The Lost Fruits of Waterloo 7

The Lost Fruits of Waterloo 7

Castlereagh, in ability and character the greatest statesman of his

day, was then at the head of the British cabinet, and it seems certain

that he inspired its policy.

 

[4] Phillips, _loc. cit._, 67.

 

He was already suspicious of the position of the tsar in reference

to France. That sovereign had in no way relaxed his friendship for

the French people. Hating the Bourbons he would have prevented their

restoration to the throne, and he had a project for allowing the French

to determine whom they would have for king after Napoleon. If he could

carry this plan through he would make himself very popular in France

and would have a strong position with the ruler whose selection he

should thus make possible. To Castlereagh this was nothing but a shrewd

piece of policy for laying the foundation of a Franco-Russian alliance

which would have overweening influence in Europe, and he set himself

against its execution. He was forced to proceed cautiously, however,

since Napoleon was not beaten and the aid of the tsar was essential.

There is nothing to suggest that Alexander did not entertain his

French views in all singleness of purpose. The worst his enemies said

of him was that he was a dreamer; but he was not given to a policy of

calculation.

 

To thwart Alexander and carry through his own views Castlereagh set

himself to “group” the tsar, that is, to draw him into an agreement

with other sovereigns in which such a policy was accepted as would

serve to deflect the whole group of allies from the direct course which

the tsar would have followed if left alone. Early in 1814 a treaty was

signed at Chaumont by Great Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia

in which all the problems then before the allies were taken up. The

sixteenth article of the treaty dealt with the point which had caused

Castlereagh so much anxiety. It ran:

 

“The present Treaty of Alliance having for its object the

maintenance of the Balance of Europe, to secure the repose and

independence of the Powers, and to prevent the invasions which

for so many years have devastated the world, the High Contracting

Parties have agreed among themselves to extend its duration for

twenty years from the date of signature, and they reserve the right

of agreeing, if circumstances demand it, three years before its

expiration, on its further prolongation.”[5]

 

[5] Phillips, _loc. cit._, 78.

 

By this means Alexander was “grouped” with his three allies in the

support of a kind of coöperation which was not what he had hitherto

insisted upon. It is probable that he did not realize how completely

he was outplayed, when he was forced by the logic of events to set his

hand to a treaty that provided for the Concert of Europe, and not for

the league to which he had long looked forward. At any rate, he did

not give up his ideals and he seems to have thought that in the hour

of victory he could do what he had not been able to do in the hour of

necessity.

 

The Treaty of Chaumont was followed by the battle of Leipzig, and that

was followed by several smaller battles in which the allies fought

their way through French territory until they stood before the gates

of Paris in the autumn of 1814. Napoleon fled the Nemesis that had

overtaken him, the city was opened to his enemies, and Alexander I,

at the head of his splendid guard, led the conquering army down the

broad avenue of Champs Elysée, the inhabitants of the city cheering

the radiant pageant. Men reflected that two years earlier a great

French army had penetrated to the Russian city of Moscow and found it

smoking ruins; and they could but observe the contrast. It was worthy

of the greatness of the tsar of the Russias to show a generous face

to a beaten foe; and the Frenchmen were gallant enough to receive the

friendship of the tsar in the spirit in which it was given. A lenient

treaty by which France was saved from humiliation and Napoleon was

given Elba, was also due chiefly to the good will of Alexander. An

Englishman on the spot, who did not see things with the broad vision

of the prime minister, wrote that the tsar “by a series of firm and

glorious conduct has richly deserved the appellation of the liberator

of mankind.” But as Alexander continued to “play the part of Providence

in France” the same writer became alarmed and five days later wrote to

London urging that Castlereagh come to the French capital. The hint was

taken, and soon the manly stride of the handsome tsar was intercepted

by the deftly woven webs of the skilled diplomat. Erelong France was

handed over to the Bourbons, who came back to show that they had

learned nothing and forgotten nothing.

 

The center of interest now shifted to the Congress of Vienna, whose

sessions lasted from September 10, 1814, to June 9, 1815. Europe

had looked forward to it for many years as the means of effecting a

wise and just reform in all the evils that afflicted the continent.

“Men had promised themselves,” said Gentz, “an all-embracing reform

of the political system of Europe, guarantees for universal peace,

in one word, the return of the golden age.” Thus Alexander was not

entirely ahead of his time. There were enlightened men then, as

now, who hoped for a spirit that would rise above mere diplomatic

self-interest; and we may look upon the tsar as their exponent. But

they were to be disappointed. Spoils were to be divided and in the

disputes that the expected division engendered, the spirit of reform

was dissipated. Alexander spent his energy in trying to reëstablish

the kingdom of Poland with liberal institutions, but his desire that

it should be under his protection aroused the keenest opposition from

the neighboring nations. If a victorious Russia stood as protector of

a reëstablished France and a renewed Poland, who could foretell her

power in future dealings among nations? Considering the extent to which

jealousy carried the contentions of the states at Vienna, it is enough

that the congress did not break up in an appeal to arms.

 

Gentz, whom we recall as the secretary of the congress, was one of the

men who had entertained hopes that it would give a new and better form

to the political structure of Europe. He avowed his disappointment at

the results in saying:

 

“The Congress has resulted in nothing but restorations, which had

already been effected by arms, agreements between the Great Powers

of little value for the future balance and preservation of the

peace of Europe, quite arbitrary alterations in the possessions of

the smaller states; but no act of a higher nature, no great measure

for public order or for the general good, which might compensate

humanity for its long sufferings or pacify it for the future....

But to be just, the treaty, such as it is, has the undeniable

merit of having prepared the world for a more complete political

structure. If ever the Powers should meet again to establish a

political system by which wars of conquest would be rendered

impossible, and the rights of all guaranteed, the Congress of

Vienna, as a preparatory assembly, will not have been without use.

A number of vexatious details have been settled, and the ground has

been prepared for building up a better social structure.”[6]

 

[6] See Phillips, _loc. cit._, 118.

 

Looking back over the past century it is hard to find justification for

Gentz’s optimism. The respite that Europe had for a generation from war

was due in a sense to the lesson learned in the Napoleonic struggle;

but it was not a permanent lesson. We shall proceed to examine the

expedients that came to be used for the end specified; but it is

certain that they did not achieve permanently the end desired. Had the

Congress of Vienna done all that was expected of it, the world might

today be at peace. If not at peace, we might at least say that the men

of the Congress did all they could to secure peace.

 

If we ask for the fundamental cause of the failure of the Congress of

Vienna to satisfy the hopes of liberal men in constructing what Gentz

called “a more complete political structure,” the answer must lie in

the illiberal views of the ruling classes in the European states.

Self-government was less developed than in the most conservative state

of today. Had the people of these states been in power, and had they

been to a fair degree trained in the principles of good government, the

result could hardly have been as it was. But the ignorant bureaucrats

and arbitrary rulers were in power, men who in their own lives never

knew the burdens of war, and to whom national egotism appeared a high

virtue; and they thought only of gaining territory for their states.

They placed such things above the high opportunity to reform the

political structure of Europe. They turned to the future with the old

principles still dominant, hoping that by a system of concert among the

great states they could stave off war for an indefinitely long period.

They could place self-interest against self-interest, forgetting that

a time was likely to come when self-interest might lead the strongest

to dare the rest of the world, hoping to move quickly in a moment

of temporary advantage and thus gain ends that only the most severe

sacrifices could take away. But that is a story reserved for another

chapter.

 

Before we take up the Concert of Europe we must deal with the Holy

Alliance, which, though but an interlude in the play, is so frequently

mentioned in the books that it cannot be omitted from this discussion.

It was signed at Paris, November 20, 1815, and may be considered only

one of the forms in which the tsar’s ideal was embodied. Its religious

character made it the butt of ridicule for the “practical” statesmen

of the day, and the historian has been prone to look at it from their

standpoint. But it was then popular to express political principles in

religious phrases, and the alliance is to be interpreted by the purpose

that lay underneath, rather than by the mere form in which it was set

forth.

 

As we have seen, Alexander I had formulated his plan for a league of

states long before the end of the war. He had relaxed his intentions in

no sense when he met Baroness Krüdener in June, 1815. This remarkable

woman, though nobly born, was a religious enthusiast who to the faculty

of intense conviction added the gift of preaching. Wherever she went

she found followers who hung on her words and yielded themselves to

her impassioned appeals for religious devotion. In the height of her

enthusiasm she came to think that she had revelations from God. Many

a popular revivalist of recent times could be compared with her; and

if we are tolerant of their undoubtedly well-meant efforts to stir

humanity to righteousness, we may allow her also a fair share of our

esteem as a would-be agent of good through the employment of human means to attain human ends.