PROBLEMS OF THE NAPOLEONIC WARS
The career of Napoleon, which has long commanded the greatest interest,
not to say enthusiasm, of students of history, aroused grave fears in
the minds of most of the thoughtful men of his day who did not live
in France. His design to conquer all his neighbors was most evident,
and his apparent ability to carry it into execution caused him to
be regarded as the embodiment of greed and insatiable ambition. Not
since the days of Louis XIV had Europe felt such thrills of danger and
horror. All its energy was called into play to withstand his attacks.
Wars followed wars in a series of campaigns that ended after many years
of extreme anxiety in his ruin, only when France had been worn out
by his repeated victories. When he began his wars he was at the head
of the best prepared nation in the world. He struck with sudden and
vigorous blows against nations that were not united, defeating one
after the other with startling effect. Their lack of preparation was
most marked and was probably the most effective cause of his initial
success. After years of conflict they learned how to oppose him. From
his own example they learned the value of organization and method in
fighting, and from their own disasters they at last acquired the sense
of union that was necessary to give him the final blow that made him
no longer a menace to their national integrity. It was not until 1815
that he was finally defeated and reduced to the state of ineffective
personal power from which he had risen.
From the beginning of the struggle he was to his opponents the
incarnation of all that was hateful in government. Few of the epithets
now hurled at the kaiser were not as lavishly cast at Napoleon. He was
tyrant, robber, brute, and murderer in turn, and it was pronounced a
service to humanity to suppress him. In the beginning of the wars his
pretensions were treated with disdain, but as his victories followed
one another in bewildering rapidity, his power was treated with more
respect, although there was no greater disposition to contemplate
his triumph with complacency. As the struggle became fiercer, the
other states than France began to think of some permanent form of
coöperation for restraining him; and they even began to speculate on
the possibility of some permanent arrangement by which the world might
be saved from a recurrence of such a vast waste of life and treasure as
was involved in the struggle. It was thus that suggestions were made
during the Napoleonic era for abolishing war through international
effort. For us, who are today burdened with the ruin of a similar
but more stupendous struggle, these efforts have a special interest,
and the space of a single chapter is none too much to give to their
consideration.
It is singular that these plans should have found their most
conspicuous supporters in the heads of the two governments most widely
apart with reference to the popular character of their institutions.
It was in autocratic Russia that one found the most advanced idea of
dealing with the future, and in Great Britain, the most liberal of
the great powers, that the most conservative design was held. Each
plan was supported by the head of these two governments respectively,
each ran through its own development while the armies were locked in
deadly struggle, and each was debated with seriousness in the moment of
victory when the statesmen of the winning powers met to arrange for the
future relations of the states whose victories made them the arbiters
of Europe.
The initiative was taken by Alexander I, of Russia. He was a man
of the best intentions, and throughout the period with which we
are now dealing he showed himself persistently favorable to views
which, to say the least, were a hundred years ahead of his time. By
temperament he was imaginative and sympathetic. In his personal life
were irregularities, but not as many as in Napoleon’s, Louis XIV’s,
or Talleyrand’s. He lacked the royal vice of despotism, and his
escape from it was probably due to the influence of Fréderic César
de La Harpe, an instructor of his youth, who arrived in Russia with
his head full of the dynamic ideas of the French philosophers of the
pre-revolutionary period.
While “liberty, equality, and fraternity” maddened France, long
oppressed by the dull repression of the ancient régime, La Harpe was
converting his royal pupil to the doctrine of the “Rights of Man.” So
well was the lesson taught that a long series of encounters with the
solid wall of Russian autocracy was necessary before the pupil ceased
to try to do something to ameliorate the condition of his people.
Historians have called Alexander a dreamer, but what is a man to do
who is born a tsar and has the misfortune to believe in the doctrines
for which we honor Lincoln and Jefferson? I am willing to call him
impractical, but I cannot withhold sympathy from a man who tried, as
he, to strike blows in behalf of the forms of government which makes my
own country a home of liberty.
Alexander I came to the throne of Russia in 1801, anxious to carry
out his liberal plans.[3] In 1804, through his minister in London, he
suggested to Pitt, the prime minister, a plan for settling the affairs
of Europe after the defeat of Napoleon. France, he said, must be made
to realize that the allies did not war against her people but against
Napoleon, from whose false power they proposed to set her free. Once
liberated she was to be allowed to choose any government she desired.
From La Harpe he had imbibed a deep repugnance to the government of the
Bourbons, and in all his future discussions of the subject he showed no
enthusiasm for restoring that line to their throne.
[3] For an excellent treatment of the events discussed in this
chapter see W. A. Phillips, _The Confederation of Europe_,
London, 1914.
One of the charges often made by the allies was that Napoleon overthrew
international law. It was a part of Alexander’s plan to reëstablish its
potency and to have the nations see to it that no future violations
of it could occur. He also suggested that the firm agreement then
existing between Russia and Great Britain should continue after the
establishment of peace and that other great powers should be brought
into it so that there should be a means of securing common action in
affairs of mutual significance. At this time he had not, it seems,
fully determined just what form of coöperation ought to be adopted,
but in the suggestion of 1804 can be found the germ of all his later
designs for permanent peace.
At that moment Pitt was looking for the renewal of the European war
and he expected the formation of the great coalition of 1805, in which
Russia, Great Britain, Austria, and Sweden undertook to defeat France.
He did not dare, therefore, reject the tsar’s proposals outright.
He gave approval to the suggestion in regard to the restoration of
international law, but he qualified his sanction of the scheme for a
future league of nations. Napoleon crushed, he said, it would be for
the states to guarantee such an adjustment of European affairs as they
should agree upon in solemn treaty. Looking into these two statements
it is seen that the tsar had in mind the formation of some kind of
league of nations, with well defined powers and duties, while Pitt
looked forward to that kind of international coöperation which was
later described by the term “Concert of Europe.” In the subsequent
dealing of Alexander with the British leaders over this matter there
was always this difference between them.
In 1807 Napoleon won the battle of Friedland over Russia and occupied
a large part of the tsar’s domain. Then came the Treaty of Tilsit
in which Alexander and Napoleon standing face to face came to an
unexpected agreement to divide the accessible part of the world between
them, Alexander ruling one half and Napoleon ruling the other. It is
certain, however, that the tsar had in his mind that both he and his
new ally would rule their respective halves in the spirit of La Harpe’s
teaching. Napoleon baited his trap with no less attractive a morsel
than self-government under a wise monarch in order to catch Alexander I.
The Moscow campaign brought the tsar to his senses. He himself said
that it was the burning of the ancient city, 1812, that illuminated
his mind and enabled him to see the true character of the Corsican.
For five years he had been lulled into inactivity by the belief
that some form of permanent peace was coming to the world through
Napoleon. He now realized that he had been duped, and after making
due acknowledgment of his error turned to the task of destroying the
deceiver. From that time he did not waver in his determination.
Russia and Great Britain were thus in close alliance, and immediately
began consideration of a permanent alliance looking toward a
regulation of affairs in Europe after the war was ended. The British
cabinet took up the question and in 1813 passed a resolution in which
occurs the following declaration: “The Treaty of Alliance [between the
states which were united against Napoleon] is not to terminate with the
war, but is to contain defensive engagements, with mutual obligations
to support the Power attacked by France with a certain extent of
stipulated succors. The _casus foederis_ is to be an attack by France
on the European dominions of any one of the contracting parties.”[4]
This provision was kept secret for the time, but it remained the basis
of the British policy throughout the negotiations that followed.
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.
Like the other religious teachers of the day she was deeply impressed
by the calamities of the war. She knew of the tsar’s desire to
establish a régime of peace and came to believe she was divinely called
to induce him to take a conspicuous step in that direction. At first
Alexander, who was not always religious, refused to see her; but in
June, 1815, an interview was arranged while he was at Heilbron, on the
campaign. He was deeply impressed and asked her to remain near him.
When he went to Paris after the second defeat of Napoleon she was given
quarters near his palace, and it was there, in the following autumn,
that he drew up the plan of the Holy Alliance.
The “Alliance” was expressed in the spirit of a mediæval religious
brotherhood. The signatory sovereigns pledged themselves to take the
will of God for highest law, to give aid to an imperiled brother
sovereign, and to hold the Alliance as “a true and indissoluble
fraternity.” The constituent states were to make “one great Christian
nation” and their sovereigns were to act “as delegates of Providence”
in ruling their respective states. If such an ideal could have been
accomplished at all, a stronger grip of the church on the springs of
government would have been necessary than existed in that day. The tsar
proclaimed the Holy Alliance on November 26, 1815. It was signed by
all the states of Europe except Turkey, Great Britain, and the Papal
State. Great Britain’s refusal to sign was due to Castlereagh, to whom
the tsar seemed mentally unbalanced. He gave as his justification that
the prince-regent, ruling in the place of his insane father, had no
authority to sign, but said that he would support the principles of the
Alliance. As it was to be a union of Christian states the sultan was
not invited to sign. The Pope was not asked because of his overwhelming
influence in matters connected with religion. Frederick William, of
Prussia, was a religious man and is believed to have signed in good
faith. Metternich advised the emperor of Austria to sign but said that
the document was mere verbiage.
In all I have said hitherto about the tsar’s idea of preserving peace
no definite plan has been mentioned. His most specific utterance was
to ask for a league of nations, but he said nothing of its powers, its
specific organization, or the limits of its action. The suggestion
was vague, probably because the mind of its author was itself vague.
If taken seriously it could be made to serve as the foundation of a
unified state of Europe which might hold all other states under its
hand, a unified state largely under the domination of Russia. That its
author had no such object in view is not to be doubted for an instant;
but who could tell how long he would remain in his existing state of
mind, and how soon he might be succeeded by a tsar of far other spirit?
As a plan for permanent peace the Holy Alliance was impossible, not
only because it was cast in religious forms and thrown to a world in
which the authority of religion had lost much of its ancient hold on
the minds of men of influence, but because its indefinite form made it
a possible instrument of greater evils than war.
Beneath its defects, however, was the great idea of a unified Europe,
in which justice has the place of suspicion and intrigue, in which runs
one law, one order, and one obedience to the majesty of the state.
Alexander not only believed in such an ideal, but he was willing to
cast his nation into the melting-pot in order to fuse such a state.
He could have given no better proof of his support of his ideal. Of
course, it was ahead of the time, how much so it is hard to say. The
widespread popular longing for permanent peace would have gone far in
accepting unification of the states, and in this sphere of opinion the
religious cast of the scheme was not a great disadvantage. The thing
which stood firmly in its way was the dull practicality of the upper,
ruling class. If it could have passed these lions in the way, it might
have had a chance of working its way forward into some acceptable form
of a league in perpetuity. But it is a big _if_ that I have used. Upper
ruling classes know more about government than the lower classes, and
that is a source of conservatism. The lower classes, knowing little,
usually act upon their impulses; the members of the upper, ruling
class, having information in varying degrees, usually strike an average
of mediocre enlightenment, and it is a difficult thing for a new idea
to gain possession of them. In 1815 the upper, ruling class was well
settled in power in Europe, and it was most convinced of its superior
wisdom. It never accepted the tsar’s plan; and failing to get its
acceptance the plan was futile.