has called an ‘alliance security dilemma’—the twofold fear of abandonment and entrapment which can affect either party to an alliance. The first is simply the fear of being abandoned in the middle of a war if one’s ally decides to withdraw for some reason. The second is the fear of being drawn reluctantly into a conflict, forced into it by one’s formal commitments to an ally. Both of these dangers mean that it is in the interest of both parties to monitor the other as far as is possible in order to avoid unpleasant surprises. Turning to the discussions in the Swedish Council in 1636, the argument then for continuing with the French alliance was that France might otherwise withdraw from the war, leaving Sweden in an impossible situation. On the other hand, as we have seen, France’s sole stated purpose with renewing the alliance was to tie Sweden’s hands so it could not quit the war. In other words, the continued alliance was designed to keep Sweden in the war and deny it the chance to act freely.316 Another internal dimension Cesa singles out is the ‘alliance power dilemma’, whereby one party, growing too strong, is beyond the power of the other to control it, or even be in a position to hope to control it, or, growing too weak, it is unable to provide the support required of it.317 Cesa argues that the security dilemma and power dilemma operate together, so that if one party is too weak, it must withdraw and cannot fulfil its obligations, but if the other is too strong, the weaker party may become dependent on it.318 Furthermore, Cesa distinguishes between symmetric and asymmetric alliances, and between homogeneous and heterogeneous alliances. Symmetry and asymmetry is about the relative strength of the parties in an alliance, whereas homogeneous and heterogeneous alliances are when the parties either face similar constraints and take similar risks, or live with different constraints and take different risks.319 Cesa thus identifies four different types of alliances: (i) a symmetric-­ 131

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ally homogeneous alliance, which he terms an ‘aggregation alliance’, in which allies interact in a mutually useful fashion on the basis of commonly agreed terms; (ii) an asymmetrically homogeneous alliance or ‘guarantee alliance’, which by design is profitable for both parties, but the rules are set by the stronger of the parties; (iii) an asymmetric and heterogeneous alliance, or ‘hegemonic alliance’, in which the parties have different positions, but the imbalance between the two enables the least dependent to persuade the other into things that are partially harmful to the weaker party; and (iv) a symmetric and heterogeneous alliance, or ‘deadlock alliance’, in which both have an equally strong negotiating position, but there are things they cannot agree on, and as a result the parties reach an impasse.320 My purpose here is not primarily to define the Franco-Swedish relationship in terms of Cesa’s model, but to use it to point to the complexity of that relationship at its various stages.

Conflicting objectives There was one issue that had to be dealt with at the time, but which was discussed surprisingly little in negotiations between French and Swedish representatives, or indeed in the parts of the Swedish government that had to deal with subsidies, and that was religion. There was hardly any discussion of it at the time of Sweden’s entry into the Thirty Years War, for example. To say that there were conflicting objectives is an understatement, since Sweden was looking to come to the rescue of the Protestant rulers, while France’s object­ ive was anything but, although it was prepared to countenance it to reduce the power of its arch-enemy, the Habsburgs. Yet it was not just a matter of direction at the international level; it was also a question that had the potential to cause open division at home in both countries. The question of how to justify intervening in the war was indeed raised in Sweden, but quietly and tangentially. Waging war for re­ligious reasons, which in the Council’s discussion was given as the justification, was not acceptable for constitutional reasons. All the 132

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important theorists, despite disagreeing on almost every issue, could agree that war in support of the ‘right’ religion was completely wrong. Moreover, Sweden had to demonstrate it was under attack or had suffered an injustice in order for its intervention to be considered to be in self-defence. In the manifesto published in 1630 in which Sweden gave its reasons for deciding to go to war, it did everything possible to avoid mentioning religion. The reason for this, says Pärtel Piirimäe, was partly the uneasy constitutional grounds, partly the fact that its main ally was Catholic France.321 The question of co­operation with a Catholic power was so inflammatory that it had to be avoided in public at all costs. In fact they steered clear of calling it a war in the first place, in what seems to have been an attempt to escape criticism for breaking the accepted terms for a just war. The manifesto took great trouble to point out that Sweden was actually taking action against Albrecht von Wallenstein, on the grounds that he had acted against both the Empire’s laws and the Emperor’s orders. Thus, it was not an action against the Holy Roman Empire, but against one particular individual who threatened its good order.322 Peter Wilson writes in his magisterial work on the Thirty Years War that France, or rather Cardinal Richelieu, was considerably less interested in Sweden than in Bavaria, thinking Maximilian I a possible successor to Emperor Ferdinand II (1619–37). Even so, Richelieu acted decisively to strike an alliance with the Swedes, expecting them to create confusion in northern Germany by joining the war. His ambassador, Hercule de Charnacé, who negotiated with the Swedes, countered that France risked losing control of the Swedish armies once they were in Germany. Richelieu at first did not share this concern, and instead seems to have primarily wanted to protect his co-religionists by demanding that the now successful Swedes guarantee freedom of religion for the Catholics in the areas they captured.323 The national interest and the interests of religion are two separ­ ate things, Richelieu claimed in 1616. Yes, the state most certainly had to serve Christian ends, but as a political collective without an immortal soul it could afford to do things that a Christian individual 133

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dare not do.324 It was this attitude that meant Richelieu could accept Huguenots in France and alliances with Protestant states, as long as it was in France’s national interest. He was thus prepared to support or attack Protestants, depending on how he viewed their activities towards France’s enemies, the Holy Roman Empire and Spain. He thought the Huguenots in La Rochelle were being used by Spain to weaken France, and therefore went to war against them, but at the same time he was prepared to ally France with first Denmark and then Sweden, in order to see them weaken the Empire and strengthen France’s position. Yet although Cardinal Richelieu thought it possible to distinguish between the national interest and the interests of religion, there were others in France who found it problematic to wage war against the Emperor. Just as the Swedes had had to ask themselves if intervention in Germany truly could be considered a just war, Richelieu also had to confront this question. His views can be gauged indirectly from the pamphlets written by his circle in the 1620s, in which the authors attacked Henry IV and Louis XIII’s confessors, and accused them of making the national interest into a moral issue, which in turn favoured Spain’s interests.325 With the support of Richelieu’s éminence grise, Father Joseph, they arrived at the idea that war could be justified by ‘necessity’, and loyalty to one’s allies—even though they were Protestants—was considered to be just such a necessity. Those who supported Richelieu’s policy also argued that since royal authority was from God, it also included the king’s right to use force of arms. For the state, in other words, the right to declare war was a holy right. This argument and others like it—that a war was justified because the king wished it—rapidly gained ground, and soon was accepted by church dignitaries too.326 At heart, Cardinal Richelieu’s argument was that what was needed to protect Christianity, whether the Pope’s position or the smallest state’s, was to create a balance of power between the great powers of Europe. Since this balance of power was threatened by Spain and the Holy Roman Empire, the French King had to shoulder responsibility for securing it. In such a situation, Richelieu explained in his Testament Politique, a prince 134

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had the right to fight to prevent his country suffering a loss, and he was entitled to accept help even from Protestant princes if need be. In this way France’s agreements with the Dutch in 1630 and the Swedish king in 1631 were justifiable.327 He was not alone in this combination of morality and raison d’état, of course: on the Spanish side, the prime minister Olivares sought an alliance with Charles I of Britain, and cast about for Protestant allies by playing down the religious differences in Germany.328 Yet however logical the argument in Richelieu’s eyes, it still met with resistance. To be certain of crushing any opposition, the car­ dinal ousted the royal confessor Nicolas Caussin, who had expressed doubts about France’s alliance with Protestant states in 1637. Caussin was concerned that a policy of this kind would pave the way for cooperation with the Ottoman Empire, while alliances with the likes of Sweden endangered Catholicism in the Holy Roman Empire. In sum, France’s actions were a threat to the Catholic Church while paving the way for Ottoman expansion. This was anything but a just war, according to Caussin. Who was the more powerful at the French court was a question settled once and for all when Richelieu removed Caussin from court and the king’s side.329 There were thus leading politicians in both France and Sweden prepared to take a pragmatic approach to the looming religious conflict. Another example of how to manage interests of various kinds dates from the early 1660s. The main headache for the Swedish government was how to pay for the army, which was faced with demobilization for lack of cash. Disbanding an army was no small matter, and potentially dangerous in several ways. In their concern, the Swedes approached the French ambassador to Stockholm, Hugues de Terlon, to ask for help in eliciting a subsidy from his king. Whether it was this that did the trick is not clear, but this became the run-up to the Fontainebleau treaty in September 1661. France’s interest was not primarily in keeping the Swedish army in the field, but rather being able to put it to good use in Poland, where, as we have seen, Louis XIV wanted to engineer the outcome of the r­ oyal election so that a pro-French heir to the throne was chosen.330 Initially, France 135

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and Sweden had a common interest in preventing a strong Russian or Imperial presence in Poland. Thus far, both parties had something to gain by their cooperation. Yet events in Poland left France unwilling to be bound by its treaty, and after renegotiations, largely on French terms, Sweden had to settle for far smaller subsidies than originally thought. The fact that the treaty fell through put a dampener on relations between the two countries and left Sweden’s prestige dented. There was considerable indignation at France’s behaviour, and a sense that they had taken advantage of their stronger position to get out of a fairly expensive treaty on a mere pretext, all the while trying to force terms on Sweden that it could not hope to meet. The Swedes were certain that it was more in France’s interest than in Sweden’s for the treaty to be ratified, and that for both countries’ sakes Sweden should be paid subsidies sufficient to keep its army in the field. The French, for their part, were very well aware of the financial situation in Sweden.331 Ambassador Terlon reported home in November 1662 that the Lord High Treasurer, Gustav Bonde, would be unable to pay the government’s debts to merchants unless subsidies were forthcoming.332 Even though in the end far less was paid than the first subsidy treaty stipulated, the French king was careful to send repeated assurances of his friendship via his ambassador in Stockholm.333 The problem for the Swedes was how to manage a situation in which the stronger party had so openly thrown its weight around. The Council had to be able to save face and defend Sweden’s reputation, while at the same time securing France’s continued support in some form. Lord High Treasurer Bonde said that in his opinion they should not give way too far, because France was also in need of support from Sweden in return. It was Terlon’s actions that had particularly enraged the councillors—and they already considered him arrogant—so someone suggested bypassing him and communicating direct with Paris. Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie tried to calm them—‘We must separate all passion from matters of state’—and it was decided to continue the discussion at subsequent meetings.334 Other problems to resolve in planning a subsidy treaty were of the 136

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type tabled in the early 1670s in anticipation of a treaty in 1672. There were three alternatives as the Swedish government saw it: join France and Britain against the Dutch Republic; join the Dutch Republic against France; or try to remain non-aligned. At this stage, it was far from self-evident that Sweden would choose France in what was an already complicated situation. Negotiations were underway in The Hague between the Swedes and the Dutch, with a view to a Swedish agreement with the States General instead of France. In the late winter of 1670, the French tried to prevent the Swedes from slipping through their hands. In a two-pronged approach, the French ambassador in Stockholm was ordered to offer Sweden the same amount as the Spaniards had previously promised, and in The Hague the French tried to stop the Swedish envoy from delivering the ratified Swedish– Dutch treaty. Neither attempt to win Sweden round succeeded, and ­Louis XIV announced that should be the end of it.335 Only a few months later, however, Secretary of State Hugues de Lionne was in Sweden, making the French king’s case after all. The Swedes were overvalued and unreliable, to his mind, and a­ varicious—a remark that probably reflected the Swedes’ enthusiasm for subsidies—but there were few alternatives, and France wanted at all costs to prevent Brandenburg from giving its support to the Dutch. Sweden’s intervention could help prevent that, according to Lionne.336 Louis XIV and the former French ambassador to Stockholm, Pomponne, were both doubtful, given their earlier disappointments over Sweden. Pomponne, in response to a direct question from the king, admitted that the Swedes, while extraordinarily irritating, were despite it all a possible alternative if all others were worse. In the end it was decided to back Sweden, in order to have its troops available to keep Brandenburg and other German states quiet.337 The offer made was 200,000 écus/riksdaler per annum for Sweden to keep 16,000 soldiers in Bremen as a deterrent, and 60,000 écus/riksdaler per month if they had to fight.338 For Sweden, the main problem was the same as before—finding enough money to pay its army. The problem of affording Sweden’s armies was ever present, but when the Council met in the spring of 1672 it was not just this that was discussed, but also the need to maintain 137

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key fortifications. The Chancellor pointed out that the fortress of Valfisken outside Wismar was in need of repairs, and there were others also in need of attention. It was absolutely essential to find the money somewhere. Yet, as he said, the main question was not where Sweden could find the money, but whether it should tie itself to France or not: ‘Our interest and chief motive is not only some barrels of golden subsidies.’ The need to maintain an army and to repair Sweden’s defences was undeniable, but the problem was who was able to pay for it.339 His fellow councillors were divided over what to do. What France was prepared to offer had transpired in conversation in February 1672 with the French diplomat Honoré Courtin (1627–1703). The Chancellor, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, had told Courtin that Sweden needed the same degree of security, whether in wartime or not, to which Courtin replied that France if it were to ‘take us under the arms’ so that Sweden could keep an army of 8,000 or 10,000 in readiness, that would be a guarantee. Courtin also said that Britain was going to join the war against the Dutch Republic, as would soon be made known. And the French had already mustered 18,000 soldiers.340 The Dutch, meanwhile, offered Sweden a defensive alliance with 180,000 rdr in return for 10,000 foot and 5,000 cavalry. The Chancellor commented that if this had come eight months earlier, Sweden could have said yes without alarming France. The Dutch made a strong case that Sweden should choose them because France should be considered the ‘aggressor’. The Dutch ambassador had said that if Sweden joined the Dutch Republic, Brandenburg and several other German states would do likewise, and indeed the Emperor too, if he could free himself from dealing with the Ottomans.341 The Dutch Republic therefore sought support from Sweden against France. In the end there were two arguments for going with France: France offered subsidies, and it was thought that such an alliance would favour peace within Sweden’s borders. Yes, Sweden would be obliged to intervene if a German prince helped the Netherlands— that came of being a guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia—but the 138

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peace argument still counted for something. What spoke against supporting France was the fear of its hegemonic ambitions in Europe, but there was also doubt whether it was strong enough financially to provide the support Sweden needed. The same argument was also used against the Dutch Republic: when Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie at one point tried to summarize where the Council stood on its choice of ally, he emphasized that France was probably not as strong as they might think, but on the other hand the subsidies offered by the Dutch Republic were definitely insufficient to pay for the number of foot and cavalry it wanted from Sweden.342 In that sense, neither country was an ideal ally. Money was really the only reason why the Council hesitated to enter into an alliance with the Dutch Republic. Otherwise there were far more arguments in favour of such an alliance—and supporting a Protestant country that risked being overrun was one. Johan Gyllenstierna said that a weak Dutch republic might mean weakened Protestants.343 A Dutch alliance would benefit Swedish burghers and Swedish trade, and one of the councillors said the Dutch were more honest and therefore better to deal with than the British. Because of the Treaty of Dover between France and Britain, any alliance with France would mean Sweden got Britain into the bargain.344 As a third option there were a number of variants on non-alignment or neutrality towards the two countries. The telling reason for this was that an alliance with France made Sweden the enemy of the Dutch Republic, and vice versa. It was said in the Council debate it would therefore be best if Sweden were ‘to subsist of our own selves’.345 The Chancellor said that he too would prefer it if Sweden could be kept out of these conflicts, but it simply could not afford it. Nevertheless, said De la Gardie, ‘it were not reasonable to look to the money alone’. Best of all, said the Seneschal Per Brahe, would be if Sweden could be friendly with both the Dutch Republic and France, while being paid by France. There was an interesting exchange between Johan Gyllenstierna and Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, in which Gyllenstierna said that Sweden ought to have friends—meaning allies—whereupon the Chancellor answered with 139

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a question—‘But who?’—revealing that in certain circumstances the issue of resources was decisive.346 Carl Gustav Wrangel went the whole hog with his suggestion that they should ‘go along with those who give the most money’.347 The Council meetings give the impression of having been brainstorming sessions at times, with ideas thrown out by anyone and everyone. It is hard to gauge how serious the various arguments were or how seriously they were received, or whether they were a chance to test ideas, but it should be noted that the Council was quite clear that, regardless of the ally, there would be conflicts of interest between them—and both would actually have a good deal in common with third parties as well. When in 1672, and after considerable turmoil, the Council finally plumped for the French alliance—extended in 1675—it was long held as a warning lesson of how France took advantage of its position as the stronger party in a two-country relationship (see below, Ch. 10). Agreed in April 1672, was a treaty with not only France but also Britain, and the decisive factor was that in it France guaranteed Sweden yearly subsidies of 400,000 rdr in peacetime and 600,000 rdr in wartime. Sweden in return was to keep 16,000 soldiers in Germany to deter anyone who might attack France. In the treaty, the Swedes had succeeded in obtaining guarantees for the Dutch Republic: if it turned out that France was unhappy with a just peace with the Dutch, and instead attempted to destroy it completely, Sweden would be free to break the treaty.348 For the Swedes, the fear was that the possible eradication of the Dutch Republic as an independent state would be a blow to Protestantism across Europe. The treaty thus came about despite the fact that it in fact had no common interest with France in going to war against the Netherlands. For Sweden, the hope was that the subsidy treaty would pay enough to maintain its army in Germany, thus securing its position and preventing a demobilization, but also without having to go to war. When, under the treaty, Sweden was forced into the war following the French failures of 1674, this was shown to have been a huge miscalculation. Despite the subsidies, the plain fact was the money was insufficient. 140

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In the autumn of 1673, relations with France began to creak at the seams when the Swedes demanded more money—in the first year alone it was estimated that a 1 million rdr would be needed to bring the army up to strength. In addition, 70,000–100,000 rdr would be needed to pay for the existing troops. The discussions about increasing the subsidies triggered an upset: France was handling the payments incorrectly, the Swedes complained, and the French response had been arrogant.349 In the spring of 1674, the French offered larger subsidies if Sweden were to commit more troops to the war, but this too caused offence. In the Council in February 1674, the Chancellor spoke of having told the French ambassador that to negotiate subsidies first and the content later was like ‘putting the cart before the horse’. First, you negotiate the ‘fundamentals’, then the money. ‘They would be treating us like Swiss mercenaries’ if they thought they could ‘use money to persuade us to do what they wanted’. The Chancellor reported that Terlon, now ambassador to Copenhagen, had said, ‘Sweden will always be ours when we pay it money’, but, he added, Terlon would have come close to losing Sweden as an ally, if only the House of Austria ‘had properly judged things’. ‘Sweden’s interest was not limited to money alone, but nevertheless because of the German war we then had a sore need of money, so we deliberated for years if we wanted to have subsidies from France.’350 What De la Gardie seems to have been saying was that the French should not be certain that Sweden would always prefer them as an ally, even when Sweden needed funds. Do not take Sweden for granted, was the message. Accusations, even the merest hints, that the Swedes were avaricious were taken badly, as it was obviously a sensitive issue. When Isaac de Pas de Feuquières (1618–88), the French ambassador in Stockholm in 1672–82, tried to tempt the Swedish negotiators with French subsidies, and received the proud answer that they should agree on the reasons first, the ambassador commented sourly, ‘Sweden at the outset was always generous on the subject of the money, but when they had been given the offer, then they were just as likely to take against it.’351 They did not want to appear overly keen, but in their 141

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own discussions the councillors were open about the need and even the best strategy to obtain the largest subsidies possible. Even if they would rather be bystanders in the wars in northern Europe in the early 1670s, they felt compelled to join in because of the risk that France would turn to another country, which would cut Sweden off from subsidies from that quarter.352 Breaking with France and instead approaching the Emperor, which apparently was debated as a possib­ ility, was something that Johan Gyllenstierna argued against. There was no question of closer ties with Austria, because ‘the designs of the House of Austria’ had always been ‘incompatible’ with Sweden’s. Gyllenstierna would rather see a continued alliance with France: ‘It is properly recognized that we cannot manage a decent muster on our own, and for that reason we need to be propped up by France’s money’, so they should beware ‘committing ourselves to do something for France that is impossible’ and ‘that we do not give umbrage to the Dutch Republic and Denmark’ so they ratify the treaty they had agreed. Gyllenstierna later said that Sweden needs 1 million rdr from France ‘all in one go’ in order to strengthen the army, because the Emperor and Spain were arming. Yet at the same time, he added, Sweden should remember the old maxim from Gustav II Adolf ’s days, to keep in with the maritime powers. Therefore, it was crucial not to break with the Dutch Republic. Moreover, it was his opinion that France would not force Sweden to fight ‘the whole world and ruin ourselves’ just to strengthen France’s position.353 Relations were tricky in the early 1670s because France gave them little room for manoeuvre in managing their other interests, and the Swedish politicians tried repeatedly to find other ways to solve their problems than by remaining allied to France. French demands on Sweden’s army were an encumbrance, but at the same time it was acknowledged that it had little chance of maintaining its army on its own, or as the Seneschal put it, ‘Sweden has never been wont to gather its horses and keep them in its own paddock’. Nils Brahe countered that they should remember that they had not concluded the subsidy treaty for the money, but for Sweden’s ‘rightful interest’. The question was asked whether they really had exhausted every 142

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opportunity to find financiers at home, like those who in Charles X Gustav’s day had advanced the money to the government.354 The result of the alliance with France was that Sweden had to go to war with Brandenburg in 1674 and later with the Dutch Republic and Denmark. The Swedish provinces in northern Germany saw war again, as did the former Danish province of Skåne, which the Danes now hoped to regain having lost it in the war of the 1650s. In the peace treaties that followed, Sweden retained almost all its territories, with the exception of some smaller areas in Germany. Looking back, critics argued that France had used subsidies to ­inveigle Sweden into an unnecessary war that led to the loss of some of its lands. They believed that the whole business had been extraor­ dinarily humiliating, because France made peace on Sweden’s behalf. France’s friends, later admitted that yes, in return for its subsidies Sweden had been involved in a war it did not want to fight, but in the peace talks France had ensured that Sweden emerged with its lands largely intact (see p. 37). It was an unavoidable fact, however, that the war in the 1670s left Sweden in a parlous financial state.355 In the aftermath of the war of the 1670s, the Council pondered what conclusions to draw from the experience. Nils Brahe observed that during the war—‘durante bello’—France had ‘kept what he promised on a great many points’, ‘but on the other hand it had probably been to Sweden’s advantage, though it always balanced Sweden’s power’. Neither had Sweden for its part lived up to the subsidy treaties’ requirements. Nevertheless, the Council considered it worth trying to demand the subsidy arrears. As the Lord High Treasurer, Sten Bielke, and others said, Sweden’s costs had been great, and although the troops had not been stationed where they were meant to be, they had still been kept within striking distance of the enemy.356 It was the view of several of those present at a Council meeting in October 1680 that they should stick with France nevertheless. If not, Axel De la Gardie said, Sweden would be in great danger. His nephew Gustav Adolf De la Gardie agreed in principle, but thought they should try to sound out what France’s plans were. Göran Gyllenstierna and Gustav Sparre also spoke up for France, 143

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Sparre to say that Sweden ‘is greatly weakened in its home forces because of the war, so it is best to side with the party that can make His Royal Majesty redoubtable; the project intends nothing else but to guarantee the Peace of Westphalia and the Peace of Nijmegen, wherefore it can be accepted all the sooner’.357 Sweden’s failing mili­ tary capability because of the war was thus used to argue that they should yet again seek France’s support.

Casus belli The awkwardness of Franco-Swedish relations in the 1670s was hardly lessened by concerns about the equality of states and what then was thought to constitute a just war. According to the leading jurist Hugo Grotius, who was well known in both Sweden and France, there were two types of unequal alliances. By this, he did not mean that the alliances were between parties of different strengths, but rather that the treaties themselves were unequal. The one type of treaty could be detrimental to the stronger party which had promised support that was not really needed; the other was a danger to the weaker party, forced into undertakings it would otherwise not have attempted.358 It was the latter type that was hinted at by critics of the treaties in the 1670s, although they never said as much. It was as Grotius had posited: the stronger party, in this case France, had demanded more than could possibly be thought warranted by the weaker party, Sweden. The Swedish Crown had put itself in a position where France could ask too much by persuading Sweden to agree to a treaty that was unequal—exactly the kind of dilemma presented at the start of this chapter. This was the supposed insult to Sweden’s honour. Another key factor was that it could not be said with any certainty that the alliance Sweden had agreed to in fact existed to wage a just war, as international law required. As Grotius had set down in his De iure belli ac pacis, there were three reasons to go to war: self-defence, the recovery of lost territory, or revenge. In effect, his position was that war was justified if the aggressor had been oppressed, robbed, 144

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or cheated.359 Against this, the fact that a neighbouring country was growing strong was not thought an acceptable reason to start a war—fear of another country was not sufficient cause. Neither was it enough to decide one needed more land or greater honour.360 When the negotiations for a Franco-Swedish subsidy treaty were underway in the spring of 1672, the Dutch Republic also offered Sweden subsidies, arguing that France in its eyes was the aggressor, and that the situation could only be correctly interpreted as one crown unjustly attacking another.361 When the arguments for and against Sweden extending its subsidy treaty with France were summarized at a Council meeting, however, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie said that in view of Sweden and France’s roll under the Peace of Westphalia, Sweden could not be blamed for renewing the treaty.362

New century, same old tensions After the long hiatus in subsidies between the early 1680s and the 1730s, there was an intense period of negotiation which sheds light on the nature of the alliances between Sweden and France. The non-ratification of the 1735 subsidy treaty was an example of how they could collapse under the weight of conflicting interests, which in that particular instance led in the end to France saying no. One theme that ran through all the Council discussions in 1734 and 1735 was Sweden’s dire financial situation, which threatened to make it dependent on France if the alliance went ahead. One councillor, Carl Gyllenborg, said that before anything was actually agreed, Sweden should avoid appearing bound to France, and that in order to avoid unwelcome publicity about the negotiations they should be postponed until the question of France’s commitments in the War of the Polish Succession had been clarified. He also thought the Swedish negotiators should tell the French ambassador which ways Sweden might be able to contribute to the war in Poland. In order not to appear too reluctant about the subsidy treaty, though, Gyllenborg said that the seriousness of the Swedish king’s intentions, along with his need ‘to be sufficiently taken under the arms by France’, had to 145

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be communicated by the Swedish ambassador in Paris to the French administration.363 One of the thorniest issues in the 1734 and 1735 negotiations was France’s insistence on what we would call an alliance monopoly. Sweden was not to be allowed to enter into treaties with other states without France’s approval. This was not limited to states that were France’s open enemies, and the problem for the Swedes was that the clause in the draft treaty was written in a way that made it difficult to interpret, but either way it meant the French would have the final say in who the Swedes could treat with, curbing the Swedish government’s freedom of action to an unacceptable degree. One of the councillors said that Sweden should nurture its friendship with France, but without risking the hard-earned peace of 1721—without going up against Russia, in other words. The country had to have the chance to rally, said councillor Jakob Cronstedt, to ‘restore it to its former strength’. It was crucial that Sweden should not have its hands tied; it had to be free to ally itself with whichever state it thought best. Cronstedt took exception to France’s insistence that Sweden’s treaties with other states be subject to its approval: ‘no dependence on that same realm’ could be accepted.364 Although France tried to buy the Council’s consent by offering a larger subsidy, the answer was still no. The Council was quite happy to accept larger subsidies—which Sweden had not asked for, after all—but only if there were no further conditions attached. The Chancellor, Arvid Horn, was prepared to consider offering France an assurance that for the two years of subsidies, and even beyond, Sweden would not act against France, however.365 The Council’s reluctance was compounded by the news that the French had embarked on negotiations at the Russian court, and in discussion had said they were prepared to accept the Russian’s ‘conquests’ of Swedish territory. It was completely out of the question that Sweden could commit to France’s direction under such circumstances.366 This was not the end of negotiations, however, because France could not accept the Chancellor’s proposal. Horn’s point was that in principle Sweden should not take money from anyone, but if it 146

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were essential then it had to be done in a fashion that left Sweden’s hands as free as possible. There were clearly conflicting objectives: Sweden’s wish to strengthen its position in Europe was indeed shared by France, but, just as in the 1670s, the reason as far as the French were concerned was that Sweden could then be used to pursue French interests when needed; Sweden had its own reason, and that was all about its dream of revenge. The problem with France, said Horn, was that its other war commitments, and hence other interests, meant it was unable to strengthen Sweden to the required extent. Horn noted that there was a real risk that the maritime powers would go over to Russia, and together they would close the Öresund Strait to Sweden’s shipping. It could be said that he advocated neutrality, but without using the word. Gustav Bonde, meanwhile, said that if Sweden took the money and agreed not to enter into alliances with anyone ‘obnoxious’ to France, it would mean giving France the right to determine whom the Swedish government could work with, ‘which seems to be altogether too great a dependence for a free country’.367 In constitutional terms, Bonde’s reasoning was similar to Grotius’, who had argued that an unequal alliance could have just such an effect, with the stronger party trying to prevent the weaker from allying itself freely with others without prior permission. Grotius had said that such a treaty limited the freedom of the weaker party.368 The king agreed with Bonde, and added that if Sweden were to commit to France it would be cut off from all the other European powers, and Britain would probably approach the Russians. What help would then be forthcoming from France ‘is all too well known’, the king added, without specifying what it was he feared.369 The asymmetry in Franco-Swedish power relations was most evident on the occasions when France withheld its subsidy payments, whether by choice or compulsion. During the Thirty Years War and again in the 1670s, France refused to make subsidy payments when Sweden acted in a way it considered to be contrary to the subsidy treaties. In 1644 it was because Sweden had attacked Denmark; in 1647, the mutiny among Weimar’s troops;370 and in the 1670s, France argued—rightly—that the Swedes had broken the terms of 147

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the treaty. In 1674 France also threatened to withhold its subsidies if Sweden failed to attack Brandenburg, which the Swedes reluctantly felt compelled to do.371 Later, during the Seven Years War, France refused to pay subsidies that Sweden said were owing, which led to a prolonged correspondence between the two governments. France said that Sweden had not delivered on the 1757 treaty to keep 20,000 soldiers in Pomerania.372 In the 1760s, France again decided to suspend payments when the Caps took power at the Diet of 1765–6. This too led to a heated dispute, and it was only when Gustav III became king in 1771 that France decided to start paying the subsidies agreed in 1764. In all these cases France can be seen taking conscious advantage of its position as the stronger party, thus limiting Sweden’s freedom of action. The other reason was France’s own economy, of course. Sweden’s inability to extract the promised subsidy payments when it was at war with Russia in the 1740s was due in part to French disappointment with the Swedes’ conduct of the campaign, but it seems it was also because France’s economy was in desperate straits.373 One source of irritation, as seen on several occasions, was when one or both of the countries believed the other was not complying with the subsidy treaties. The Swedes were riled by expected payments that were not forthcoming, the French by Sweden failing to deliver on its military commitments. This was the case after the Thirty Years War, for example, when the Swedes were certain they were owed 1 million rdr, but the Swedish government’s negotiator in Paris, Antoine de Courtin, said that getting the money out of Cardinal Mazarin was like ‘getting blood from a stone’.374 In the end, after many ifs and buts, Mazarin agreed to pay 100,000 rdr. Similar negotiations took place after Sweden’s war against Russia in 1743, and again in 1796 when the French said the Swedes had failed to meet their commitments under the 1793 subsidy treaty. However, according to French sources they did manage to resolve their differences. The longest dispute about who had done what was sparked by the Seven Years War.375 Sweden, faced with French accusations to the contrary, said that it had lived up to its obligations and that 148

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France had unfairly withheld its subsidies. The solution that time was that France—while insisting that Sweden had not done what it had promised—nevertheless paid the outstanding subsidies ‘as a consequence of its friendship’.376

Practical complications, complicated individuals In a comparative study of French and Swedish diplomatic practice in the first half of the seventeenth century, Erik Thomson has shown that differing diplomatic traditions in the two countries may have contributed to the mistrust between the two countries’ representatives. ‘Both France and Sweden participated in a common European culture of war, true enough, but their political elites operated in disparate cultural and intellectual fields, complicating and frustrating, rather than easing and furthering, their relations’, as Thomson notes.377 This was not a passing suspicion either; it continued to bubble up, even though both countries’ negotiators should have learnt something from their mutual dealings, and especially given that so many Swedish politicians had personal experience of French culture. This is beyond the scope of this study, however. Complications did not only arise because of cultural differences, though; sometimes they were purely practical. In the spring of 1715, Sweden’s ambassador in Paris, Erik Sparre, was ordered by Charles XII ‘once again to establish and renew past relations between the two crowns of Sweden and France’, and as part of that to obtain French subsidies for Sweden. In an account of his mission, Sparre wrote in 1717 that he had not foreseen the innumerable challenges there would be in his path. In addition to the usual difficulties in trying to convince his counterparts to offer the largest subsidies possible, Sparre’s negotiations were hampered when Louis XIV fell gravely ill, making it difficult to elicit a clear message about France’s willingness to pay, and then the king died, whereupon it became impossible. With the passing of an absolute king who had ruled for over fifty years, royal power was shared out between several individuals, leaving Sparre despairing at their vacillation, which 149

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was largely born of inexperience. Events in France were far more important to them than events abroad. Sparre’s work was made harder by the active opposition of other diplomats, determined to prevent a subsidy treaty, and France for that reason could not bring itself to provide military support for Sweden’s armies. Another practical problem—one he shared with other diplomats—was the French habit of only giving verbal answers to written memoranda, which under the circumstances merely added to the uncertainty.378 Similar issues faced the ambassador Clas Ekeblad in Paris in 1743 when he made the case ‘in the strongest terms’ that France should pay the promised subsidies. He told Amelot, the foreign minister, that if it failed to do so not only Sweden but also other foreign powers would refuse to enter into agreements with the French court. Sweden, Ekeblad had said, gave ‘daily proof of its devotion and entire confidence in this Crown’, to which Amelot had replied that France would ‘support Your Royal Majesty to the best of its ability’, but the economic realities were such that it would be easier said than done.379 The situation was embarrassing for Ekeblad because the government in Stockholm now suspected him of obstructing the payments, which he also brought to Amelot’s attention. Amelot’s response was that he had noted Ekeblad’s insistence, and assured him that France was not ignorant of Sweden’s precarious situation; the slow pace was entirely because of the French Crown, which had to spend heavily in other areas for the moment, and Amelot guaranteed him there was ‘no other secret obstacle’.380 France’s economy was indeed under strain, with unusually large calls on the public purse. The cost of subsidies and foreign pensions had risen from about 14 million livres in 1730 to over 40 million livres in 1741, and by 1743 they had reached 41,300,000 livres. One of the single largest expenses was the 12 million livres paid every year between 1742 and 1745 to the Francophile Holy Roman Emperor, but in addition to Sweden there were at least fourteen other signifi­ cant recipients in the shape of countries or princes waiting to be paid.381 Ekeblad’s problems were now compounded by the fact that the powerful Cardinal Fleury was dying. Fleury, wrote Ekeblad, 150

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was both feared and tight-fisted, and for that reason all government ministers, including Amelot, avoided any issue that might displease him. Matters were even more complicated by Louis XV’s refusal to make any decisions without having discussed the matter with Fleury first. Amelot assured Ekeblad of the French king’s great goodwill towards Sweden, and said he wanted to offer ‘support and succour’ in ‘whatever Sweden’s best interest and weal requires’.382 The situation was broadly similar to what Sparre had faced in 1715—a powerful but ailing ruler surrounded by insecure people who did not dare make key decisions. What saved Ekeblad was that despite everything he managed to engineer a meeting shortly before the cardinal’s death. Fleury had talked of the considerable support France had given Sweden, while Ekeblad pointed out that it all risked being wasted if France now abandoned Sweden. The result was that Sweden soon after received a bill of exchange for 500,000 livres (c.166,666 rdr).383 Sparre’s and Ekeblad’s embassies to Paris were telling examples of how fragile the system could be, and above all how dependent it was on individuals. The same was also true for the French ambassadors sent to negotiate in Stockholm, for there were occasions when they too had to proceed on an individual basis. When negotiations between Sweden and France faltered in the early 1670s, Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie singled out the ambassador, Courtin, as the man behind all the problems. He was not the first French diplomat to carry the blame for a breakdown in talks. When discussing possible subsidies in the early 1630s, France’s Hercule de Charnacé was considered an obstacle and was accused by the Swedes of being a Jesuit, while in the 1640s Claude de Mesmes d’Avaux was scorned as a duplicitous Catholic double-dealer.384 In the 1660s, Hugues de Terlon had in­ furiated the Swedish Council, and now in the 1670s it was Courtin who was suspected of putting a spoke in Sweden’s wheel.385 Since a subsidy treaty could take years to negotiate, there were a large number of factors that could potentially fuel a conflict between the countries involved. The party that wanted to start negotiations had to get the attention of its counterpart, an initiative that could easily fall at the first fence. As we have seen, the Swedes were wary of 151

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approaching France without first being certain there was a degree of mutual interest (see p. 95). Similarly, it could be dangerous to reject a French approach out of hand—even if Sweden was not interested in subsidies at that point—because it was not easy to see what the consequences might be.386 One prime negotiating strategy, and this was true of all sides, was to maintain close contacts with leading political figures in the country one might want as an ally. This will be analysed in greater detail later when looking at how individuals profited from foreign subsidies, and it is enough to note that sometimes direct payments were offered to key figures, while at other times it went no further than a suggestion that a payment could be made if so wished. Count­ries tended to think twice about approaching the representatives of other sovereign states with offers of gifts in return for putting subsidy negotiations in motion, as it could lead to complications. The factors to be taken into account are detailed in the correspondence from 1789, when the Chancellor’s secretary and right-hand man, Per Olof von Asp, ran through the risks associated with such overtures. The reason was a Swedish mine foreman and alchemist, August Nordenskjöld, who occasionally visited London to promote the Swedenborgian religion, and had been approached about British subsidies. A man called Hawkins, who said he was very close to the prime minister, William Pitt, and had considerable influence over him, had gone to Nordenskjöld to suggest that Britain pay subsidies to Sweden. They were not going through the normal channels, he said, because the money would not come from Parliament, but from funds available only to the king and prime minister. In other words, William Pitt was ultimately behind the secret proposal. It was in the British interest to support Sweden and so prevent the Russian fleet from expanding in the Baltic. Asp, however, was circumspect, and wanted to know if Nordenskjöld had independent corroboration of Hawkins’s position and influence: ‘It is no rarity to find Englishmen whose vanity blinds them’, in Asp’s opinion. Asp was certain that Pitt had nothing to do with such attempted corruption. It was not like Pitt, he noted, and if it were to come out it would be extremely damaging to him. 152

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Were Pitt to find out that Hawkins had mercenary motives, then any influence Hawkins had over him would be gone, Asp warned. To even imply that Pitt or anyone else in the British government was open to foreign corruption was a dangerous route to take. ‘Yet in all likelihood gifts would be presented afterwards if the cause were successful’. As Asp noted, the possibility was that Hawkins was only after money and had no intention of doing anything. If Pitt wanted to approach Sweden, he should do so through the British ambassador in Stockholm, and not in any other way. Asp was emphatic that before any money was paid out they had to be absolutely certain of their way forward. Otherwise they might end up in the clutches of someone who did nothing but waste their time without achieving anything worthwhile.387 This shows it was essential to avoid putting a foot wrong when using back channels, especially when assuring oneself whether one’s contacts were serious. One tactic was to chart the entire political leadership of one’s allies, which was something that French ambassadors spent a great deal of time and effort on throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The aim was to establish who could be bribed and who was unbribable, who was pro-French and who was not. All such information could prove useful both before and during negotiations.388 Once overtures had been made, the various negotiation strategies were also a potential source of irritation. It could also be inadvisable to be the first to reveal one’s hand. In the course of the 1734 negotiations, it was noted by the Council that it had been customary for Sweden to present its bid to France first, which meant that it had lost out in the long run because that was the sum locked into the discussion. The suggestion was that this time the Swedish negotiators should wait and let the French show their cards first.389 As the Swedish negotiators got to know their French counterparts better they noticed that on several occasions the French let it be known that they were in discussions, even though the Swedes wanted to keep it secret. Carl Gyllenborg said in Council in early 1734 that this was a ‘finesse’ that France employed to its advantage, convincing other states that Sweden was allied with France, and 153

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leaving Sweden unable to open negotiations with anyone else—a self-fulfilling prophecy, in other words.390 The importance of secrecy in ensuring Sweden did not appear bound to France before the fact was something that Gyllenborg would return to in a longer statement to the Council in August 1734.391 It was a ploy France was known to have used on numerous occasions, and Terlon, the much-despised ambassador in the 1660s, was said to have come up with it in order to reduce Sweden’s attractiveness as an ally in others’ eyes.392 There was a variety of foreign policy considerations. There was the question of how third parties might react to a subsidy treaty, as was the case in 1667 when Sweden had sought subsidies from several sources, and the government acknowledged that if it took money from France, the Dutch Republic and Spain would be angered, but on the other hand if it took from any other country then it would alienate France. The army was in urgent need of cash, but the Swedes realized that whichever way they turned to find an ally they would make enemies in the process.393 There might be other countries also prepared to offer subsidies, so the pros and cons of each had to be discussed. Negotiations could drag on for months, and for a variety of reasons. Some were administrative: in Sweden, for example, a number of bodies had to have a say before any decision could be reached on a subsidy treaty, meaning not only the Council but also the Royal Chancery, and later in the period the Secret Committee. In the Age of Liberty, the Council was normally forced to seek the approval of the Estates of the Realm (the chambers of the Diet) before it could start negotiations, and prior to all subsidy treaties it had to present calculations of the expected costs of all the quid pro quos, and whether the subsidies were ultimately worthwhile accepting. There were also practical reasons: the ambassadors—Sweden’s in Paris and France’s in Stockholm—had their instructions, but in the course of negotiations they might need fresh instructions in order to handle what the other party had proposed.394 It was not unknown for ambassadors or their counterparts to fall ill and so delay business, or indeed for central political figures to sicken and even die, 154

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postponing the negotiations indefinitely. Negotiations could also be extended because one of the parties deliberately slowed the pace. There might be an advantage in waiting for the outcome of other negotiations, for example. France thought it a peculiarly Swedish strategy to play subsid­ izers off against one another, which was a source of great irritation. Although Sweden almost always preferred a French alliance over one with Britain, France was unimpressed that Sweden did not always publicize its choice of its old friend, something that in the Age of Liberty was blamed on Swedish corruption and the party political system.395

Asymmetric friendship ‘One may be certain that France, no more than any other power, does not make this offer from pure love of Sweden, but solely in pursuit of its own interests’.396 This was the opinion of the Chancellor Arvid Horn, seemingly a wholly accurate analysis of how France viewed not only its relationship with Sweden, but also all the other allies it subsidized across Europe. Likewise, French politicians would have said the same thing of their Swedish counterparts: Sweden’s French leanings were governed by its self-interest in maintaining its military capabilities in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and in the Age of Liberty by its dream of revenge for its territorial losses. The premises of the subsidy treaties were thus clear and reciprocal. The Franco-Swedish subsidy treaties and the periods when they were in force were characterized by an asymmetry in international relations, for Sweden’s dependence on foreign resources was key, as was France’s ability to supply those resources. The Swedes’ concern was that France, which had other pressing interests, might decide to pull out of whatever war was underway if there were no subsidy treaty. There were also suspicions about the true nature of France’s involvement in Sweden, sometimes matched by open concern that the promised subsidies would be insufficient, or would not be paid at all. Although the terms of the treaties were not necessarily ­dictated 155

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by French interests, it was an unavoidable fact that what France was prepared to agree to set the tone for each treaty. Judging by the discussions in the Council, Sweden sought alliances with France that would satisfy Sweden’s security needs while retaining some independence of action, enabling it to entertain alliances with third parties without French involvement. Although on paper both countries had the same freedom, the general assumption was that Sweden would be the one to find its options limited. It was not only in the Swedes’ imagination that France had a range of other pressing interests—above all in northern Italy, the Holy Roman Empire, and along its borders with the Spanish Netherlands. The examples from both the 1670s and 1730s confirm that the relationship was known to be asymmetric, and that France almost always had the upper hand over Sweden. On both occasions, Sweden gave in and signed subsidy treaties after prolonged and bitter negotiations, although in the latter instance the treaty was never ratified by France. Thinking back to Marco Cesa’s model, Sweden and France in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries can be seen as having asymmetrically homogeneous alliances, in which France set most of the conditions, but at least there were clear advantages for both parties, at least at first. Cesa’s case in point is British–Dutch relations between 1702 and 1756. He describes Britain as the ­senior party, and notes that throughout the fifty-year period Britain repeatedly voiced its dissatisfaction with the Dutch and their refusal to live up to British demands. Yet despite this, the British remained keen to involve the Dutch in their plans, and, in a definitive sign of the asymmetry in their relationship, began to meddle in Dutch domestic politics by boosting the stadtholder’s position and pushing through a dynastic alliance between the House of Orange and the British royal family.397 It is common in this kind of asymmetric relationship for the strong­ er party to threaten to withdraw support altogether, or to promise even greater aid with increased benefits. Viewed in this light, the ­Franco-Swedish relationship offers ample evidence of both: France not only threatened to withhold subsidies, it actually did so, while at 156

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the same time making fresh promises of larger subsidies. For Cesa, the weaker party in an asymmetric relationship may well produce what is required of it—in Sweden’s case, troops—but the alliance will be designed to leave it incapable of doing anything that might damage the stronger party.398 France’s repeated, and by the later eighteenth century insistent, interference in Swedish domestic politics will be discussed in chapter 10, but what should be kept in mind are the geographical realities that dictated the two countries’ politics, and Sweden’s willingness time and again to enter into a plainly asymmetric relationship. There were evident risks—loss of reputation, involvement in wars it did not want—but equally, while France had the obvious advantage of being a great power, it was sufficiently distant geographically to pose no direct threat to Sweden’s sovereignty. As the examples from the Council discussions show, they always cast about for alternative solutions, even as they entertained yet another alliance with France. The subsidy treaties were often driven by common goals, where each country had its own priorities, combined with mutual need and a gnawing fear at losing a key ally. In that sense, it could be argued that every Franco-Swedish alliance was a new beginning, full of possibility, despite the undeniably asymmetric nature of their relationship.

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Subsidies, history, and enduring friendship When France in 1752 made cautious overtures to the landgrave of Hesse-Kassel about a subsidy treaty, the surprising answer came that it would be out of the question unless it paid its outstanding debt for subsidies to the landgraviate in the Thirty Years War.399 The memory for such alliances, and their pros and cons, was prodigious, and neither was it limited to Hesse-Kassel. If misgivings and conflict were typical of Franco-Swedish relations, it was still the case that expressions of their historic and mutually beneficial bonds of friendship were just as frequent. In view of all the blunt statements of suspicion to be found in the sources, the long stretches when they were allies would be puzzling if there were nothing to offset the distrust. In this chapter I thus address the importance of history, friendship, and historic friendships for the negotiation, indeed the very existence, of foreign subsidies. I begin with the negotiations of 1734–35 as a useful example of how these two occasionally cantankerous parties approached friendship and history—and conflict. The text of the subsidy treaty agreed in 1735 made much of the ‘friendship’ between Sweden and France, and that they had been friends ‘for a long, long time’. According to the treaty, it was the French king’s sincere wish to prevent the coming war from ‘weakening and altering this friendship’, but also to ‘further’ the Swedish king’s and Sweden’s cause. When Sweden, despite the treaty, chose to renew its defensive alliance with Russia, the French considered 159

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the treaty broken, and for that reason Louis XV refused to ratify it. Ambassador Castéja wrote to explain that the treaty, which had been signed in June 1735, had been an expression of the French king’s ‘friendship for the Swedish nation’, its sole purpose being ‘to enable and empower it then to freely pursue all that its interest and the Crown’s dignity deems meet’. Castéja voiced his disappointment that Sweden had renewed its treaty with Russia almost immediately after signing the subsidy treaty with France, and without communicating as much to France.400 His letter was answered by Fredrik I on 8 March 1736, and in a notably robust tone. Castéja’s memorandum was taken by the king to indicate that the French were ‘carbonizing’ rather than ‘affirming’ their reciprocal friendship. The treaty had indeed been taken by the Swedes to be an expression of friendship, but it remained to be seen if France was genuine in its intention to enable Sweden to freely pursue what befitted its interest and the dignity of its Crown. The French treaty, Fredrik I continued, did not prevent Sweden from renewing its treaty with Russia. If it had done, it would be counted more a ‘manifesto’ than a renewal of friendship’. As for the Swedes not having informed France of their intention to renew the Russian treaty, the king pronounced this a lie, because they had communicated it to the French back in March 1735. In describing his understanding of the negotiations, the king was emphatic in his defence of Sweden’s right to renew its treaty with Russia, and he was outraged by France’s failure to ratify the subsidy treaty, which left Sweden not only without French subsidies but without British subsidies too, and all because Sweden had chosen to ally itself with France rather than Britain. To rub salt in Sweden’s wounds, Fredrik I was now forced to watch as the British subsidies Sweden would have had were paid to Denmark instead. How did any of this serve France’s ends? the king asked rhetorically. And was Sweden to refrain from the benefits of its treaty with Russia? he continued. Instead of subsidies, whether from France or Britain, there was nothing but ‘false witness and unfounded accusation’ from the French side. The king rounded off with a tart reminder 160

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that when drawing up the subsidy treaty it had been obvious to the Swedes that France was in parallel negotiations with the Viennese court, and when those apparently went well for France its interest in Sweden cooled significantly. If France allowed itself such freedoms, how could it possibly be upset by Sweden’s treaty with Russia? The enraged king did not stop at the current indignities visited on Sweden by its old friend France; he also reached for historical indignities to fuel his argument. The French had behaved badly towards Sweden too many times before, he wrote. Despite their treaty in 1715 which ran to 1718, France had promptly concluded a treaty with Russia and Prussia in 1717, to Sweden’s distinct disadvantage. Among other things, France had agreed that after the conclusion of its treaty with Sweden (in April 1718) it would not enter into any new agreements with Sweden that in any way inconvenienced Russia or Prussia, nor would it support Sweden with money. Much the same happened in 1735, when the Swedes discovered that France was negotiating in St Petersburg. Sweden had never done the like to France, the king wrote. It would be for the best, he suggested, if all this were forgotten, and France and Sweden instead concentrated on forming an inseparable bond, but it would be hard given Castéja’s accusations. He most certainly expected France to ratify the subsidy treaty. That would be the surest way for the French king to strengthen the bonds that had long existed between the two countries, to the ‘common advantage’ of them both.401 The official Swedish response thus included many of the points usually raised in its private deliberations. It has the history of their long and useful friendship, but also telling examples of French perfidy. It also smacks of a subordinate’s dependence, as it is plain that Sweden needed France, but it also conveys Swedish anger at the dictates of the French and their willingness to pull rank. Something that was often wheeled out was what they termed Sweden and France’s ancient friendship. Evidently, it was considered important in their choice of ally. The Swedish Council used it as an argument for continued alliances with France; the French used it for the same reason. In the first half of the seventeenth century, 161

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they looked back to Gustav Vasa’s reign in the sixteenth century, noting that the two countries were allies even then. What they were thinking of was the international agreement of July 1542, which was both political and economic: it guaranteed Sweden France’s assistance in the event of a war and a number of preferential trade arrangements. In return, Sweden was obliged to send troops if France went to war with the Holy Roman Empire.402 In the later seventeenth century they could look back on Franco-Swedish cooperation in the reign of Gustav II Adolf and during the Thirty Years War. When things became acrimonious in the early 1660s, the Swedish regency govern­ment was nevertheless careful to underline that the friendship between the countries had to endure. Sweden’s kings, wrote the regents, ‘always have and always will prefer that old friendship, and we also’. They intended therefore to maintain the ‘faithful and true friendship with France’.403 When Louis XIV sent a new ambassador to Sweden in 1665, he said it was because the friendship between the two ­countries had endured so long. He also said that it set a good example for other countries, which could see how friendship brought ‘many advantages’ and ‘aggrandizement’ to them both. Theirs, the French king wrote, was a ‘firm, constant, and unalterable friendship’, and Sweden was France’s ‘foremost friend’ and most valu­able ally. Of all France’s relations with princes and potentates, no one could match its relations with Sweden.404 The phrase ‘ancienne amitié’ often featured in France’s assurances of its good intentions towards Sweden.405 During the negotiations in the 1630s, the French envoy Charles de Bretagne du Bois d’Avaugour reported home that Swedish politicians had said that the Franco-Swedish connection, which dated back to the days of Francis I and Gustav Vasa, had been beneficial for Sweden not only in war, but also in peacetime.406 It is interesting to note in the period they referred to, Francis I had used exactly the same phrase when writing about freedom of movement for Swedish merchants in France: between France and Sweden, he claimed, there was an ‘ancienne amitié’.407 Sweden’s ties with France remained important in the eighteenth century. Their friendship ‘had from ancient times been as if heritable 162

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between these two Crowns’ and each had always been able to count on the other to do good and never ill. This was the Council’s pos­ ition in August 1738, when its actions towards France three years earlier were under investigation. What the councillors wanted to communicate was that historically Sweden had benefitted greatly from its relations with France, a world power, and they hoped that this would continue, although there were doubts as to where France now stood.408 The French for their part used similar language in the early 1740s, speaking of the ‘innate and ingrained friendship of old’ between the countries. In a memorandum of 1774 in the French king’s name, issued to the newly appointed French ambassador to Stockholm, Pierre d’Usson (1724–82), the main reason King Louis was prepared to collaborate on this great work—meaning France’s hand in the 1772 coup d’état—were the bonds that Nature itself had fashioned—‘la nature elle-même semble avoir formée’—between France and Sweden. France’s interest in Sweden was all the greater now that it promised to be an ally seemingly more useful that it had been for years—probably referring to the reintroduction of royal authority.409 Franco-Swedish relations took on a timeless quality of sorts in these examples; to all appearances theirs was an ancient friendship that would long continue. Each French king inherited Sweden as an ally from his predecessor, each Swedish king inherited France as an ally, and nature took its course. The enduring nature of the alliance, its existence as permanent status quo, was described in the instructions for the new French ambassador de Pons in 1783, which explained that the union between Sweden and France dated to a long-distant epoch and was currently the personal concern of Louis XVI and Gustav III.410 De Pons was instructed to maintain good relations, convince the Swedish king that the French king had always been and would always be the same, and to prevent the Swedish king from allying himself with others rather than those who had given proof of their fond regard.411 Hillard von Thiessen uses the phrase ‘Vertrauen aus Vergangenheit’ to describe the kind of intergenerational patronage that no longer had a specific focus, but where mutual trust between two 163

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parties saw the relationship continue.412 The Swedish and French kings were not locked into a standard patron–client relationship, of course, but there was nevertheless a strongly personal, inter­ generational element in the personification of the friendship between their two countries. The clearest examples were two aristocratic families, the De la Gardies—who arrived in Sweden from France in the sixteenth century—and the Sparres. Up to the mid eighteenth century six generations of De la Gardies benefited both politically and financially from their close contacts with the French kings, as did four generations of Sparres, and in return France could rely on a loyal body of support, above all in the Swedish Council, where both families played an important role for extended periods.413 It was no coincidence that the Chancellor Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie (Sweden’s most powerful politician between 1660 and 1672), his brothers, and his son were all vocal advocates of a French alliance in the 1660s and 1670s, nor that it was Erik Sparre, with his past in French service, who managed to extract French loans in 1712 and subsidies in 1715 when the Swedish government was in extremis. Just as some of Sweden’s aristocratic dynasties built up long-term relationships with France—and the interest plainly ran both ways—so too did the Swedish Crown, in part because the Francophile families pushed for closer official relations. Two Swedish kings more than anyone else would come to symbolize the enduring importance of the friendship between France and Sweden: Gustav Vasa and Gustav II Adolf. Above criticism in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the two were taken as prime evidence of the rewards of good relations with France. Gustav Vasa was the monarch who broke Sweden free from the union with Denmark and—as it was viewed then—cast off the shackles of the papacy; Gustav II Adolf defended and protected Lutheranism and brought a new glory to Sweden with his military victories across Europe.414 Two successful heroes, they had chosen to work with France, which in turn gave legitimacy to any continued cooperation. We could say that it was past policies that instilled confidence in the current usefulness of Franco-Swedish cooperation. Every now and again 164

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their common history was repeated for the benefit of government officials and diplomats. When after an interval of over thirty years new subsidies were agreed in 1715, Histoire des Traités entre la France et la Suède depuis 1569 jusqu’en 1680 was published, which noted that France’s oldest known alliance with Sweden had been with Gustav Vasa. It also made much of the fact that Gustav Vasa’s revolt in the early 1520s had been against the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V’s brother-in-law, the Danish king Christian II, the implication being that this was the origin of the Swedes’ anti-Habsburg, pro-French position. Henry IV of France was said to have had a good understanding with Gustav Vasa’s youngest son, Charles IX, because the pretender to the Swedish throne, Sigismund Vasa, seemed close to the Emperor in Vienna, while their sons Louis XIII and Gustav II Adolf would act in concert for ‘France and Sweden’s common interests’.415 Gustav II Adolf did much to fuel his own mythical status by instructing his executors to preserve for posterity the clothing he wore into battle by storing it in the armoury in Stockholm Castle. It formed the kernel of Livrustkammaren (the Royal Armouries), which built up into a significant collection of mementoes and relics of Sweden’s monarchy. Gustav Vasa and Gustav II Adolf were not only the poster boys of Franco-Swedish cooperation; in the 1760s and 1770s they were role models for French and Swedish politicians alike when they looked about for a suitable role for Prince Gustav, later Gustav III. Much was made of his Vasa descent—which in truth was distant at best—and his accession in 1771 was marked by the foundation of the Royal Order of Vasa, an order of chivalry with insignia that featured the House of Vasa’s sheaf of corn. In the eighteenth century, it was decided to erect monuments to Gustav Vasa and his grandson Gustav II Adolf, and both were immortalized in an opera apiece, first staged in 1786 and 1788 respectively.416 For Gustav III and those who shared his views on history, Gustav Vasa was the embodiment of the king who cast off the yoke of oppression, ­Gustav II Adolf the king who united a divided kingdom and protected it from foreign threats.417 It was for the same reason that 165

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the new Constitution in 1772 was based on the one in force in the reign of Gustav II Adolf, which was thought of as an especially glorious and successful era.418 The friendship between the kingdoms of Sweden and France thus stemmed from the personal friendship between its kings, but also between the French king and his ministers on the one hand and prominent members of the Swedish aristocracy on the other.

An uncomfortable past When the Swedish Council met in May 1726, it was to discuss whether Sweden should accept the offer to join France, Britain, and Prussia in the so-called Hanover Alliance, which had been formed in 1725 in a response to the Treaty of Vienna’s alliance of Spain, Austria, and Russia. At this stage of proceedings, history would be used to nuance the positive picture of France’s significance for Sweden, and to give focus to the criticism of France’s actions, especially in the 1670s. An intelligence analysis produced by the Secret Committee when Sweden received the invitation to join the Hanover Alliance spelt it out. Sweden was under threat because it was still so weak after the disastrous Great Northern War, and thus it needed foreign aid in order to mount any kind of defence against a mighty—though unnamed—neighbour. True, Sweden had been in a defensive alliance with Russia since 1724, and that ought to be extended in the Secret Committee’s opinion, but there is no doubt that Russia was the dangerous neighbour in question. The Hanover Alliance held out the promise of ships, crews, ‘and considerable monetary aid’, an offer that for the Swedes was nothing short of manna from heaven. An alliance with France, Britain, and Prussia would not only yield significant sums of money—which Sweden desperately needed—but would help restore the country’s honour and welfare, and would lead to lasting peace. Naturally, the alliance’s defensive character was highlighted as central. Historically, the Secret Committee noted, it was what Sweden had always wanted: to enter into alliances that it could faithfully adhere to, and so live in peace with its neighbours.419 166

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They went on that the balance of power in Europe was a cornerstone of Swedish foreign policy. Looking back, this had worked best when Sweden was allied with France, although they had to acknowledge that France had periodically tipped things too far in its own favour, forcing Sweden to approach France’s enemies in order to strike a balance again. While many other countries, including Denmark, Prussia, Russia, and Austria, had a vested interest in Sweden remaining weak, France’s maxim had always been ‘to provide for Sweden’. There had never been any enmity between the two crowns, which was not something that could be said of any other European ­country, continued the Secret Committee, which described France as one of ‘Sweden’s oldest and most reliable friends’; cooperation with France enhanced Sweden’s reputation among all the other nations, but particularly among the Protestants.420 The ancient ties with France were often referred to, as so often before, but there was also the question of the countries’ friendship as a special relationship. The Secret Committee considered Russia and Britain to be Sweden’s friends too, but while friendship with Russia could end abruptly if Sweden were to join the Hanoverian alliance, friendship with France seems to have been founded on something unspoken, abstract even.421 By contrast, at the Council meeting Mauritz Vellingk said that it was a stretch to call France a friend. In his long disquisition on Sweden’s past and current friends, Vellink agreed that France was indeed an old friend, but looking at its past actions, he could demonstrate not only that France had looked askance at Sweden’s successes in the Thirty Years War, but also that France had prevented Sweden from getting better terms in the peace negotiations, while enjoying a very favourable peace treaty thanks to Swedish support during the war. It had not been so very long after the Peace of Westphalia—only 1672, in fact—that Sweden’s old friend had wanted to drag into a costly war against the Dutch Republic. Worse, the subsidies on that occasion were never paid in full, while the French insisted that the little it did pay had to be administered by a French minister, the Marquis de Vitry, without any Swedish involvement, so that the money could only be 167

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spent as agreed and not on anything else.422 The point of Vellingk’s submission was to remind his fellow councillors of how their old friend France had acted in the past.423

A special friendship France’s historic friendship and past misdeeds were used to argue both for and against Sweden renewing the subsidy treaties. For its supporters, each new treaty was confirmation of a long relationship to which there seemed to be no viable alternative. A necessary evil, but one based on shared interests inspired by their mutual friendship. Against this were the advocates of alternative solutions, who saw nothing but the endless wrongs that France had done to Sweden. I will return to the criticism of foreign subsidies per se later, but here will concentrate on the notion of friendship. What did it mean when French diplomats said that their king was Sweden’s friend? What did it mean when Swedish politicians used the concept? The notion of friendship between princes or states was an old one, known as far back as Roman law, when amicitia was a key concept. In such circles, friendship was considered to be a precondition for any international agreement. Friendship, amicitia, was thus both a starting point and an essential condition, and in practice was the term used to denote peaceful relations between two parties, who were said to be ‘friends’. Yet friendship was not merely the continuation of peace by other means; it was a positive, peaceful attitude towards the other party and a willingness to help them if need be.424 ­Randall Lesaffer argues that friendship of the classical type survived ­largely unchanged in the Renaissance and early modern period, but from the beginning of the eighteenth century it lost much of its earlier meaning and gradually disappeared.425 In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, religious war, the growing threat from the Ottoman Empire, and a number of other crises left Europe’s rulers keen to express mutual friendship. One of the first was Pope Leo X (1513–21), who wanted to unite Europe’s princes in peace against what they saw as the menace of the Ottoman Empire.426 What was 168

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new in this, Evgeny Roshchin argues, was that the rise of the strong nation-state saw the medieval, vertical bonds of friendship replaced with horizontal bonds of friendship between rulers, on their subjects’ behalf. This could have practical consequences for the subject of one country visiting another, because if the two rulers were on a friendly footing the visitor could count on the host country’s protection during his stay. Another novelty in early modern Europe was the use of the nation state in the abstract as the party to a friendship.427 Friendship between rulers, said Thomas Hobbes, was essential to the creation of order;428 however, between rulers or states it was an instrument of diplomacy and law, and not the same as between individuals.429 The Swedish thinker Samuel von Pufendorf did not agree, arguing that humans were essentially social, and friendship was natural—where Hobbes implied that hostility was the natural state of affairs.430 Erasmus, another thinker known for his work on friendship, believed that in order to achieve eternal peace there had to be true friendship between princes, and such true friendship could not be achieved by treaties or dynastic marriages.431 Those who were true friends did not have to resort to treaties, he reasoned.432 It was usual in the seventeenth century to think that friendship could only exist between equals, and since all princes were equal then friendship could prevail between them.433 Although the nation state continued to evolve in the seventeenth century, friendship was a thing apart, still largely seen as something that existed between princes.434 This would prove problematic when concluding treaties with states that were not monarchies: the Dutch Republic, Britain under Cromwell, or the Italian city-states.435 Despite shifts in defin­ ition, and of course the question of how to handle Europe’s republics, the concept of friendship continued to be central to the peace treaties of the seventeenth century. The Peace of Westphalia, for example, called for friendship between France and the Holy Roman Empire, just as it should exist between the parties to the Anglo-Dutch treaty of 1674 or the Peace of Nijmegen in 1679.436 The term ‘friendship’ as used by both Swedes and French to describe Franco-Swedish relations, past and future, owed a good 169

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deal to classical amicitia. Friendship not only denoted peace between countries, but also a mutual benevolence. To see this in action one need only look at the accusations that France had not acted as a friend, meaning that it had not behaved charitably or taken Sweden’s best into account. The same was true when there were complications, and Sweden feared it would lose France’s friendship—it was French goodwill that was important. Expectations differed from the classical ideal of friendship in the sense that it was not essential to have struck up a friendship before a treaty could be negotiated. A treaty was thus an expression of friendship that endured as long as the treaty itself—as with Russia—while it could be considered an advantage, as with Sweden’s relations with France, that it could be the mark of a long-term relationship was greater than the sum of its individual treaties.

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Subsidies, resistance, and criticism In 1661 Gustav Bonde, Lord High Treasurer (1660–67) and member of the regency government for Charles XI, presented what amounted to a political programme to strengthen the Swedish economy. He began by saying that he was responsible for leaving the country in good condition when the young king came of age in ten years time. Then a little over 40 himself, he looked back at the reigns of the three Swedish monarchs in his lifetime to see what had been good for the country and what had been damaging. What he saw was that rapid change was dangerous, and what he referred to as a slow disease called for an equally slow cure. Thus he was no advocate of quick or thoroughgoing reform. His concern was for the Swedish heartlands—the Swedish mainland and the duchy of Finland—on which his rule was founded. In comparison with other kingdoms, he found Sweden to be exhausted and weak, and for the simple reason that it lacked money. The problem to Bonde’s mind was that it was impossible to undertake anything. ‘We’, by which he seems to have meant the political elite, himself included, ought to be glad to have such resilient subjects, who worked on with little or nothing in return. This was why he believed it was so important to manage the economy so that Sweden was not dependent on other countries for its survival. wherefore it seems worthwhile, yea unavoidably necessary, to soon face these concerns whether the realm of Sweden is ready to be

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brought to such a state as it could live of its own, and not always have to seek help from others and become their pensioner, but by means of its own power bare its teeth at other potentates when called upon to do so.437

Bonde’s political programme contained polite if direct criticism of Sweden’s dependence on subsidies. He did not mention it by name, but from his talk of seeking help from other countries and becoming their pensioner there can be little doubt that he meant France. In the end, it was the principle of dependence on others that Bonde attacked more than anything else. As for the reasons for Sweden’s financial problems, Bonde identified two: numerous, bitter wars and a poorly managed economy. As war always hit people, agriculture, and trade the hardest, Bonde believed that peace should be the priority. There were good reasons to wage war—to win territory, to defend one’s reputation, and to give the aristocracy the chance to maintain their standing (otherwise they would fall into poverty or be forced to resort to illegal means)—but its many wars had stirred up hostility towards Sweden, and there were those who hoped to see its downfall. In comparison with countries which were at peace and which one could see ‘flourishing and growing’, Bonde said, countries at war were impoverished. War led to maimed, lame, penniless soldiers; countless widows and fatherless children; deserted farms; and a country without the money to defend itself. For all these reasons, Sweden should strive for peace as far as its neighbours would allow, and then use the peace to regain its strength. The second cause of Sweden’s financial straits was poor management. For Bonde, thrift was a virtue.438 Without saying as much, he criticized the official policy of handing out offices and positions in the absence of cash for salaries, rewarding rather than paying military officers and government officials for their services to the state. Instead of grants of tax-free land, those who deserved such rewards should be given a church tithe, income from a local law court, or a personal exemption from tax for life. On the other hand, he disapproved of 172

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cancelling existing grants, arguing that it was harder to be deprived of something than not to have been given it in the first place. If there was any question of a cash grant, it should always be made with the country’s bestinterest in mind. The same was true of offices: only those who were essential should be employed. Offices should not be created solely to have something to grant.439 An important element in his programme was that Sweden’s provinces should bear their own costs and help eliminate the government debt which Bonde said they had helped accumulate. The government had to set money aside for extraordinary expenditure such as war, coronations, weddings, or funerals, so that no extraordinary taxation would be necessary. One problem was that people were raised and educated to serve the state, but when they were no longer needed they moved on to other things. This might mean in future that the government would have to turn abroad to recruit people to government service, just as it had done in the past. There was no easy solution in such a situation. Everything had to be done with the prosperity of Sweden’s subjects in mind, as the king who had wealthy subjects always had someone to turn to, but the king with poor subjects would become poor himself. How could each Estate of the Realm contribute to the public welfare? The nobility should not grow beyond the number that could live off their estates and offices. There had been many recent ennoblements, which had left some serving their peers as pages, said Bonde. Both the old landowning aristocracy and the newer officials and officers were left without positions, and if there were no war in the offing they would descend into poverty. As Swedes did not like to seek their fortunes abroad, but chose to stay at home despite lower incomes, this fuelled the decline of the nobility. The older families lost out when the new nobility took the offices they had previously held. Bonde concluded that in future the Crown had to be restrictive in who it ennobled, but also that the old nobility had to learn to accept the new nobility. Aristocratic estates had become so expensive that families were being forced to sell. The clergy were something of a role model here, because they of all the Estates of the Realm had 173

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proved best at not training up more men than there were available offices. Their number corresponded to their need. When it came to the burghers, though, the government should try to increase their number, because the more wealthy merchants a country had, the more people it could support.440 There was every opportunity for Sweden to flourish, wrote Bonde. It had sought-after raw materials, although they were sold at too low a price and then bought back, refined, at too high a price. Bonde laid the blame for Swedish manufacturing not doing well at the government’s door, because it ennobled successful burghers, who promptly stopped investing in manufacturing in order to invest in land (pricing the old nobility out of the market), or it raised loans which it did not repay, to the ruin of several manufacturers. The Crown had to keep its promises—it was the only way to persuade people to loan it money, and on more than one occasion. Bonde’s message was that few burghers should be ennobled. In addition, only people who lived in Sweden and had their family there should be free to ply their business, otherwise they would only be there long enough to earn money before returning abroad. The peasantry should be protected by law, and above all be spared billeted soldiers or an army passing through: ‘Better to milk a cow than beat her brains out’ as Bonde put it. In the end it was Bonde’s hope that ‘the fatherland be brought to such a state that it becomes like other kingdoms and lives of its own’. Follow his advice and all the Estates of the Realm would fare better; ignore him and the risk was the country would lose esteem and anger at the government would grow, said Bonde.441

Swedish shame, French betrayal As was once said by a senior member of the Swedish Board of Trade, Anders Nordencrantz (1697–1772), anyone who, like him, had read Samuel von Pufendorf ’s history of Brandenburg and the war of 1675 would ‘if it were possible, weep blood at the shame and suffering inflicted on the Fatherland, and all for subsidies’. Nordencrantz wrote as much in his book Tankar om krig i gemen och Sweriges 174

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krig i synnerhet (‘Thoughts on war in general and Sweden’s war in particular’) which he penned in 1758 and published in 1767. The humiliation of having to accept foreign subsidies to pay for a war that ended in defeat was ‘so corrosive that it will stand to Sweden’s shame in printed books for all eternity.’442 Even a century after Sweden’s failed alliance with France in the 1670s the wounds had still not healed, and for those opposed to France in general, and to its subsidies in particular, they were still a painful reminder of the harsh realities. The Pufendorf who Nordencrantz referred to was born Samuel Pufendörfer in Saxony in 1632. He studied at Leipzig and Jena, where he made a number of Swedish acquaintances. In 1661 he was made professor of natural law at Heidelberg, but having published De Statu imperii Germanici (1667), a work critical of the Constitution of the Holy Roman Empire, he found it expedient to move to Sweden, where his brother Esaias was already based. In 1668, Pufendorf was appointed the professor of natural and international law at the recently founded Lund University in the south of the country. When the subsidy treaties of 1672 and 1675 ushered in a new war between Sweden and Denmark, and the southernmost province of Skåne was retaken by Danish troops, Lund University was forced to close and Pufendorf moved to Stockholm, where he was made the Royal Historiographer—a position he held until his death in 1694. In 1684 he was ennobled as Samuel von Pufendorf. While in Stockholm, and with first-hand experience of the war in Skåne, he wrote the history of the Franco-Swedish alliances, Tractatus de Occasionibus Foederum, inter Sueciam et Galliam, Et quam parum illa à partem Galliae ob­servata sint, published in 1680 and in English translation as A discourse by M. Samuel Puffendorf upon the alliances between Sweden and France: Wherein is shewn, how ill the same were observed on the part of France in 1709. The book falls into two main parts, the first being concerned with the alliances between 1632 and the 1670s, and the second a source-based account of the Swedish Council’s discussions about whether to ally with France in the 1670s. In essence the whole book is a stinging criticism of France’s exploitation and betrayal of Sweden, which according to Pufendorf had been the case from the 175

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very start in the 1630s—although it should be remembered that he was writing at a time when there was widespread disappointment with France’s behaviour among Sweden’s leading political circles. Pufendorf began by describing how France, in the run-up to the Treaty of Bärwalde, only looked to Sweden for help because it would make it easier to obtain a favourable peace in Italy, where it was bogged down in the War of the Mantuan Succession, fighting the Holy Roman Emperor by proxy.443 The duchy of Mantua was in the Holy Roman Empire, and Pufendorf and others believed that the plan had been to bring Sweden into the war in Germany in order to weaken the Emperor, which in turn served French interests in northern Italy. Pufendorf said the Swedes discovered this course of negotiations with the French envoy Hercule de Charnacé in 1630. In the negotiations the French were not only deceitful, but downright rude to the Swedish king. Pufendorf dredged up the old example of the Treaty of Bärwalde, which was agreed between the two kings rather than their countries, and how Gustav II Adolf refused to sign unless his name appeared first on one of the two copies of the treaty, the French having planned to have Louis XIII’s name first on both. According to Pufendorf, when the Swedes objected, Charnacé announced that not all purple had the same worth, to which Gustav II Adolf retorted that his honour was not for sale, and the French had to concede.444 In the war that followed, with all Sweden’s victories in the field, the French once again proved how worthless they were as allies. Pufendorf described how they hampered Sweden’s military progress by delaying the subsidy payments and spreading rumours designed to cause a rift between the Protestant princes. He even claimed that there were eyewitnesses to the delight with which news of Gustav II Adolf ’s death was greeted at the French court in Paris.445 France thereafter continued its show of supporting the Swedes with subsidies, all the while working behind their backs to corrupt German principalities and lure them away from Sweden with the help of pensions. After the Swedish defeat at the Battle of Nördlingen in 1634, when it was apparent they would find it difficult to remain in the war without 176

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greater support from their allies, the French behaved offensively, treating them with contempt. Even so, the plan was to keep Sweden fighting in return for new subsidies, but only so it could pull out of the war from a position of strength: thus France used ‘smooth words, large promises and a little gold, to purchase the pains, the peril and the blood of other nations’.446 The betrayals continued, despite renewed subsidy treaties. Swedish troops were left in the lurch when French commanders refused to come to their aid, and when the Swedes protested and threatened to leave the alliance, the French response was to try to persuade the officers to come over to their side. At the peace negotiations in Osnabrück and Münster, the French representatives did their best to benefit at Sweden’s expense.447 A contemporary of Pufendorf ’s whose vocal objections to sub­ sidies took on a new topicality in the later eighteenth century was the diplomat Christian Habbaeus von Lichtenstern. In his pamphlet En Swensk Mans Tankar Om Dess Fädernes-lands Tilstånd, År 1675, (‘A Swedish man’s thoughts on his Fatherland’s condition, 1675’), written in 1675 but not published until 1769, Habbaeus emphasizes that, in contrast to Sweden’s strong position and relative equality with France in the Thirty Years War, the country’s reputation had since waned. Its role as Europe’s peacekeeper was gone, as was its own peace. ‘Its once so terrible and invincible host, is now routed and beaten wherever it dares to show its face. The lands and fastnesses of the realm are hard-pressed and plundered by our neighbours’ forces. We who once enjoyed the honour of being named the Protect­ors of Freedom and Defenders of Religion. We who the many of the ­German Empire, especially our fellow religionists, loved and respected, are now become universally notorious as the Turncoats of Religion and the Opponents of Freedom’, and all because of the alliance with France and Louis XIV. ‘What has brought us to such ignominy? Yea! then the people speak as one: the French have waged unjust war on Germany, and the Swedes have nevertheless both promised and given them succour.’ Sweden’s armies, Habbaeus wrote, against the treaties to the contrary, had attacked Brandenburg ‘only to serve 177

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the French King’, and had laid it waste. They had spared nothing, not even the churches, despite sharing the same Lutheran faith. For this, the Swedes should be punished by God. Sweden had attacked a Lutheran prince when ostensibly defending the faithful. Sweden found itself in an alliance with France, which in turn was allied with ‘most of the Catholic powers’ against the Protestants.448 Several of the arguments against accepting French subsidies heard in the eighteenth century were in fact variants of the angry criticism of the 1670s, in the aftermath of the alliances of 1672 and 1675. That Sweden had let itself be humiliated was a sign that the war was unjust; that France always looked to its own interests first; that France was deceitful; and that its representatives were arrogant and offensive. In short, Sweden’s honour had been sullied. ‘Venturesomeness is to embark on war when reliant on foreign backing’, was one of the aphorisms about the condition and government of Sweden noted down by Councillor Gustav Bonde—­grandson of the Lord High Treasurer in the 1660s—in his commonplace book.449 When Sweden resumed relations with France in the 1720s and 1730s, there was fresh criticism of the system. The Secret Committee’s proposal in 1734 that Sweden should enter an alliance with France in return for subsidies, which were conditional on Sweden not allying with any other country France considered an enemy, met with objections from the same Gustav Bonde. In his view, the treaty gave France the power to decide who its enemies were and thus prevent Sweden from treating with any other state. ‘I cannot help it’, wrote Bonde of France’s request that Sweden intervene in Poland to save Stanisław I Leszczyński, ‘that I do not think France is serious either about Sweden or about Stanisław.’ All the fine words about friendship and aid were designed to give France the upper hand on the Rhine or in Flanders, and when it had achieved its ends it would make peace with the Holy Roman Emperor and Russia, and would then turn round and accuse Sweden of having caused the stand-off in the first place. This was his conclusion, based on how France had acted in the past towards its friends. As he said, first, France’s behaviour during the Thirty Years War and the Peace of Westphalia 178

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was common knowledge; second, France in 1670 inveigled Sweden into helping and then in the Treaty of Fontainebleau in 1679, without consulting Sweden, agreed to conditions that lost it 70,000 rdr per annum in income; third, France had kept none of its promises to the prince-electors of Cologne and Fürstenberg; fourth, the way France had given James II refuge when he fled Britain; and, fifth, consider the fate of the prince-elector of Bavaria. Every single one of these princes had been given promises of French support of one kind or another, Bonde wrote, and France had failed them all. Stanisław could be equally sure of France’s support in Poland, Bonde noted ironically. Bonde provided all these examples to demonstrate that France’s self-interest was its first and only priority.450 To enter into a treaty that left Sweden to any degree reliant on France was thus unthinkable. A decade later in his political testament, addressed to Crown Prince Adolf Fredrik (1710–71) who in 1743 had been chosen to be heir to the throne, Gustav Bonde enlarged on his hostility to France and its subsidies. Bonde blamed the poor state of the country in the 1740s on the Diet of 1734, when Sweden ‘had thrown itself into the bosom of France’. Until then Sweden had for a century wanted consensus with the Holy Roman Emperor and the maritime powers in peacetime, and subsidies and support from France in wartime. What had changed in 1734, Bonde explained, was that Sweden decided that it would prefer France over all others and in all circumstances. The argument then had been that everyone else was seeking Sweden’s downfall; later the excuse was that the French alliance gave Sweden its war, but Bonde reminded the Crown Prince that the war did not begin until 1742—fully eight years later. In 1734 Sweden was still enjoying the sweetness of ‘pleasant peace’. After 1734, in Bonde’s account, Sweden was bound to France by its subsidies, and the mari­ time powers were depicted as such villains that it was verging on treason to say anything good about them. But that was to forget all the good that Oliver Cromwell did in his day, the maritime powers’ assistance when Charles XII landed on Zealand in 1700, that they rescued Sweden when it was ravaged by Russia in 1720–21, and their 179

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offer in 1726 to help destroy the Russian navy.451 With the help of history Bonde set out France’s iniquities, not just towards Sweden but towards all its allies, while what he thought of as the maritime powers’ positive role had been forgotten. The downside of dependence on France was not limited to foreign policy, however. Like the old man he was, Gustav Bonde also took the liberty of offering some advice to the young prince. One was that Adolf Fredrik should visit Uppsala and its university. It was a problem that so many good families sent their children to Paris, where not even the most mature could escape the evil or find the good; indeed, it was the country’s greatest ‘dishonour’ that so many of its young visited France, where they abandoned the consolations of religion for temptation and lust. No man can expect to find good fruit in his garden if he does not tend his saplings, and so Bonde ventured to propose a ban on foreign travel under the age of twenty five. Those who were younger should busy themselves with university studies. Because it was difficult to make ends meet, Bonde thought that Adolf Fredrik should pause all new ennoblements so that the position of the aristocracy could be secured.452 Other proposals designed to shore up the economy were that Sweden should build up its auxiliary forces, which could be subcontracted to foreign powers in return for subsidies. There were several advantages to this idea: Sweden would be in a position to obtain reciprocal assistance if needed; Swedish officers would gain valuable experience; it would be gainful employment for the young; Sweden would finally escape its subordinate position; and, finally, the rank and file would be properly trained. He referred to Charles XI, who had encouraged his young nobles to fight for other countries when Sweden was at peace. Like his ancestor and namesake, Bonde argued that Sweden had to tailor its expenditure to its income. It was by saving that one could achieve independence.453 Ultimately, Bonde’s harshest words were reserved for the dependence that subsidies entailed, especially dependence on France. The opportunities for a more open discussion of a variety of social issues increased significantly in the later eighteenth century, 180

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and the 1766 Freedom of the Press Act made it possible for debate to be shared more widely in the shape of printed pamphlets.454 The impression might be that criticism of subsidies was on the increase, but it is not easy to say whether that was indeed the case or whether it was simply easier to make oneself heard. One of those who was most critical was the businessman and author Anders Nordencrantz (1697–1772), mentioned earlier. Nordencrantz was a burgher’s son from the province of Jämtland, and as a mill owner had a seat in the Diet from 1726 onwards. He was an autodidact, travelled widely in Europe, and was particularly interested in economics. He has also been described as an outspoken and sometimes controversial figure. He never went further than the lowest political ranks, unlike Gustav Bonde, nor did he move in the highest social and political circles, yet he is still interesting, because his thinking on why subsidies constituted a problem for a country so clearly evolved. In the introduction to his book Tankar om krig i gemen och ­Sweriges krig i synnerhet, he wrote that his ambition was to show that war cost money and that it drained resources from agriculture, trade, or shipping. In a free country people should be told why wars started, Nordencrantz said, and the only acceptable justification for war was national security, and not, for example, honour.455 When he wrote the book, Swedish troops were in a precarious situation in northern Germany, where Sweden was fighting on the French side, supported by French subsidies, in the war with Prussia. Instead of winning back its former territories as hoped, the war was an expensive failure. One of Nordencrantz’s main objections to foreign subsidies was that Sweden’s overseas possessions constituted a fundamental p ­ roblem, and he referred to various examples from other countries of how hard it was to defend such territories. Citing Montesquieu, he claimed that a country’s security depended on it being a coherent area that could readily be defended. In fact, he thought it should be written into the Constitution. In looking at the cost of defending its overseas provinces after 1720, he tried to prove that the sums involved did not correspond to the value of the land defended.456 It was said Sweden would lose its honour, reputation, and subsidies 181

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if it were to lose Pomerania, wrote Nordencrantz. ‘It is considered an honour to wage war, but it is not considered ignominious to ever be the pensioner of foreign powers in order to wage war. Nor is it considered ignominious to be as a sentinel on guard, always ready to present arms and march first to the right, then to the left, as is the pensioners’ duty when he who pays the pension so commands.’ If all had remained secret and only known of at home, Nordencrantz continued, it might not have been so bad, but as it was, Sweden’s shame was known to the whole world—and there could be no doubt of it, the hundreds of publications vilifying Sweden were proof enough. People said ‘That the King pays subsidies, but only to poor countries (meaning Sweden), which disburse the subsidy money’ on luxuries in the subsidizer’s country: wines, trinkets, and other inessentials. In this way, the subsidizer had its subsidies back almost as soon as they were paid out. Countries which become accustomed to subsidies are like those who are accustomed to beg from childhood—they become good-for-nothings. Or those who can get credit readily—they become poor. Credit and gifts are the death knell of independence. Gifts from others obscure the ability to use one’s innate gifts, and as for Nordencrantz’s examples of how others described Sweden in the 1670s, they did not redound to anyone’s credit.457 Unlike many Swedes in positions of power who invariably looked up to Gustav II Adolf as the consummate Swedish king, Nordencrantz thought it unfortunate that Sweden had acquired new territories in the Thirty Years War, and that subsidies had forced it to continue to fight the war. Since Sweden was incapable of defending its overseas possessions itself, it would always be dependent on foreign powers. ‘If anyone were to believe that others do it for love of us, and not from self-interest, then he is an utter fool when it comes to politics.’ As he said, the war had been started by a small group of politicians, and only after secret deliberations, and this should be more widely known.458 One of his strongest arguments against subsidies was that he thought he could show that they barely profited the country, and what little profit there was was frittered away on gilt knick-knacks. 182

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Others—and here he meant other countries, with a poorly disguised dig at France—revealed in print that they blamed Sweden for failing to do its bit, while at the same time commending themselves for helping Sweden in its hour of need, although that hour had only come because of them. If Sweden could only be content with the territory it already held, then it would do well without others’ help, in fact very well. Should the Swiss be unhappy because they did not seek to extend their borders, Nordencrantz mused. Should they be unhappy because they live in peace and prosperity? Because their population is growing? The Swiss were the freest people in Europe, and lived well despite the poorness of their soil. They managed to exist between Austria and the Bourbons without an army of their own, simply because they never sought to take more land.459 The people—and here Nordencrantz seems to have meant the Swedes—had never wanted war, it was their governments that w ­ anted it. As for the Hats’ Russian War in the early 1740s or the war against Prussia in the mid-1750s, only a dozen people had made the decision.460 War led to ‘the country’s debilitation’, as the histories of France and Britain showed just as much as Sweden’s and Spain’s. ‘The wider the bounds are set, the more ruinous it has always been for the realm. Rather, to the ruin of people and money, they become a means to tempt us to swallow subsidies, as golden fishhooks, on which we fish are pulled from our element, to our ruin. Subsidies, for all peoples who have taken them, have been the same—as opiates and purgatives for bodies that have no need of them. They are a poison that deadens and enthrals, corrupts and putrefies the commonweal that ingests them.’ ‘It is difficult to remove and be rid of the hook, once swallowed, so fast is it in the body’s deepest innards, without cutting open the belly, which could cost its life; for it is never so that subsidies are given for the benefit of they that receive them, but rather for those who give them, and thus have the effect of holding the entire nation that receives them captive, leading them hither and thither by the nose, as the giver pleases, especially if there is any interest in it for the few so prevailing. Exempla sunt odiosa.’461 Like Gustav Bonde a decade earlier, Anders Nordencrantz argued 183

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that Sweden, like Switzerland and Hesse-Kassel, ought to hire out its soldiers instead of fighting its own wars to win or defend overseas territories. That way, Sweden could earn money and have an effective fighting force, all without having to go to war. It could even be profitable. But he was convinced that the priority should be working the land, and for that Sweden needed a surplus of people. He noted the anger reserved for German princes who hired out their young men, sending them to the slaughter in order to fill their princely coffers with gold. That, for Nordencrantz, was as bad as taking subsidies.462

The pamphleteers In a letter home to Paris in June 1766, the French ambassador, Breteuil, described an opinion war that had broken out between pro- and anti-French groups in Sweden. He painted a picture of anti-French forces trying to ‘incite and blind the masses’ by sending out representatives into the provinces to stir up sympathy for their cause. It would seem the pro-French groups had been just as active, and Breteuil reported with some satisfaction that ‘all the news we receive from the provinces is in our favour’.463 Given the new regime’s foreign policy and the broken alliance with France, it was natural that the question of subsidies would be on everyone’s lips. There were reservations about whether the longterm relationship with France had benefited Sweden, and about whether it was right to be so close to another country and to accept its money. Criticism of the Swedish–French relationship included a concern that the subsidies had largely gone on imported luxury goods. Any advantage from the subsidies, one Cap adherent said, was dissipated in trade with France, while trade with Russia put food on people’s tables, and trade with Britain was worth three times as much as the revenue from the French subsidies.464 Another anti-French argument was that Sweden’s honour had been damaged by France’s behaviour. Money had given France power over Swedish politics, so that its peace with honour had been lost. For the sake of French gold, Sweden had lost its neighbours’ 184

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friendship and its own prosperity. One price Sweden had to pay was that its co-religionists abroad now despised it.465 As so many times before, past injustices were brought up, and especially the war in the 1670s, when France, according to one Cap pamphleteer, had humiliated Sweden by marking the peace treaty with ‘a Medal with the Gustavian arms and the inscription “Gallus Protector” on the one side and on the other the Swedish coat of arms with a cockerel (Gallus) above and the inscription “Sub umbra alarum Svecia”. ’466 Sweden’s reputation was in tatters, both at home and abroad, wrote one debater.467 The idea that Sweden had been disadvantaged by its French alliances and subsidies was enlarged on in several pamphlets in the late 1760s. There was much comment on the failed campaigns that had ended in the devastation of Finland, which as one writer noted grimly was particularly useful because, war-ravaged and uninhabitable as Finland now was, it had become an excellent barrier against the enemy. No, there was no call to be silent about the ‘happy effect of the foreign subsidies’.468 Other writers presented long and damning histories to show how Sweden had been exploited time and again. Back in 1631, even before Sweden had signed the Treaty of Bärwalde—the fons et origo of all subsidy treaties—France showed how little respect it had for the Swedish king. ‘It is strange’, wrote one pamphleteer, ‘that so enlightened a Lord [as Gustav II Adolf] did not better sense the interest France had in his Realm’s condition and reputation; but unlooked for he found this interest went too far, when France sought to place him under its protection and its ambassador did not account him the equal of Louis XIII. In the position Sweden then found itself vis-à-vis France, the offer was found unworthy. Gustav Adolf was too sensible of his and his people’s honour to surrender the least of his independence to an ally who needed him to break the power of the House of Austria, and for that reason alone sought his friendship.’469 This was a nod to the much-repeated example that Gustav II Adolf had refused to let the French king’s name appear first on both copies of the treaty, and had insisted that his own name be first on one and Louis’ on 185

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the other. Sweden’s successes in the Thirty Years War made France jealous, and its ambassadors worked against Sweden and ‘withheld the subsidies when Gustav Adolf refused to defer’. At the Heilbronn League congress in 1633, France ‘secretly’ opposed Axel Oxenstierna and Sweden’s interests, and supported Denmark with subsidies while making Sweden wait for its payments. The writer continued with a list of one injustice after another, larded with examples of how France had withheld subsidy payments.470 ‘The alliance with this Crown was renewed in 1672, after much gainsaying in the Senate and the Estates welcomed it, once it was to be only defensive. The French ambassador Feuquières, however, understood to use the subsidies as bait until he had sight of an army over on German soil, which for lack of subsistence was forced to enter Brandenburg and live by discretion. The French court thereby succeeded in its intention of taking prince-elector Friedrich Wilhelm away from the allies’ army.’471 Following the suspension of subsidies for most of Charles XI’s and Charles XII’s reigns, Sweden had allied with France in 1715, whereupon the French joined an opposing alliance with Prussia and Russia, the pamphleteer continued. ‘Had France such a natural interest in our condition and strength as is now so loudly claimed, that same interest would unquestionably have led it to support an old brother-­ in-arms, who was in the utmost difficulties and in need of all things; but instead, for Russia and Prussia’s sake, it severed all ties with us and all allowance of men and money, and left us to our wretched fate.’472 France, and not only Britain, had had a hand in the disastrous peace that ended the Great Northern War. The author noted that Sweden was justified in joining the Hanover Alliance in 1727 because its interests coincided with Britain’s, while those who now said Sweden could never ally with Russia—the Hats—were then enthusiastic at the thought. It was the Polish succession in 1733 that changed how things were done in Europe.

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To that end, the French ambassador Castéja offered subsidies and tried to persuade the Swedish government to agree to some offensive move. However, their true intent was to thereby encourage the Turkish court to break its peace with Russia, because this country could not possibly bring itself to assist the Emperor, and France could thus obtain the Lorraine for a far better price. This was the fat prize the French court had its eyes on, wherefore it not only negotiated in secret in St Petersburg of all places, but once the preliminaries had been signed in Vienna, Castéja used the renewal of the Defensive Alliance with Russia as the pretext to refuse to ratify it. In this manner the French government spared itself the cost of paying us subsidies, and for France’s sake we also lost considerable subsidies which had been tendered to us by Britain, but which we could not accept. You cannot be ignorant of the fact that Castéja on this occasion took a high line, and on his recall left it was said a testament for his new friend, who from this time on changed his mind, and declared himself completely in favour of a system that he thus far, with many fervent speeches, had worked against. I do not know whether this contributed to the great change seen in the government here with us in 1738.473

The text contains many of the standard accusations against France. The real aim with its subsidies was rarely what it said it was, and was always much more advantageous for France. Once the treaties were signed, France left Sweden without the promised support. Subsidies were not paid in full, or were postponed, creating endless problems for Sweden’s armies. And then there was ambassador Castéja’s ‘high line’—his arrogant behaviour, belittling Sweden as the weaker ­party—an accusation that over the years had been directed at several French ambassadors tasked with negotiating subsidies with Sweden. All this, wrote the author, ‘I can document’, confirming that France’s alliances with Sweden ‘were for nothing but its own interest. I do not wonder at it, however. It is as natural as it is strange to imagine that it might be any different. Experience should convince us that these subsidies have not contributed to our condition and strength; 187

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for they had been as a king’s shilling for which we do service in war that otherwise could have been avoided.’ In this way, war had resulted in a falling population and failing prosperity: to ‘sacrifice thousands of people in their prime and yet pretend they were doing it to strengthen the realm’ was, the author wrote, a flat contradiction. ‘To now speak my mind, I believe France has no more interest in our condition, strength and reputation than any other power does, and that our true interest now calls more for many years of quiet sedentariness, so that we may cure the damage done us by unseasonable motion in the years 1741 and 1757’, ‘For a wise man rests when he finds it necessary; but a fool and a lunatic will run himself to death for money.’474 To give weight to his words, the author concluded by quoting Axel Oxenstierna’s words to the Council about treaties with France. ‘One should treat the French with the same courtesy that they treat us; but do not let them tie our hands; because the honour of this realm (Sweden) demands that we do not sell ourselves to a foreign power for money. Who does not know that France does not keep its promises, unless they suit its interests? If it can pursue its interests without us, then it will do so. The national interest is the only driving force in what it undertakes. It promises everything without purposing aught, as happened in Heilbronn. The French ambassador spoke publicly there of Sweden’s interest; but in secret he disagreed and worked against us in everything, and formed a separate party; in order to win France supporters, he distributed pensions to the members of the very council set up to govern the League of Heilbronn. This then was the opinion of this great statesman of a power that our newer politicians could not find the words sufficient to praise for his tender concern for our Realm and its wellbeing, and whose alliance bespeaks well-intentioned citizens. Such thoughts may be born of conviction, but they conflict with 130 years of experience; each will find himself in the same predicament as the League’s council in Heilbronn.’475 It was part of the pamphlet genre to ridicule one’s opponent’s arguments. The notion that Sweden benefited from France’s sub­ sidies and friendship therefore met with the following tart response 188

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from a staunch critic of subsidies in 1769. ‘In respect of subsidies, or levy-money, and its innocent nature. Can anything be more innocent than to take that which is offered?’ True, the author wrote, gift exchange sustained friendship, but ‘all this happy subsidy time’ what else did Sweden have ‘to offer in return to such a bounteous giver other than some few thousand miserable lives, a commodity that is the aptest and commonest of all Swedish products?’ The British, on the other hand, had in return for subsidies handed France not only Dunkirk but also the blueprints for the British navy. That Sweden had not given anything like as much to France in return for all the millions received in subsidies was remarkable munificence on France’s part. The multitude, who from stupidity claim benefit, blessing, or, in their absence, a willingness for such friendship money, do not understand the great political secret that their poverty and our wealth are what makes the realm strong.’476 Those who welcomed Sweden’s alliances with France also fell back on history-based arguments to make their case. The honour that critics said France and its subsidies had tarnished looked very different to Francophile eyes. The pamphlet Den Rätta och Sanna Ähran, Hos Et Folk Och Samhälle, I Synnerhet Det Svenska (1767, ‘The right and true honour of a nation and society, Sweden’s in particular’) said that Gustav II Adolf ‘agreed to substantial cash subsidies, for the very reason that he was so mindful of his honour and independence that he would rather take his war chest from others than starve his subjects’, and this was the secret of his success. The same author commented on the criticism frequently levelled at France for its treatment of Sweden in the wake of the 1670s war. This ‘connection is considered to be most harmful’, but the author countered that in the peace negotiations France had ensured that Sweden recovered almost all of its territory.477 Those who argued that Sweden had benefited from its French subsidies for obvious reasons tended to concentrate on the Thirty Years War and Gustav II Adolf ‘who was much advanced by the alliance and the subsidy treaty with France.478 Even afterwards, Sweden had always had a friend in France. 189

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Where are we to find an ally whose trust can so benefit us, and in whose staunch friendship we can always trust? If experience together with sensible policy is to guide us, then we will learn not to hesitate: France has always shown itself inclined to be particularly familiar with Sweden. It is said it was self-interest; that I grant, for that is the basis of all political relations; and it would be foolish to wait for someone to take our part on pure merit; our position on the globe is suitable enough to on occasion make a diversion into Europe, and for that reason France seeks our friendship; distance prevents the jealousy that plagues our neighbours; and the friendship is confirmed by the similarity in the political interests of both countries. How much the French alliance contributed to Sweden’s enlargement under the Vasa family’s rule cannot have escaped anyone who possesses the slightest insight into his fatherland’s history. It is true that we also suffered harm by it; but it has been caused by a foolish and irresponsible execution of plans that otherwise won everyone’s applause as safe and good.479

The treaties with France in the eighteenth century were just as advant­ ageous and necessary, according to another author. In order ‘to guard against the threat of a dangerous and ambitious neighbour, to maintain the realm’s independence against Russian superiority’, Sweden in the 1730s made ‘a close alliance with France: an alliance based on a sound policy; innocent in origin since it existed only for the maintenance of the realm; profitable, because Sweden needed an ally of the strength and reputation that France had long been esteemed for by the whole of Europe; without adventuring anything, because France’s location did not permit it, to abuse its confidence or to use our weakness to their advantage.’ Yet the alliance, which according to the author was ‘so honest, so praiseworthy, so virtuous and prudent’, would still be criticized. ‘Now therefore France was made party to all the crimes that were the fault of false policy: its ambitious rule depicted in the weakest colours. Sweden to their minds, would have done better to accept the Greek religion and the Russian yoke; and would have done better to place itself in its arch-enemy’s hands than to enter into and continue in such an alliance.’480 190

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An alliance with France, which for Sweden was the most natural course of action, was repugnant to some, wrote one pamphleteer in 1769. The reason was that it went against ‘our dear neighbours’ interests’ and ‘because the French subsidies built fortifications in Sweden right under the neighbours’ noses’.481 There was no one ‘who does not know that if it were not for French subsidies, both of people and money, King Gustav Adolf and his generals after him would never have been able to do everything they did, or to obtain the honourable peace from the mighty House of Austria and the German Empire’, he explained. At the time it was recognized that ‘in war you have use of a good and powerful alliance’. However, the author was critical of Charles XI and his support of Austria, which thus broke off ‘the friendship with a king in France who with his own army’s and ambassadors’ power had restored to him [Charles] all his lost German possessions, it probably appears foolish and ungrateful’. The explanation was that Charles XI ‘was not brought up with any political sense’, and besides trusted too to his advisors, who exaggerated their fears that France wanted hegemony. As for the war in the 1670s, France could hardly be blamed for the Swedish army being taken by surprise and driven out of Germany. The critics’ belief that France would prefer a weakened Sweden was completely wrong. ‘This much you should know: that France, as a constant rival to England, in its wisdom and honour will never seek our weakness, but rather our strength, as long as we behave reasonably and take every opportunity.’ Especially after 1738 and a fresh subsidy treaty, the Swedish government, with the help of ‘a French alliance for subsidies’ rebuilt ‘as far as was possible the strength and discipline of the army’. In principle, the author could not see any problem with foreign subsidies. It surely could be no worse to use others’ money rather than one’s own to pay for self-defence. ‘The best way to avoid war is always to be ready to start one. Such arrangements cost money; and why should others’ [money] not be as good as one’s own, if accepted with certain reservations? Had not the great Prussian monarch accepted subsidies from a certain power? And do you know of no minister, who since he spurned the French has 191

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turned to the British, but obtained nothing and so now must borrow money? The much-criticized tactic used by the Cap government was to ‘halt subsidies and borrow money abroad’; thus ‘disarmed and divested, we could be taken for women and commanded as children by whoever first pleases to do so’.482

The root of the problem Broadly speaking, subsidies were criticized on four points: (i) it was humiliating to accept subsidies and it was an insult to the country’s or the prince’s honour; (ii) to accept subsidies was to be dependent on the subsidizer, and allowed it to interfere in the other country’s domestic politics; (iii) subsidies led to war and were thus a strain on the public purse, stealing resources and preventing prosperity; and (iv) subsidies fuelled war and led to the deaths of many young men. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, the Enlightenment reinforced the resistance to subsidies, especially once the German armies had been sent to fight Britain’s cause in North America. As Tryntje Helfferich has shown, in the Thirty Years War there was not only Habsburg propaganda against France’s use of subsidies to threaten the unity of the Holy Roman Empire, but also propaganda on the part of France’s allies among the German princes, who recognized the benefits of being able to access the resources needed to continue fighting, but also the risks of an alliance with a kingdom with suspect intentions.483 Here, criticism centred specifically on French influence and its possible dangers rather than the subsidy system per se. The same was true of Samuel von Pufendorf, who as an international figure was openly alarmed not only that Sweden accepted French subsidies, but also that France was endangering the freedom of Germany’s rulers. As he said, it was up to the princes themselves to realize that they were in France’s pocket, and the threat that posed to Germany as a whole.484 Across Europe, just as in Sweden, criticism of subsidies became more vocal towards the end of the period in question. When Britain began to pay subsidies to German princes in return for the presence of 192

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their soldiers in North America to preserve British sovereignty there, many Britons reacted strongly. The use of troops from Hesse-Kassel and Brunswick against British subjects ran counter to the ideals of an increasingly assertive British nationalism. The fact that Britain was incapable of putting down the American rebellion on its own was considered not only dangerous because it risked making enemies of the other European powers, but also extremely embarrassing. For a powerful empire to be forced to turn to poor, insignificant German principalities ‘in the most mortifying and humiliating manner’ in order to regain control over its own subjects, Lord John Cavendish said, ‘was to be disgraced in the eyes of all Europe’.485 The condemnation in Britain was followed closely in its North American colonies, and served to further alienate the colonists from Britain. The fact that it was prepared to use German soldiers gave the impression that it regarded the colonists as non-British.486 In Germany too there was criticism of the part played by subsidies in the American War of Independence. Charles Ingrao has identified the prominent critics, including Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805), Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803), Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock (1724–1803), and Immanuel Kant (1724–1804).487 Schiller used his play Kabale und Liebe (1784) to attack the trade in soldiers seen in many German states in his day. While a story of blighted love, it also described the realities of life in Württemberg, where a relatively poor prince could fund his court by peddling his subjects in return for subsidies. Schiller showed it happening through violence and abduction. In one scene, the prince’s manservant delivers some precious jewels to the prince’s mistress and is asked how much they are worth. Nothing, came the answer. ‘Yesterday, seven thousand children of the land left their homes to go to America—they pay for all.’ Horrified, the mistress is told that the manservant’s two sons were among the soldiers sent away and that the men who protested had been executed on the spot.488 In Zum ewigen Frieden: Ein philosophischer Entwurf (1795; Perpet­ ual Peace: A Philosophical Essay, 1917), Immanuel Kant argued against subsidies by saying that no state should be dependent on 193

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another, whether for inheritance, exchange, purchase, or gift, for ‘the hiring out of the troops of one state to another to fight against an enemy not at war with their native country is to be reckoned in this connection; for the subjects are in this way used and abused at will as personal property’.489 The theologian and poet David Christoph Seybold had earlier written in his two-part novel Reizenstein (1778) about a teacher angered by Germans being sent to North America to put down the revolution.490 One of the German princes in the firing line was Frederick II of Hesse-Kassel, known for agreeing to a highly profitable subsidy treaty with Britain in 1776. Anger at the agreement centred on the fact that Hessian soldiers were in British pay to fight for the British king in North America, and not to defend their home country and its possessions. ‘Vous êtes vendu!’ Honoré Gabriel Riqueti de Mirabeau exclaimed in a twelve-page pamphlet in 1777, enraged that they had been sold in order to fight people who were defending the noblest of all causes, their freedom.491 Even Frederick the Great, himself no stranger to substantial British subsidies, wrote to Voltaire that the Landgrave of Hesse had sold his subjects to Britain like lambs to the slaughter.492 That the criticism hit home was evident from Frederick of Hesse-Kassel’s counterpropaganda, for anonymous apologia were rushed into print, and publications critical of him were bought up wholesale to prevent the word spreading.493 The criticism heard in late eighteenth-century Germany differed from the Swedish debate, where broadly speaking the fear was that Sweden was risking its independence by accepting subsidies, for dependence could lead to a situation in which the country’s honour was called into question. Moreover, throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries the feeling was that subsidies were damaging to Sweden’s agriculture and industry. There was general agreement on the question of Sweden’s honour, which was a constant concern in the Council’s deliberations about whether to accept subsidies, but the economic arguments were largely missing when the councillors considered the pros and cons of the subsidy treaties. Instead, as we have seen, it was Sweden’s pressing need for cash to pay its army and 194

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navy that outweighed everything else. The discussion in Council in fact echoed the positions in the public debate, where subsidies were said to have a positive effect by giving Sweden international standing in the seventeenth century and helping it regain it in the eighteenth century. There were two key elements in Sweden’s doubts on subsidies: there was criticism of the subsidy system per se, and there was criticism of Sweden’s acceptance of subsidies from France. Often the two coincided, for some of those who balked at the system as a whole also reacted particularly strongly to the fact that it was France of all countries that Sweden had taken money from. It was hardly a surprise that it should be so, given that France dominated the system not only for Sweden but for most other European states. For those who rejected the subsidy system on principle, the main objection seems to have been the risks to the recipient’s independence. For those exercised by the fact that France was the subsidizer, the fear was that it would continue to take advantage of its position by looking to its own interests first, ultimately damaging Sweden’s independence. Much of the public debate in the late eighteenth century turned on the effects that dependence on subsidies had on Sweden, to which I will now turn.

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chapter 9

The impact of subsidies— migration, mobility, and mortality As has been seen, subsidies raised awkward questions about national honour and dependence. In this chapter, I look at the impact of the subsidy system on Sweden as a country, but also on individuals and groups at various levels. I begin, however, with a brief overview of the effects that subsidies had in other countries.

Princes and states The literature shows that the subsidy system in Europe could have significant political impact, but also that it could affect social mobility. In the sixteenth century, whenever it wanted to put a strong army into the field France had turned to the Swiss cantons, which had a pool of young men prepared to be recruited in return for money, often in the form of ‘pensions’. There were times when France accounted for between 15 and 65 per cent of individual cantons’ revenue, which was extremely significant, be it economically, socially, or politically, for the Francophone elites in the cantons.494 In the first half of the seventeenth century, France was still too weak militarily to go to war with the Holy Roman Empire unaided.495 For smaller countries such as Hesse-Kassel, an alliance with the promise of subsidies with a stronger state could be a matter of survival. By joining the Heilbronn League in 1633, the small principality also became Sweden’s ally, and when France finally entered the Thirty Years War 197

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in 1635 it was apparent that subsidies would be needed on a more regular basis. It was agreed that in return for subsidies, Hesse-Kassel would provide 7,000 foot and 3,000 cavalry to fight alongside the French and Swedish forces. Although as Jörg Ulbert points out the agreement was crucial to Hesse-Kassel, it was also important to France. When William V of Hesse-Kassel died in October 1636, French representatives were quick to present his widow, the regent Amalia Elisabeth, with a diamond-encrusted crucifix and a letter appointing her young son general of the German troops. They also moved to secure the support of Peter Melander, the landgraviate’s leading politician, with an annual pension of 18,000 livres. Thereafter, the Franco-Hessian subsidies continued until the end of the war in 1648.496 The effects of subsidies were also felt on countries’ domestic politics and the dynastic ambitions of individual princes. Tryntje Helfferich has argued that French money played a role in promoting certain princes’ status at the cost of others. She also points out that smaller German states could find themselves heavily dependent on France, as was the case with Hesse-Kassel in the Thirty Years War, when French subsidies accounted for one-third of Hesse-Kassel’s war chest.497 This dependence was no coincidence. There were to be new subsidy ­treaties between Hesse-Kassel and France in the eighteenth century—a total of thirty between 1702 and 1763. At this stage, French subsidies amounted to 40 and 50 per cent of the Hessian national economy and have been described as its economic motor. Between 1763 and 1815 there were a further seven treaties. Charles Ingrao describes the Hessian military as the ‘country’s primary export industry’ in the eighteenth century.498 In other German states—Württemberg, Saxe-Gotha, and Waldeck—the princes’ dynastic ambitions were given a boost by their subsidy revenue, but perhaps more import­ antly by their association with a far stronger country, in this case France.499 In Hesse-Kassel and Württemberg, where the army became the major employer, offering advancement above all to the lower nobility, there was little need to raise taxes and it became possible to concentrate on trade. This was a propaganda coup for Württemberg’s 198

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and Hesse’s rulers, leaving them free to pursue their own dynastic ambitions. One standard objective was to strengthen one’s position in the Holy Roman Empire. Thus in 1711 Duke Eberhard Ludwig of Württemberg (1676–1733) tried with French support to proclaim himself King of Franconia, while a later successor in Württemberg, Carl Eugen (1728–93), sounded out his chances of being elected king of Poland in the 1750s.500 The surplus from subsidies was also used for status-enhancing luxury consumption—palace-building, art, expensive court ceremonies—which in turn fuelled the competition with other princely dynasties across Germany. At the same time, as Anuschka Tischer points out, in the long run what was good for a poor German prince was not always good for the subsidizer. France’s support for Brunswick-Lüneburg in the Nine Years War (the War of the Palatine Succession) in 1688–97 was intended to neutralize it, but instead had the effect of strengthening the duke’s position to the point in 1692 where Brunswick-Lüneburg was elevated to the electorate of the Holy Roman Empire.501 In Britain too attempts were made to use subsidies to strengthen royal authority and allow it to rise above factional politics. Both Charles II and his brother James II sought to circumvent Parliament’s power over public finance by accepting subsidies from France. The price of freedom from parliamentary oversight was for Charles II the Treaty of Dover in 1670, when he had to promise to join France in fighting the Dutch Republic and to take the momentous step of converting to Catholicism. James II encountered endless problems when his cousin Louis XIV refused to pay his subsidies. James was reluctantly forced to follow Parliament’s line on foreign policy, which in turn was detrimental to French interests. As a result, Louis XIV changed tack and paid the subsidies—on condition that James’s troops withdrew from the Dutch Republic.502 Christopher Storrs argues that the importance of subsidies lay above all in what Britain could then pay for, for it was the combination of navy, army, and subsidies that formed the basis of Britain’s great power status after 1688.503 One interesting effect seen in Switzerland in the sixteenth century was that the cantons which provided the rest of Europe with soldiers 199

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were largely left safe from foreign attack. The reason was that the standard freelance contracts in Switzerland had a clause that gave the canton the right to recall its soldiers in the event of a threat to the Confederation, whether from internal unrest or a foreign attack. In other words, it was in the subsidizer’s interest to prevent such a state of affairs from arising, and in time this ushered in an increasingly deliberate policy of Swiss neutrality, which was generally accepted by its neighbours.504 This points to one effect that should not be forgotten in the Swedish context: subsidy treaties not only provided resources in the form of cash to pay for its military capabilities, they invariably had a clause to the effect that if Sweden were attacked when fighting for France, France had a duty to come to its aid. Thus, the subsidy treaties offered protection against attack—a guarantee that would not have existed without the subsidies.505

The impact of subsidies on Sweden The question is what impact French subsidies had on Sweden over and above the outcomes the two countries anticipated when negotiating the subsidy treaties. Subsidy treaties are here taken to be the end point in a long process of negotiations, but also the starting point of another process, which included spending the money. At any given stage there was potential for conflict, just as there was a range of solutions, but equally it was open to both individuals and groups to lose or profit by it. In terms of high politics, Gustav II Adolf and Gustav III were the two Swedish kings who were plainly affected by French subsidies. Gustav II Adolf ’s intervention in the Thirty Years War and Gustav III’s autocoup brought them both far greater power and personal glory, but they were also very dependent on subsidies for their successes. Like many of the smaller German states, French subsidies were often a prerequisite for Sweden’s ability to play a political role in Europe. Of the winners and losers, France was obviously a winner: when Gustav II Adolf entered the Thirty Years War it played straight into France’s hands and helped establish it as a major European power. 200

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Gustav III’s coup in 1772 did not leave quite the same impression, but nevertheless helped pull Sweden back from what France feared most—overt Russian or Prussian influence. Both came at a price, of course. In Gustav II Adolf ’s case it was paid by his subjects, as we will see, while Gustav III’s was paid by the adherents of Sweden’s Constitution from the Age of Liberty. The following chapter considers three examples of political influence in greater detail. To gauge who benefited and who lost by the subsidies, it is worth revisiting the question of how the money was spent, and who was in a position to spend it in 1632, 1675–77, and 1727–29, drawing on examples from other periods. As already seen, 85 per cent of the subsidies were used for military purposes, and the remaining 15 per cent was spent on diplomacy, the royal court, and a range of smaller items (see pp. 76–78). The Swedish accounts from the autumn of 1632 show that the funds were largely spent on the war in Germany, but it also offers considerable detail on who earnt most from the system at the individual level, meaning not just the military staff.506 In November 1632, the Swedes had been on campaign in Germany for over two years, and all the people listed were men. The list has a total of 24 items of expenditure, primarily individuals identified by name—sixteen of them—while four military engineers were listed by title only and thus remain anonymous. There were no groups or institutions listed as recipients, with the exception of one payment to ‘Lübeck interests’. Most of the recipients have been identified. The list begins­­with­ Duke Wilhelm of Saxe-Weimar (1598–1662), who was paid 20,000 rdr, or 15 per cent of the total paid out on that occasion. Duke Wilhelm, brother of the better-known general Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar, had entered the war on Gustav II Adolf ’s side. The accounts do not give a reason for the payment, but it seems likely it was compensation for soldiers he was to muster or possibly pay for existing troops. At this point the Swedish army was made up primarily of foreign soldiers and officers, who fought for the Swedish king and recruited for him.507 Other foreign officers named in the list were the Scot Donald Mackay, Lord Reay (1591–1649), and the German aristocrat Dodo zu 201

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Innhausen und Knyphausen (1583–1636), one of the highest-ranking officers at the Battle of Lützen where the Swedish king was killed. The following year Knyphausen was made a Swedish field marshal. Both MacKay and Knyphausen were paid relatively small amounts, and there is no indication what the payments were for. On the o­ ther hand, two officers whose names suggest that they too were not Swedish, Lammermont and Hamilton, were paid large sums for providing military supplies—a total of 18,298 rdr. Hamilton could have been almost any of the 65 Scottish officers with that name who fought in the Swedish army under Gustav II Adolf.508 Although there were several foreigners who were paid out of the subsidies, there were also Swedish noblemen and burghers on the list. Some of them seem to have been receiving repayments for expenses already incurred—a total of 67,141 rdr, or about 49 per cent of the total paid out. Thus there was Sten Bielke (1598–1638), a nobleman who at the time was based in Pomerania, and more specifically Stralsund, sourcing supplies and materiel for the Swedish army.509 Bielke was one of the group of nobles and merchants who had been asked to advance money to the Swedish government against repayments out of the French subsidies.510 Others on the list were Klas Horn, probably Klas Horn (1583–1632) the nobleman who at the time of his death was commander of Stralsund, and Peter Grönberg (1579–1632).511 Grönberg was a Swedish merchant and financier who had won Axel Oxenstierna’s trust. In 1631 he was ennobled, and at the same time he was stationed in Hamburg, where he bought weapons and gunpowder, paid for troop musters, and made interest payments on Sweden’s national debt.512 Other Swedish recipients of money from the French subsidy were Melchior Falkenberg (1597–1651), who was in the Dutch Republic for the Swedish copper trade, and Johan Leuhusen (1597–1641), who Axel Oxenstierna used as an envoy and in 1631 had been on a mission to Paris with Oxenstierna’s cousin Bengt Oxenstierna. One of the items on the list is for money spent in Paris on travel and gifts, which probably referred to that particular visit. Overall, then, the recipients of the subsidy money were on this occasion a 202

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fairly even mix of Swedish and foreign nobility, with a number of Swedish burghers. Although the 1632 accounts have no detailed information about what the money was intended for in each instance, it seems likely that the vast majority was spent on the campaign in Germany, exactly as agreed in the subsidy treaty. Most of it was spent on recruiting and equipping troops or buying materiel. A small proportion (about 4 per cent) was used to pay for diplomacy, and even less to cover the administrative charges incurred in transferring the subsidies (about 1.5 per cent). As far as it is possible to trace what this subsidy was used for, evidently most of it was spent outside Sweden. The money never made it to Sweden; it was used in continental Europe, mostly on foreigners who were either in Swedish service or had done the Swedish Crown a service. Thus one could say that the Swedish government was at this point acting as a distributor of French resources to officers on campaign in Germany and to the merchants across Europe who supplied the armies. The extent to which the men listed in the 1632 accounts profited personally from the subsidy payments made to them is hard to say. By rights there must have been some degree of personal advantage in being recruited into a successful army, with the opportunity to make a career and move up the social ladder, and there were doubtless profits to be made from Sweden’s French subsidies by the merchants who supplied the Swedish army with weapons, ammunition, food, and clothing. The accounts of how the French subsidies were spent in the 1670s were considerably more detailed and comprehensive than the surviving accounts from 1632.513 The focus here will be the three-year period of 1675–1677, when Sweden was at war with Brandenburg and Denmark. There was a total of 84 items of expenditure recorded, 47 of them payments to individuals, most of whom were mentioned by name. As the same person could receive several payments, the actual number of individuals involved was 31, of whom 2 were women. Unlike 1632, the cash made its way to Sweden, and judging by the accounts the vast proportion of it was spent in Sweden too. 203

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Again, unlike 1632 most people who were paid out the subsidies were living in Sweden at the time.514 Of a total of 4,400,000 daler silvermynt (dsm) (which corresponded to 2,400,000 rdr), about 5.4 per cent was spent on diplomacy and 8.9 per cent on the royal court. Most of the money earmarked for the court was spent in Paris on items for the coronation of Charles XI, which was held on 28 September 1675. Other court expenses were the purchase of liveries and an unspecified amount for the queen dowager.515 Add to that a small amount (0.5 per cent) for miscellan­ eous expenses and Johan Adlercrona’s charges for transferring the money from France, and the result was a total of about 15 per cent of subsidies in 1675–77 was spent on purposes other than purely military costs.516 Of the subsidy money used to cover military expenses, the largest single item was the army in Pomerania (1,295,000 dsm or c.720,000 rdr). Thereafter, in decreasing order of size, there were the cost of loans (367,000 dsm or c.182,000 rdr), the navy (364,000 dsm or c.202,000 rdr), the regiments in Skåne (253,000 dsm or c.140,000 rdr), and troops in Bremen (189,000 dsm or c.105,000 rdr). Below that were payments for garrisons, ammunition, gunpowder, and troop musters; after that, all the other items of expenditure were far s­ maller.517 Look at what the payments were made for, and we see, for example, that when the fleet was to be fitted out, the noblewoman Anna Maria Gyllenklou and ironworks manager Gerdt Störning had the chance to sell the navy ‘artillery pieces’, meaning lighter cannon, for 14,055 rdr and 1,973 rdr respectively. The navy needed grain too, bought from commissioner Sneckensköld for 40,250 rdr and the Lord High Treasurer Sten Bielke for 5,050 rdr, while the Bakers Guild charged it 571 rdr for bread. The regiments in Skåne need grain in bulk, provided by several suppliers, including Johan Adlercrona—the same man who transferred the subsidies from France—who was paid 55,999 rdr. The Stockholm draper, Frans Zink, was paid 20,303 rdr to supply the Skåne regiments with clothing.518 This is not intended as a complete picture of the payments out of the French subsidies, but it does show that there were actual individuals behind the expenditure 204

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on Sweden’s armies and navy, who dealt in actual goods in order to make money—and it is a fair indication of the sheer sums of money involved. On the other hand, again it is impossible to say from these sources whether there were large, small, or no profits to be made from dealing with the Swedish government. Of the thirty-one names paid out of the subsidies, the group that received the largest amounts for supplying the navy and army were merchants, mill owners, and members of the new nobility, meaning they were often government officials. Only four of the thirty-one were from the old Swedish nobility. Several of them had moved to Sweden from elsewhere, just like many of the foreign officers paid in the 1630s; others were the sons of immigrants who had arrived in Sweden during the Thirty Years War. It was common to both generations that the business that brought them to Sweden stemmed from Swedish involvement in European high politics. Unlike the earlier army officers, however, the likes of Jakob Sneckensköld and Henrik Cronstierna (both of Livonian descent), Johan Adlercrona (of French descent), Abraham Boneauschöld (from France), Gerdt Störning (from Germany), Daniel Leijonankar (from Scotland) and the brothers Abraham and Jakob Reenstierna (from the Dutch Republic) lived and worked in Sweden. Together, this group of merchants, mill owners, and middle-­ranking officials was paid nearly 600,000 dsm (c.333,333 rdr) for clothing, fish, cheese, grain (mostly rye), flour, cannons, bronze, ships, gunpowder, and other merchandise. Others, such as the newly ennobled Joel Gripenstierna (born Joel Ekman), were repaid money they had lent to the Crown.519 The vast proportion of the subsidies was spent in Sweden, but some did in fact return to France by a variety of routes. The largest amount was the expenditure on Charles XI’s coronation, which came to 207,000 dsm (c.115,000 rdr). A gift to the French ambassador De la Piquetiere worth 3,500 dsm (c.1,945 rdr), was paid out of a subsidy, while the Swedish ambassador to Paris plus the diplomat Nils Eosander Lillieroot (also in Paris) were paid for too, and it is reasonable to imagine that they spent most of their salary in France, given they were based there.520 Some of the military spending was 205

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located in Paris too: in 1677, clothing, hats, belts, and buttons for the Mounted Royal Life Regiment, together with the cost of shipping it all from Paris to Gothenburg via Calais, came to 20,787 rdr.521 Of the total of 3,690,000 dsm that France paid Sweden over the three years 1727–1729, more than 20 per cent was used for non-­ military purposes. Much of it went in repayments for recent expenses, for example for the coronation in 1720 (150,000 dsm), some for much earlier commitments—hence the annual pension paid out of the subsidies to Stanisław I Leszczyński, the exiled Polish king. The government also used the subsidies to service the debts it had incurred to Ottoman merchants in the 1710s.522 Some of the subsidies went straight into the queen’s private purse (15,000 dsm), but the single largest expense (400,000 dsm) was the cost of the king’s trip to his German homeland, Hesse-Kassel. In addition to the costs of the royal court, subsidies were also used for diplomacy, for example for Sweden’s presence at the Congress of Soissons (111,010 dsm) and for gifts to foreign diplomats (43,000 dsm). Just as before, in the 1720s by far the largest proportion of the subsidies went on military expenditure; interestingly, however, of that 3,061,000 dsm, 38 per cent was spent on building or repairing fortifications, naval shipbuilding, or storage facilities. Almost onethird of the total sum went to the navy. As the subsidy treaty stipulated that Sweden had to be able to put 7,000 infantry and 3,000 cavalry in the field at short notice, a significant proportion of the subsidies—even plainly military expenditure—went on things not agreed to in the treaty. The way the subsidies were used reflected the immediate needs of the Swedish government in the mid-1720s. Its lack of resources meant that the subsidies had to be used to cover past expenses such as the coron­ ation and debts to Ottoman merchants. Also, it befitted Sweden, having allied with the enemies of its powerful neighbour Russia, to prepare for what the future might bring—hence the expenditure on military fortifications and its fleet. Unlike 1632 and 1675, few individuals were referred to by name in the accounts in the 1720s. Of the few mentioned there was a member 206

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of the rich merchant family of Grill, and the wealthy merchant Hans Lenman (1683–1739). Lenman had made his fortune in the salt and grain trade, and in the early 1720s was the man responsible for transferring British money to the Swedish government.523 In the 1720s Lenman was active in all manner of trades and industries—he supplied the navy with hemp and sailcloth, and he had a government contract as a shipbuilder—and it was this last which explained why he was paid 50,000 dsm in 1727.524 The majority of the individuals mentioned by name in the subsidy accounts studied for the seventeenth century were not members of the political elite—they did not sit on the Council, and they had no say in whether Sweden would sign up to the subsidy treaties or not. Instead, they were commoners or members of the rapidly expanding new nobility, often with foreign backgrounds.

War, death, and suffering Plainly there was a long list of people and groups who benefited from Sweden’s foreign subsidies, but as we have also seen most of the subsidies really were spent as intended—on war or preparations for war. War can be said to have been the immediate outcome of the subsidy system, and it in turn led to death and suffering for hundreds of thousands of people. We can say as much for the simple reason that some of the wars that Sweden fought would not have taken place, or at least would not have taken place on the same scale or for as long, if it had not been for foreign subsidies. It is also correct to argue that certain wars were wholly driven by subsidies because, as we have already seen, Swedish politicians said as much at the time, and the proportion of Sweden’s military expenditure that was covered by subsidies was high. Four wars stand out as having been heavily dependent on subsidies: Sweden’s participation in the Thirty Years War, Sweden’s war against Brandenburg in the 1670s, the Hats’ Russian War in 1741–43, and Sweden’s participation in the Seven Years War (1756–63), (see pp. 53–55). However, just because war was the cause of so much death and suffering does not 207

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mean it was the sole cause. As many examples show, mortality rates were often worse in camp than on the battlefield, because soldiers had to live on top of one another in unhygienic conditions ideal for the rapid spread of disease.525 A couple of telling examples are given by Jan Lindegren, who has studied the parish of Bygdeå in northern Sweden. In 1630, 42 bygdeknektar (lit. country soldiers) left Bygdeå for Germany to fight in the Swedish army. Three years later, only 6 men were left, 36 having died and 2 having been sent home. In July 1638, a group of 26 fresh recruits arrived in Germany, most of them teenagers, of whom by mid November only 18-yearold Anders Persson from Sjulsmark survived. All others had died between 3 August and 11 November.526 Because they died to a man in Greifswald, it is likely that the majority, if not all, died of disease rather than in combat. In view of the fact that so many perished in camp, one obvious conclusion is that subsidies not only hastened people’s ends on the battlefield, but also in standing armies under arms, ready and waiting but not yet fighting.527 It is difficult at the best of times to know how many soldiers died in wars that were fuelled by subsidies, and it is even harder to calculate how many died of disease without going near a battlefield.528 Estimates of the number of war dead vary considerably, of course, but one for Swedish and Finnish soldiers in Swedish service in the Thirty Years War has it as 110,000 with another 400,000 German, British, and other nationalities dead in Swedish service, while some 825,000 soldiers died in Imperial service.529 In order to understand the scale, it should be remembered that the total population of Sweden in the first half of the seventeenth century was only 1 million, and that about 50,000 Swedish soldiers died in Gustav II Adolf ’s various campaigns between 1621 to 1632 alone—before Sweden entered the German theatre of war, in other words. There are records to the effect that between 1620 and 1669 one in three of all Swedish men died as a result of war.530 And then we are only talking about the impact on Sweden proper. In Germany, wherever the war made itself felt, with its violence, looting, and contagion, it had devastating consequences for farmers and townspeople alike. Eyewitness accounts 208

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give a sense of the desperation of those forced to house, feed, and clothe the marauding armies and even pay their officers.531 In total, nearly 1.5 million soldiers are thought to have died in battle across Europe in the eighteen years Sweden fought the Thirty Years War.532 Jump to the 1670s, and the notoriously bloody Battle of Lund in 1676 claimed the lives of 2,500–3,000 men in the Swedish army and about twice as many in the Danish army. That was not including all the soldiers who died of disease before the battle took place, and all those who died of their wounds later.533 One estimate of the total number of dead is that 10,000 soldiers were killed in Swedish service between 1675 and 1678.534 The Hats’ Russian War in 1741–43 cost some 10,000 Russians their lives and about 7,000 Swedes.535 The Seven Years War a decade later, which was largely fought by subsidized armies, saw anything from 850,000 to 1 million killed in battle in Europe alone.536 Among the wider death toll were a reported 30,000 Swedish soldiers, most of whom died of disease.537 For Sweden’s main enemy on this occasion, Prussia, the figures were truly horrible. By one estimate, 180,000 Prussian soldiers died. The Prussian army, which fought with the help of British subsidies, saw a great many soldiers killed in battle, but the vast majority nevertheless died in camp.538 The civilian population was also hit hard. It is thought that 20 per cent of the population of Pomerania died or fled, while in Prussia the population dropped by 6 per cent.539 Among the armies, the number of injured was also enormous: of the French army on the Rhine in February 1758, a total of 76,341, no fewer than 14,102 were injured—close to 20 per cent. Generally speaking, an army in the field in this period could expect to lose a fifth of its men every year to illness, desertion, or death.540 Little wonder, then, that this aspect of war—its impact on hundreds of thousands and at times millions of people—was largely absent from the negotiations between France and Sweden or the deliberations of the Swedish Council. In the two centuries studied here it was on just a couple of occasions that the hardships inflicted on the majority were even mentioned when discussing whether Sweden should fight, and in both cases the arguments were quickly forgotten in favour of 209

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those that spoke for war. Honour, dependence, and territorial gains were the main concerns. And the cost was reckoned in riksdaler or livres, but never human lives.

Women’s lives Endless conscription led not only to death or disability for many men, but also to labour shortages in many parts of Sweden.541 For women at all levels of society, this brought not only extreme difficulties, but also new roles with new opportunities.542 With one in five farms in Sweden run by women in the first half of the seventeenth century, it had an immediate effect on the women who, in the absence of the men, were forced to provide for their families, with a smaller workforce, all the while struggling to find the cash to pay their taxes and levies. Anyone who failed to pay their taxes for three years was deemed to have forfeited ownership of their land, and it returned to the Crown. A less drastic direct effect of the wars was that women who controlled merchandise or manufactures had a ready market for their goods in the shape of the army and navy. However, given the numbers of men listed as suppliers in the subsidy accounts, it would seem the number of women who took the opportunity was small. An indirect effect of the absence of the men—which was especially noticeable in the seventeenth century—was that women in the higher social classes, who found themselves having to manage the family lands, had a more prominent role in the local community. Respons­ ible for large estates and equally large aristocratic households, the women could influence rural life through their social standing and the right to nominate parish priests. As the heads of large households they also had to act on behalf of their families in their dealings with government. This was a responsibility that fell on many less wealthy women too, as can be seen from the letters appealing for help—a widow asking for her late husband’s salary to be paid, or a wealthy woman’s request for assistance with some property business.543 Recent research has shown that women played a greater role in the Swedish military than was previously realized.544 It has been 210

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calculated that of the 60,000 people that made up the Swedish forces outside the city of Nördlingen in August 1634, only one-third were soldiers. The remainder were the wives and widows of officers and men, women servants, women doing business, and prostitutes.545 For some, following an army was their only means of support, for others it was a way to be with their menfolk.

Infrastructure and infraknowledge Historians have long known that money spent on infrastructure can lead to unexpected, sometimes unwanted, and long-term changes.546 For Sweden, Jan Glete has demonstrated the significance of the interplay of infrastructure initiatives and state formation, while research internationally has shown that investment in weapons manufacturing or shipbuilding could have a significant economic impact.547 Armies needed weapons, gunpowder, cannon balls, clothing, shoes, and food, and thus people who could supply it all. Foreign subsidies were used to repair fortifications or build warships, which in turn created a demand for master builders, suppliers, craftsmen, and labourers. In the 1670s and even more so in the 1720s and 1740s, subsidies were used to invest long-term in Sweden’s defence capabilities by building and renovating its built defences. In the 1670s, this meant fortifications in Livonia, Wismar, Bremen, and Sweden; in the 1720s, Finland, Pomerania, and again Sweden; and in the late 1740s, more renovations, but also the construction of warships, paid for in part with French money.548 At a meeting of the Council in March 1672, just before deciding to sign a new subsidy treaty with France, the Chancellor Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie asked where they were to find the money for essential fortifications, especially in Wismar, if no subsidies were forthcoming.549 In the 1670s, like the 1720s and 1740s, it was undoubtedly in both Sweden’s and France’s interest that the defences under Swedish control were modernized and in good condition. The construction work employed master builders, craftsmen, and labourers, some of them directly benefiting from the improvements. 211

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The effects of subsidy-funded building projects, albeit indirect, were evident in the example of Sveaborg. When construction began on the fortress of Sveaborg, on the south-west coast of Finland, in the mid eighteenth century, French subsidies were used to cover some of the costs. Sofia Gustavsson has shown that Helsinki’s burghers made money by supplying building materials and its merchants made money from the rise in private consumption that resulted from the large number of officers and men from the site who had to be billeted in the city for years. Beyond the city, farmers, forest landowners, and sawmill owners saw an increased demand for their produce.550 Gustavsson has also shown how the construction of Sveaborg had a ripple effect when it came to knowledge of new technology, which led to investments in new infrastructure. A great many soldiers were put to work at Sveaborg, but all had to be trained by a variety of craftsmen brought in from other parts of the country. The shipbuilders who arrived from northern Finland were behind the crop of shipyards close to Helsinki, and when there was no longer any use at Sveaborg for the soldiers who had learnt bricklaying they moved on and became part of a construction boom across Finland.551 Sveaborg was by far the biggest Swedish infrastructure project in the mid eighteenth century, but it seems reasonable to assume that there were similar effects from other major construction projects funded by subsidies. The need for expertise, labour, and materials was the same, however small the project. In 1673, albeit on a far more moderate scale than would be seen later at Sveaborg, French subsidies were used to equip the Valfisken fortress in Wismar and other fortifications throughout the Swedish Empire.552 It was the eighteenth century that brought the major infrastructure initiatives, though, and, alongside Sveaborg, French subsidies financed fortification work in several key locations.553 In 1748–1751, funds were put towards the fortresses of Kristianstad (180,000 dsm or c.60,000 rdr) and Landskrona (525,000 dsm or c.175,000 rdr), Karlswärd fortress (59,161 dsm or c.19,720 rdr), and unspecified fortifications in Finland (2,258,333 dsm or c.753,000 rdr), most probably some if not all for Sveaborg.554 The works in Landskrona were probably the new fort on 212

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Gråen, built to prevent attacks from the sea; it cannot be said with any certainty whether the money was also spent on the improvements to the citadel, which when built in 1667–1675 had been the most modern fortification in Scandinavia. Kristianstad already had a fortress when Sweden captured the city from the Danes in 1658, but it was demolished in 1679 to make way for a new fortification, begun in 1710. Work on Karlswärd, on an islet in the north-west of the island of Gotland, had begun in the 1650s to protect a planned new town there, and it continued for some time to come. New fortifications were needed during the Hats’ Russian War in the early 1740s, and construction work continued even after the war had ended. Timber, nails, rope, glass, tar, stone, bricks, cannons and a great many o ­ ther things are needed when building and fitting out a fortress. The fortification accounts include subsistence and maintenance for the troops and their commanders on site (57,372 rdr in 1748), flour and other victuals, and transport costs in 1748 and 1750 (209,404 dsm or c.69,800 rdr). Passage and subsistence costs were included for 1748–51 (90,000 dsm or c.30,000 rdr), clothing (30,000 dsm or c.10,000 rdr), reimbursement for those who had billeted dragoons and soldiers after their disbandment (28,775 dsm or c.9,600 rdr), and maintenance for crews of a royal espyne or longboat Laxen, the yacht Korpen, and a sloop, all used in Finland (in 1750, 1,716 dsm or c.572 rdr). All of these costs were incurred because of the fortifications, and thus were indirectly the result of the subsidies that made them possible. Regardless of who profited from this on an individual level, it was part of a conscious strengthening of Sweden’s defensive capabilities, and thus part the country’s state formation, fuelled by subsidies. There was also long-term investment to build a strong fleet to protect the country and its trade. The French accounts for 1747 include a special item totalling 14.1 million livres (c.4.7 million rdr) paid to Sweden to build warships for use in French service.555 It is not certain whether this was over and above the payments found in Sweden’s subsidy accounts, but it is a fact that a large number of warships were built in 1748–51. The Swedish accounts record gunboats and barges with the corvée of the crew on duty and craftsmen; equipping 213

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the vessels and the purchase of 18-pound guns; the construction of a bomb shelter in the naval base of Karlskrona; the corvée of the carpenters, craftsmen, and men and officers of the watch; a barge built in Stockholm; three frigates, four galleys, and two sloops; the corvée and uniforms for 50 men; 31 galleys to be built in Stockholm, Norrköping, Västervik, Kalmar, and Skäggenäs; the cost of bringing ‘hither’ the galleys built in Norrköping, Västervik, and Skäggenäs; iron ballast; and stores of grain and victuals.556 A summary for 1748–50 has the following totals: Fortifications in Sweden Fortifications in Finland (with all necessary items) Ships Stores Total of which French subsidies covered (65 per cent)

764,161 dsm (c.254,720 rdr) 2,675,701 dsm (c.891,900 rdr) 2,175,217 dsm (c.725,072 rdr) 481,549 dsm (c.160,516 rdr) 6,096,630 dsm (c.3,032,210 rdr) 4,002,869 dsm (c.1,334,290 rdr)

There was further investment in Sweden’s fleet following the subsidy treaty concluded on 27 February 1773, which was intended to strengthen the Swedish armed forces.557 In return for 800,000 livres (c.266,666 rdr) per annum for three years—although in practice it was increased and ran until 1789—Sweden was to build up an army of 47,456 men and a fleet comprising 21 ships of the line, 8 frigates, 30 galleys, and 2 barges by 1776 at the latest.558 The rapid expansion of the Swedish navy in the 1770s and 1780s was led by Sweden’s leading shipbuilder, Fredrik Henrik af Chapman.559 Before his time, naval vessels had been built to a standard pattern, but Chapman, having trained in Britain, the Dutch Republic, and France, brought fresh ideas and an entirely new approach to shipbuilding that relied on detailed tests. It was his experience of construction methods in France that had made him think again, and the subsidies now flowing into Sweden gave him a golden opportunity to test his theories. He compared detailed tests of ships of various designs to pick the most suitable for use both inshore and offshore.560 Shipbuilding, like any other construction project, had its indirect effects. Most of the warships were built in the naval shipyard in 214

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Karls­krona in the south of the country. In addition to the ships, a large number of new, modern workshops were needed, along with buildings for storage and models, and accommodation.561 Just like Sveaborg, soldiers provided the bulk of the labour, but there were also a variety of specialized craftsmen: carpenters, mastmakers, sailmakers, ropemakers, and so on. Among both the craftsmen and the entrepreneurs there were foreign experts who helped drive the technological advances on the spot.562 The need for sailcloth meant that the General Admiral Henrik af Trolle pushed Gustav III into allowing Jews to settle in Karlskrona, because it was a Jewish entrepreneur who was in a position to set up a sail loft large enough for the navy’s needs.563 Subsidies made investment in infrastructure possible on a scale that would not have been feasible otherwise. Chris Gosden has shown that the interaction of materiality and people helps to shape our lives, meaning that it is not only people that have a hand in the creation and reproduction of society.564 One could say that innovation is not just a result of knowledge, but demands new knowledge of the people who encounter it. The construction of Sveaborg in the 1750s and the expansion of the Swedish fleet a couple of decades later are evidence of how people had to rethink themselves. At Sveaborg, soldiers had to learn bricklaying; in Karlskrona, how to make sails. Shipbuilders had to learn by trial and error, adapting their methods to the test results; ships’ captains had to learn how to handle new types of ships—and much more. The foreign subsidies invested in infrastructure did not necessarily lead to innovation, but there is still ample evidence that they helped drive the development and spread of new knowledge, as the example of Sveaborg shows.

Officers and officials At the same time as conscription reaped its victims from the rural populations of the countries that went to war with the help of subsidies, subsidies offered the fortunate few the opportunity to make a career in the armed forces. Research has shown that subsidies put 215

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a number of relatively small states such as Denmark and Sweden at a distinct advantage, enabling them to play a part in European high politics.565 It was subsidies that meant those countries could go to war on the continent, as could be said of many small states at the time.566 Where there was an army there was a need for officers, and ultimately a need for officering to be a career choice. Equally, the absence of subsidies could lead to frustration among young officers, as was the case in 1650 when Swedish officers were disappointed that the French ambassador did not provide subsidies sufficient to fund a regiment, or when the expected Spanish subsidies were not paid in 1669.567 War for these young men was both a potential source of income and a shot at social advancement. It was why the British ambassador to Sweden in 1653–4, Bulstrode Whitelocke, could report home that Swedish officers hoped the war between the Dutch Republic and Britain would continue long enough for them to serve in it.568 As we have seen, one result of the subsidy system was that ­resources of various kinds made their way to Sweden. Primarily it was a question of hard cash, but this had the effect of opening the way for other possibilities as well. Like the small German states that accepted subsidies, found allies, and embarked on European high politics, Sweden too was drawn into the world of international politics, in its case mostly because of French subsidies. This in turn led to a flow of material resources, but also, thanks to geographical and social mobility, of knowledge and expertise. Among those who did best by the system were officers and merchants, who not only benefited directly from the subsidy payments, but also indirectly because of the new options for social mobility. The demand for officers for the Swedish army could not be met by recruiting from the Swedish nobility alone, and so commoners could find themselves in a position to rise through the ranks in all senses. A large proportion of Sweden’s officers were recruited abroad, and for as long as Sweden was in receipt of French subsidies in the Thirty Years War its army was the training ground for officers from all over Europe. Under the leadership of Gustav II Adolf and his 216

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commanders, the Swedish army offered a schooling in modern warfare, developed from Dutch models, which became the model for many other armies.569 Of the many officers from Scotland and Germany who fought for Sweden in the seventeenth century, many remained in Swedish service and some had stellar careers. They became part of Swedish society, acquired titles and land, and often as not were successful politicians too.570 Among the many new nobles there were also merchants who were first- or second-generation immigrants, several of whom featured in the lists of those paid out of the subsidies. There were also a large number of Swedish merchants who did well socially and financially from the influx of foreign resources.571 As a result of Sweden’s involvement in Europe’s high politics— and Europe’s wars—the new nobility grew rapidly in number in the seventeenth century, an increase unmatched in any other European country. In 1600 the Swedish nobility consisted of about 450 adult men; a century later, that had grown fivefold, and by 1750 they numbered about 3,000. The need for military officers was one of the reasons for this, but war and new overseas possessions both called for a far larger civilian administration, which in turn created a demand for educated officials, who were usually commoners. Like many military officers, these sons of burghers and priests could expect to climb the social ladder and perhaps even be ennobled.572 Although only a fraction of the subsidies was spent on government administration, its expansion was an indirect effect of the need to administer new territories and to manage the flow of resources into the treasury. Moreover, Sweden’s new role meant it needed a larger number of officials who were familiar with the workings of international relations and diplomacy. Thus it was an indirect effect of foreign subsidies that a subgroup of the many new officials enjoyed better career opportunities, and more men from non-noble fam­ ilies found the opportunity to rise socially was within their grasp. In addition to these officers and officials, subsidies also seemed to have created attractive opportunities for experts of all kinds, either to establish themselves in Sweden or to target Sweden as a customer, 217

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which resulted in a group of successful Baltic, German, Scottish, and Dutch merchants moving to Sweden, setting up shop, and working their way up through society to ennoblement.

Bankers and financiers David Parrott suggests that the complexities of early modern life, and especially the difficulties states experienced in enforcing their policies on economic regulation, social order, homogeneity, and public opinion, means that historians have misjudged the financial and administrative strength of most governments. The evolution of stronger central authorities did not prevent private war financiers and entrepreneurs from having considerable influence. In fact, it was those private entrepreneurs who were essential to the central government’s ability to mobilize.573 One group who, in the absence of strong central institutions, proved vital to the effective operation of the subsidy system were the inter­ mediaries in the form of bankers and merchants, who made it possible to transfer the money from the subsidizer to the subsidized. Wars fought over large geographical areas or far from the belligerents’ political centres called for middlemen who were able to transfer funds over long distances. This was a group who could accumulate capital in significant quantities, but if they failed to manage their business satisfactorily would be hard hit. Erik Thomson has pointed out that subsidy payments are by nature complex transactions: money, often at the height of a war, had to be transferred in a specific currency on a specific occasion as set down in a binding treaty. To move such immense sums of money one needed capital and creditworthiness, but also good contacts and credibility in the highest circles.574 Guy Rowlands has described how the international bankers used by ­Louis XIV’s government grew rich from the fees they were entitled to charge—usually 1 or 2 per cent of the total sum—and by charging a commission on exchange rates and bills of exchange. Many bankers then tried to leverage the profits from money management into higher social status by setting themselves up as landowners.575 218

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The same was true for the intermediaries who handled the money for the Swedish government. The commission paid to the men who handled the money transfers ranged from 0.5 to 1.5 per cent.576 The Swedish diplomat Johan Adler Salvius was an example of someone who grew rich by managing subsidy payments. The commission was designed to cover the costs involved, and it seems accounted for only a small proportion of the potential profit to be made. The serious money was the interest that accrued on the money in the time it was in Salvius’ possession before he transferred it on—interest that was his to keep. Moreover, the large sums of money he was managing counted toward his personal credit, which made it possible for him to speculate on an entirely different scale.577 On the European stage, Jean Hoeufft had a key role in France’s subsidy payments in the first half of the seventeenth century. By being personally known in France, the Dutch Republic, Sweden, and Germany he was a central figure for all the financial contacts between France and Sweden, and as middleman he was able to charge commissions and fees that made him a very wealthy man.578 Another middleman was Jean de Flon, a wealthy Swedish merch­ ant and mill owner, and son of a French manufacturer who had moved to Sweden. He was responsible for transferring the French subsidies to Sweden from 1672 to 1678, and managed the business with such aplomb that in 1674 he was ennobled and took the name Adlercrona. Among his many merits, in both Swedish and French eyes, was his creditworthiness, which allowed him to advance huge sums using the subsidies as collateral—a technique which seems to have earnt him far more than his commissions ever did, because the interest on advances in the seventeenth century was 8 per cent per annum.579 To keep control of his business he moved to Paris, where he bought supplies for the Swedish army out of his own pocket and contributed funds to Pomerania in the hope of recouping his money from the French subsidies.580 His business model meant he personally benefited from the subsidies, because the Swedish government had the wherewithal to pay for grain, iron, and small ships—some of the items Johan Adlercrona could deliver.581 Accusations of misconduct 219

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began to mount up, however, and in February 1678 he noted in a memorandum that he would soon regret that he had ever a­ ccepted the job.582 That year he was dismissed on the king’s orders and recalled to Sweden—where he refused to go until the bitter end. He was found guilty on several counts and was sentenced to pay swingeing damages.583 The likes of Jean Hoeufft, Johan Adlercrona, and later Hans Lenman and Johan Grill of the Grill trading company all had commercial networks that spanned Europe, and made themselves indispensable to the Swedish government because of their knowledge and skill in moving very large sums of money between countries.584 That they wanted to make money in the process was natural enough, although some of the transactions were plainly not in the Swedish Crown’s best interest. Gustaf Kierman, who, together with Thomas Plomgren was responsible for collecting the French subsidies in 1740–1742, found that the mission ‘gave a douceur to those among the burghers who had been members of the Secret Committee’.585 In fact, it was about 1 per cent of the total, which in 1742 was 5,250 rdr.586 The two of them were given the job because they had been responsible for distributing French funds at the 1738–39 Diet in order to engineer a change of regime. Those who handled subsidies in the eighteenth century could also turn a fair profit by speculating on exchange rates. The shareholders of the so-called Exchange Board (Växelkontoret), who in the late 1750s and early 1760s had the job of collecting the French subsidies, presented the Swedish government with an invoice for 14–15 million livres (4.6–5 million rdr) in recompense, but after some considerable adjustments the government agreed that its debt was in fact 6,430,350 daler kopparmynt (c.714,483 rdr). It all ended with legal action taken against the shareholders, who instead faced a counter-claim from the government.587 While there was potential to earn money as an intermediary in the subsidy business, earning money from a government fund was always going to be risky, and several merchants in the mid eighteenth century were prosecuted for misconduct.588 220

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Diplomats, politicians, and negotiators The last group who stood to profit from the subsidy system were the French diplomats and politicians who were in a position to influence Sweden’s acceptance of France’s money. It was customary for diplomats to be given gifts in connection with negotiations, especially on completion—and it was an extremely fine line between gift and bribe, with intention being the determining factor. No matter what, the Swedes knew it was essential to stay in the good books of the French representatives they believed had a say in the all-important subsidies. In a letter to the Council in November 1641, Chancellor Axel Oxenstierna said they should thank d’Avaux, the French ambassador, for the advance on the most recent subsidies, while another French diplomat called Rorté should be paid 4,000 rdr because he would be working on the treaty. As a result, the Council decided to offer d’Avaux 20,000 rdr as a thank you, and his secretary 1,000 rdr. Johan Adler Salvius was instructed to pay half of that in the winter of 1642 and the second half in the summer.589 The idea of the gift was appreciated by d’Avaux, but when Salvius set about paying him in February 1642 d’Avaux refused to accept. Salvius said the reason was that d’Avaux could see that Salvius was financially embarrassed. The Swedes needed every penny for the war, and apparently Salvius had not managed to hide their precarious financial situation sufficiently well. He told Oxenstierna that d’Avaux might accept the gift in the summer when the new tranche of subsidies would be paid, and the same letter asked Oxenstierna to write to thank d’Avaux for his generosity and his assistance in obtaining the subsidies.590 In d’Avaux’s case, the gift had plainly been a show of gratitude for his speed in managing a difficult situation, while for d’Avaux personally it was equally plain that the money was neither here nor there. When in the early 1660s Sweden was again in a tight spot financially, the Council decided to try to influence France through its ambassador to Stockholm, Hugues de Terlon. It was intimated to him that if he were able to produce the subsidies, he could expect a gift. A few weeks later a new decision was taken; this time it was Terlon’s secretary who would be offered money if he could ensure 221

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Sweden received its subsidies. As if to underline the seriousness of the situation, the secretary was promised written proof of the offer.591 Sweden’s need for money was behind its strenuous efforts to obtain larger subsidy payments in the spring of 1663. One way to get around the people who were suspected of obstructing things was, as the Chancellor put it at a Council meeting in May 1663, to maintain a good correspondence with France and ‘hold by the hand those in France who can serve us’. Again, it came down to trying to corrupt individuals on the French side in order to get an upper hand in the negotiations—a strategy not without merit. The French political leadership of the day were not averse to using their offices to enrich themselves.592 The man De la Gardie had in mind this time was Hugues de Lionne, who had just taken responsibility for French foreign policy. Lionne was known to be building a mansion in Paris, and should the Swedes offer to present him with a copper roof it might have the desired effect on his progress with the subsidies. ‘Since the world is corruptible, and as all states hold to that maxim, so must we’, noted De la Gardie. A former ambassador to Paris, Klas Tott, agreed entirely, and the Lord High Treasurer Bonde proposed allocating 20,000 rdr of the subsidies already received for that purpose. The Seneschal Per Brahe was doubtful, but his concern that the French minister of finance, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, had more influence was dismissed by Klas Tott, who pointed out that Lionne was the one directly involved in the negotiations of the kind now required. Having pondered it further, it was decided to approach Lionne with an offer.593 It is not known what the outcome of this was—whether Lionne accepted the offer, or what effect, if any, it had on the handling of the subsidies. It is possible that Lionne said yes, but if he did it had no discernible effect on the size of the subsidies. A few years earlier, a nearly identical proposal to offer Cardinal Mazarin copper for his roof had been agreed on by the Council.594 It would seem that a portion of the subsidy occasionally had to be set aside, ready to smooth the progress of the next subsidy treaty. Being thought helpful or in a position to push through a subsidy treaty could also be profitable for individuals on the Swedish side. 222

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Lucien Bély, in describing France’s subsidies, has stressed that it mattered to the subsidizer to know which key people it could suborn, and the example he gives is Sweden.595 When France and Sweden signed a subsidy treaty in 1738, France paid out not only the sub­sidies, but also 200,000 livres (c.66,666 rdr) in what the French sources referred to as pensions and gratuities for Swedish ministers.596 The eighteenth-century lists of France’s pensioners among the Swedish elite were a sign that there were many who stood to benefit from a continued relationship, as Charlotta Wolff confirms.597 The Swedish government could also be generous towards those who were or had been in its service, and might be able to help get the subsidies paid. In November 1670 the Council discussed compensating one Hamilton for trying ‘to do Sweden some good’ in Britain, while the Swedish ambassador to London, Johan Leijonberg, was to be offered a consideration of 4,000–6,000 rdr if he could extract subsidies from that quarter, while gifts were to be promised to British ministers.598

Soft power and luxury consumption One thought that crossed my mind at the start of this project was whether this particular brand of long-standing relationship between France and Sweden served to increase French cultural influences on Sweden in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the event, it proved far too difficult to find a way of gauging this in a convincing let alone consistent fashion, which leaves the alternative of cheerful speculation. What can be said is that the sections of the Swedish political, economic, and social elite—primarily the aristocracy—who set the tone for the rest were indeed influenced by the French in the seventeenth century, and even more so in the eighteenth century. French literature and philosophy, the French language, French art: all this had a tremendous impact. At the Swedish court in the Age of Liberty the lingua franca really was French, and the literature of choice was French. The construction of the new royal palace in central Stockholm, which stuttered on throughout the first half of the ­eighteenth century, was largely the business of French or 223

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French-trained artists and craftsmen. Aristocratic families dispatched their sons to Paris, and in some families it was even customary for the sons to do military service in France. Though all of this was as much part of an international trend as something unique to ­Swedish conditions—or indeed to countries subsidized by France—it is nevertheless fair to imagine that there was a particular interest among the aristocratic families who admired all things French in supporting continued close political ties. The literature bears out such a conclusion.599 The sources used in this study do not offer up evidence of cul­t­ ural influences that can be directly ascribed to the action of French subsidies, with the sole exception of the subsidies used to buy goods from France for Charles XI’s coronation in 1675. However, it is uncontroversial to argue that war, like the leading aristocratic families’ ability to profit by it—especially in the Thirty Years War—led to European cultural influences being more evident in Sweden. Sweden’s military commanders and senior politicians not only profited from war, they were able to channel those resources into the consumption of imported luxuries. Through their commercial agents in Amsterdam, for example, the Swedish aristocracy could acquire all the books, artworks, fabrics, clothing, and furnishings they might want for their new mansions in Stockholm. This in turn meant the middlemen could not only earn money, but also benefit from their patrons’ authority and power. Commerce also increased in Stockholm: the royal purveyor Claude Roquette (d.1682), who was French in origin, was an obvious representative of the increase in luxury consumption. His trading company provided its wealthy customers with French luxuries such as silks, stockings, hats, and gloves. He was so successful that in time he could afford to invest in chartered joint-stock companies and iron mills. He also used his vast fortune to make loans to the Crown, which led to his being ennobled by the name of Hägerstierna.600

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Concluding remarks An overview of the impact of French subsidies on Sweden might look like this: French taxpayers (resources) Need (political, security) Contact (bribes for diplomats & politicians) Negotiations (inducements) Subsidy treaty (gratuities) Money transfer (commission in per cent)

Army, navy Officers

Fortifications/ship-building (infrastructure) Master builders

Suppliers

Soldiers Suppliers

Entrepreneurs

Corvée labour

Suppliers

‘Workers’

Corvée labour

From the top, one party has decided it needs to ally itself with another party. This leads to a need for subsidies, or a desire to offer subsidies, with initial contact perhaps involving bribing diplomats from either the subsidizing or the subsidized country. It might also take the form of pensions or gifts for key decision makers. The subsidies are negotiated, with influence brought to bear on the various actors involved or on those who might have details of the negotiations, often using bribes. Once concluded and ratified, the people involved in the subsidy treaty negotiations are rewarded with gifts. The subsidies are transferred from one country to another. This calls 225

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for middlemen: bankers or businessmen who work on commission to transfer the money. If especially wealthy they might offer the recipient an advance, at interest of course, using future subsidies as collateral. The subsidies are then allocated for different purposes, primarily military, although there are other standard uses. For individuals or groups this can mean that: • Subsidies are used to pay officers’ salaries, giving them a liveli­ hood and the chance of military and social advancement. At the same time, there is always the risk of death from disease or in combat. • Subsidies are used to soldiers’ wages, giving them a livelihood of sorts but also exposing them to disease and war and the risk of disability or death. • Subsidies are used to provide officers and men with food, clothing, and weapons, giving entrepreneurs the chance to make money by producing and supplying merchandise. Successful entrepreneurs have the opportunity to rise up the social ladder, and foreign experts immigrate to Sweden from across Europe. • Subsidies are used to build ships or fortifications, attracting experts of all kinds. As a result, suppliers can make money from the construction projects per se, or from building the necessary infrastructure. This too attracts experts, but also speeds the spread of technical know-how. One negative effect is compulsory corvée. For the government, foreign subsidies and the accompanying demands from the subsidizer mean that: • Territory can be won, secured, or lost. • The honour and prestige of the sovereign and the country rise, are maintained, or fall. • Organizations and institutions have to develop, with the professionalization of government officers as a result. • Domestic policy can be influenced by the emergence of faction 226

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(for or against a specific subsidizer) or the political system to the benefit of a particular subsidizer. In other words, there were wealthy, influential forces at work in Swedish society that benefitted directly from foreign subsidies, and therefore were potentially interested in renewing subsidy treaties. Subsidies fuelled war, and people fuelled subsidies, but other than the highest political elite it is difficult to determine who had a vested interest in maintaining the subsidy system. It is also hard to confirm the many rumours of the day that some senior politicians were motivated by personal greed. There is reason to believe that this was the case, but it is difficult to prove it. Apart from the members of the Council and some of the political elite, there were undoubtedly a number of other groups in Swedish society that had an interest in Sweden accepting subsidies. For some, it was probably of sec­ ondary importance where the money came from, while for others it was crucial that it come from a specific subsidizer. The group that definitely had something to gain from subsidies were the military officers. Since subsidies were in many cases a prerequisite for the existence of a standing army and navy, they were by extension a prerequisite for the officers’ livelihoods and careers. Since the vast majority of officers were from the nobility, military careers ­be­came an important way for the nobility to maintain their social and political status. There were no hard and fast links between group interests or self-interest and an enthusiasm for foreign subsidies, but clearly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries there was a clear notion that leading members of the nobility and officers corps were in favour of subsidies.601 Others who had a self-evident interest in subsidies were bankers, merchants, and entrepreneurs of various sorts, who were called upon to transfer funds or were used to pay for the production and delivery of goods. Although these groups had a stake in the outcome, it cannot be said that they had a hand in ensuring the subsidy treaties came about. 227

chapter 10

The impact of subsidies— three case studies There were times when the realities of Franco-Swedish relations and French subsidies impinged on Swedish politics far beyond the lifetime of the subsidy treaty and subsidies alike. Three such occasions, each in their own way, were crucial for Sweden’s role in Europe and its domestic politics: the Peace of Westphalia, the wars of the 1670s, and the 1772 coup.

The Peace of Westphalia ‘Les Traités de Westphalie et les autres Traités de paix subsequens, en tant qu’ils concernent respectivement la France et la Suede, serviront de base au present Pacte, ainsi que les Traités particuliers subsistens entre les deux couronnes.’602 This is taken from the first clause of the subsidy treaty between France and Sweden agreed on 19 July 1784, and shows the immensely long-lived part that the Peace of Westphalia played for both Sweden and France individually and together in their international relations. The Peace of Westphalia in the long run had given Sweden a role in Europe unlike any it had had before, and with it considerable international prestige—as hoped for when Sweden allied with France in the 1630s—which was one of several significant results of its cooperation with France, and just one of the benefits any country could expect if it accepted foreign subsidies.603 Another gain was territorial expansion. For Sweden, the Peace of 229

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Westphalia brought possession of the German provinces of Western Pomerania with the islands of Rügen and Usedom; in Eastern Pomerania, Stettin, Gartz, Damm, Gollnow (Goleniów), and the island of Wollin (now Wolin) as well as a stretch of the east bank of the Oder; the city of Wismar with the fortress of Valfisken, and the county of Poel and Neukloster; the prince-archbishopric of Bremen (not the city of Bremen, though); the principality of Verden; and the counties of Wildeshausen and Thedinghausen. All these territories remained part of the Holy Roman Empire, which meant that the Swedish monarch, as the prince of the Holy Roman Empire, was represented in the Imperial Diet and in the political assemblies of the Lower and Upper Saxon Circles. For the provinces themselves, the fact that they were still part of the Holy Roman Empire gave them legislative continuity, while the Swedish Crown bowed to Imperial legislation, and set up its own separate tribunal in Wismar to handle all legal issues in its German possessions. The taxes gathered in its German provinces were used there. France, meanwhile, did not permit territories that had formerly been in the Holy Roman Empire and now belonged to the French Crown to remain in the Empire, the reason being that the French king refused to be the Emperor’s vassal.604 For Sweden, its new German provinces were a financial burden in the sense that they demanded a military presence. This in turn led to its continued financial dependence on France—the only way the Swedish government could afford the armies it needed to guaran­tee the security of its overseas possessions. France was equally positive, as it had a keen interest in Sweden retaining control of its territories within the Holy Roman Empire. The Swedish Crown’s official position in the Holy Roman Empire, combined with its role as guarantor of the new European order under the Peace of Westphalia, bound Sweden even closer to France—a commitment that influenced Sweden’s domestic and foreign policy for the rest of the seventeenth century and most of the eighteenth century. Hence Sweden’s need for subsidies in the 1660s and 1670s was a direct result of the cost of its garrisons in Germany; France’s subsidies to Sweden in 1715 were prompted by its determination that Sweden maintained a foothold 230

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in northern Germany; Sweden’s participation in the Seven Years War was a result of Austria’s demand that Sweden step up and act as guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia; and, as we have seen, as late as 1784, the Peace of Westphalia, then almost 140 years old, was still considered the basis for Franco-Swedish cooperation. Sweden’s commitments were used to clinch the arguments about whether it should remain allied to the French, but also to legitimize that choice. Equally, the same commitments were used in the Swedish Empire to argue that it should avoid siding with the French whenever Sweden feared that France was a threat to the balance of power in Europe. Finally, they determined Swedish policy towards Germany, as its position as guarantor of the Peace of Westphalia depended on it having a specific role because of its German possessions. Thus without its German possessions, Sweden’s position would be considerably weakened. For that reason, France wanted to keep Sweden strong enough to assert its position in northern Europe. The Peace of Westphalia was the end point of a subsidy-funded war. It placed Sweden in a situation where repeated subsidies were a prerequisite for maintaining its station as guarantor of the peace, with all the prestige that brought.

War, the Great Reduction, and autocracy In the 1670s Sweden was reluctantly drawn into a war which saw it campaign in Brandenburg (which Sweden attacked in 1674) and in Skåne (which Denmark attacked in 1676), revealing the poor state of the Swedish economy in the process, and thus how dependent it was on foreign aid. Robert Frost has talked of Sweden by this stage being a French puppet, not paid enough to be able to act decisively.605 The central problem was that as a result of all the wars in the seventeenth century, the Swedish government had made endless grants of Crown land to compensate its military officers and government officials for the war effort in the absence of hard cash, while because of the exponential rise of the new nobility, who were the main beneficiaries of all the grants, the same land was now tax 231

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exempt. At the very time that Sweden had expanded territorially, its tax base had shrunk, so much so that it had considerable difficulties financing its military campaigns.606 The financial situation was not new, nor did it come as a surprise to Sweden’s rulers; indeed, ever since the 1620s there had been occasional attempts to redress the balance by the nobility making voluntary contributions to the Crown. However, there was never a question of taxing the nobility or their land holdings. In 1655, it was decided that some of the land grants made to the nobility since 1632 were to be returned to the Crown, but this had little effect on the economy.607 The peace agreement of 1679 ushered in a crisis that was exacerbated by the need for a military reorganization. The upshot was that young Charles XI, supported by leading commoners and much of the new nobility, in whose interest it was to safeguard the public purse, forced through what was known as the Great Reduction, meaning that all Crown land granted after 1604 reverted to the Crown. This came as a powerful blow to the aristocratic families whose wealth and position was entirely built on land grants made in the seventeenth century. One of those affected the most was Magnus Gabriel De la Gardie, who lost not only vast tracts of land, but also to all intents and purposes his political standing. The Great Reduction also hit many other leading political figures, with the exception of course of the king. The king could now take a very different stance: armed with a much stronger economy and with the nobility in political and financial disarray, Charles XI was able to introduce absolute rule in the 1680s. Thanks to the military reforms, with a militia-based army maintained by the allotment system now in place, Sweden could retain a standing army at a reasonable cost even in peacetime, thus avoiding the need for subsidies.608 Foreign cash continued to flow into Sweden, though, the reason being that foreign observers ceased to see Sweden as poor and thus susceptible to subsidies, and instead saw Swedish politicians as poor and thus susceptible to pensions and bribes.609 The reasoning went that the Great Reduction had impoverished them. François de Callières, who, as leader of the French delegation at the peace talks in 232

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Rijswijk in 1697, had met and negotiated with Sweden’s top politicians, wrote in his guidance for diplomats in 1716 that of all politicians it was those in Scandinavia who were most susceptible to money in the course of negotiations. It is also evident that Stockholm in the 1690s was rife with rumours that all sorts of people were in the pay of foreign powers.610 All told there were twenty named individuals in the Swedish ruling elite who are known to have been offered, and may or may not have accepted, foreign gifts in that decade. Among them were officers of state such as the Chancellor Bengt Oxenstierna, and key government officials such as Nils Gyldenstolpe, Nils Bielke, Samuel Åkerhielm, and Fabian Wrede. All of them were members of the Royal Council. This political elite accepted money from either Austria or France, sometimes in combination with gifts or money from other countries. The wives and children of leading politicians were also listed.611 Instead of buying Sweden’s allegiance using subsidies, various countries, but above all France, set out to control it through its impoverished political elite. The imposition of first the Great Reduction in 1680 and then royal absolutism was a response to an acute crisis, and marked the start of the period when Sweden eschewed French subsidies. The lesson of the 1670s was that war in return for French subsidies was not a desirable path to take, although there were still those who believed that Sweden should maintain good relations with France and accept subsidies. However, the Great Reduction and the political and military reforms left Sweden less dependent on foreign money and free to mount its own defence, with the result that both Charles XI and his advisors refused the proffered French subsidies. Charles XII stuck to the same policy for most of his reign. It would be too much to claim that the Great Reduction—one of the key political events in Swedish seventeenth-century history—was a direct result of the subsidy system. That said, the Great Reduction was nevertheless an attempt to solve both the acute and the chronic economic problems facing Sweden, at a time when it was felt that subsidies were not to be trusted. The subsidy system was simply thought inadequate. What the Great Reduction and the inroads it 233

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made into Swedish political life do show is the sheer scope of the changes required to replace foreign subsidies. As we have seen, the wars of the 1670s, and what many saw as France’s betrayal when it demanded that Sweden take military action in its support, would also have another long-lasting effect, as was especially clear when subsidies were discussed in the 1720s, 1730s, and 1760s: confidence in France’s friendship and goodwill was at an all-time low, and for anti-French groups in Sweden the experiences of the 1670s were a useful argument against any further subsidy treaties.

The coup of 1772 ‘Cette somme de 147,564 [livres] … forme le premier article de des fonds dépensés pour la révolution de Suède.’612 With these words, Charles Gravier de Vergennes (1717–87), France’s ambassador to Stockholm in 1771–74, concluded his twelve-page summary of the cost of paying off Swedish individuals and groups in the run-up to Gustav III’s autocoup on 19 August 1772. This was not a question of subsidies between two states, but the document nevertheless reflects France’s extremely active role, and points to the significance of French subsidies in Gustav III’s scope for action when preparing the coup. As seen, France revisited its policy towards Sweden in the mid1760s. It was acknowledged that it had been a mistake not to ally with Adolf Fredrik and Lovisa Ulrika—who were both Francophiles—when they acceded to the Swedish throne in 1751. Instead, the French had fought back against the queen’s ambitions. In a letter in 1766 to the new French ambassador to Stockholm, Breteuil, the Duke of Choiseul wrote that what mattered was not who exactly was in power in Sweden, but rather that France had control of Sweden’s armed forces, fleet, and trade. Choiseul, as we know, believed that France should throw itself behind anyone who wanted to change Sweden’s form of government, so that either royal authority or the Council was strengthened and made independent of the Diet. The hope was that Sweden would become more like other countries, and thus a state that would be useful to France—one worth spending 234

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French gold on. If France continued to line the pockets of individual Swedes it would only weaken the country further, making it even less interesting as an ally. Choiseul thus gave Breteuil two clear objectives for his embassy: work to strengthen royal authority, and convince France’s friends in Sweden that they must support this plan, because it would be to their advantage and France’s.613 The idea that France and Sweden had a common future as allies was apparently central to French foreign policy. In his reports from Stockholm in the summer of 1766, Breteuil shared this approach. Sweden’s political system was weakening the country from within, making it useless as an ally. Yet it would be dangerous to walk away from Sweden, because it would leave the field open for the likes of Russia and Britain, who wanted to see a much weaker Scandinavia. He considered the two ways to effect a change: through the Diet, by achieving a majority for a constitutional change; or by staging a coup. He reckoned that it would cost an enormous amount to suborn the Diet into changing its political direction, and therefore concluded that France should instead support a coup that would restore royal power.614 Although Breteuil did not think the time was ripe, he saw signs of support for a stronger monarchy. The change in France’s policy stemmed from the fact that the 1765–6 Diet had given Sweden a new, Cap-dominated political leadership that was deeply critical of the previous Hats government’s foreign policy and reliance on French subsidies, and was planning heavy cuts to military spending, including fortifications. It was at this point—when Sweden had its first Cap government, there was to all intents and purposes a breach between Sweden and France, and there was an increasingly lively public debate that was often hostile to France’s behaviour towards Sweden over the years—that the French government decided to change tactic. It was no longer interested in continuing to pay subsidies under the treaty agreed with the previous government: it was indefensible to waste money on a country that was frankly untrustworthy, and with a political system that seemed nothing short of anarchist to French eyes. The money France had spent had not had the hoped-for outcomes. Something 235

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more effective was needed, especially since France’s coffers would not stretch to wasting money on another country with nothing in return. Rather than tie Sweden’s hands using subsidies, the new policy aimed to support those who wanted fundamental change in Sweden’s politics. This meant that France’s financial resources should be channelled to individuals or groups who wanted the restoration of royal power, with the effect that France, which had long neglected the royals as a spent political force, now made overtures to the royal family. France identified Crown Prince Gustav as its main hope for a swift change that would strengthen Sweden and make it the key northern ally France was looking for.615 The fact that the French government had showered money on members of the Swedish Diet in an attempt to dictate policy was nothing new. Neither were attempts to influence Swedish decision makers specific to the Age of Liberty. Between the 1680s and 1710s, when Sweden was trying to operate free from French influence by refusing to accept its subsidies, France had focused on buying the loyalty of the Swedish Council by supporting councillors or their families financially. This was considered so successful that Louis XIV declared that his ambassador in Stockholm did not have to work for a Franco-­Swedish alliance, because the Council was already dominated by France’s friends, several of them the recipients of French money.616 Nor was it new to the 1760s that the French wanted to change the Swedish political system. In a French memorandum of 13 November 1746 on the situation in Sweden before the Diet gathered that year, it was noted that the influential councillors Gyllenborg and Tessin, together with their allies, might be able to engineer a change in the political system. If they were to fail, the author wrote, then France would only retain a limited influence over Sweden, and the Swedes themselves would not be able to achieve anything stable or beneficial, either for themselves or for their allies. If so, France could only bide its time and hope that Crown Prince Adolf Fredrik on his accession would obtain the sort of authority the Vasa kings had once had—and while waiting, new subsidies to Sweden might be justified.617 In a conscious attempt to boost Adolf Fredrik’s position with a goodwill 236

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gesture, Louis XV decided in December 1743 to release some of the subsidies that the French had said they were not obliged to pay; Louis said it could be useful (‘utile’) for the young prince to get off to a good start by showing the Swedish nation the generosity the French king was prepared to show on his behalf.618 When work began in earnest in 1766 to bring about not just a change of government, but a change of form of government, France chose three strategies to replace its subsidies: it would approach the royal family, and especially the crown prince and his mother, Queen Lovisa Ulrika; it would to try to buy support in the Diet; and it would pay secret pensions to individuals or families in the opposition to give them the opportunity to act. In a report home in June 1766, Breteuil echoed the current line in Paris—that France ‘no longer has the [Swedish] Crown as an ally, only the party’. As things were then it was important to maintain contact with the top pro-French politician and to steer political developments through them—a line of reasoning familiar from the 1690s.619 Towards the end of the 1760s, contacts between France’s representatives and the Swedish royal family intensified. On the advice of the Duke of Choiseul, Queen Lovisa Ulrika’s reader, Jean François Beylon, became the go-between moving between the Swedish and French courts in order to secure their lines of communication. Through Beylon, the crown prince could correspond with Versailles without interference from Sweden’s politicians, who may have been Francophile, but still shied away from constitutional change.620 The crown prince himself was very active: he wrote in August 1769 to suggest that constitutional change could be forced through if France made future subsidies conditional upon it. His positive attitude resulted in Choiseul suggesting he be invited to France, which was duly done.621 In the middle of the crown prince’s visit in 1771, however, his father, King Adolf Fredrik, died. France suddenly had even more to gain by supporting Gustav, and before the new Swedish king left the French court, he had been assured that France would resume payment of the subsidies due under the 1764 treaty. Gustav returned to Stockholm armed with a promise of 1,500,000 livres (c.500,000 rdr) 237

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to be paid annually, half of it in advance.622 In addition, he had negoti­ ated additional subsidies, settled in a treaty of 27 February 1773, which would provide 800,000 livres (c.266,666 rdr) per annum to improve Sweden’s armed forces, plus he had been given 300,000 livres (c.100,000 rdr) to influence the coming Diet in his favour.623 The French subsidies were not only a personal triumph for Gustav III, but he could secretly use them as collateral to borrow the cash he needed in order to sway the election of the Speaker of the Diet in 1771. France’s subsidies and financial support thus helped smooth his path to the 1772 coup d’état. This seems to have been part of a deliberate strategy. After all, France had used subsidies in 1743 to support Gustav III’s father when he became crown prince, and in 1720 it had offered Fredrik I 200,000 écus/rdr to secure his accession.624 When it came to the Diet, the French government tried to buy support. For the Diet in 1768, the French state spent 4,275,000 livres (c.1,425,000 rdr) in Stockholm.625 It spread 24,000 livres (c.8,000 rdr) around the Estate of the Peasants to muster support for a memorandum by Arvid Bernhard Virgin demanding constitutional change. Virgin attacked the way the Cap government had changed the rules for both individuals and groups, creating an atmosphere of political impermanence. He argued that constitutional change would create greater stability, and that all decisions in the Diet that reversed previous decisions must be passed unanimously by all four Estates and approved by the king. The current system, wrote Virgin, had left the government in conflict with foreign powers, because agreements with the Swedish government were not to be trusted. The country was now in such a state that they could not expect help of any kind from abroad. Only Poland was worse, said Virgin, adding that a wise government would work for a lasting future.626 Virgin’s proposal for stable government by returning to royal rule was, though tentative, wholly in line with France’s wishes. Alongside Virgin’s proposal, France went to all four Estates with 100,000 livres (c.33,333 rdr) to buy support for a memorandum in September 1769 in which the head of the Treasury Board, Carl Fredrik von Höpken, suggested appointing a special parliamentary 238

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committee to work up proposals for constitutional reform. France also set aside 199,300 livres (c.66,433 rdr) ‘to see the committee into existence’, and 100,000 livres (c.33.333 rdr) ‘to pay for the journeys’ of the backwoodsmen who would otherwise be unable to attend the Diet in Stockholm and vote for the proposal.627 Since the Diet of 1760, the nobleman responsible for the distribution of French money among the Hats had been Fredrik Ulrik von Rosen, and it was therefore unsurprising that he was one of the recipients of a secret pension from 1766 into the 1770s.628 As a Hat, he had been hit financially by the change of government in 1765, so Breteuil had arranged things so he could have a French pension so ‘he thereby has enough to live decently’.629 The fact that there were Hats who hoped to see closer ties with France and who took its money should not be taken to mean that they also shared the French government’s ambition to bring about constitutional change, let alone royal absolutism. Fredric Ulrik von Rosen and Carl Fredrik Pechlin were both examples of men who on the face of it were close to France, and acted as middlemen, distributing France’s money, but both were extremely doubtful about a return to royal rule—Pechlin especially so. While France wanted to use its contacts among Sweden’s top politicians to change the constitution and so ensure it had a loyal, strong Sweden as an ally, some of those politicians saw the benefits of cooperating with France but without stronger royal rule. The individuals who France considered might play an important role were listed in the accounts of the secret pensions. In 1771, councillor Rudenschöld’s wife (Christina Sofia Bielke) received 3,000 dsm, and her son Ture Gabriel Rudenschöld (b.1759) 1,500 dsm; the wife of councillor Ribbing (Eva Helena Löwen) was paid 6,000 dsm; Marshal von Rosen, 3,000 dsm; Baron Axel Lewenhaupt, 1,000 dsm; Gustaf Duwall, 500 dsm; and a number of poor gentlemen, 3,750 dsm. The total was 17,750 dsm.630 The fact that the Rudenschölds, including their son, had pensions from France can be explained by the fact that Carl Rudenschöld, who was a Hat, was already on his uppers when the Caps took power in 1765, when his financial straits only became 239

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worse. French support was a way to keep Rudenschöld in politics and favourably minded to France. The reason why councillor Ribbing’s wife featured in the list was because of her and her husband’s close relationship with Queen Lovisa Ulrika. Fridrich Ribbing was a Cap, but in 1766 had been made governor of the king’s youngest son, Prince Fredrik Adolf, and he had grown close to the queen. Duwall was interesting. Of all the Duwall family it would have been Johan Didrik Duwall, a Hat who lost his fortune when his father-in-law went bankrupt and was imprisoned when the Caps came to power in 1765, who would normally have caught France’s eye. He took on his father-in-law’s debts, but they were too large for him to manage. Under these circumstances, a secret French pension for him and his wife would have been understandable. However, the sources specify ‘mademoiselle la baronne Gustave Duwall’ as the recipient, which is harder to explain. Johan Didrik Duwall had an older unmarried sister named Johanna Gustava, and she may possibly have been a front for her brother, who had such large debts to pay. It would fit with the fact that France had long been happy to pay wives or c­ hildren secret pensions when necessary, perhaps so a politician could avoid appearing corrupt, or to avoid detection as far as possible.631 What the outcome would be of all these attempts to influence Swedish politics through the royal family, the Diet, and various individuals was still uncertain in the spring and early summer of 1772. There seems to have been a growing dissatisfaction on the French part at how the subsidies it had paid were spent. Louis XV advised caution in how the money was spent, because to his mind France had seen very little return for the money it had paid to S­ weden over the previous forty years—a lesson worth remembering.632 Ever since the seventeenth century France had made fitful attempts to monitor the use of its money, and that it was spent according to the terms of the subsidy agreements, but now in the build-up to the coup France increased its demands for transparency. In early 1772 the French were worried that they were spending to no effect. It was felt that Gustav III had asked for too much money and then had used it in a not very constructive fashion. He kept asking for money for specific 240

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people, but ambassador Vergennes was sceptical. When the king gave him a list of twenty seven people, saying that each should be given some generous gift, Vergennes countered that he had to be more certain of their loyalty and zeal. If only the king would learn to be more moderate with France’s contributions, it would be better for appearances, his authority would be enhanced, and we would not regret the lavish sums with which we have vainly fed the avarice of such individuals, Vergennes wrote in a report.633 On 19 August 1772, Gustav III finally staged his autocoup, and years of French machinations behind the scenes, and sometimes in the limelight, finally bore fruit. Ambassador Vergennes could report that he had met a happy Gustav III, who ‘did not let fall a single utterance that smacked of ostentation. He credited his success to Providence, on whom he called down blessings for having directed him so well, and for having given him in the king a sincere and zealous friend, a second father.’ In recognition of his efforts, he presented Vergennes with a diamond, ‘on which was engraved, with infinite artifice, an emblem evoking the revolution that had just been accomplished’.634 Order was restored between France and ‘her most ancient friend and her most constant ally’.635 A new long period of subsidy payments beckoned, with Sweden as the recipient and France as the subsidizer.

Concluding comments France had a long tradition of trying to influence the political elite in countries it considered to have strategic value. There was nothing unique in its behaviour, especially towards Sweden in the Age of Liberty, but it had uniquely deep pockets, and therefore far greater opportunities to buy the allegiance of individuals with generous pensions. This meant that when it was agreeing subsidy treaties with Sweden to confirm the bond between the two countries, all the while it was also working to attract those it thought to be key figures—or key families. The Peace of Westphalia in 1648 and Gustav III’s coup in 1772 were two occasions when things can be said to have gone 241

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France’s way, and at its instigation. Although France took decisive action in offering financial and political support to Gustav III so he could go ahead with the coup, the French government never admitted openly that it had had a hand in it.636 Presumably it would have been too great a provocation for Russia and Prussia, who both wanted to see Sweden weak. The Peace of Westphalia determined Sweden’s role in Europe and Swedish foreign policy for well over a century, while the coup d’état—and the abolition of the Constitution of the Age of Liberty—set the tone of Swedish domestic politics until 1809. The wars of the 1670s were a success for France’s subsidy policy in the short term, but they also fuelled anti-French sentiment that impacted on France’s ability to influence Sweden for decades to come. France on all three occasions enjoyed a degree of influence over Sweden, and remained a constant presence in Swedish politics on various levels throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

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chapter 11

Concluding discussion ‘Our rise has come through war’, said Queen Christina in 1652, foreshadowing Charles Tilly’s well-known maxim that war and preparation for war are what form states.637 If resources such as subsidies were a prerequisite for war, and war helped form the state—as Charles Tilly argues—then the question remains what role subsidies played in state formation. One reason why subsidies had a significant effect was that countries such as France, Spain or Britain needed armies and allies, and they could only get them by paying subsidies. Without subsidies, there would have been no armies, and hence there would have been no wars, which were what made them into strong states in the first place. Another might be that states with fewer resources such as Sweden, Denmark, and Brandenburg obviously needed to tap foreign resources if they were to fight wars for any length of time. From this flowed a series of effects, which, though not wholly dependent on subsidies, had a scope and duration they would not otherwise have had: the need to recruit more officers, the need for an enlarged military and civilian administration, and the construction of essential infrastructure such as fortifications, shipyards, and depots, primarily for military purposes. There was no general or absolute relation between subsidies and state formation, but for Sweden, especially in the seventeenth century, the construction and professionalization of state institutions was plainly a direct consequence of its territorial expansion overseas, which had only been possible with significant subsidies. In the eighteenth century, subsidies continued to be important for the spread of knowledge 243

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and economic gains by certain groups, but to a lesser extent for state formation in the classic sense, with the development of state institutions. What subsidies did do in the eighteenth century was to improve Sweden’s ability to defend itself, and in that way they helped shape the eighteenth-century Swedish state. The difference between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when it came to the nature of the state was in essence that subsidies in the seventeenth century contributed to state formation, whereas subsidies in the eighteenth century contributed to state preservation. The subsidy system also had a number of transnational effects. It brought together states in alliances, with intensive communication between allies both in person and on paper as a result. It depended on more sophisticated financial instruments to transfer the money between countries, using financial entrepreneurs as middlemen, but it also created the conditions for armed conflict and the invasion of other states’ territory. Other spatial effects were that Swedish society attracted experts in warfare, trade, and construction from across Europe, and all their activities relied on subsidies. Not all borders were geographical, of course. There were the social boundaries crossed by people rising through the ranks, meeting the demand for educated men in both the armed forces and civilian life. In the seventeenth century there were gender boundaries, crossed when the absence of men meant women could and did take their places as the head of the household. If the Swedish state was affected by the subsidy system, the same can be said to have been true of Swedish society. Although historians have done a creditable job of analysing the Swedish subsidy treaties, their origins, and their military significance, detailed studies of the subsidies’ long-term consequences for both state and society have been lacking. This, after all, is the virtue of studying subsidies over the course of a couple of centuries, as it is not only their immediate military effects that become apparent, but also their impact in a broader sense. And sure enough, it would seem that the flow of resources into Sweden from France affected both state and society in ways not previously anticipated. Interestingly, 244

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the picture of Sweden’s dependence on France that emerges from the data also helps us to see the full extent of France’s dependence on Sweden—evident from its insistent offers of subsidies. An evidently asymmetric relationship, skewed on so many levels—military, economic, population-wise—is revealed to have been multifaceted and a good deal more complex. Sweden’s possessions were an important buffer, Sweden’s armies were disrupters of France’s enemies to the east and north. As the Swedish state became increasingly ineffectual, France felt constrained to shore it up and prevent it from falling into the hands of the enemy, so desperate was France to secure its position in relation to the other expansive great powers of Britain, Russia, and Prussia. The catch with a study that concentrates on subsidies is that eventually they become the answer to everything. I leave it to the reader to judge how far I have fallen into that error, given that I would argue that the literature on Sweden’s foreign subsidies has to a great extent underestimated their importance as the driving force in the build-up of military power, their effect on Swedish society and state, and their determining role in France’s ability to keep Sweden as an ally and to interfere in its domestic politics. However, I can only concur that other forms of resource mobilization should not be forgotten. The case in point for Sweden was the Great Northern War (1700–21), which was almost entirely financed without subsidies, and which was extraordinarily bloody, ended in death or capture for thousands upon thousands of people, and had devastating political, economic, and demographic effects on Swedish society. What was central to many of the effects identified in this study was not the subsidies as a resource per se; it was that the effects were a result of whichever resources were available at the time. The fact that subsidies had great importance—and great impact—was because the Swedish government was so often dependent on having that kind of resource and that there were no other resources to hand. There is a strong sense of déjà vu all over again to the history of Franco-Swedish subsidies. It was not just that there were repeated negotiations, which occasionally resulted in a subsidy treaty being 245

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signed or renewed. It was that there was a repetitiveness to it all. The same points were made for and against accepting subsidies, or for and against choosing France as an ally. The same kinds of argument were made again and again, for centuries at a time: the lesson of history was that Sweden benefited from French alliances—that was one; that Sweden was in desperate need of funds was another; that Sweden’s role in upholding the Peace of Westphalia demanded that it be France’s ally was a third. There was the same pattern to people’s doubts too: the lesson of history was that no one could trust France; France only thought of its own needs, and would betray Sweden without a second thought; and so on. The memory of past treaties was kept fresh, and people were slow to forget the old injustices and betrayals that proved how dangerous it was to be France’s ally. The repetitiveness also extended to the criticism of subsidies in general. And for France’s part, some stereotypes about Sweden were very long-lived: the Swedes are wholly dependent on money and are therefore interested in it to the point of obsession; the Swedes are easily offended and must be handled with care The subsidy treaty between France and Sweden in the 1790s was the last in a long line. The Swedish regime’s increasing alarm at political developments in France under Napoleon led it to seek an alliance with Britain in 1805, and it was from Britain it accepted subsidies in order to secure its hold on Swedish Pomerania.638 The Napoleonic Wars, with the disintegration of the Holy Roman Empire in 1806 and the new European order after the Congress of Vienna in 1815, brought fundamental changes that affected the significance of Franco-Swedish relations for good. Sweden lost its possessions in Germany, and the Peace of Westphalia, which for so long had cemented the relationship between France and Sweden, became an irrelevancy. Sweden’s foreign policy from then on was wholly concerned with active neutrality and peace. Peter Wilson has noted the Europe-wide trend for many smaller countries to lose their independence, while Switzerland became neutral, and the rise of nationalism meant that political leaders now preferred not to hire out their armies to other nations. At the same time, the 246

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stronger states had less need to create and hold onto armies using subsidies.639 For a great many years, foreign subsidies played an important role for Sweden and many other European states. Over the short term it centred on the specific conflicts where France needed Sweden’s help, but over the long term there was a plan of sorts, a historic significance which also said something about their hopes for a common future. Sweden alternately had agency or was a passive tool: it acted independently to strike the elusive balance of power between the European states, but equally France used it as a counterweight to the Habsburgs. Yet when all was said and done, Sweden’s role in Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries was dependent on the resources it could muster, among them alliances and, yes, subsidies.

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Notes 1. Subsidies—an introduction 1 Hoffman 1986, 43; Bonney 1999, 126 notes that France at the end of the eighteenth century was far more reliant on land taxation than Britain was at the same time. 2 Hoffman 1986, 45–6; Riley 1987, 228. Military expenditure soared when the army grew from 50,000 men in the early seventeenth century to 250,000 men at the end of the century, and 400,000 during the War of the Spanish Succession (Jones 2002, 139–40). For the rising costs of war at the turn of the eighteenth century, see Rowlands 2012. 3 Beik 2009, 51–3. 4 Ibid. 53. 5 Hoffman 1986, 45. 6 Lindegren 1984, 367–8. 7 Ibid. 369–71. 8 Hoffman & Rosenthal 1997, 31–55. 9 Kiser & Linton 2001, 432–3. 10 Le Roy Ladurie 1987, 272–4. 11 Parker 1976; Black 2008; Downing 1992; Ertman 1997; Tilly 1990. 12 Ferguson 2001. 13 France Diplomatie, Traités, s.v. ‘Suède’ ‘subsides’, https://basedoc.diplomatie.gouv.fr/ exl-php/cadcgp.php. 14 McKay & Scott 1983, 26; Wilson 1998, 63, 87, 107, 179, 206–207, 228, 267–9; Wyn Jones 1988, 8–11; Black 1989, 46–7; Black 2002, 98; Eldon 1938; Storrs 2012, 87–126; Stein & Stein 2000, 52–3; Ernst 1988, 299–302; Lorenz 1981, 99; Oakley 2005, 41; Winton 2012a, 39–61; Winton 2015, 57; Jespersen 2002, 99, 102, 106, 114, 125; Feldbaek 2002, 275–8; Windler 2005, 112; Körner 1999, 327–57; Körner 1978, 274–81; Gern 1970, 151, 161–4; Suter 2010, 167–203; Sander-Faes 2016, 111–26; Ivetic 2008, 63–72; Luh 2012, 11. 15 In 1726, Sweden passed the Conventicle Act against the increasingly popular Pietist movement. It banned all religious meetings outside church, with the exception of family prayers at home. 16 For official attitudes towards religious minorities in Sweden and France in the eighteenth century, see Ljungberg 2017, 101–24 et passim. 17 Wilson 1995, 85. 18 Thiele 2014, 170; Van Nimwegen 2010, 34; Baer 2015, 115–17; Parker 2004, 42–9. 19 Ingrao 1987, 125, 131, 212–13. 20 Archives diplomatiques (AD), Paris, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’. 21 Premier registre des dépenses secrètes 1793, 118. 22 Sewell 2005, 124–51.

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notes 23 Edling & Winton 2009. 24 Danielson 1920; Danielson 1956; Ekholm 1974; Landberg 1952; Landberg 1971; Fahlborg 1932; Fahlborg 1949; Fahlborg 1961; Falk 1911; Tham 1960; Rosén 1952; Jägerskiöld 1957; Wittrock 1912. 25 Gustafsson 2017 does not refer to subsidies; Gustafsson 2010, 67; Hedenborg & Kvarn­ ström 2013, 144, 146, 151; Lindkvist & Sjöberg 2013, 303, 363–6. 26 For international alliances, see Cesa 2010.

2.Treaties, context, and content 27 The year of receipt is here taken to be the year in which the payment was received by the Swedish treasury: subsidies were sometimes paid after a considerable delay, so that payments meant to be within a three-year period could in practice be spread out over several more years, or even at a much later date. My analysis is thus based on the dates when the subsidies were actually received and the funds were available to be spent, and not the dates set down in the subsidy treaties. 28 Elliott 1984, 120–1. 29 Hardman & Price 1998, 120; for Poland, see Sutton 1980, 10–12. 30 Kennedy 1990, 39–41; Aron 1966, 131 also argues that the Peace of Westphalia in 1648 meant a return to the balance of power, or equilibrium, in Europe. 31 Svenska riksrådets protokoll [SRP] i: 1621–29, 27 October 1629. 32 SRP i: 1621–29, 27 October 1629. 33 SRP i: 1621–29, 27 October 1629. 34 SRP i: 1621–29, 3 November 1629. 35 Sverges traktater v/1: 1572–1632, 438–42. 36 Sverges traktater v/2: 1632–1645, 12–18. 37 Rikskanslern Axel Oxenstiernas skrifter och brevväxling [AOSB], i/8: Brev 1633, jan–maj, Axel Oxenstierna to the Council, Frankfurt-am-Main 6 May 1633. 38 Falk 1911, 52. 39 The Treaty of Hamburg in 1638 ratified an interim agreement reached in Wismar in 1636. In 1638 it was decided that France would pay 1,000,000 livres (c.333,333 rdr) to Sweden for the war against the Holy Roman Emperor. The later Treaty of Hamburg of 6 July 1641 was for 480,000 rdr per annum, to continue until a general peace was agreed. See Sverges traktater v/2: 1632–1645, 424–9; Falk 1911, 176. 40 Croxton 2013, 334–5. 41 Wilson 2009, 755–6. 42 For France’s difficulties in paying, see SRP xiii: 1649, 9 August & 22 November 1649; for subsidies in the 1650s, see Riksarkivet (RA), Stockholm, Blå nummer (Oordnade handlingar efter 1630), Franska subsidier 1657–1755; Svenskt biografiskt lexicon [SBL], s.v. ‘Mattias Biörenklou’ gives the date of the subsidy treaty as August 1658. 43 RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, Stockholm 12 December 1656. 44 Asker 2010, 178–81; Landberg 1971, 9–10, 18–20, 121. 45 RA, Blå nummer (Oordnade handlingar efter 1630), Franska subsidier 1657–1755; RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, see also Landberg 1971, 117 who mentions negligible subsidies in a treaty of 1658. 46 Fahlborg 1932, 183–5.

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notes 47 Ibid. 185–6. 48 Fahlborg 1932, 185, Louis XIV to de Lumbres 10 February 1662: ‘Encore que la somme à mon égard soit excessive, elle n’approche pas de ce qu’ il faut pour l’entretien d’une armée dans une pays ami’. 49 Fahlborg 1932, 256–69; Landberg 1971, 128. 50 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 23 1662–65, ‘Till Gambrotius Hirschenstierna whad som är passerat i conferensen med Terlon’, Stockholm 6 September 1662. 51 Fahlborg 1932, 287–88 52 Fahlborg 1949, ii. 64–65. 53 Landberg 1971, 156–7. 54 Frost 2000, 208–209. 55 Sonnino 1988, 94–5. 56 Landberg 1971, 172–3. 57 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 70–3. 58 Rystad 2001, 165–87; for a detailed analysis, see Nordmann 1971, 74–87. 59 Rystad 2001, 177–80. 60 Treaty between Sweden and France 4 April 1715, see France Diplomatie, Traités. 61 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 94–8. 62 Kirby 1990, 310. 63 Black 1988, 369. 64 Metcalf 1977, 260–3. 65 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 59–61. 66 Definitions are a problem for 1719–21. In these years, Britain, Prussia, and Hanover paid what the Swedish sources refer to as ‘medel’ (lit. funds) to the Swedish government, yet the same source for the same period has accounts for ‘French subsidies’. I have therefore not included these years as subsidy years because there was no treaty in force and it is unclear what funds they were. See RA, Betänkande och memorial i utrikes ärenden, vol. 27, n.d. 67 RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, 14 March 1727, Separata artiklar och sekret artikel till Litt. A.; Ulrika Eleonora, Stockholm 10 October 1719; RA, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikes ärenden, vol. 27 which indicates that in 1719–20 £1 was worth 4 kronor. 68 Sutton 1980, 6–7, 12. 69 Ibid. 10–12. 70 Black 1988, 362. 71 Wenck 1788, 2–3, 26 May/6 June 1747. The extension of the 1738 subsidy treaty applied was for the ten years from 30 October/10 November 1748. The subsidies were the same size as before and ran for three years. The extension of the 1738 treaty on 17 January 1754 was to apply from 12 July 1756 to July 1768. 72 Wenck 1788, 2. 73 Malmström 1895, ii. 280. 74 RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, Subsidiekonvention 17 January 1754. 75 RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, Konvention angående Sveriges del­ tagande i kriget mot Preussen, 22 September 1757. 76 RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, Deklaration angående tillägg till konventionen om Sveriges deltagande i kriget mot Preussen, nr 44, 13 April 1758. 77 For a detailed analysis of the manoeuvrings, see Schumann & Schweizer 2008, 27–42.

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notes 78 RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, Konvention angående garanti av Westfaliska freden, 21 March 1757; Schumann & Schweizer 2008, 54; RA, Originaltraktater med främmande makter, Konvention angående Sveriges deltagande i kriget mot Preussen, 22 September 1757. 79 Szabo 2008, 132. 80 Schumann 2008, 90; Szabo 2008, 384. For a full description of Sweden’s campaign, see Åselius 2012, 135–164. 81 Szabo 2008, 384. 82 Åmark 1961, i. 573–4. 83 Ibid., i. 574–5. 84 Ibid., i. 575; for the treaty, see http://basedoc.diplomatie.gouv.fr/exl-php/util/documents/ accede_document.php?1528449739028.

3. Subsidies, dependence, and independence 85 AOSB i/5: Brev 1630, Axel Oxenstierna to Gustav II Adolf, Elbing 16 August 1630. 86 Louis Charles Auguste le Tonnelier, baron de Breteuil, baron de Preuilly (1730–1807). 87 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil to Choiseul, Stockholm 20 June 1766. 88 Wilson (in press). 89 SRP v: 1635, 17 December 1635; RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 13 October 1666; RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 2 October 1667; RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 73, 30 August 1680; Trolle Bonde 1898, iii. 234–46. 90 See, for example, SRP v: 1635, 17 December 1635, 383–85; RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 37b, 5 November 1662; ibid., vol. 59a, 21 February 1672; ibid., vol. 63, 22 March 1674 & n.d.; RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Rådsprotokoll över utrikes ärenden för 1734 från 18 maj, 6 August 1734; RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Rådsprotokoll över utrikes ärenden 1740–1743, 5 August 1740. 91 Including the Holy German Roman Empire, Britain, Prussia, Denmark, Mecklenburg– Schwerin, Hesse-Kassel, Bavaria, Savoy, Genoa, the Palatinate, Cologne, Mainz, and the Swiss Cantons. 92 Åmark 1961, 585–9; Kennett 1967, 88–98; Riley 1986, 134. 93 Krüger 1988, 288; Lundkvist 1966, 387; Ekholm 1974, 11 estimates that in 1631 the subsidies from France and the Netherlands, along with favorable contracts for buying grain from Russia, covered 45 per cent of the cost of the war. 94 Porshnev 1995, 38. 95 Ekholm 1974, 9–14. 96 Nordlund 1971, 281–6. 97 Ibid. 374–6; Ekholm 1974, 12–13. 98 Åmark 1961, tab. 5 & 53. 99 Ibid. 151, 585. 100 Ibid. 585–9. 101 Winton 2012b, 21–5. 102 Dickson 1987, ii. 173. In addition to its payments to Prussia, Britain paid subsidies worth £200,000 to Portugal towards the end of the Seven Years War (Szabo 2008, 406). 103 Schumann & Schweizer 2008, 122; Szabo 2008, 99. 104 Windler 2005, 105–133; Ulbert 1999, 159–60.

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notes 105 Krüger 1988, 280. 106 Handlingar rörande Sverges historia ur utrikes arkiver 1839, iii., Herman von Basserode to the Emperor, Stockholm 25 June 1667. 107 Handlingar rörande Sverges historia ur utrikes arkiver 1839, iii., Wratislaus von Sternberg to the Emperor, Stockholm 15 November 1673 & 23 December 1673: ‘Mit gold kan man hier vill bekommen’; ‘Der Französische Ambassadeur hat, wie ich vornimbe, hier alle Senatores mit Geld regalirt oder regaliren wolle’. 108 SRP vi: 1636, 17 November 1636: ‘een anseenlig summa penningar’. 109 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636. 110 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636. 111 SRP vi: 1636, 17 November 1636. 112 SRP vi: 1636, 17 November 1636. 113 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636, 739 ff. 114 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 23 March 1633, Hamburg 20 April 1633, Hamburg 8 June 1633, Lübeck 27 June 1633. 115 Falk 1911, 139. 116 SRP v: 1635, 23 October, 17 November & 17 December 1635. 117 SRP vii: 1637–39, November 1637. 118 SRP vii: 1637–39, 29 November 1637. 119 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 27 February 1641: ‘Sveriges chronas trogneste broder och vän i nöden och döden’. 120 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 21 January 1643. 121 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 26 September 1640: ‘Ehvad och Franckrijke lofvar, så holler han doch inthet vidare än honom till pass kommer’. 122 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, n.p. 7 November 1640: ‘papisterna hava offta annat in mente än på tungan, med theras eeder håller thet liikvist icke alldeles uthan consideration’. 123 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 9 January 1641. 124 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 3 December 1666: ‘at der Gallia will intet at Sw. skall dancka af, att och Sw. moste medh prompte subsidier understödias’. 125 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden, 1734 Maj-December, 11 October 1734. 126 For example, RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 314, 28 January/2 February 1743, 4/15 February 1743, 11/22 February 1743, Clas Ekeblad to Carl Gyllenborg. 127 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1757, 8 September 1757: ‘Det är Sweriges behof som giör subsidier oumgängelige’. 128 Stiegung 1961, 180. 129 SRP xiv: 1650, 6 May 1650. 130 SRP xv: 1651–53, 13 June 1651. 131 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 10 October 1667: ‘intet hafwandes någon säkrare wän istället igen’. 132 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 3 December 1666. 133 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 47, 21 February 1666 & 2 October 1667. 134 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 10 October 1667. 135 Wittrock 1912, 8–9.

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notes 136 See Croxton 2013, 310 om resonemang om upplösning av den svenska armén efter westfaliska freden. 137 Wittrock 1912, 4, 11: ‘Det är mesquin och vilain att vara mercenaire och göra en ting allena för penningars skull, utan anseende till hvad nytta och gagn man eljest däraf hafva kan’. 138 AD, Correspondence Politique, Suéde, vol. 34, Pomponne to Louis XIV, 14 May 1667; AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Extrait du discours du Mr de Pomponne de 1668 plus les interêts politiques de la Suède, Pomponne, n.d. 139 Fahlborg 1949, ii. 64–5. 140 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 13 October 1666. 141 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 17 October 1666. 142 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 45, 27 October 1666. 143 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Extrait du discours du Mr de Pomponne de 1668 plus les interêts politiques de la Suède, Pomponne, n.d. 144 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 20 September 1662. 145 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 20 September 1662, 8 November 1664: ‘bestå af oss sielwa, och intet dependera af Gallia nutu’. 146 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 20 September 1662, 8 November 1664. 147 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 20 September 1662, 20 December 1664. 148 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 50, 8 July 1668: ‘kunde der medh bruka deres gambla wahna, och sprÿda uth mehr ähn som ähr, och laga sedan at thet wÿ nÿligen slutit blf aldeles ofruchtsamt’; ‘giöra oss suspect’; ‘icke mena at wenskapen är omkull’. 149 In the mid-1660s both the Austrian and the Danish ambassadors to Stockholm mentioned in their dispatches home that France and Sweden were in negotiations, that the Swedes were happy to take subsidies from France, and that French money was reckoned to influence Swedish politics. See Handlingar rörande Sverges historia ur utrikes arkiver 1839, iii. 80–3; Handlingar rörande Sverges historia ur utrikes arkiver 1836, i. 150–60. 150 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 2 October 1667. 151 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 51, 23 February 1669. 152 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672: ‘lärer betänkia sig för än ded öfuergifwer oss’. 153 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 154 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 11 March 1672: ‘penningarne äre allenast accessorium, men fram för alt annat måste wÿ see på wår säkerheet och på wårt interet’. 155 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59b, 4 December 1672. 156 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 22 March 1674: ‘inga stater pläga blÿfwa så såta wänner. I ded öffriga hafwer ded lÿkwäl altÿd plägat god wänskap med Chronan Swerige. Men hafwer Frankrÿke många mechtige fiender emot sig, och hafwer måst deboursera en stoor påst penningar på en och annan ort.’ 157 Ibid.: ‘sådane wänner som både willia och förmåå grÿpa oss under armarne’. 158 Ibid. 159 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 1674 n.d.: ‘sådane wänner som både

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notes willia och förmåå grÿpa oss under armarne’; ‘Frankrÿke på lång tÿd tillbaka, ia alt ifrån Gustavo Primo och in till nuu stått med oss uthi alliance, iembwäl och både uthi ded Tÿska krÿget så och sedermehra seconderat Eders Mts förfäders wapn, och grÿpit dem under armarne med penningar’. 160 Marc-Antoine Front de Beaupoil, Marquis de Lanmary (1689–1749). 161 AD, Mémoires et documents Sùede 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de Diette, report from ambassador Lanmary, November 1746. 162 Metcalf 1977, 237–9, 246–57. 163 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1 February 1734. 164 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1735, Jakob Cronstedts votum angående projekt till konvention, 14 April 1735. 165 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1734, Gustav Bondes tankar, 15 November 1734: för några penningars skull sättja sig i sådan dependence’; ‘för några subsidiers skull låta sig så binda händerna, at inga andre för riket nyttige och fördelacktiga anbud kunde emottagas’. 166 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1735, 17 February 1735: ‘“Frankrike begärte då allenast emot de utlofwade subsidier, at wÿ wille hafwa et wisst anthal troupper färdiga, men sedan det skedt, wille de eÿ betala några subsidier, förrän troupperna skulle gå in i Brandenburg’; ‘emedan man kan wara förwissad, at Frankrike eÿ mera än någon annan macht gör detta anbud af pur kärlek för Swerige, utan i afseende på dess eget interesse’. 167 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1735, 17 March 1735: ‘100 millioner, så styrcker iag dock aldrig at wÿ skola abandonera wår frihet och independence’. 168 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1735, 1 April 1735: ‘utan at bringa eder i stånd at brillera i werlden, och står det hos er at profitera deraf, antingen nu eller framdeles’. 169 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35, 1735, (Gyllenborgs votum), 14 April 1735. 170 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède 1634 á 1735, instructions for ambassador Lanmary, Paris 3 September 1741. Similar ideas about Sweden’s dependence on France are presented in a document from the same year which considers Sweden’s relations with the Ottoman Empire, see AD, Correspondence Politique, vol. 200, Mondamert till Paris, Stockholm 13/24 November 1741, Pro Memoria. 171 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 314, Paris 11/22 February, 13/24 May 1743, Clas Ekeblad to Carl Gyllenborg. 172 RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar vol. 20, Handlingar rörande Subsidier III, 1700-talet, Mauritz Klingspor to hertig Karl 29 March 1796, Mauritz Klingspor to rikskanslern Fredrik Sparre 30 March 1796, Kvittens på mottagna medel, 7 April 1796, Räkning för franska subsidie medel emottagne Octob: Månad 1795. 173 AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 25, Instruction donnée au citoien Pichegru, ambassadeur à la Republique en Suède (1796). Although General Jean-Charles Pichegru was offered the ambassadorship to Stockholm but declined, his instructions still provide information on the French government’s attitude towards relations with Sweden. 174 For the accounts for 1632, 1658, 1660–66, and 1672–80 on which these calculations are

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notes based, see RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier, I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18; RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv F3/1. 175 For the accounts for 1715–17, 1727–29, 1741, 1765, and 1795–96 on which these calculations are based, see RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier, I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vols. 18 & 20; RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv F3/1. 176 Norrhem (in press). 177 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll I utrikes ärenden, 18 May 1757. 178 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll I utrikes ärenden, 11 October 1734. 179 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1724–27, 15 February 1726. 180 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 72, 26 February 1680. 181 Fahlborg 1932, 278–9. 182 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 43, 30 January 1665: ‘respect och heder, den Gall. så lÿtet considererar’. 183 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 21 February 1672. 184 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 72, 24 February 1680. 185 Recueil des instructions 1885, 143. 186 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–1735 1735, 21 April 1735. 187 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de Diette (report from ambassador Lanmary), November 1746; AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Instructions for ambassador d’Usson, 3 September 1774. 188 Helfferich (in press). 189 The wish to support Sweden is evident in a memorandum by ambassador Pomponne (1668), and the instructions for ambassadors Lanmary (1741) and d’Usson (1774), the latter two noting that it had been crucial for France that it had backed Sweden. See AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vols. 4, 9, 25. 190 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672; RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1733–35, 14 January 1734. 191 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Histoire des Traités entre la France et la Suède depuis 1569 jusqu’en 1680 (10 October 1716; AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, Instructions for ambassador Lanmary, 3 September 1741. 192 Porshnev 1995, 38; Frost 2000, 216–17. 193 Bérenger 2003, 347. 194 Scott 2006, 30–1. 195 Rystad 1992, 14. 196 Winton 2012a, 61–2; for a similar analysis of the two countries, see Scott 2006, 29–32.

4. Subsidies and honour 197 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636: ‘giffver denne alliancen oss respect både hoos soldatesqvan så väll som Stenderne i Tysklandh, ty elljest miste vij respecten’. 198 Gramont 1717, ii. 95–6. 199 Helfferich (in press). 200 Tischer (in press). 201 Hammar 2014, 131–3; Liliequist 2000, 283–96.

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notes 202 There were other ways to shore up dynasties, of course, the most obvious being dynastic marriage, where a spouse from a less important dynasty could rise through the dynastic hierarchy by marrying into a higher-ranked dynasty. See, for example, Wade 2018. 203 Windler 2017, 256–7. 204 For example, May 2017, 80–2; Mori 2010, 91–106. 205 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvis to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 26 September 1640: ‘På subsidiernas förhögning hafver iag fuller så länge drifvit at iag moste nu för ähra skull något oppeholla at iag icke prostituerar rijkzens ahnsehende med förmykit betlande’. 206 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 223, Erik Sparre to Charles XII, Lund 8 November 1717: ‘göra något steeg, som kunde förklena wärdigheten af den Caractere hwarmed jag war bekläd’. 207 Mori 2010, 91–93. 208 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Histoire des Traités entre la France et la Suède depuis 1569 jusqu’en 1680, 10 October 1716. 209 AOSB i/5, Axel Oxenstierna to Gustav II Adolf, Elbing 3 April 1630. 210 AOSB i/5, Axel Oxenstierna to Lars Grubbe, Elbing 11 August 1630; ibid., Axel Oxenstierna to Gustav II Adolf, Elbing 16 August 1630: ‘Men att sällia E.K.M:tts och Sveriges chrones högheet och competentie uthi ähra och dignitet medh andra konungar i verlden (såsom jag förnimmer Charnacé hafver intenderet) och icke allenast sådande judicia patientere aff andre, uthan facto proprio et propria confessione ad perpetuam sui ignominiam praeiudicere sigh siellff och agnoscere een superiorem för een summa penninger skulldh, ähr förtreetligit, att han E.K.Mtts hafver toordt anmoda’. 211 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 43, 30 January 1665. 212 Fahlborg 1932, 285 n., Terlon to Louis XIV 4 November 1662: ‘Il n’y a rien qui les embarrasse davantage que se voir reduits à un subside de cent mille escus comme les plus petits Princes d’Allemagne’. 213 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 23: 1662–65, ‘Till Gambrotius Hirschenstierna whad som är passerat i conferensen med Terlon’, Stockholm 6 September 1662: ‘ohördt ibland wänner, mÿcket mehr emellan Swerige och Frryke, som så många åhr hafwa till andra staters förundran sammanbundet warit’. 214 Tischer (in press). 215 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 20 September 1662, 30 Januari 1664. 216 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 23 October 1667. 217 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 23 October 1667. 218 RA, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikes ärenden, 27 Johan Gyllenstierna, tillägg till votum, n.d.: ‘Dhet synes ey heller wara de dignitate Regis et Regni Sueciae, att prostituera således wärlden wår necessitet och armod, att een heel Chrona, serdeles aff den stoorheet, renomée och grandesse som Sweriges ähr, icke skall förmå att underholla en så liten armé som dhenna ähr, eller såwÿda bestå aff sigh sielff, utan till att sökia hielp aff främmande potentater, till dess conservation och Rÿksens säkerheet’. 219 Sutton 1980, 6–7, 12. 220 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1733–35, 26 February 1734. 221 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 5 August 1734; see also Svenska riksdagsakter, iii/2, Sekreta utskottet, 5 August 1734. 222 Svenska riksdagsakter, ii: 1719–1800, Sekreta utskottet, 5 August 1734.

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notes 223 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1735, Carl Gyllenborgs inlaga, 14 April 1735: ‘dependence i anseende till dess mächtigaste granne’; ‘all påtvingad sousmission och dependence är skymflig för och olÿdelig för ett rike, och därtill kan och bör ingen redlig patriot eller trogen undersåte styrkia’; ‘skulle jag i min enfaldighet tro, att ett lÿtet fogande effter varandra när dhet är reciproct, och sådant emot wänliga offerter och grundat på egen ansenlig fördhel, på intet sätt derogerar något ifrån ett rikes heder och anseende’; ‘scrupuleust ÿrkande på frÿa händer’; ‘granne frÿa händer nog att spela medh oss hwad spel han wille’; ‘yttersta undergång lutande tillstånd’. 224 Trolle Bonde 1898, 331. 225 Ibid. 336–40. 226 Ibid. 346–7. 227 Ibid. 358–61. 228 Wicquefort 1682. 229 Trolle Bonde 1898, 368–71. 230 RA, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikes ärenden, 27, Memorial ang subsidiernas utbetalande som Frankrike enligt 1715 års traktat utfäst…, Uthrÿkes medlen pro annis 1719, 1720 och 1721: ‘höghet eÿ wore anständigt något under namn af gåfwa eller generosité, at mottaga’. 231 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 18 August 1740. 232 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 5 August 1740. 233 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 15 September 1740. 234 AD, Correspondence Suède vol. 195, Amelot to St Severin, Versailles 28 August 1740. 235 AD, Correspondence Politique Suède, vol. 195, Saint Sévérin to Amelot, Stockholm 2 September 1740. 236 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 21 August 1740. 237 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 15 September 1740. 238 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 28 October 1740. 239 RA, Diplomatica Gallica vol. 295, Tessin to kanslipresidenten Carl Gyllenborg, Paris 2/16 January 1741: ‘ostridigt att Frankrike i dessa tider behöfwer Swerige’. 240 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 295, Tessin to kanslipresidenten Carl Gyllenborg, 20/31 October 1740: ‘Swerige nu sättias i stånd at framgent blifwa Frankrike nÿttigt’. 241 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 295, Tessin to kanslipresidenten Carl Gyllenborg, 23 January/3 February 1741: ‘Ryska machten en gång stympas, jemvikten i Norden på gamla foten återstellas och Swerige följakteligen sättias i stånd att hädaneffter som i forna tider wara sina wänner och allierade till understöd och bistånd’. 242 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1740–43, andra delen, 17 November 1740. 243 AD, Mémoires et documents France, vol. 300, Motifs qui determinent Sa Majesté le Roy de Suède a déclarer la guerre au Czar de Russie, n.d. but 1741. 244 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1757, 20 juni 1757: ‘efter

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notes förra tiders exempel wara för oss mindre tryggt och säkert’; ‘återwinna dess anseende i Tÿska Riket’. 245 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1757, 20 juni 1757. 246 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1757, 8 September 1757. 247 Bodensten 2016, 135–38. 248 Nordin 2000, 265. 249 Ibid. 265–66. 250 Burke 1992, 77–86. 251 Aron 1966, 73–4. 252 Chaline 2000, 85.

5. French objectives and interests 253 Horn 1930, 463. 254 Recueil des instructions 1885, 408–409, Hertigen av Choiseul, Versailles 23 April 1766: ‘On peut même avancer qu’avec cette sagesse, les forces réelles de la Suède ne peuvent pas se soutenir sur un pied qui puisse être utile aux alliés de cette couronne’. 255 Sutton 1980, 10–11. 256 AD, Acquisitions extraordinaire, Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés a plusieurs puissances depuis l’ année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750, vol. 52. 257 AD, Acqusitions extraordinaire, vol. 52. 258 Black 2016, 64. 259 AD, Acqusitions extraordinaire, vol. 52. 260 Schama 1977, 124–6. 261 AD, Acquisitions extraordinarie, vol. 53; see also Schama 1977, 143–63. 262 France was only too happy to take on the role of protector of Duke Christian of Mecklenburg–Schwerin when, for financial reasons, he sought help at the court of Versailles. Louis XIV undertook to protect the duke, his estates, and his duchy from attack. In return, Mecklenburg–Schwerin agreed in 1663 to be a recruiting ground, campaign route, and possible retreat and to allow it to use its ports in the Baltic. A similar agreement was also concluded between France and the city of Erfurt (Fahlborg 1932, 451–5). 263 AD, Correspondence politique, Suède, vol. 27, 1664–65, Instructions for Hugues de Terlon ambassador to Copenhagen and Stockholm, n.d. 264 Miller 1991, 143–5. 265 McCluskey 2013, 1, 33–64. For Savoy’s importance to France, see also Rowlands 2000. 266 This was probably Victor Amadeus of Savoy (1690–1741) Prince of Carignano from 1709, who lived in Paris where he was appointed Maître des Menus-Plaisirs. The principality of Carignano was part of Savoy, and not a sovereign territory. 267 AD, Acqusitions extraordinaire, vol. 52 268 Haug 2015, 94, 451–5. 269 Haug 2015, 22–24, 453–56. 270 Tischer 2016, 49–64. 271 AD, Memoires et documents France 289, 304, 305, 317. 272 AD, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’. 273 Croxton 2013, 379, Servien to Lionne, 25 February 1645.

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notes 274 Croxton 2013, 379. 275 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 86–99, 105–106. 276 AD, Correspondence Suède vol. 195, Amelot to St Severin, Versailles 28 August 1740; AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 32, Dépense connue et verificé par M le Felt Maréchal Comte de Fersen, February 1770; AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 34, Comptes renduis par M le Cte de Vergennes de l’employ des fonds qu’il a reçus pour soutien de la Diette de Suède de 1771 et 1772. 277 AD, Mémoires et documents France, vol. 300, Memoire des subsides et pensions promis par le Roy a des Princes étrangeres. Under the treaty of 25 March 1682, the Danish king was to be paid 600,000 livres (c.200,000 rdr) ‘par an Durant la paix payables par quartiers’, starting in April 1682. The 400,000 livres (c.133,333 rdr) for Brandenburg seems to have been a one-off payment, however. 278 Frey 1976. 279 AD, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘ Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’. 280 AD, Correspondence politique, vol. 177, Casteja 6 August 1735. 281 Premier registre des dépenses secrétes de la cour 1793. 282 Porshnev 1995, 38. 283 I have only included payments that can be identified as subsidies according to the definition used in this study. Thus pensions paid to individuals have been excluded, while where there was any doubt as to the nature of a payment it too has been excluded. For an overview of government expenditure, see Riley 1987, 224–5. 284 The figures were 1730 1.8%, 1731 1.9%, 1732 1.9%, 1733 2.0%, 1734 5.0%, 1735 6.9%, 1736 6.9%, 1737 5.2%, 1738 4.6%, 1739 8.4%, 1740 5.9%, 1741 9.6%, 1742 8.3%, 1743 8.6%, 1744 6.6%, 1745 11.3%, 1746 10.0%, 1747 6.7%, 1748 7.7%, and 1749 8.3%. The figures given by Riley 1987, 224–25 for government expenditure do differ, but only marginally from the data in AD, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’. For the purposes of calculating percentages, the differences are marginal. 285 Dickson 1987, 158–9. 286 Dickson 1987, 168–9. 287 For earlier work on France’s interest in using subsidies to buy the loyalty of northern Europe countries, see Lossky 1964; Fayard 1965; Frey 1976; Livet 1970; Treasure 1995. 288 Jones 2002, 133; see also Black 1988, 372–3; Kennedy 1990, 89–90. 289 Scott 2006, 3, 144–7, 236–9. 290 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Extrait du discours du Mr de Pomponne de 1668 plus les intérêts politiques de la Suède, Pomponne n.d. 291 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de Diette (report from ambassador Lanmary), November 1746. 292 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, Instructions for ambassador Lanmary, 3 September 1741. 293 Croxton 2013, 254. 294 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, Instructions for ambassador Lanmary, 3 September 1741. 295 AD, Mémoires et documents Sùede 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de

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notes Diette (report from ambassador Lanmary), November 1746. 296 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 296, Rapporter från Paris av Carl Gustav Tessin juli– december 1741. 297 AD, Mémoires et documents Sùede 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de Diette (report from ambassador Lanmary), November 1746. 298 AD, Mémoires et documents Sùede 22, Sur l’etat ou se trouve la Suède a l’ouverture de Diette (report from ambassador Lanmary), November 1746: ‘Subsidierna måste delas ut med måtta, varken mer eller mindre än vad som behövs … och i den väldiga misär som svenskarna har fallit i … har de börjat med tricks för att på olika sätt … få ut så mycket pengar som möjligt från Frankrike för sina behov’. 299 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil to Versailles, Stockholm 5 September 1766, Stockholm 10 October 1766, Stockholm 17 November 1766. 300 Price 2002, 37–8. 301 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil till Versailles, Stockholm 26 September 1766, 17 October 1766. 302 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Comte d’Usson, 3 September 1774. 303 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Comte d’Usson, 3 September 1774. 304 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Comte d’Usson, 3 September 1774. 305 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Mr de Ponre, 4 June 1783. 306 AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour Servir d’instructions au Citoyen Verninac (1793); Instruction donnée au citoien Pichegru, ambassadeur a la Republique en Suède (1796). ‘Citoyen Verninac’ was Raymond de Verninac Saint-Maur (1761–1822), French ambassador to Sweden. 307 Jones 2002, 133–4. 308 Recueil des instruction 1885, 407–13, Versailles 23 April 1766.

6. Rivalries, conflicts, and complications 309 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636. 310 Cesa 2010, passim. 311 Ibid. 27. 312 Ibid. 11. 313 Ibid. 51. 314 Szabo 2008, 121–2. 315 Ibid. 375–7, 385–7. 316 SRP vi: 1636, 16 November 1636. 317 Cesa 2010, 3. 318 Ibid. 49. 319 Ibid. 4. 320 Ibid. 4–5. 321 Piirimäe 2002, 521–2. 322 Ibid. 517. 323 Wilson 2009, 464–5. 324 Ibid. 377.

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notes 325 Reinhardt 2014, 508–509. 326 Ibid. 509–11. 327 Elliott 1984, 123–7. 328 Ibid. 127–8. 329 Reinhardt 2014, 512. 330 The Polish royal couple hoped a French candidate would win the election, preferring Louis II, Prince of Conde (le Grand Condé), his son Henri Jules, Duke of Enghien, or Philip Wilhelm of Palatinate-Neuburg. See Lukowski & Zawadzki 2001, 100. 331 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 5 November 1662. 332 AD, Correspondance politique Suède, vol. 26 1660–63, Terlon to Louis XIV, Stockholm 18 November 1662. 333 AD, Correspondance politique, Suède vol. 26 1660–63, Terlon to Louis XIV, Stockholm 14 October, 24 November 1662. 334 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 5 November 1662: ‘Wy moste separera ifrån Statssaker alla passioner’; for example, RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 18 November 1662. 335 Sonnino 1988, 105–106. 336 Ibid. 118. 337 Ibid.146–8. 338 Ibid. 151; for the French analysis of the treaty, see Recueil des instructions 1885, 102–23. 339 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672: ‘Intet beståår wårt interesse och förnembsta motif uti någre tunnor gulld subsidier’. 340 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 21 February 1672. 341 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 21 February 1672. 342 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 27 February 1672. 343 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 11 March 1672. 344 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 345 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672: ‘subsistera aff oss sielfva’. 346 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 347 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 11 March 1672. 348 Fahlborg 1961, ii. 484–7. 349 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 61b, 10 October 1673, 18 November 1673. 350 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 27 February 1674: ‘Sweriges interesse bestooge intet uthi blåtta penningar, fördenskull uthi ded Tÿska krÿget oachtat att wÿ då wäl behöffde penningar, så delibererade wÿ lÿkwäl åhr och dag om wÿ wille hafua subsidier aff Frankrÿke’. 351 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 64, 26 March 1674: ‘Swerige stelte sig altÿd genereust i begynnelsen, in puncto om penningerne, men när dee dem blefve budne så toge man fuller likwist gierna emot dem’. 352 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 23 July 1674. 353 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 23 July 1674: ‘ ‘Ded är nogsampt kunnigt att wÿ nepplig aff egne kraffter kunde komma en considerable armature till wäga, fördenskull såsom wÿ behöfve att grÿpas under armarne med Frankrÿkes penninger’; ‘obligera oss till att giöra något för Frankrÿke som är impossibelt’; ‘att wÿ icke gifve Den Nederländska republiken och Danmark ombrage’; ‘på ett bräde’; ‘hela wärlden och ruinera oss’.

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notes 354 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 63, 23 July 1674: ‘Swerige har aldrig warit wahnt att sahla sina hästar och binda dem wed dess egen gärdsgård’. 355 Nilsson 1964, 114. 356 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 72, 26 February 1680: ‘dhet dhe han låfuat, dhet är fulle sant i många stÿcken … Män så ha dhet på andra sÿdan likwäl nog giordt till Sweriges advantage, fast dhet altÿdh ha ballancerat Sweriges magt’. 357 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 73, 6 October 1680: ‘igenom kriget är råkat i stor svaghet till inrÿkes krafter, då bäst är att taga dhet partiet som kan göra Kongl Mt redoutabelt (skräckinjagande, min anm), projectet intenderar inthet annat än säkerheten af de Westfaliske freden och de Nimwegiske, hwarföre dhet desto snarare kan emottagas’. 358 Suganami 1992, 8. 359 Grotius 1655, 173–6 360 Ibid. 410–11. 361 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 21 February 1672. 362 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 363 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 6 August 1734: ‘blifwer därtill af Frankrÿket tillräcklig nu gripen under armarne’. 364 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 2 December 1734. 365 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1735, 17 March. 366 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 11 October 1734. 367 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 18 November 1734: ‘hwilcket tyckes wara en alt för swår dependence för et fritt rike’. 368 Suganami 1992, 9. 369 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 18 November 1734. 370 Croxton 2013, 309. 371 Frost 2000, 210. 372 RA, Statskontorets subsidier, 1727–1789, ‘Utdrag af den Note som hertigen av Choiseul öfwerlämnat til Baron Scheffer d. 13 Febr. 1759’. 373 Jones 2002, 123. 374 Quoted in SBL, s.v. ‘Antoine Courtin, de’: ‘lui arracher l’áme’. For the 1650s, see also RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier, 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, Schering Rosenhane to Anders Gyldenclou, Stockholm 5 December 1656; Memorial 30 May 1653; Memorial 12 December 1656. 375 For the 1740s, see RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier, 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, Memorial av Carl Gyllenborg presenterat 4 August 1743; for the 1760s, see RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier II, 1700-talet, vol. 19; for the 1790s, see AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 25, Instruction donnée au citoien Pichegru, ambassadeur a la Republique en Suède (1796). 376 RA, Statskontorets subsidier, 1727–1789, Kalkyl över franska subsidier till Sverige 1757–1762, n.d.: ‘par une suite de son amitie’. 377 Thomson 2006, 162–3. 378 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 223, Erik Sparre, Lund 8 November 1717; from 1744

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notes there was another example of only verbal communication, in this case a subsidy offer from the French which they did not want to send in writing, fearing it might be leaked and thus prevent it from mediating between Russia and Sweden. See AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 10 Sur le Memoire du Baron Scheffer de 16 decembre 1744 et sur la lettre de ce Ministre du 15. Janvier 1745, touchant les subsidies. 379 RA, Diplomatica Gallica vol. 312, Clas Ekeblad, Paris 7/18 January 1743. 380 RA, Diplomatica Gallica vol. 314, Clas Ekeblad, Paris 3/14 June 1743. 381 AD, Acqusitions extraordinaire, vol. 52; see also Jones 2002, 123. 382 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 314, Ekeblad to Carl Gyllenborg Paris 31 December 1742/11 January 1743. 383 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 314, Ekeblad 7/18 January 1743. 384 AOSB i/5, Axel Oxenstierna to Lars Grubbe, Elbing 11 August 1630; Axel Oxenstierna to Gustav II Adolf, Elbing 16 August 1630; AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, n.p. 7 November 1640. 385 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 386 For example, RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 2 October 1667; RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 73, 30 August 1680; RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 15 November 1734. 387 RA, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikes ärenden 26, P. O. von Asp, memorial 1776–1802, Pehr Olof von Asp, promemoria 8 October 1789: ‘Det är ej rart att finna Engelsmän whilkas vanitet förblindar dem’; ‘Men nog feck presenter gifwas efteråt, om saken hade framgång’. 388 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 195, St Severin to Amelot, Stockholm 25 July/5 August 1740; Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, ‘Portrait de Senat de Suède’ 1754. 389 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 14 January 1734. 390 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 14 January 1734. 391 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, Carl Gyllenborgs memorial, 6 August 1734. 392 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 50, 8 July 1668; RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1734, 14 January 1734. 393 See RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 47, 2 October, 23 October 1667, 27 May, 3 June 1668. Similar arguments were put in 1672, see RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 27 February, 5 March & 11 March 1672. 394 For example, AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 26, Terlon to Louis XIV, 18 November 1662. 395 AD, Mémoires et document Suéde, vol. 22, Memoire sur l’etat de Suede en 1746: ‘Les suédois avaient paru auparavant se partager d’inclination entre la France et l’Angleterre; ces deux partis avaient successivement prévalu l’un sur l’autre, selon que le Gouverne­ ment avait estimé devoir donner la préférence à celle de ces deux couronnes qui lui donnait des subsides plus considérable ; d’argent qu’elles faisaient répandre secrètement aux particuliers selon les circonstances et particulièrement pendant la tenue des diètes, était regardé comme un véhicule très efficace pour entretenir et fortifier leur crédit et leur influence dans les affaires d’État.’

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notes 396 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Riksrådsprotokoll i utrikes ärenden 1733–35 1735, 17 February 1735: ‘man kan wara förwissad, at Frankrike eÿ mera än någon annan macht gör detta anbud af pur kärlek för Swerige, utan i afseende på dess eget interesse’. 397 Cesa 2010, 94–5. 398 Ibid. 93.

7. Subsidies, history, and enduring friendship 399 Ulbert 1999, 168. 400 Trolle Bonde 1898, 230: ‘wändskap för den Swenska nationen’; ‘sättia den i stånd och kraffter, at sedan kunna frijtt lembna sig åth alt hwad des interesse och Cronans wärdighet af henne tycks fordra’. 401 Ibid. 234–6. 402 Lundkvist 1960, 200–205, 242–3. 403 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 23, 1662–65, Instruktioner till Gambrotius Hirschenstierna, Stockholm 19 November 1662: ‘hafwer den gamble wänskapen altÿdh och alle tÿdher fram för alt annat praefererat, Wÿ och’; ‘trogen och uprichtigh wänskap medh Frankrÿke’. 404 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 27 ‘Memoire du Roy pour servir l’ instruction au Chevalier de Terlon, ambassadeur de sa Majesté vers ses Roys de Nord’. France used the same turn of phrase when addressing other allies. See, for example, Haug 2015, 97. 405 For example, AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 32, Pomponne to Louis XIV, Stockholm 23 October 1666; AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 35, Pomponne to Louis XIV, Stockholm 21 October 1667. 406 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 4, Avaugour 8 January 1636. 407 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, supplement vol. 1, 1542–1654, ‘Privileges octroyez par le Roy François II, aux Marchans de Suede trafiquans en France a Amboi’, copy, original 26 March 1559. 408 Trolle Bonde 1898, 285. 409 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, ‘Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Comte d’Usson’, 3 September 1774. 410 During the Fronde, Queen Christina advocated supporting the beleagured French regime with the argument that it would be good for future relations. In other words, Swedish-French relations were seen as work in progress (pp. 62–63). 411 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 25, Mémoire pour servir d’instruction au Sr Mr de Ponre…, 4 June 1783. 412 Thiessen 2011, 21–39. 413 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 88–98. The Sparres were another example of a staunchly pro-French family similar to the De la Gardies, in the Sparres’ case spanning four generations. 414 Nordin 2000, 179, 224, 229. 415 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, Histoire des Traités entre la France et la Suède depuis 1569 jusqu’en 1680, 10 October 1716; for a similar document for 1631–1784, see RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier III. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 20, ‘Mémoire historique sur les Subsides accordés par la France à la Suède’, 20 December 1810. 416 Zander 2001, 79–81. 417 Lönnroth 1986, 51–3. 418 Alm 2002, 140.

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notes 419 Svenska riksdagsakter 1726–1727 1914, 525–8. 420 Svenska riksdagsakter 1726–1727 1914, 536–7. 421 Svenska riksdagsakter 1726–1727 1914, 525–38. 422 This was probably Nicolas-Louis de Vitry (1636–1685), or just possibly his older brother François-Marie, although by then he had inherited their father’s duchy. 423 RA, Utrikesexpeditionen, Rådsprotokoll i utrikesärenden 1724–1727, 15 February 1726. 424 Lesaffer 2002, 80–1. 425 Ibid. 95–96. 426 Roshchin 2006, 599–624, 601. 427 Ibid. 607. 428 Ibid. 611. 429 Roshchin 2017, 146. 430 Ibid. 153–4. 431 Ibid. 120–1. 432 Ibid. 122. 433 Ibid. 120; for an analysis of why it was thought difficult or even impossible for people of differing ranks to be friends, see ibid. 115–120. 434 Roshchin 2006, 620. 435 Roshchin 2017, 132–3. 436 Ibid. 126.

8. Subsidies, resistance, and criticism 437 Bonde 1913, 44. 438 Ibid. 45–6. 439 Ibid. 47. 440 Ibid. 48–50. 441 Ibid. 51–4: ‘bettre miölka koon än slåå henne för hufvudet’; ‘fädernes landet måtte bringas till then staat, att thet blifvo andra Konungarijken lijkt och bestå på sigh sielf ’. 442 Nordencrantz 1767, 52: ‘om det wore möjeligt, gråta blod, för den skam, blygd och lidande, Fäderneslandet derföre måste undergå för subsidier’; ‘så mycket mer frätande som det står Swerige til en blygd i tryckte böcker i ewiga tider’. 443 Pufendorf 1709, 4. The same incident is mentioned in MD Suède, vol. 4, Histoire des Traités entre la France et la Suède depuis 1569 jusqu’en 1680, 10 oktober 1716. 444 Pufendorf 1709, 5. 445 Ibid. 7, 11. 446 Ibid. 26–27. 447 Ibid. 37–44. 448 Lichtenstern & Helsingius 1769, 5–9: ‘Dess förut förfärliga och oöfwerwinnerliga Krigs-här, blir nu drefwen och slagen på alla ställen, hwar den häldst wågar titta fram. Rikets länder och Fästen, prässas och plundras af Grannarnes Wapen. Wi som tilförne åtnjuto äran, at heta Frihetens Beskyddare och Religionens Förswar. Wi som fläste Stånder i Tyska Riket, i synnerhet wåre Tros-Förwandter, älskade och högaktade, blifwa nu i stället allmänt öknämde, för Religionens öfwerlöpare och Frihetens motståndare; Hwad har då bragt oss til et så nesligit fall? Jo! så talar folkets röst: Fransoserne hafwa påfört Tyskland et orättmätigt Krig, och de Swenske hafwa icke destomindre både lofwat och i wärket gifwit dem undsättning’; ‘blott at tjena Franska Konungen; de fläste Catholske Magter’. The commentary that accompanied the pamphlet drew attention

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notes to the extension of Sweden’s disadvantageous treaty with France: ‘Fråga minsta gåsse i S:t Jacobs Schola, så torde han åtminstone så mycket weta af wåra Riks-annaler … at Swerige, på den tiden det stod i närmaste förbindelse med Sjömagterne, och ägde fred med sine öfrige Grannar, war i nog mer betydande ställning, än i dag efter en 30 åra oskiljaktig förening med Frankrike’. 449 Trolle Bonde 1898, 193: ‘Att äventyrligt är att begynna krig i förlitande på främmande understöd’. 450 Ibid. 137–9. 451 Ibid. 126–30. 452 Ibid. 133–9. 453 Ibid. 139–43. 454 Bodensten 2016, 85–7, 92–8. 455 Nordencrantz 1767, 50–1. 456 Ibid. 44–9. 457 Ibid. 50–3: ‘Det anses för en heder att föra krig, men det anses inte för nesligt at beständigt vara pensionair av främmande magter, för at föra krig. Ej heller anses det nesligt, at alltid, lika som en sentinell på wacht, wara redo at skyllra, och marchera, än til höger, än til vänster, efter pensionairers skyldighet, när den, som pension gifwer, commenderar’; ‘At Konungen ger subsidier, men endast till fattige magter (menandes Sverige), hwilke återbäre desse subsidie-penninger’. 458 Ibid. 55–7: ‘Om någon tror, det andra göra det af kärlek för oss, och icke för eget interesse, så är en sådan rent af en dåre i politiquen’. 459 Ibid. 58–60. 460 Ibid. 62. 461 Ibid. 63–7: ‘Vidsträcktare gränsor blifwa, likasom de alltid warit rikets fördärf. Utom fördärf på folk och penningar, så blifwa de et medel, hvarmed wi låckas at svälja subsidier, såsom gyldene metkrokar, hvarmed wi, såsom en fisk, dragas utur wårt element, til wårt fördärf. Subsidier för alla de folkslag, som dem tagit, hafwa warit det samma, som opiater och purgativer för kroppar, som dem ej behöft. De är et gift som döfwar och fökjusar, corromperar och putrifierar de regements-kroppar, hwilka dem intaga’; ‘Kroken är swårt at få ut och blifwa den qvitt, när den swälgd är, och fäst sig fast uti kroppens innersta älfwor, utan att skära up buken, som kunde kosta lifwet; ty det händer aldrig at subsidier gifwas för dens nytta, som dem får, utan för dens, som dem gifwer, och äro således av den wärkan, at de hålla hela den nation, som dem får, såsom i en fångenskap, samt föres och ledes wid näsan dit, som den gifwande behagar, i synnerhet om några enskylte rådande deruti hafwa något interesse. Exempla sunt odiosa’. 462 Ibid. 71–2. 463 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil till Paris, 20 July 1766. 464 En Landtmans Bref Til Sin Wän 1765; Lichtenstern & Helsingius 1769. 465 Lichtenstern & Helsingius 1769. 466 Eberhardt 1769, 13: ‘en Medaille med Gustavianska Stam-Wapnet och påskrift: Gallus Protector å ena sidan och å andra sidan Swenska Riks-Wapn med en Tupp (Gallus) öfwer och påskriften: Sub umbra alarum Svecia’. 467 Påminnelser Wid 1765 och 1769 års tryckte Handlingar 1769, unpag. 468 Odhelius 1769, 3. 469 Eberhardt 1769: ‘at en så uplyst Herre [som Gustav II Adolf] ej bättre känna det Interesse Frankrike hade uti Hans Rikes upkomst och anseende; men oförmodeligen

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notes fann han detta Interesse gå för långt, då Frankrike wille taga honom i sin protection och des Minister ej räkna honom för Ludvig XIII’s wederlike. I den ställning Swerige då war vis à vis emot Frankrike, ansågs tilbudet för owärdigt. Gustav Adolph kände för mycket sin och sit Folks höghet för at upofra det minsta af sin independece åt en allierad, som behöfde honom at bryta ÖsterRikiska Husets öfwermagt och blott för den orsaken sökte Hans wänskap’. 470 Ibid. 471 Ibid.: ‘Alliancen med denna Kronan förnyades 1672 oaktad mycken gensägelse i Senaten och Ständerne sjelfwe gillad det, efter han skulle blifwa blott defensive. Franska Ministern Feuquieres förstod dock at nyttja Subsidierne såsom låckemat til des han feck en observations Armée öfwer på Tyska botten, som i brist af Subsistence nödgades rycka in i Brandenburg och lefwa på discretion. Franska HOfwet wann härmed sin afsigt at få Chur-Försten Friedric Wilhelm från allierade Arméen’. 472 Ibid.: ‘Hade Frankrike et så naturligit Interesse i wår upkomst och styrka, som nu så ifrigt påstås, så hade samma Interesse ofelbart fordrat, at just den tiden gripa en gammal Bunds-Förwandt under armarna, som war i yttersta förlägenhet och behof på all ting; men i des ställe afsade det sig, för Ryssland och Preussens skuld, all widare förbindelse med Oss eller understöd i Manskap och penningar, och lemnade Oss åt wårt widriga Öde’. 473 Ibid.: ‘Franska Ministern Casteja erbjöd til den ändan Subsidier och wille ändteligen bringa Swenska Ministeren til något offensivt steg. Rätta afsigten war dock at dermed encouragera Turkiska Hofwet til Fredsbrott med Ryssland, på det denna Magt ej måtte med eftertryck kunna bispringa Kejsaren, och Frankrike, således få Lothringen för så mycket bättre köp. Det war på detta feta stycke, som Franska Hofwet lurade, hwarföre det ock ej allenast i hemlighet negocierade i sjelfwa Pettersburg, utan äfwen när det hunnit på praeliminairerne tecknade i Vien, tog Casteja sig pretext af Defensive Alliancens förnyande med Ryssland at wägra ratification. Härigenom besparde Franska Ministeren sig den kostnaden at betala oss Subsidier och wi gingo tillika miste för Frankrikes skuld ansenliga Subsidier, som af England blefwo anbudne, men ej kunde antagas. Du kan ej wara okunnig om, at Casteja wid detta tilfälle talade ur en ganska hög tohn, och at han wid sin rappel, som sades, lemnade efter sig et Testamente åt en sin nya wän, som ifrån denna tiden bytte om tankesätt, och förklarade sig hel och hållen för en Systeme, som han hittills, med mycken ifwer talat och arbetat emot. Jag wet ej huruwida detta bidrog til den stora förändring i Ministeren hos oss 1738.’ 474 Ibid.: ‘dem jag kan documentera; sökt annat än egit Interesse. Jag undrar dock ej därpå. Det är så naturligt, som det är fåkunnigt at inbilla sig och andra at saken annorlunda förhåller sig. Ärfarenheten bör öfwertyga oss, at des Subsidier ej bidragit til wår upkomst och styrka’; ‘ty de hafwa warit en slags sold för hwilken wi alltid fådt göra tienst i krig, som annars kunnat undwikas; sacrifiera tusentals Folk i sin bästa ålder och ändå pretendera at i systeme arbeta på Rikets styrka’; ‘At nu slutligen säga min tanke så tror jag Frankrike ej mer än någon annan Magt hafwa Interesse i wår upkomst, styrka och anseende och at wårt sanna Interesse nu mera fordrar mångårigt stilla sittjande, så framt wi skola bota den skada wi tagit af en otidig motion Åren 1741 och 1757’; ‘Ty en klok man hwilar, när han finner så nödigt; men en dåre och wettwilling springer sig til döds för penningar’. 475 Ibid. 18–19: ‘Man bör hantera Fransoserna med höflighet, som de bemöta Oss; men

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notes icke låta binda Oss händerna; ty deta Rikets (Sweriges) höghet och wärdighet fordrar at man ej säljer sig åt en Utländsk Magt för penningar. Hwem wet ej, at Frankrike icke håller sine löften, utan så wida de passa för des Interesse? Kan det oss förutan göra sin sak, så sker det. Des Stats Interesse är enda drif-fjädren til hwad det sig företar. Det lofwar alt, utan at ärna hållat, såsom det skedde i Heilbron. Franska Ministeren talade der offenteligen för Sweriges Interesse; men i mjugg afstyrkte han altsammans och arbetade i alt emot oss, och at formera et särskildt partie; til at skaffa Frankrike anhängare utdelte han Pensioner åt Ledamöterna i sielfwa Direction, som af de confaederade i Heilbron war förordnade.’ Så tänkte denna stora Statsman om en Magt, som wåra nyare Politiei ej finna ord nog at uphöja och prisa för ömhet om wårt Rike och des wäl, och hwars Alliance skal caracterisera wälsinnade Medborgare. Komma slike tankar af öfwertygelse, så strider hon emot 130 års ärfarenhet; hwar och icke, så lära de wara i samma predicament, med Directionens Ledamöter i Heilbron’. 476 Odhelius 1769: ‘I anseende til Subsidier, eller Lego-Pengar, och deras oskyldiga Natur. Kan någon ting wara oskyldigare, än at taga, när det bjuds?’; ‘hela denna lyckeliga Subsidie-Tiden haft at återskänka en så Frikostig Gifware annat, än någre Tusende usla lif, en Wara, som är den lättaste och gemenaste af alla Swenska producter?’; ‘Den gemena hopen, som af dumhet påstår antingen nytta, wälsignelse eller, i brist deraf, redo för sådane Wänskaps-Pengar, begriper ej den stora Politiska Hemligheten, at deras fattigdom och wårt äfwerflöd utgjör Rikets Styrka’. 477 Odel 1767, 43, 51: ‘öfverens om ansenlige Subsidier i penningar, ty just derföre at han var så öm om sin heder och sjelfständig til sinnes, så tog han heldre sin Krigs-kåstnad af andre, än at han skulle utmärgla sine undersåtare’; ‘förbindelse [är] för högst skadelig ansedd’. 478 Hellman 1769, unpag: ‘hwilke mycket främjades genom Alliancen och Subsidie-Tractaten med Frankrike’. 479 Kärnan Af Några Riksdags-Mål 1769: ‘Hwar kunne wi då finna en Bundsförwant, hwars förtroende kan wara oss fördelagtigt, och på hwars redliga wänskap wi altid kunna lita? Om erfarenheten, jemte en förnuftig politique härutinnan får wägleda oss, så lära wi ej kunna wara willrådige: Frankrike har altid wist sig benäget till särdeles förtrolighet med Swerige. Man säger at det waret af egennytta; det will jag medgifwa, ty den är grunden till alla politiska förbindelser; och det wore dåraktigt at wänta, det någon skulle taga sig wår sak an, par pure merite; wår belägenhet på jordklotet är ganska lämpelig at wid tillfälle göra diversion i Europa, och därföre söker Frankrike wår wänskap; Aflägsen­ heten hindrar den Jalousie, som plägar wara grannar emellan; och wänskapen bestyrkes af den likhet som är emellan bägge rikenas politiska interessen. Huru mycket Franska Alliancen bidraget till Sweriges förkåfring under Vasa Familiens regering lärer ej wara någon obekant, som äger någorlunda insigt i sitt Fäderneslands Historia. Sant är wäl at wi också däraf lidit skada; men det har härrört af et fumligt och owarsamt utförande, af planer, som annars för sin säkerhet och godhet wunnet alla kännares bifall’. 480 Stenius 1769: ‘befästa sig emot en farlig och ärelysten grannes hot; til at bibehålla Rikets sjelfständighet emot Ryska öfwermagten’; ‘en nära förbindelse med Frankrike: en förbindelse som war grundad på en sund Politique; oskyldig til sitt uphof, då den endast hade til ögnamärke bewarandet af Rikets rätt; nyttig, ty Swerige behöfde Bundsförwandt med den styrka och af det anseende, som Frankrike sedan långliga tider waret aktat före i hela Europa; utan alt äfwentyr, emedan Frankrikes belägenhet icke tillåter det samma, at missbruka sitt förtroende eller at nyttja wår swaghet til sin fördel’; ‘så

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notes hederlig, så priswärdig, så dygdig och eftertänksam’; ‘Nu blef derföre Frankrike saker til alla de brott, som förekastas en falsk Politique: dess regeringslystnad afskildrades med de swagaste färgor. Swerige hade häldre, efter deras tanka, med Graekiska Religionen bordt antaga Ryska oket; och hade häldre bordt kasta sig i sin Arf-Fiendes händer, än at ingå och fortsätta en sådan aliance’. 481 Odel 1767: ‘de kjära grannarnas interesse’; ‘efter som Franska subsidierna bygdt Fästningar i Swerige mit för grannarnas nåsor’. 482 Ibid.: ‘som icke wet, at utom Franske subsidier, både af Folk och penningar, hade K. Gustav Adolph och Hans Generaler efter honom, aldrig kunnat göra alt hwad gjordes, eller få den hederliga frid som ficks i och med det mägtiga Österrikska Huset och Tyska Riket’; ‘man i krig skall nyttja en god och mägtig aliance’; ‘Wänskapen med en Konung i Frankrike, som skaffat honom, medelst egen Häärs och Ministeres magt, alle sine förlorade Tyske Länder och Besittningar tilbaka, det ser nog enfaldigt och otacksamt ut’; ‘aldrig blef upfödd med något Politiskt wett’; ‘Så myckit borde du dock weta, at Frankrike, som ständig Rivale med England, om wälmagt och heder, aldrig kan willa wår swaghet, utan twärt om wår styrka, allenast wi dete oss som Folk och nyttja de gifna tillfällen’; ‘en Fransk Aliance på Subsidier … så wida mögeligit, styrkan och Disciplinen i Armeén’; ‘Det bästa medle at undwika krig, är at altid wara färdig at begynna det. Sådant arangement kåstar penningar; och hwarföre skulle andras intet wara så gode som egne, när man tar dem med wise förbehåll? Har intet den stora-Preussiska Monarcken tagit subsidier af en wiss Magt? Och känner du ingen Ministére, som sedan den afstängt sig från de Franske, sökt Engelska, men intet fått, utan måst låna sig pengar?’; ‘afbryte Subsidier och låne penningar utomlands’; ‘desarmerat och afklädt oss, wi sedan kunna tagas som qwinnor och befallas som barn, af hwem som först behagar’. For similar points about France helping Sweden get back on its feet, see Wadenstierna 1769, unpag.; and Kärnan Af Några Riksdags-Mål 1769. 483 Helfferich (in press). 484 Ibid. 485 Baer 2015, 116, 127–8. 486 Ibid. 139–41. 487 Ingrao 1987, 139 noting that they were critical of German rulers accepting subsidies. 488 Schiller, Love and Intrigue: A Play (1795) Act II Scene 2, originally Kabale und Liebe: Ein bürgerliches Trauerspiel in fünf Aufzügen (1786): ‘Gestern sind siebentausend Landskinder nach Amerika fort—die bezahlen Alles’. 489 Kant 2004, 49–50. 490 Johnson 1983. 491 Memoire biographiques de Mirabeau 1834, 248–9. 492 Ingrao 1987, 139. 493 Ibid. 140.

9. The impact of subsidies—migration, mobility, and mortality 494 Windler 2005; see also Körner 1999, 345. 495 Tischer 1999, 186. For the unsatisfactory state of the French military under Richelieu, see Parrott 1987, 151–67; Parrott 2001. For a general overview, see Lynn 1997. 496 Ulbert 1999, 159–74. 497 Helfferich (in press). 498 Ingrao 1987, 134.

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notes 499 Flurschütz Da Cruz (in press); Ingrao 1987, 164–74; Wilson 1995, 22. It should be noted that it was not unique in the history of France’s relations with poorer princes for the latter to benefit in this way. Britain paid subsidies to Savoy in 1690–7, 1705–1711, and 1742–8, as did Spain and the Netherlands in 1690–7. As a result, a small, wealthy group in Savoy became a very rich social elite. See Storrs 2012, 125, n. 169. 500 Wilson 1995, 22. 501 Tischer (in press). 502 Miller 1991; George 1931. 503 Storrs 2012. 504 Körner 1978, 336. 505 The Treaty of Fontainebleau in 1661 had a clause to this effect. 506 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, F3/1, ‘Beskrefve poster ähr betalt emot de 136767 Rxall’. 507 In 1631, some 80 per cent of the troops fighting for Sweden were hired, which gives an indication of the importance of foreign officers; Lundkvist 1960, 384. 508 SBL, s.v. ‘Hamilton, släkt’. 509 SBL, s.v. ‘Sten Svantesson Bielke’. 510 AOSB i/8, Axel Oxenstierna to Sten Bielke, 9 May 1633. 511 SBL, s.v. ‘Horn, släkt’. 512 SBL, s.v. ‘Peter Grönenberg (Gröneberg)’. 513 For 1675 it is also possible to check the subsidy accounts’ accuracy against the Riks­ huvudboken (the general accounts), see RA, Kammarkollegiet, Generalbokhållaren, Rikshuvudböcker, vol. 129, 1675. 514 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, Generalstatskontoret 1653–1680. 515 To spend foreign subsidies on the court was not unique to 1675–77; it had happened before, in 1672–4. See RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59b, 4 December 1672. 516 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, Generalstatskontoret 1653–1680. It is not easy to separate out military and non-military expenditure in a country so heavily militarized as Sweden. Here I have counted the costs of the royal court and diplomacy as non-military. 517 For example, a payment for bronze (186 ds) or 22 barrels of rye (176 ds), both for the navy. See RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, Generalstatskontoret 1653–1680. 518 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, Generalstatskontoret 1653–1680, Disposition öfwer Fransösche subsidierna A:o 1675. 519 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv F3/1, ‘Dispositioner av subsidier 1673–1679’. 520 This meant that at least 6 per cent of the subsidies for 1675–1677 were spent in France. 521 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, vol. 503, ‘Förtechningh uppå dhe poster Iagh Adlercrona hafwer betalth contant’, 1677. 522 RA, Statskontorets arkiv, Kammarkontoret G2, Q:5, Angående 1727, 1728 och 1729 Åhrs Franska och Engelska Subsidier. 523 RA, Betänkanden och memorial, utrikes ärenden, 27, n.d. but 9 October 1719, 10 October 1719, 9 March 1721. 524 SBL, s.v. ‘Hans Lenman’. 525 For the Seven Years War, see Kennett 1967, 135. 526 Lindegren 1984, 371–3.

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notes 527 For deaths from disease, see Clodfelter 1992, 30–59, 69–95, 117–37. 528 For the problems of arriving at a reasonably accurate count, see Levy 1983, 81–7. 529 The figure for Sweden is taken from Clodfelter 1992, 40; the figure for the Imperial troops from Sorokin 1937, 566. 530 Lindegren 2000, 169–93. 531 Ailes 2018, 27, 32. 532 Levy 1983, 88–9. 533 Rystad 2001, 83–4, 95. 534 Levy 1983, 175. 535 Sorokin 1937, 556. 536 Speelman 2012, 523–4. 537 Åselius 2012, 136. 538 Kennett 1967, 135–6. 539 Speelman 2012, 525; Scott 2011, 429–30 gives a figure of 400,000, or 10 per cent of Prussia’s population. 540 Kennett 1967, 77. France had at most 330,000 in the field in the Seven Year War, with an attrition rate of about 50,000 per annum. Britain had 140,000 men in the infantry and the navy. France thus conscripted every eleventh man between the ages of 19 and 45, while Hanover, Hesse, Brunswick, and Prussia mustered every fourth or fifth man of the same age. 541 Lindegren 1984, 366. 542 For a survey of the current research on women in the Thirty Years War, see Ailes 2018, passim. 543 Norrhem 2007, 69–111, 160–3; Norrhem 2010, 196–209. 544 For example, Sjöberg 2008; Ailes 2018, passim. 545 Ailes 2018, 21–3. 546 Berger & Enflo 2014; Huillery 2009, 176–215; Sayer 2009, 134–50; Tvedt 2010, 29–50; for an overview, see Calderon & Serven 2014. 547 Anderson 1988, 140–2; Lynn 1994; Glete 1993. 548 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv F3/1, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikesärenden, vol. 27, ‘Summariskt extract angående de Åhr 1727 Af Cronorne Frankrike och Engeland på Tre Åhrs tid accorderade subsidier’, Stockholm 13 June 1734. 549 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 59a, 5 March 1672. 550 Gustafsson 2015, 117–23. 551 Ibid. 56–7, 118, 146–50, 221–5; Gustafsson 2016, 35–8, 42–5. 552 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv F3/1, Disposition öfwer 1673 åhrs Fransösche subsidier. 553 For the fortification commissions in the early eighteenth century and their arguments for investing in military constructions, see Kartaschew 1994. 554 RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier III, handlingar rörande 1700-talet, vol. 20, ‘Calculation som å ena sidan utwisar de til Fästningsbyggnaderna ifrån sidste och til nästa Riksdag ärfodrade Medel, likaledes Nybyggnadsrequisitionerna wid Amiraliteterna, å andra sidan ehuru de Franske subsidiemedeln samt de uti Banquen uptagne lån däremot swara’. 555 AD, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’.

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notes 556 RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier III, handlingar rörande 1700-talet, vol. 20, ‘Calculation som å ena sidan utwisar de til Fästningsbyggnaderna ifrån sidste och til nästa Riksdag ärfodrade Medel, likaledes Nybyggnadsrequisitionerna wid Amiraliteterna, å andra sidan ehuru de Franske subsidiemedeln samt de uti Banquen uptagne lån däremot swara’. 557 Åmark 1961, 575. 558 For the Treaty of Versailles, 20 February 1773, see France Diplomatie, Traités; see also Harris 1998, 56–7. 559 Chapman, the son of an Englishman, had joined the Swedish navy in 1715. As a ship designer his stiffest competition came from Gilbert Sheldon, the grandson of another immigrant Englishman, Francis Sheldon, who had moved to Sweden in the late 1650s. For the Sheldon family and other British shipbuilders in Swedish service, see Lundgren 2000. 560 Harris 1998, 68–9. 561 Ibid. 115–17. 562 Ibid. 120. 563 Svensson 2017, 100–101. 564 Gosden 2005, 193. 565 Wyn Jones 1988, 7–11; Storrs 2012, 124; Wilson 1995, 85–6. 566 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 68–74; Wilson 1998, 47–49, 176. 567 Ekeblad 1911, i. 48; Handlingar rörande Sverges historia ur utrikes arkiver 1836, i. 198, 248. 568 Whitelocke 1855, ii. 34–5. 569 Olofsson 2007, 174–5, 240, 317–8 mentions, for example, Bernhard of Saxe-Weimar. 570 For example, Balts such as Rutger von Ascheberg and Herman Wrangel, Germans such as Hans Christoph von Königsmarck, or Scots such as Robert Douglas and the brothers Hugo and Malcolm Hamilton. See also Grosjean 2003, 148–9: by 1660, 47 Scotsmen, mostly ex-soldiers, had been ennobled in Sweden and introduced into the House of Nobility; between 1633 and 1654, 26 Scotsmen were ennobled. 571 Examples of first or second generation immigrants were Jean de Flon (ennobled as Adlercrona), Daniel Young (ennobled as Leijonanker), Esaias Pufendorfer (ennobled as von Pufendorf), Abraham and Jacob Momma (ennobled as Reenstierna), Jakob Snäck (ennobled as Sneckensköld), Abraham Boneau (ennobled as Boneauschöld). Examples of Swedish merchants were Vilhelm Böös (ennobled as Drakenhielm), Peter Grönberg (ennobled as Grönberg), Johan Barckman (Baron Leijonberg), Nils Eosander (Baron Lillieroot), and Joel Ekman (ennobled as Gripenstierna). 572 Elmroth 1981, 40–3; Asker 2007, 89–92; Gaunt 1975, 39–40, 107. 573 Parrott 2012; Brandon 2018, 29–32. 574 Thomson unpub. 2013, 4; Brandon 2018, 33–5, 39–41. 575 Rowlands 2015, 88–9, 172–3. 576 The figure for 1632 was 0.4%, for the 1670s 1.25%, and for the 1740s 1%. See RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, ‘Beskrefve poster ähr betalt emot de 136767 Rxall’, Disposition av subsidier 1673–1679; RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, Avtal, Halmstad 13 February 1678, 24 April 1746 ‘Calculation som utwisar hwad Hr Rådman Kierman och Hr handelsmannen Plomgren af de indragne Franske subsidierna’.

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notes 577 Lundgren 1945, 237–9. 578 Thomson unpub. 2013, 10. 579 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, ‘Skattmästarens räkning jämförd emot dispositionen’, n.d.; RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18, ‘25 August 1669’, ‘Stockholm 14 May 1670’, copy signed by Gustav Banér, Johan Gabriel Stenbock and others, and ‘Korrt extracht rächningh eller opsatt öfwer Frantzöische subsdierna’, n.d. Dokument gällande Etienne Molié och hans intressenter. 580 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, Kommissarierna för franska subsidier J. Adlercron och E. Molié skrivelser 1676–1680, vol. 503, Adlercona to Charles XI, Paris 12 May 1677, 21 May 1677, 11 June 1677. 581 RA, Kammarkollegiet, Kansliet och kontorsarkiv, ‘Disposition av subsidier 1673–1679’. 582 RA, Diplomatica Gallica, Kommissarierna för franska subsidier J. Adlercron och E. Molié skrivelser 1676–1680, vol. 503, Memorial 18 February 1678. 583 SBL, s.v. ‘Johan Adlercrona’; see also RA, Blå nummer (Oordnade handlingar efter 1630), Charles XI to Nils Lillieroot, Ljungby 29 November 1678 & Charles XI (utkast) 14 February 1678. 584 RA, Betänkanden och memorial i utrikes ärenden 27. Odaterade. Ulrika Eleonora, Stockholm 10 October 1719; see SBL, s.v. ‘Hans Lenman’; SBL, s.v. ‘Johan A Grill’. 585 SBL, s.v. ‘Gustaf Kierman’: ‘douceur till de handlande av borgerskapet, som varit ledamöter av sekreta utskottet’. 586 RA, Riksarkivets ämnessamling, Strödda kamerala handlingar, Handlingar rörande subsidier I. 1600- och 1700-talet, vol. 18. 587 Sjöstrand 2008, 189–90. 588 Gustaf Kierman, Jean Henri Lefebure, Claes Grill, and Johan Abraham Grill received prison sentences or fines, see Malmström 1900, v. 316–20. 589 SRP viii: 1640–1641, 8 November 1641, 12 November 1641. 590 AOSB ii/14, Johan Adler Salvius to Axel Oxenstierna, Hamburg 5 February 1642 & Hamburg 12 February 1642. 591 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32a, 1660, 1662–1668, 21 March 1660 & 11 April 1660. 592 Claude Bullion, Nicolas Foucquet, and Jean Baptiste Colbert had amassed large fortunes, but even they were outstripped by cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin, who were fabulously wealthy; see Bonney 1999, 127. 593 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 39, 11 May 1663: ‘Effter mundus ähr corruptibilis, och alla Stater hålla den maximen, så moste wÿ dhet och giöra’. 594 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 32b, 11 June 1660. 595 Bély 1996, 1178–9. 596 AD, Acquisitions extraordinaires, vol. 52, ‘Mémoires secrets des Affaires étrangères de France par rapport aux subsides accordés à plusieurs puissances depuis l’année 1730 jusques et compris l’année 1750’. 597 Wolff 2010, 62–5; Wolff 2005, 169–85; Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 86–99, 105–106; Norrhem 2007, 81–90. 598 RA, Det odelade kansliet, Rådsprotokoll, vol. 54, 14 November 1670. 599 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 74–99; Wolff 2005, 146–86. 600 Noldus 2003, 215–25; SBL, s.v. ‘Claude Hägerstierna’. 601 The fact that the aristocratic officers preferred war to peace was mentioned for example

274

notes by Bulstrode Whitelocke (Whitelocke 1855, ii. 34–5), Bolle Luxdorph (Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 202–203), and Axel Reuterholm (Reuterholm 2006, 252–56).

10. The impact of subsidies—three case studies 602 The first clause of the subsidy treaty between France and Sweden, Versailles 19 July 1784 (see France Diplomatie, Traités). 603 SRP vi: 1636, 716–23. 604 Wilson 2009, 756–7. 605 Frost 2000, 216–17. 606 Nilsson 1964, 88–9. 607 Ibid. 95–6, 102–107. 608 Under the allotment system (Indelningsverket), one or two Crown farms were allocated to support each soldier. This gave him a salary and a piece of land to farm. The system was not new, as it had been launched in the reign of Charles XI to make it possible to maintain a standing army in peacetime. There were certain advantages for the peasantry, as it reduced conscription (which was widely hated) while at the same time making it possible for younger sons to make a living as soldiers. 609 Klopp 1877, 201–2; D’Avaux 1697, ii. 610 Callières 1715, 153–5. 611 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 86–106. 612 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 34, Comptes rendus par le M le Cte de Vergennes de l’emploi des fods qu’il a reçus pour le soutien de la Diette de Suède de 1771 et 1772, 14 September 1772. 613 Recueil des instructions 1885, Choiseul to Breteuil, Versailles 23 April 1766, 407–13. 614 AD, Correspondence Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil to Paris, 9 June 1766. 615 Dermineur 2017, 187–9. 616 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 165–6. 617 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 22, ‘Mémoire sur l’etat de Suède en 1746’. 618 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 10, ‘Sur le mémoire de Baron Scheffer du 16 Decembre 1744’. 619 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil to Paris, 9 June 1766. 620 Stiegung 1961, 102, 106; Modene, the French ambassador, was able to hold secret meetings with Queen Lovisa Ulrika in Beylon’s rooms, and Beylon was sent to Versailles to meet Choiseul and pave the way for Crown Prince Gustav’s visit to France (Murphy 1982, 181). 621 Stiegung 1961, 106–108. 622 Ibid. 185–7. 623 Åmark 1961, 574–5; Murphy 1982, 183. 624 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 4, 27 December 1723. 625 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 32, 28 February 1771. 626 Virgin 1769. 627 AD, Mémoires et documents Suède, vol. 32, Utgifter som greve von Rosen haft vid riksdagen 1769 från december 1768, räkenskaper signerat av ambassadsekreteraren Barthelemy, 19 November 1769. 628 SBL, s.v. ‘Fredric Ulric Rosen, von’. 629 AD, Correspondence politique Suède, vol. 247, Breteuil to Paris, Stockholm 14 February 1766.

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notes 630 AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 32, Vergennes to d’Aiguillon, Stockholm 4 July 1771. 631 Lindström & Norrhem 2013, 98; Norrhem 2010, 93–4. 632 Murphy 1982, 185. 633 AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 33, Vergennes to d’Aiguillon, Stockholm 22 April 1772; for a similar case made for caution in making the payments, see AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 33, Vergennes to d’Aiguillon, Stockholm 6 February 1772. Nevertheless, Vergennes still recommended continuing the payments to key men such as Rudenschöld, Hermansson, and Ulrik Scheffer. He even had hopes that Scheffer would preside over the next Diet. AD, Mémoires et documents, Suède, vol. 33, Vergennes to d’Aiguillon, 10 May 1772. 634 Marsengy 1998, 284, 287: ‘il ne lui est pas éschappé un seul mot qui sente la jactance. Il se reconnait redevable de ses succés á la Providence, qu’il bénit sans cesse de l’avoir si bien dirigé et de lui avoir donné, dans le roi, un ami sincère et zélé, un second pere’; ‘sur lequel se trovait gravé, avec un art infini, un embleme rappelant la revolution qui venait de s’accomplir’. 635 Marsengy 1998, 438: ‘son ancienne amie et son alliée la plus constante’. 636 Murphy 1982, 190, 201.

11. Concluding discussion 637 Roberts 1979, 22; Tilly 1990, 14–5, 19–28. 638 RA, 25.3/6/28/A Originaltraktater med främmande makter (traktater), 1805. 639 Wilson (in press).

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Index of names Adler Salvius, Johan, Swedish councillor, diplomat 58, 60–61, 87, 219, 221, 253, 264, 274 Adlercrona, Johan (Jean de Flon), merchant 204–205, 219–220, 271, 273–274 Adolf Fredrik, King of Sweden 48, 121, Åkerhielm, Samuel, Swedish councillor 95, 233 Aldrovandi, Pompeo, Cardinal 107 Amalia Elisabeth, Landgravine of HesseKassel 198 Amelot de Chaillou, Jean-Jacques, French foreign minister 61 Andersson, Sakarias, soldier 11 Anna Ivanovna, Empress of Russia 45 August II, King of Poland see Augustus II, King of Poland 42 Augustus II, King of Poland 90 Avaugour, Charles de Bretagne d’, French envoy 162, 265 Avaux, Claude de Mesmes d’, French ambassador 61, 87, 185, 221, 275 Basserode, Herman von, Austrian ambassador 56, 253 Beijma, Edward Marius van, Dutch rebel 108 Bielke, Christina Sofia, countess 239 Bielke, Nils, Swedish ambassador 233 Bielke, Sten, Swedish councillor 80, 89, 143, 202, 204, 271 Bielke, Ture Gabriel, Swedish councillor 61 Björnklou, Mattias, Swedish councillor, diplomat 85 Bonde, Gustav, Swedish councillor 72–73, 90, 92, 147, 178–181, 183, 255 Bonde, Gustav, Swedish Lord High Treasurer 136, 171 Boneauschöld, Abraham, merchant 205, 273 Brahe, Nils, Swedish councillor 71, 142–143

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Brahe, Per, Swedish Seneschal, councillor 67, 139 Breteuil, Louis Charles Auguste le Tonnelier, French ambassador 51, 124, 184, 234–235, 237, 239, 252, 261, 267, 275–276 Callières, François, French envoy 232, 275 Carl Eugen, Duke of Württemberg 199 Carlo Emanuele, Duke of Savoy see Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy Carlos II, King of Spain see Charles II, King of Spain Casteja, Louis de Biaudos de, French ambassador 41, 72, 74, 90, 94–95, 160–161, 187, 260, 268 Caussin, Nicolas, royal confessor 135 Cavendish, John, Lord, politician 193 Cedercreutz, Herman, Swedish Secretary of State 74 Chanut, Pierre Hector, French envoy 62 Chapman, Fredrik Henrik af, shipbuilder 214, 273 Charles Emmanuel, Duke of Savoy 110 Charles I, King of England 135 Charles II, King of England 109–111, 199 Charles II, King of Spain 112 Charles IX, King of France 106 Charles IX, King of Sweden 165 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor 165 Charles VI, Holy Roman Emperor 97 Charles VII, Holy Roman Emperor 18, 114 Charles X Gustav, King of Sweden 33–34, 71, 143 Charles XI, King of Sweden 27, 39 Charles XII, King of Sweden 27, 40, 79, 87, 91, 98, 101, 149, 179, 186, 233, 257 Charnacé, Hercule de, French envoy 88, 133, 151, 176, 257 Choiseul, Étienne-François de, foreign

index of names minister 51, 62, 105, 127, 234–235, 237, 252, 259, 263, 275 Christian II, King of Denmark 165 Christian Louis I, Duke of Mecklenburg-­ Schwerin 109 Christian V, King of Denmark 109 Christina, Queen of Sweden 33, 62, 70, 243, 265 Clements XII, Pope 107 Colbert, Jean Baptiste, controller general of finance 80, 222, 274 Courtin, Honoré de, French envoy 69, 138, 148, 151, 263 Creutz, Gustav Pilip, Swedish envoy 62 Cromwell, Oliver, Lord Protector 169, 179 Cronstedt, Jacob, Swedish councillor 73, 146, 255 Cronstierna, Henrik, merchant 205 De la Gardie, Axel, Swedish councillor 143 De la Gardie, Gustav Adolf, Swedish councillor 143 De la Gardie, Jacob, Lord High Constable 59 De la Gardie, Magnus Gabriel, Chancellor 33–34, 38, 64, 66, 68, 70, 78, 80, 89, 136, 138–139, 145, 151, 164, 211, 232 Dumont-Pigalle, Pierre-Alexandre, Dutch rebel 108 Duwall, Gustav, military commander 239– 240 Duwall, Johanna Gustava, sister of Gustav Duwall 240 Eberhard Ludwig, Duke of Württemberg 199 Ekeblad, Clas, Swedish ambassador, Swedish councillor 61, 150–151, 253, 255, 264, 273 Elisabeth Farnese, Spanish Queen Consort 111 Elizabeth Petrovna, Empress of Russia 45, 47 Enghien, Henri Jules de Bourbon, Duke of 34, 262 Erasmus of Rotterdam, scholar 169 Falkenberg, Melchior, Swedish nobleman 202 Felipe de Borbón y Farnesio, Duke of Parma see Philip de Borbón y Farnesio, Duke of Parma Felipe IV, King of Spain see Philip IV, King of Spain Felipe V, King of Spain see Philip V, King of Spain Ferdinand II, Holy Roman Emperor 133 Ferdinand III, Holy Roman Emperor 33, 85

Feuquières, Isaac de Pas de, French ambassador 141, 186, 268 Fleury, André Hercule, Cardinal 61, 81, 90, 96–97, 151 Francesco III d’Este, Duke of Modena and Reggio 111 Francis I, King of France 162 François I, King of France see Francis I, King of France Frederick II, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel 194 Frederick II, the Great, King of Prussia 46–48, 130 Fredrik I, King of Sweden, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel 45, 74, 95–96, 114, 160, 238 Friedrich II, Landgrave of Hesse-Kasse see Frederick II, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel Friedrich II, the Great, King of Prussia see Frederick II, the Great, King of Prussia Gedda, Niclas Peter von, Swedish ambassador 81 Gramont, Antoine III, Duke of, field marshal 85, 256 Grill, Johan, merchant 220, 274 Gripenstierna, Joel, merchant 205, 273 Grönberg, Peter, merchant 202, 273 Grotius, Hugo, diplomat 144, 147, 263 Gustav II Adolf, King of Sweden 21–22, 28–29, 31, 48, 87–88, 142, 162, 164–166, 176, 182, 185, 189, 200–202, 208, 216, 252, 257, 264, 268 Gustav III, King of Sweden 42, 48–49, 83, 101, 148, 163, 165, 200–201, 215, 234, 238, 240–242 Gustav IV Adolf, King of Sweden 42 Gyldenstolpe, Nils, Swedish councillor 233 Gyllenborg, Carl, Chancellor, Swedish councillor 74–75, 92, 97–98, 122, 145 , 153–154, 236, 253, 258, 263–264 Gyllenklou, Anna Maria, noblewoman 204 Gyllenstierna, Jöran, Swedish councillor 70, 144 Gyllenstierna, Johan, Swedish councillor 70, 89, 139, 142, 257 Habbaeus von Lichtenstern, Christian, Swedish envoy 177 Hägerstierna, Claude Roquette, merchant 224, 275 Hardwicke, Philip Yorke, Earl of, Lord Chancellor 105 Hedvig Eleonora, Swedish Queen Consort 102

289

index of names Henri III, King of France see Henry III, King of France Henri IV, King of France see Henry IV, King of France Henry III, King of France 106 Henry IV, King of France 134, 165 Hirschenstierna, Stefan Gambrotius, Swedish envoy 251, 257, 265 Hobbes, Thomas, Philosopher 169 Hoeufft, Jean, entrepreneur 219–220 Höpken, Carl Fredrik von, Chancellor 238 Horn, Arvid, Chancellor 74, 81, 90–91, 146–147, 155, 202, 259, 271 Horn, Bengt, Swedish councillor 70 Horn, Klas, commander of Stralsund 202 Innhausen und Knyphausen, Dodo von, field marshal 202 James II, King of England 179, 199 Jan II Kazimierz, King of Poland 63, 65 Johan III, King of Sweden see John III, King of Sweden John III, King of Sweden 28 Karl IX, King of Sweden see Charles IX, King of Sweden Karl V, Emperor of The Holy Roman Empire see Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor Karl VI, Holy Roman Emperor see Charles VI, Holy Roman Emperor Karl VII, Holy Roman Emperor see Charles VII, Holy Roman Emperor Karl X Gustav, King of Sweden see Charles X Gustav, King of Sweden Karl XI, King of Sweden see Charles XI, King of Sweden Karl XII, King of Sweden see Charles XII, King of Sweden Katarina Jagellonica, Swedish Queen Consort 28 Kierman, Gustav, merchant 220, 274 Königsmarck, Hans Christoffer von, Swedish councillor, field marshal 33, 273 Kurck, Knut, Swedish councillor 70 Lagerberg, Carl, Swedish councillor 98 Lanmary, Marc-Antoine Front de Beaupoil de, French ambassador 72, 75, 81, 121–123, 255–256, 260–261 Le Brun, Charles, architect 102 Leijonankar, Daniel, merchant 205 Leijonberg, Johan, Swedish envoy 223

290

Leo X, Pope 168 Leopold I, Holy Roman Emperor 33 Leuhusen, Johan, Swedish envoy 202 Lillieroot, Nils (Eosander), Swedish envoy 205, 273–274 Lionne, Hugues de, French politician 113, 137, 222, 260 Louis XIII, King of France 110, 134, 165, 185 Louis XIV, King of France 33–36, 39–40, 69, 83, 87, 89, 101–102, 108–112, 114, 135, 137, 149, 162, 177, 199, 218, 236, 251, 254, 257, 259, 262, 264, 265 Louis XV, King of France 43, 48, 90, 96, 111, 151, 160, 163, 237, 240 Louis XVI, King of France 163 Louise, French princess, Duchess of Parma 111 Lovisa Ulrika, Princess of Prussia, Swedish Queen consort 46–48, 123–124, 234, 237, 240, 275 Löwen, Eva Helena, countess 239 Löwenhielm, Carl Gustav, Swedish councillor 79 Maria Theresa, Spanish Infanta, French Queen Consort 97, 111 Marie Aglaë, Princess of Orléans, Duchess of Modena and Reggio 111 Marie Jeanne Baptiste, Princess of SavoyNemours 110 Marie Louise Gonzague de Nevers, Polish Queen Consort 35, 110–111 Maximilian I, Prince-Elector of Bavaria 133 Mazarin, Jules, Cardinal 33, 36, 110, 148, 222, 274 Mackay, Donald, Lord Reay, military officer 201–202 Melander, Peter, military commander, politician in Hesse-Kassel 198 Mirabeau, Honoré Gabriel Riqueti de, revolutionary leader 194, 270 Newcastle, Thomas Pelham-Holles, Duke of, Secretary of State 105 Nordencrantz, Anders, civil servant, author 174–175, 181–184, 266–267 Olivares, Gaspar de Guzmán y Pimentel, Count-duke of, first minister in Spain 135 Ottoboni, Pietro, Cardinal 107 Oxenstierna, Axel, Chancellor 21, 31, 51, 56–59, 61–62 85, 87–88, 186, 188, 202, 221, 250, 252–253, 257, 264, 271, 274

index of names Oxenstierna, Bengt Gabrielsson, Chancellor 64, 202, 233 Oxenstierna, Gabriel Bengtsson, Swedish councillor 22 Pechlin, Carl Fredrik, Swedish civil servant 239 Persson, Anders, soldier 208 Peter III, Tsar of Russia 47 Philip de Borbón y Farnesio, Duke of Parma 111, 114 Philip IV, King of Spain 111 Philip V, King of Spain 111 Pichegru, Jean Charles, general 255, 261, 263 Piquetiere, De la, French envoy 205 Plomgren (von), Thomas, merchant, politician 220, 274 Pomponne, Simon Arnauld de, French ambassador 36, 61, 64–66, 69, 89, 120, 137, 254, 256, 260, 265 Pons, de, French envoy 163 Pufendorf, Samuel, diplomat, professor 169, 174–177, 192, 266, 273 Rålamb, Klas, Swedish councillor 64 Reenstierna, Abraham, merchant 205, 273 Reenstierna, Jakob, merchant 205 Richelieu, Armand-Jean du Plessis de, Cardinal 133–135, 270, 274 Rosen, Carl Fredrik von, Swedish councillor Rosen, Fredrik Ulrik von, Swedish councillor 239, 276 Rudenschöld, Ture Gabriel 239–240, 276 Ruth, Gustaf, Swedish councillor 79 Saint-Sévérin, Alphonse Marie Louis de, French ambassador 96–97 Scheffer, Carl Fredrik, Swedish councillor 98 Scheffer, Ulrik, Swedish envoy 100, 276 Servien, Abel de Sablé et de Boisdauphin, count de la Roche des Aubiers, French diplomat 113, 260 Skytte, Johan, Swedish councillor 22, 30 Sneckensköld, Jacob, merchant 204–205, 273 Sofia Magdalena, Princess of Denmark, Swedish Queen Consort 124 Sparre, Erik, Swedish ambassador 40, 87, 95, 164, 255, 257, 264 Sparre, Gustav, Swedish councillor 60, 144, 149, 150–151, 265

Stanisław Leszczyński, King of Poland 42–43, 90–91, 93–94, 103, 107–108, 111, 114 Sternberg, Wratislaus von, Austrian ambassador 56, 253 Störning, Gerdt 2+4–205 Stromberg, Claes, Swedish councillor 79 Stuart, Charles Edward 108 Stuart, Henry Benedict, Cardinal Duke of York 108 Stuart, James, the Old Pretender 108 Terlon, Hugues de, French ambassador 36, 80, 88–89, 103, 109, 135–136, 141, 151, 154, 221, 251, 257, 259, 262, 264–265 Tessin, Carl Gustav, Swedish ambassador 91, 95, 97, 236, 258, 261 Tilly, Johann Tserclaes, Duke, military commander 30 Trolle, Henrik af, admiral 215 Ulfsparre, Erik Hansson, military commander 60 Usson d’, Pierre Chrysostéme d’Usson de Bonnac, French ambassador 125, 163, 256, 261, 265 Valkenaer, Johan, Dutch rebel 108 Vellink, Mauritz, Swedish councillor 167 Vergennes, Charles Gravier de, French ambassador 234, 241, 260 Verninac Saint-Maur, Raymond de, French envoy 261 Victor Amadeus, Prince of Carignano 259 Virgin, Arvid Bernhard, civil servant 238, 275 Voltaire, François-Marie Arouet, French philosopher 194 Wallenstein, Albrecht von, military commander 30, 133 Whitelocke, Bulstrode, English ambassador 216, 273, 275 Willem V, Prince of Orange, Stadtholder 108 Wicquefort, Abraham de, diplomat, author 94 Władysław IV Waza, King of Poland 28, 110 Wolmar, Isaac, Austrian diplomat 85 Wrangel, Carl Gustav, army commander 70, 140, 273 Wrede, Fabian, Swedish councillor 233 Zink, Frans, merchant 204

291

Index of treaties Bärwalde, Treaty of 5, 15–16, 22, 28–29, 31, 66, 87–88, 176, 185 Dover, Treaty of 37, 109, 139, 199 Fontainebleau, Treaty of 34–36, 63, 66, 80, 88, 135, 179, 271 Hamburg, Treaty of 31, 250 Hanover, Alliance of 27, 42, 166–167

292

Heilbronn, Treaty of 31, 57 Westphalia, Peace of 5–6, 32, 34, 36, 46, 49, 68–69, 92, 98–99, 103, 113, 117, 122, 139, 144–145, 167, 169, 178, 229–231, 241–242, 246, 250 Wismar, Treaty of 55, 250