(1) _Der Deutschen Volkszahl und Sprachgebiet in den Europaischen
staaten eine statistische untersuchung von Richard Böekh._ Berlin: J.
Guttenay. 1871.
(2.) _France, Alsace and Lorraine._ London: Trübner & Co. 1870.
(3.) _The French Case Truly Stated._ By AUGUSTUS GRANVILLE STAPLETON.
London: E. Stanford. 1871.
(4.) _La France et la Prusse, pendant l'invasion de 1870._ Par ERARD DE
CHOISEUL GOUFFIER. 2me Edition. Luxembourg: Pierre Bruck. 1870.
(5.) _La France devant l'Europe._ By JULES MICHELET. 2me Edition.
Ferrier: Hachette and Cie. 1871.
(6.) _Elsass und Lothringen nachweise wie diese provenzen dem deutschen
Reiche verloren gingen._ VON ADOLF SCHMIDT. Dritte auf. Leipzic: Vert
and Co. 1870.
(7.) _Prussian Aggrandizement and English Policy._ London: Ridgway.
1870.
(8.) _Krieg und Friede._ VON D. F. STRAUSS. Leipzic: S. Herzel. 1870.
(9.) _The Interests of Europe in the Conditions of Peace._ London:
Stanford. 1870.
(10.) _Recueil des Documents sur les Exactions, vols et cruautés des
armées Prussiennes en France._ Bordeaux: Feret et fils. 1871.
(11.) _La République neutre d'Alsace._ Par le COMTE A. DE GASPARIN.
Genève et Bäle. 1871.
(12.) _Who is responsible for the War?_ By SCRUTATOR. London:
Rivingtons. 1871.
(13.) _Europe of the near Future._ By EMERITUS PROFESSOR FRANCIS W.
NEWMAN. Trübner and Co. 1871.
(14.) _Diary of the French Campaign of 1870; with the Decrees,
Telegrams, and Proclamations of his Majesty the King of Prussia._
London: Trübner and Co. 1871.
There are two antagonistic theories which profess to summarise history.
Vico attempted, in the last century, to prove that the course of human
events had, like the planets, an orbit of their own, into which they
returned after a certain number of years. In fact, according to this
philosopher, the tendency of history was to repeat itself, much like a
compound circulating decimal. But the rapid development of physical
science has, of late years, thrown this theory very much into the shade,
by confronting it with the more glittering notion of human
perfectibility. Mankind, instead of gyrating in an ellipse, move along a
line of infinite progression. Scientific men fondly imagined that the
march of intellect was destined to impel society, through stages of
uninterrupted progress, to a fanciful millennium. Knowledge was to be
the spiritual means of redeeming the nations. When mankind came to
understand their relations to the surrounding universe, Astrea would
again visit the earth, and the golden age return. There were not wanting
many minor postulates which seemed to support this splendid vision. All
the wars of Europeans found their root in dynastic interests, and would
vanish, when the wishes of the million became the main-spring of
politics. The knell of standing armies was rung by a citizen soldiery;
and with standing armies vanished all fear of territorial
aggrandisement. Economic inventions and the wide ramifications of
industrial interests were fast binding mankind in a network of harmony
and peace. Under war waged for the spell of these illusions,
philosophers and statesmen had looked back upon the past as the
wilderness of humanity, and, from the heights of Pisgah, sighted the
promised land. Even Gioberti, priest though he was, did not shrink from
avowing in his primato, that if the Jews looked forward to the Messiah
as yet to come, in the light of the golden age, he was as staunch in
that belief as the stoutest Israelite among them. The rationalist
divines have vied with the poets of our own age in announcing the
approach of the dawn of an era of universal peace and happiness. In the
midst of these delightful anticipations a speck appears upon a sunny
sky, no bigger than a man's hand. But it suddenly swells to gigantic
dimensions and sheds disastrous twilight over the fairest regions of the
earth. Without any rational pretext whatever, two of the most
enlightened nations of Europe rush with murderous weapons at each
other's throats. They close with deadly gripe; inflict upon each other
mortal blows, until one sinks through sheer exhaustion. The collapsed
state is then let blood. Heavy gyves are placed upon it, from which
there is little chance of escape for many years to come, and then only
by combination with some other power. Between two races who were, a
little time ago, beginning to forget their old animosity in acts of
amity and goodwill, the flames of hate are anew enkindled with a
vehemence destined to last through all time. Now these phenomena may,
doubtless, be explained by the usual philosophic method of assigning
very simple causes to very complicated effects.
As to which power is humanly responsible for these multiplied disasters,
is discussed at large in the pamphlets before us.[234] The question is
not simply historical, but bears directly upon the reasonableness of
the terms of peace which have been imposed. If Prussia is as blameless
in the transactions which led to the outbreak, as Bismark would make
out, it is obvious he had some reason for his recent severity. But this,
we think, can in no way be sustained. We do not share the bias of the
authors who have written on this subject. It is our opinion, having
heard, with the impartiality of a _nisi prius_ judge, all that can be
said upon the subject, that both parties have been lamentably in the
wrong; that the diplomatic relations between France and Prussia for the
last six years have been conducted upon principles more worthy of
thieves than honest politicians; that each has been attempting to
overreach the other; that Napoleon began these subterranean intrigues
with a view to secure all the prizes of war without fighting for them,
and that Bismark so manipulated events as to cause the Emperor to fight
after all, and left him nothing but defeat for his pains. Each knew that
the mining operations in which both were engaged, had gone so far, that
they must explode somewhere, and each endeavoured to direct the train
from his own territory to that of his neighbour. It is beyond question
that Bismark, if he did not plan the Hohenzollern intrigue with his eyes
open to all the consequences, knew of its existence when his Government
denied all knowledge of it. It is also clear that Baron Von Theile, in a
conference with Benedetti, repudiated, on the part of his Government,
the very suggestion, after Bismark and the King had expressed their
approval of the candidature.[235] From the declarations of the French
ambassador on this occasion, Bismark must have known the irritating
effect the avowal of the scheme must produce on the French Government.
He also refused to advise the King simply to withdraw his consent from
Leopold's acceptance of the Spanish crown, when pressed to do so by the
British Government,[236] though that step would have probably induced
France to give up the quarrel. When the Prince withdrew his claims to
the Spanish throne at the instance of his father, Prussia sullenly
refused to renounce her sanction to those claims, and thus bore a very
conspicuous part in drawing upon Europe the consequences which
followed. Then, there is a great deal of mystery about the telegram from
Ems conveying the falsehood that the King, in a crowded watering-place,
turned upon his heel when accosted by, and refused to speak with, the
French ambassador. Now, it is expressly admitted by Bismark, that he
sent copies of that telegram to all the German representatives abroad;
and either himself or his subordinates must have caused its insertion in
the official Berlin gazette, by which the war excitement in both
countries was roused to fever height.[237] We all know it was that
telegram which impelled the French Government to launch their
declaration of war. It is also upon record that France, in the course of
February, made, through Lord Clarendon, two overtures to Berlin for
mutual disarmament, offering to reduce her various contingents to the
extent of 90,000 men, which was, in fact, one-eighth of her army; but
that Bismark, having churlishly refused to listen to the first proposal,
did so far entertain the second as to forward it to the King, who, under
the counsels of his astute chancellor, declined the proposition on the
ground that the military organization of Prussia was the vital principle
of her constitution, and that she was least of all inclined to modify
it, in front of an aggressive Russia, and with the probability of an
alliance between Austria and the South German States[238]--two pretexts,
the hollowness of which, recent events sufficiently demonstrate. Now,
though the conduct of France is utterly indefensible in provoking the
conflict after the Hohenzollern grievance had been substantively
withdrawn, we cannot acquit Prussia of irritating her adversary, and of
provoking, in a great degree, the blow she seemed anxious to repel. In
point of fact, both parties had their respective interests in the
struggle; both desired to fight; both, like two pugilists, had been in
training for the encounter during the last five years, and both were
determined that so opportune an occasion should not be lost for bringing
it on.
The indulgence of military vanity, and the desire to dominate Europe,
are faults which may be ascribed to France in a larger degree than to
Prussia. But Germany, after having disarmed her antagonist, has indulged
these propensities with a mercenary spirit, and with the manifest
intention of wiping France out of the list of the great powers. The
frankness with which this is avowed is admirable in its simplicity.
France must be hindered from being dangerous in the future. She must,
therefore, be reduced to such a position as to render her alike both
impotent and defenceless. She must be degraded from her state in the
family of nations. She is, therefore, stripped of her armaments: her
artillery, her muskets, her swords, her ammunition, her military stores,
in fact, nearly all her implements and panoply of war, are carted off to
Berlin. That she may not be in an immediate position to supply their
place, she is loaded with a pecuniary indemnity which must exhaust the
energies of another generation. The frontiers of the country are thrown
back to the state in which they were in the middle of the sixteenth
century. The strong chain of fortresses which France has erected or
fortified during the last three hundred years, with two or three minor
exceptions, have been wrenched from her by her enemy. Strasburg,
Bitsche, Phalsburg, Thionville, and Metz, protecting that flank of
France which is most exposed to attack, are now only so many reservoirs,
ready, at a moment's notice, to open the rivers of invasion and deluge
the country. Metz, which is only some 160 miles from Paris, is a naked
rapier laid across the defenceless throat of France. With her greatest
buckler of defence in the hands of Prussia, anything like independent
action on the part of France is manifestly impossible. While Metz is in
the hands of Prussia, she must remain as politically weak as Piedmont,
with Austria in the Quadrilateral. With a bankrupt exchequer, with a
pillaged population, with a disorganized government, with a defenceless
frontier, with a mutilated territory, with civil feud in her capitals,
with all her strongholds in the hands of the enemy, with an imposition
of £200,000,000 sterling as a war indemnity, France is not likely to
recover her physical strength in our day; and when vigour returns to her
shattered frame, it will be only to feel she has lost her place in the
councils of Europe.
There are, of course, many excellent reasons assigned for this sort of
beneficence, which need only be stated to win common assent. Metz and
Alsace belonged to the house of Hapsburg in the fourteenth century. They
ought, therefore, to belong to the house of Hohenzollern in the
nineteenth,--a convincing argument, which no country so consistently as
Prussia could urge with elaborate effect. If every nation which has been
disintegrated during the last two hundred years, should get back its own
to-morrow, we all know how much Prussia would be a gainer by the
transfer. But the inhabitants of Alsace speak a patois of German and
French, which contains something of both, and is not either. They are,
therefore, clearly entitled to be governed from Berlin. This principle
is beautifully illustrated by the Sclave-speaking population of Silesia,
the Polish community of Posen, and the Danes of Schleswig. What more in
keeping with this piebald collection of people, in the name of
nationality, than the French people at Metz? Then, were not Alsace and
Lorraine taken by force and guile from Germany? and what more proper to
retake them by the same openhanded violence? But it is forgotten that
these provinces were first wrenched from France by Germany, so that to
restore the original balance, France will have to scramble for them
again. By this flux and reflux of empire, at least, one principle is
fully assured. Nations are prevented from becoming stagnant. The
standing pool of industrial affairs is defecated. War becomes, not an
exceptional, but the normal condition of the universe. Civilization has
the consolation of knowing that it has no sooner got on its legs, and is
about to gather into its granaries an exuberant harvest, than it is
knocked over again and its fruits are withered.
It is singular that German ideologists, whose views are so sound upon
abstract subjects, should put forth such inconsistent trash, to justify
their newly-adopted policy of territorial aggrandizement. There are,
however, a large number of sentimentalists in the world, who have a
strange hankering for the past, whose sympathies it was necessary to
secure. The German archives have, therefore, been ransacked for every
tittle of evidence to prove that Metz was a German province in the
fourteenth century; and, therefore, if any Frenchmen are found there in
the nineteenth, they ought to be under Prussian rule. But to do Bismark
justice, he has a great contempt for trashy dialectics of this
character. He takes his stand upon the firmer ground of political
expediency. France has invaded Germany some twenty-seven times,
stimulated entirely by her lust for the Rhine provinces. It is,
therefore, necessary to reduce her to such conditions that she is not
likely to offend again. In the case of the German ideologists, we grant
the premise, but deny the inference. They are doubtless sincere in their
unreason. But Bismark's premiss and conclusion are alike vicious, and no
one knows that better than himself.
The earlier wars of France against the Empire arose out of the struggle
for these border possessions when the posterity of Lothaire II., to whom
they belonged, had died out; but in these wars, France, then being
parcelled out among numerous vassals, had the worst of it. A series of
German irruptions, under Henry the Fowler, and the Othos, united these
domains to the Empire. They were, however, held more or less as fiefs of
the crown of France. The French element within, and French intrigue
without, always gave the German emperors great uneasiness; and this,
combined with further schemes of obtaining fresh fiefs in Burgundy and
Flanders, exposed France to two German invasions--one under Henry V.,
and the other under Otho IV., which made Louis the Fat and Philip
Augustus tremble for their suzerainty. But the Germans soon found in
Italy a richer field for their exploits, and France was left to
constitute her unity without much hindrance, until the empire fell into
Spanish hands. Afraid, then, of being bodily eaten up, her monarchs
became aggressive; but their blows were aimed, not against Germany, but
against Spain, unluckily without any great effect; for, the towns of
France were some half dozen times invaded by the Emperor and his allies,
her king captured, and her fortresses demolished. Our share in these
plundering transactions helped us to Tournay and Boulogne. In the next
series of wars, which arose out of the religious and political
dissensions of the empire, if France intermeddled, she was invited to do
so by the Protestant princes of Germany, with whom she was allied, and
whose interests were menaced by the house of Austria. As the price of
her intervention, she got a portion of the disputed frontier; but we
never heard that Germany otherwise than freely conceded the long-coveted
prize to her, or regarded this portion of the Treaty of Munster as a
menace to her liberties. It was not until Louis Quatorze seized Franche
Comté, and sent his legions over the Rhine, that Germany manifested any
uneasiness at the ambition of France--an uneasiness which the league of
Augsburg immediately dispelled, and an ambition which the armies of
Eugene and Marlborough levelled to the ground. Hence, Lorraine soon
afterwards fell as quietly into the hands of France, as if its exchange
for the reversion of Tuscany had been an arrangement of Providence. We
are rather curious, therefore, to know how Count Bismark gets his
twenty-seven instances of French aggression against Germany, and whether
he includes in the list the troops which France lent to Prussia to
enable her to retain her hold upon Silesia, and the counter-support she
gave Maria Theresa to enable the empress to defeat Prussia. It is
evident no parties are responsible for such interventions except those
who invite them; and to ascribe to the ambition of the people of
France, wars which arose out of the rapacity of his own countrymen, is a
phase given to the quarrel which outrages common sense. Even were all
the wars carried on under the Louises, the Richelieus, and the feudal
princes of France, as wantonly aggressive as Bismark would make out, the
French people are no more responsible for them, than the horses which
dragged their artillery to the field. They were waged frequently in
their own despite, purely for dynastic interests, and as often
undertaken to repel aggression, as to make it. Even when the people woke
up to their sovereign rights, in 1789, from whom did the first
deliberate act of aggression come? From mild and peace-loving Prussia.
Scarcely five years ago, we saw both the Saxon and Bavarian palatinate
entirely at the mercy of the first French regiment that might have
ventured to cross the border, without a hand being stretched forth to
snatch the defenceless prize. It is therefore false, in fact, to assign
to the French such an incurable lust after German territory, as to
warrant the necessity of her political servitude. The French have no
specific hatred to the Germans as a people, any more than they have to
the Italians, whose territory they have honoured no less frequently with
their presence. The allegation of Bismark is not, therefore, very
assuring. He revives the memory of these miserable feuds, as a reason
why they should be stopped; and produces a treaty, for that purpose,
which only transmits them to posterity, wrapped in a blaze of undying
vehemence. It is monstrous for the conquerors of a country to assign, as
a pretext for its abasement, the participation of its rulers in those
quarrels which originated with themselves. The great shield of Germany
against French interference is its unity. Had she further insisted upon
the fortresses in Alsace and Lorraine being dismantled, with an adequate
pecuniary indemnity, she would then have been doubly secure. But when,
in addition, she requires the keys of France to be placed in her hands,
and the country, bound hand and foot, to be cast under her feet, it is
idle to say that Prussia is aiming at mere immunity from aggression.
There is a weightier reason behind for the mutilation of France, which
it would be inconvenient to avow, and that is the preservation, if not
the increase, of her own military ascendancy.
Prussia in making peace consulted her own interests. Had her troops
returned to Berlin after concluding with France a wise and durable
treaty, that would have occurred which occurred after the peace of
1815--Germany would have demanded free and liberal institutions. There
would have been no necessity for Prussian Cæsarism. Berlin would have
had to modify her military constitution. There would have been no
necessity for vast armaments. The world would have once more settled
down to pacific ways. But in leaving behind her an exasperated France,
Prussia has the strongest of all motives for inducing Germany to
perpetuate her military dictatorship, and keep the war ferment at high
pressure. But it is impossible that the most pacific country can remain
long under the influence of such a military organization as Prussia
commands, without using it as an instrument for further aggrandizement.
Were it indeed otherwise, a marvel would occur, the like of which would
be unknown in history. Who ever heard of a power suddenly overtopping
Europe, and, amid a handful of weaker states, stopping short in her
career of aggression? Those who believe in the pacific virtues of
Bismark, and the pious sincerity of William, ask us to indulge in
anticipations which have never been realised. Did Rome stop when it
overran the Peninsula, Macedon when it fulminated over Greece, the
Caliphs when they stormed Constantinople, or the Hapsburgs when they
conquered Vienna? There is a momentum in all states, once entered upon a
career of conquest, which hurries them along with a speed proportionate
to the extent of their acquisitions. The law of rising kingdoms may be
formulated almost with the same nicety as that of falling bodies. Nor
are there any circumstances in this instance calculated to modify its
tendency, except such as give it vastly preponderating force and
direction.
It must not be overlooked in this case, that the states under the
hegemony of Prussia are amongst the poorest in Europe. Some three
hundred thousand annually are driven, by fell necessity, to seek that
provision in foreign lands which is denied them at home. The little
wealth possessed by the home population is not in the possession of
their princes and feudal aristocracy, but in the hands of the mercantile
class, to whom war would not be in the least distasteful, if it opened
out new avenues for their trade. The poverty of the German Junker,
however, has been up to the present only equalled by his
pretentiousness. Sheridan advised the last generation of them, to sell
their high-sounding titles, to buy worsted to mend their stockings. Yet
some of our statesmen would have us believe that these gentlemen, long
suffering under a painful sense of impecuniosity, will, on waking up to
the reality of their being masters of the world, continue to go about,
as heretofore, with empty pockets. Can we suppose that a strong state,
steeped up to the ears in poverty, will continue quiescent, surrounded
by weak states who oppose no barriers to her possession of superabundant
wealth? The inference is against everything we know of human nature,
even upon the supposition that Prussia, to whom the people have
entrusted their fortunes, is the most pacific state in the world, and
that they have been attempted to be worried like bleating lambs, in the
recent struggle. The only rational conclusion is that the Junkers of
Germany will, like every other impoverished class, make the most of
their new position. They will sit down to consider what countries
contain the great reservoirs of commerce, and by what accession of
territory the stream of wealth may be diverted to their own land.
Germany is in the condition of the miller who had large mills but no
water. Is it likely, when she has the power, she will refrain from
entering her neighbour's territory, to divert the course of the element
which sweeps by her with such majestic abundance, without rendering any
service to herself? If she did not withhold her hand from a few barren
roods in the case of Denmark, is she likely to do so when the prize is
more tempting, the power to snatch it a thousand degrees more startling,
and the chances of failure so much less? There can be only one reply to
these questions. If the _bourgeoisie_ condemned the movement, their
opposition would be treated with the same indifference as the opposition
of the great commercial class to the war of 1866. But the Minister has
only to show the trading class that the movement is a commercial
venture, and he will convert them into his staunchest adherents.
The German people have acquired of late years a peace-loving character,
which, however, is rather adventitious than real, springing more out of
the helplessness into which they were thrown by the dissensions of the
Diet, than out of any innate disposition to be less quarrelsome than
their neighbours. That they are more phlegmatic, more industrious, and
less easily roused than the French may be readily admitted. But we
should be strangely oblivious of the thirty years' war, of the Silesian
wars, of the Swedish and Italian wars, of the Danish and Austrian wars,
if we came to the conclusion that, if left to themselves, and in
possession of their united strength, they would be the most benignant
people in the world. The Germans have always evinced a conservative
disposition to follow their feudal chiefs, and, by espousing their
quarrels, have kept Europe embroiled for many centuries. In no other
country could a small state like Prussia spring out of a mere society
of Knight Templars, and in less than two hundred years, take her place
among the first powers of the globe. While the smaller states of the
empire followed their indolent habits, and cultivated the _dilettante_
tastes of their rulers, Prussia was perpetually sharpening her sword,
carving out of her neighbours fresh slices of territory, and using one
acquisition as a stepping-stone to another. The acceptance of the
peaceful pursuits to which the inaction of the minor states, and the
jealous rivalries and despotic tendencies of the larger, impelled their
respective populations, as a pledge of the new era of quiet harmony upon
which Europe is about to enter, is only another instance of taking the
forced and exceptional state of a people for its normal and natural
condition. If the German people could be divorced from their feudal
leanings, if they could bind up their unity with free institutions, and
sink the interest of each particular state in that of the entire
community, we should regard their assumption of military supremacy as a
blessing to Europe. But this state of things, so near being accomplished
in 1848, is now further off than ever. Prussia, then, by the free voice
of Germany, was offered the Imperial crown, upon condition of merging
her individual sovereignty in that of the commonwealth. But she refused.
Now she has got it upon her own terms--that of merging the commonwealth
into herself. All the power and might of Germany, instead of being
allied with liberal institutions, is wielded by one despotic hand.
Instead of Germany swallowing up Prussia, Prussia has swallowed up
Germany. Germany in inaugurating her unity, like the young man coming to
his heritage, was surrounded by two candidates for her favours,--free
institutions and military despotism--and, succumbing to the tempter, she
has flung herself into the embraces of military despotism.
Prussia, who first intoxicated Germany with the idea of unity, has
debauched her with the doctrine of nationality. The lure was in the Elbe
Duchies, which she first held out to the Fatherland, and then
appropriated to herself. The overthrow of Austria induced the Northern
states to submit, some out of compulsion, and others out of love, but
all out of a hope that under so puissant a leader, an impoverished state
of independence might be changed for one of wealthy servility. Hence,
the Confederation or Staatenbund of the North, which placed the
armaments and international relationships of all the states on the
Prussian side of the Main completely under the control of Berlin. The
Treaty of Prague guaranteed independent action, as well as a separate
confederation to the German states south of the Main. But while the ink
wherewith that treaty was signed was scarcely dry, and while Napoleon
was congratulating his subjects on having set up two confederations in
Germany instead of one, Bismark signed treaties of offensive and
defensive alliance with each of the Southern States, which made their
confederation an impossibility, by placing all their armaments as
completely in the hands of Prussia as if they belonged to the Northern
Bund. But, in these days, changes take place so rapidly as to exhaust
our breath in recounting them. The goal of Prussian ambition to-day, is
its starting-post to-morrow. The North German Confederation, with their
treaties of defensive and offensive alliance, which have done their work
so effectually in the subjugation of France, has already made room for
another edifice of a more momentous character. The Staatenbund, which
has disappeared, was, as its name imports, a mere confederacy. The union
was effective for federal purposes, but too much individual action was
left to the component bodies. The armies of the Confederacy, though
under the command of the King of Prussia, as President of the Bund, owed
fealty to their respective chiefs. There is something naïve in the
declaration that they should have command of their own troops in time of
peace. But now this poor shadow of sovereignty is taken away, and the
armies of the Northern States, both in peace and war, are handed over to
the King of Prussia, and constitute part and parcel of the Prussian
force. The joints have, therefore, been tightened in proportion as the
area has been extended. In point of fact, the former mediatized states
have been virtually incorporated with Prussia; while the
semi-independent sovereignties of the south have been reduced to the
position of the former mediatized states. They have only one railway and
water communication, one system of post and telegraph, one mercantile
marine, one tariff, one code of civil and criminal judicature, one
consulate, and one army and navy. The states south of the Main now find
themselves bound up in closer ligatures with those of the north than
formerly united these with each other. In other words, the Staatenbund
has been changed into a Bundesstaat, or a confederacy into one allied
State. The whole of Germany, from the Baltic to the Vosges, from the
frontiers of Gallicia to the mouth of the Weser, is now united in a
single commonwealth, with an hereditary emperor, with a central
parliament, and a common capital: we need hardly add that the majority
of that parliament are Prussian subjects, that the Emperor is the
Prussian monarch, and that the capital is Berlin.
It is curious to notice the careful guarantees by which Prussia has
secured the increase of her ascendancy in the new institution, and the
growth of centralization in her hands. No change can be effected in the
charter which is opposed by fourteen votes of the Federal Council. But
as she has seventeen of these, it is clear Germany cannot enter upon a
more liberal regime unless Prussia wishes it. Baden and Hesse have, like
the Northern States, handed over their armies to Prussia, with whose
forces they are henceforth incorporated. The King of Bavaria has the
command of his own troops only in times of peace; in war he is liable to
be superseded by a Federal commander, appointed by the Emperor.
Würtemburg has consented to consign her troops to a Federal commander,
nominated by Prussia, both in peace and war. For this concession the
King has been allowed to appoint his inferior officers, subject to the
approval of the Emperor. Throughout the rest of Germany, the appointment
of all the officers rests entirely with the Emperor. All the citadels
and fortresses of every state, without exception, are surrendered into
his hands. He can give the keys of all the strong places to whom he
chooses. The Emperor alone can make war or conclude peace; though unless
the country be invaded, he has been restricted, at the instance of
Bavaria, from making war without the consent of the Federal Council.
But, as King of Prussia, he can make war when he pleases, which renders
him as practically independent of control as if the restriction did not
exist. The armaments of Germany are, therefore, as practically in the
hands of Prussia, as the armaments of Russia are in those of the Czar.
The concessions in favour of the Kings of Würtemburg and Bavaria are so
trifling, that to call these princelings kings any longer is trifling
with the name. Their sovereignties are virtually absorbed in the crown
of Prussia. Let the phantom monarchs, who have signed their own
death-warrants at Munich and Stuttgart, presume to interfere with the
mandates of Berlin, and they will be dealt with as summarily as any
provincial _maire_ who ventured to disobey imperial decrees under the
Napoleonic _régime_.
These results we ventured to predict some five years ago, but they have
been brought about with a celerity and completeness which even have
surprised ourselves.[239] The fact is, there is a splendour and glitter
about military achievements which the soberest cannot withstand, when
they appear in the shape of victories over those who have been
perpetually disparaging our strength or crowing over our weakness. It
would, indeed, have been a great advantage to German liberty, had the
different states been allowed to consolidate their unity in peace.
Prussia would then have been obliged to make terms with the southern
populations, who would have been alive to the necessity of obtaining
solid pledges from her, that the resources of the German commonwealth
should not be squandered to gratify the ambition of the house of
Hohenzollern. But the astonishing exploits of Prussia, the unparalleled
series of triumphs which have laid France prostrate at her feet, have
carried away the judgments of the populations of the South, and induced
them to call for indiscriminate amalgamation with the conqueror, in
terms which their princes could not withstand. The sovereigns of
Stuttgart and Munich had, therefore, no choice between deposition and
obedience to the popular voice. They therefore made a virtue of
necessity, and were the first to offer the Imperial Crown to the King of
Prussia. In the Salle des Glaces at Versailles, surrounded by the
pictures and medallions which perpetuate the triumphs of Louis XIV. in
Franche Comté and the Netherlands, and beneath the roof of the edifice
dedicated to all the glories of France, King William was solemnly
proclaimed Emperor, on the anniversary of the day when, 170 years ago,
the Elector Frederick first assumed the crown of Prussia. Before all the
representatives of Germany, ranged beneath the banners of their
respective states, at the gates of the French capital, already quivering
in the throes of capitulation, and girt round with all the panoply and
pride of victorious armies, the German cannon thundered out the ominous
title in the ears of dying France. In the power which the title created,
the lofty pinnacle to which it elevated the sovereign upon whom it was
conferred, in the proud circumstances under which the transfer of the
Imperial Crown was accomplished, the imagination is carried back to the
days of Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa in order to find a
parallel. For, the pageant represented the assumption of no mere
primatial dignity, but the extension of direct sovereign power,
absorbing some three kingdoms, with twenty-four principalities, which at
once enables it to become supreme in Europe, both in war and peace. The
nominal federal ties, by which the princes of the Southern States are
allowed to flatter their hereditary vanity, cannot even outlast the
present generation; for the new elections to the Federal Parliament have
returned a large majority, to strengthen the autocratic interests and
centralizing policy of Prussia. The need of simplification in the laws
which bind up the different states into one homogeneous body, will
powerfully contribute to the same end, so that, in a few years, Prussia
will find herself wielding the power of the Cæsars, with a single
national authority.
That Prussia will not use the tremendous force she has thus acquired to
fight for empty name or mere _gloire_, or marshal her battalions for
deadly conflict, simply because some foreign ambassador has refused to
take off his hat to one of her kings' mistresses, may be readily
conceded; and, taking the transfer of military ascendancy from Paris to
Berlin, so much in the interests of peace has doubtless been gained. But
what guarantee have we that Prussia will not use her vast accession of
power to augment her material interests and enrich the populations who
have confided their fortunes to her management? The military and naval
supplies are raised by taxes, over which neither parliament--the
Reichstag, nor the Federal Council--the Bundesrath, has the slightest
control. The chief corner-stone of English liberty is the dependence of
the executive on Parliament. If it cannot get the supplies from the
legislature, down it goes. But in the adroit charter lately manipulated
at Versailles, there is no executive beyond the Prussian monarch and his
chancellor, and the military taxes of the Empire find their way into
their exchequer, without any check or hindrance, quite as if the process
was a law of nature. The great doctrine of ministerial responsibility,
without which not even the shadow of constitutional liberty can be
inaugurated, finds no place in the charter of the new federal Empire. It
is true that any extraordinary levies or augmentation of the armaments
of the Empire would have to receive the sanction of the new German
legislature. But when we remember that the military resources of the
Empire are already developed to the utmost, that the normal military
organization of the Empire enables Bismark to exhaust its last thaler,
employ its last musket, and call out its last man, it would appear a
mockery to hold out this provision as a guarantee of the influence of
the popular element in the new constitution. It does not improve the
situation, when we remember, how resolutely the popular element in the
Prussian Chambers was set at defiance by the King and his Minister, upon
the refusal of the majority to endorse the increased armaments which
they demanded, to enable them to appropriate the Duchies, and
afterwards to fight Austria. Bismark suspended the Prussian Constitution
for four years, to carry out his policy of blood and iron. A despotic
charter, in the hands of Liberal ministers, might be modified in favour
of progress. But with a despotic charter in the hands of a despotic
minister, we see little hope for the future pacification of Europe.
France is under the heel of Germany, and Germany under the heel of
Prussia. That that power will henceforth champion the liberties she has
hitherto done her best to repress; that she will voluntarily renounce
the plundering policy which has been the predominant feature of her
character for a policy of justice and rectitude; that she will hereafter
woo peace with the same ardour with which she has up to the present
wooed the sword, is what we most devoutly wish, but which we cannot
bring ourselves to believe.
In fact, Prussia has by no means fulfilled the destiny which she avows
it is her honest mission to accomplish. She is called by Providence to
unite the whole of Fatherland under her sceptre. But the German kingdom
still remains divided. The edifice of German nationality still requires
the copestone for the completion of the structure. The words which her
sovereign addressed to the German people on the day when he accepted the
imperial crown at Versailles, are strikingly significant of her
pretensions, 'The Empire,' said the king, or rather Bismark, who spoke
in his person, 'has been in abeyance some sixty years. We are summoned
to undertake its re-establishment.' In 1806, the dissolution of the old
Germanic Empire followed as a natural consequence of the Confederation
of the Rhine. The Emperor of Austria, at the dictation of Napoleon, then
renounced the title and regalia of the empire which had fallen to
pieces, but which King William now takes it upon himself to revive.
'Accordingly,' says this monarch, 'we and our successors to the crown of
Prussia henceforth shall use the imperial title in all the relations and
affairs of the German Empire; and we hope to God that it may be
vouchsafed to the German people to lead the Fatherland on to a blessed
future under the auspices of its ancient splendour.'[240] As an earnest
of this intention, Alsace and German-speaking Lorraine, together with a
portion of French-speaking Lorraine, brought under the German flag, is
an important revival of the old kingdom on its western frontier. This is
a rich slice to commence with. But the resuscitation of the Empire with
the western limb of the Austrian monarchy, and nine millions of Germans
left out, is like the resuscitation of Greece without either Athens or
Thermopylæ; or the play of Hamlet, with the part of the Prince excluded
from the programme. The union of Fatherland would be a mockery, and the
revival of the Empire a nullity, without the annexation of those
provinces which constitute the birthplace and cradle of its history.
Accordingly, when the Germanic Confederation was set up in 1815, as a
substitute for the old diet, the German provinces of Austria were deemed
of such importance as to confer upon her the leading voice in its
councils. It is not, therefore, likely that some forty-two millions of
Germans will long remain united, without endeavouring to include, under
the same hegemony, the nine additional millions now clamouring for
admission outside. Already, within the German provinces of Austria,
committees are established, with a view to afford their Northern
brethren a fulcrum for realizing the desired event. In Glatz, Salzburg,
Innsprück, Linz, and Vienna, _fêtes_ were prepared to celebrate the
recent triumphs of their German compatriots, which the Hohenhart
ministry was obliged to suppress by force. But even despite of the
Government, numerous meetings have been held in which the warmest
eagerness for German unity and for federal union with Berlin has been
expressed. Indeed, the Austro-Germans who formerly aspired to lead
Fatherland, now live in subordination to the Sclaves, whose influence in
the Austrian Chambers, by mere force of numbers, is paramount to their
own. They, therefore, seek union with their heroic countrymen, with all
the more ardour, as it would release them from the ascendency of a race
whom they despise. Guided by the aspirations of his countrymen, Bismark
will find a much easier passage across the Inn to the Leitha than across
the Rhine to the Moselle. The work of German nationality has advanced so
far that we must doubt, if Prussia remained indifferent to the prize,
that the fusion would not be accomplished by the very momentum which the
movement has already acquired. But with Prussia, true to the grasping
instincts of her house, clothed with the enormous prestige of her recent
victories, and throwing all her energies into the struggle, Austria can
no more resist the absorption than a wave of the Eider could resist
being swallowed up in a ground swell from the German Ocean.
The limits of the revived Empire on its Southern frontier will,
doubtless, be such as to enclose those provinces in which the Germans
form the principal element. These comprise Upper and Lower Austria,
including Salzburg, Styria, Carinthia, and the Tyrol. Some two millions
occupy the north and western frontiers of Bohemia. In the north-east of
Moravia, and the eastern part of Austrian-Silesia, there are some seven
hundred thousand more. But the proportion of the German to the Sclavonic
populations of Bohemia and Moravia is only one-fourth; so that these
provinces cannot be annexed to the German Empire without giving the
doctrine of nationality its _coup de grâce_. But Moravia and Bohemia
constituted integral portions of the old German Empire. They were, also,
reclaimed as such by Austria, on the construction of the Germanic
Confederation in 1815. There are besides strategical reasons. For the
Austrian Archducal province, with its three millions of Germans, would
be blocked up between the Czechs and Magyars, while Bohemia would extend
like a wedge into the bowels of the Empire. We are afraid, that when the
question comes to be settled, both Bohemia and Moravia will find
themselves eaten up, sandwichlike, by the German populations on the
north and south frontiers, and assimilated into the political body which
is already dominating Europe.
But the necessity of increased outlets for German industry, and of
further materials for the expansion of her commerce, will be as powerful
a stimulant for the growth of Prussian Cæsarism as the principle of
nationality. Germany having achieved her national unity, will require
free access to the seaboard of the German Ocean. She will require ships
and colonies. The possession of Holland would place all these
requirements at her disposal, and enable her to fructify her home
commerce a hundredfold. Professor Newman sees such advantage to both
parties in the annexation, that he is anxious the union should be
accomplished; he rather naïvely adds that Prussia will withhold her
hand, because she would not wish to be hampered with Java or Surinam,
and the other possessions which alone impart to Holland its
significancy. Twenty millions of colonial population, however, would be
a prize as glittering to the Germans as the Dutch seaboard at home; and,
therefore, no one was overwhelmed with surprise when its annexation was
mentioned as one of the overtures made by Bismark to the French Emperor
in return for Prussian acquiescence in the French seizure of Belgium.
Nor can it excite wonder that the French Emperor refused as promptly as
his uncle, when the Russian Alexander offered to France both Syria and
Egypt in return for allowing him to seize Constantinople. But now there
is no France to block the way, and Holland is entirely at the mercy of
Berlin. The House of Nassau had its representative in the Germanic
Confederation, to answer for the interests of Luxembourg. Why should it
not have its representative in the Bundesrath at Berlin, and sacrifice
its independence, to bask in the splendour of the new Empire? If the
four millions of Dutchmen do not fall in with these suggestions so
readily as the five millions of Bavarians, they will be found as
incompetent as the Bavarians would have been, to oppose the high behests
and the colossal interests of a race of fifty millions, who threaten to
rule the world. The Netherlands were an important limb of the old
Germanic Empire. The Dutch section of it is identified with Germany by
military traditions. Her language and religion are Teutonic. In resuming
possession of this territory, the revivers of the old imperial
domination would not meet with anything like the difficulties they have
to encounter in incorporating the eastern frontiers of France.
The absorption of Holland, by so powerful a country as Germany, would
deal a heavy blow at our own naval supremacy. But this danger is the
least of those which are ahead. For Prussia does not appear alone upon
the scene of action; and there are prizes for her to seize, which
require the support of an ally who has herself a direct interest in the
spoil, and who is troubled with as few scruples as Prussia herself.
There cannot, we think, be a doubt that Prussia entered upon the recent
campaign with a secret understanding with Russia, of armed intervention
on the part of that power, in case of certain eventualities arising out
of the war, unfavourable to Prussia. The two combatants had not measured
swords at Spicheren, before this treaty was suddenly announced, and as
boldly denied. The cordial greetings of the two courts, moreover, during
the progress of the war; the shout of rapture which every French
disaster drew from the Emperor Alexander; the indiscreet announcement of
the Emperor William, that he would never forget that he owed it to the
attitude of his Imperial nephew that the war did not assume larger
dimensions, and the conferring on each other, at the conclusion of the
campaign, military honours; all these things tend conclusively to prove
that, in league with Prussia, there is a power still more formidable to
the liberties of mankind. Had it not been for this assurance of support
from Russia, it would have been perfect madness for Prussia to leave her
eastern frontier exposed to the inroads of Austria, when that power was
counting her chances as to throwing in her lot with France. Had Austria
moved a musket, Russia would have poured her troops through the defiles
of the Carpathians, and given her another enemy to encounter. Bismark
was, therefore, enabled to leave Saxony as much unprotected, as were the
Rhine Provinces in the war of 1866. When France was prostrate; when she
was expiring under the terrible effects of the blow which she had
recklessly invited, but which the connivance of Russia enabled Germany
with collective force to deal; that power plainly exposed her cards, and
showed the interests she had in the struggle. In the month of November,
Gortschakoff startled London by announcing the intention of Russia to
repudiate the treaty of 1856. Within a little time afterwards, the
Prussian Prince of Roumania declared he could no longer support his
position as Turkish feudatary; but must convert his government into one
of independent sovereignty, or retire from it altogether. About the same
period, as if to bring the repudiation of treaties in fashion, Bismark
announced the resolution of Prussia to withdraw from the guarantee of
1867 protecting the neutrality of Luxembourg. If two of these
difficulties have been transitionally arranged, the compromisers have
only deferred the real solution of the question they involve, to a more
convenient opportunity. It is very ominous for England, that Europe, at
present, is virtually in the hands of two potentates evidently acting in
concert with each other, who can place two millions and a half of
fighting men in the field; and that both have shown a disposition to
complicate affairs in the East, to the spoils of which each possesses
peculiar pretensions, as well as peculiar means of realizing those
pretensions in the amplest manner.
The interest of Russia in driving the Turks out of Europe is
traditional. She believes in it as a mission to which she is called by
divine Providence. It is not merely an affair of conquest, but a matter
of religion. For this she exists as a nation, bound to execute the task
at all hazards, and to intermit no opportunity of bringing it about.
With Prussia it is merely a question of arithmetic. But the gain to her,
were the struggle only partially decided in her favour, is such as to
overpower even an Oriental imagination. The conjoint export and import
trade of Turkey may be set down at forty millions annually. Of this
trade England has, at present, the lion's share. The rest is mainly
divided between Italy, France, Austria, and Russia. Prussia and Northern
Germany enjoy little or next to nothing of it. Turkey, to them, might as
well not be in existence, except for the wealth it pours into the
coffers of their neighbours. Formerly Russia has been prevented from
dealing with the 'sick man' by the protectorate of the Western Powers.
England and France have been repeatedly offered ascendancy on the banks
of the Nile, in return for permitting Russian ascendancy on the shores
of the Bosphorus. But, besides the principle of equity, which no English
minister dare contravene, it would have been an absurd policy, in
exchange for an African or Asiatic province, to place our trade in the
Levant in jeopardy, by allowing Russia to instal herself in
Constantinople. But Russia has now an accomplice who can help her to the
booty, who is troubled with no moral delicacy, and who would gain a
large revenue out of the transaction. Prussia, by laying her hand upon
the north-western limb of European Turkey, would command the navigation
of the Danube, and divert a large stream of Oriental commerce to the
capitals of Germany. Provinces which are at present rich, even in their
uncultivated state, would, colonized by Prussia, become the granaries of
the world. The Italian portions of the Empire are gone from it
irretrievably: but Germany can indemnify herself by expansion in an
eastern direction. If, therefore, no extraneous force intervenes, we
look forward to the establishment of a Prussian sovereignty, extending
from the Euxine to the Adriatic, and owning no limit till it tops the
crests of the Balkan. The scion of her house, who has already converted
the Principalities into a Prussian arsenal, is in an admirable position
to direct her energies towards this object. While Russia operates on the
Asiatic frontier, the Prussian Hospodar, backed by German battalions,
and reinforced with ordnance from Berlin, has only to put out his hand,
and Bosnia and Servia are in his grasp. With the iron and steel of the
Vosges, with the copper, lead, and silver mines of Carinthia and
Carniola, with the silks and carpets of Shumla, and the grain of Servia
and Roumania, Germany would possess a trade with which the commerce of
Italy in the Middle Ages, or the colossal industries of England in the
nineteenth century, would be dwarfed in comparison. Would she resist the
prize within her reach, if the tempter at her ear instigated her to take
it as her share of the spoil? The Ottoman Empire may be said to derive
the very breath of its existence from the jealousy of the great Powers.
The States of the West had an instinctive dread of the great Empire of
the North, besides a mutual mistrust of each other; and, therefore, the
fairest plains of Europe were allowed to remain in possession of those
who had no ambitious instincts to gratify, and no foreign predilections
to indulge. But now the state of affairs is profoundly changed, and
Turkey finds herself at the mercy of two military despots, who are
acting in concert, without any protection from their cupidity, but what
their own mistrust of each other may happen to oppose.
Up to 1866 five great Powers existed in Europe. But we cannot conceal it
from ourselves, that in the interim of a few years, three of these have
either been neutralized or practically effaced. Since the battle of
Koeniggratz it would be idle to say that Austria is of any account in
Europe. The blow she received at Solferino was a prelude to the loss of
Venetia, and the loss of her Italian possessions is only a prelude to
the stroke which will drive her completely out of Germany. When empires
rise, they accomplish the task of expansion with difficulty and labour,
but when they sink, everything appears greased to impel the wheels along
the declivity of descent. Austria has ceased to be an empire, and will
soon find it difficult to maintain an independent sovereignty. When her
Germans imitate her quondam Italian subjects in attaching themselves to
their own nationality, the Magyar and multifarious Sclavonian tribes
will alone remain, whose respective interests are so antagonistic, that
anything like union under one sceptre, without being tempered by the
influence of less excitable races, will be difficult in the extreme. At
present, her possession of nine millions of Germans, is much more a
source of weakness than of strength. Prussia, in any scheme of
annexation she may contemplate, or in any object she may have in view,
has only to show that it is for the interest of Fatherland, and Austrian
Germany is at once alive to the necessity of paralysing the action of
its own Government, and assisting the Prussian project. During the late
war, it was manifestly the interest of Austria to have flung in her lot
with France, but had she done so, the first enemy whom she would have
had to encounter would have been her German subjects. The mode in which
she clung to our garments during the struggle, and like a child with its
nurse, interceded with us to interfere between the combatants, when she
dared not interfere herself, was a glaring instance of the timidity
arising out of her weakness. When we remember the boldness of Metternich
before Napoleon I., and how Maria Theresa, yet bleeding from the loss of
Silesia, confronted the united hostility of France and Prussia, we are
astonished at the pusillanimity which Austria displays, even in her
present stage of decrepitude. In 1866, though backed by nearly all the
military forces of the Confederation, she suffered herself to be
prostrated by Prussia, and her imperial mantle to be stript from her in
a few weeks. It is therefore not from such a Power that any help can
come, when Prussia in the name of Germany finds her way to the seaboard
of the Northern Ocean, or when the Russian Emperor and his ally choose
to realize any little plans they may have concerted, with a view of
bringing Turkey within the sphere of European civilization.
The position of France is much more desperate than that of Austria,
though the compact unity of her race holds out a better prospect of her
recovering some portion of her former strength. This, however, if it
occurs, will not be, at least, in our generation. We must, therefore,
regard the course affairs may take during the next twenty years, as if
she was not in existence, at least as a controlling power. It is not the
effect of the material, so much as of the moral, ruin of the French
nation which has to be feared. Before the German armies passed through
the defiles of the Vosges, the corruption of the Second Empire had done
its work in effeminating the character of a gallant people. The mode in
which the Army of the Rhine left the capital of France for the frontier,
animated with the spirit of conquest, and glittering with all the vain
conceit of anticipated triumph, and the mode in which that proud host
was rolled back, never halting for a moment until fortressed walls
afforded them some respite from their pursuers, can be paralleled only
by the bluster of those armies of old, who under Mardonius and Hippias
came to wreck all the pride of Persia against the gates of Greece. The
spirit of a nation must be entirely emasculated, its prowess gone, when
the flower of its soldiery can surrender in masses of hundreds of
thousands to an enemy in numbers hardly superior; and when the great
body of the army can be allowed to be shut up for nearly two months in a
fortress, without making any decisive attempt to cut through a line of
weaker proportionate strength, and without the country so much as
putting up a finger to relieve them. The capitulations of Sedan and
Metz, consigning the famous Imperial Guard, which so often restored the
fluctuating fortunes of France under Ney and Cambronne, and 300,000
soldiers to the hulks of Germany, there to be employed as beasts of
burden and helots, make us almost blush at the name of Frenchmen. Such
shameful surrenders are hardly equalled by the masses of barbarous
Cossacks under Peter the Great, whom Charles XII. netted like shoals of
fish in the Ukraine. If the Republican armies did not conduct
themselves so ignominiously, it cannot be forgotten that the strategy
of Chanzy and Faidherbe was disconcerted by the Mobiles flinging down
their arms at the critical moment, and exhausting in a panic-flight
energies which ought to have been employed against the enemy. Even in
the Paris sorties, after the tide had spent its strength, more soldiers
surrendered themselves than the Germans cared to make prisoners. It also
speaks volumes for French military degeneracy, that the German armies
were permitted, for four months, to go through the dilatory process of
strangling Paris, by famine, without a single attempt being made to
interrupt their two lines of communication with Germany, except a bold
but abortive one by Ricciotti Garibaldi, when, had the country by
foraging parties constantly directed its energies to this end, they
might have placed the besieging armies in the same plight as the
besieged. If the French justly complain of the physical prostration to
which the plundering and huckstering propensities of the Germans have
reduced France, this mischief is nothing in comparison with the moral
prostration to which their submission to twenty years of a corrupt
despotism has brought the country. The injury inflicted by the
foreigner, they may in a few years partially retrieve, but the evil they
have inflicted on themselves is likely to be of a far more permanent
character. The fact is, France can never show her face in the arena of
foreign diplomacy, much less appear in the front rank again, until she
probes her weaknesses to the bottom, and eliminates the causes which
have so powerfully contributed to cast the nation, like a bleeding and
mangled carcase, under the heel of Prussia. Perhaps the most destructive
of these, is the number of hostile factions into which her population is
split, each clamouring against the other, with a hatred ever ready to
burst out into civil conflict. In France, Republicanism is arrayed
against Monarchy, and each of these parties admits of infinite
subdivisions, arrayed against each other. Legitimist, Constitutionalist,
and Imperialist, represent the monarchical element. But the Bonapartist
entertains not a greater hatred to the Orleanist, than the Socialist
entertains to the Conservative Republican. Then, the priest-party in the
country has a thorough abhorrence of the free-thinking Democrat of the
town. It cannot be denied, that during the late war, these factions did
much to paralyze the energies of the country. The Republican party had
little sympathy for the armies which were overthrown at Woerth, and sent
into captivity at Sedan. The priest-party had as little sympathy for the
raw levies which Gambetta sent to be mown down like unresisting grass,
under Chanzy and Bourbaki. The energy of the nation was constantly
divided against itself. Its heart was never thoroughly enlisted against
Germany in any part of the struggle. The country wanted a common hope, a
united faith, a solidarity of principle to champion it in the struggle.
Until these miserable feuds are terminated, we see little hope for
France. For, they reduce the country to the same state of imbecility,
which rendered Poland, fifty years previous to her extinction, of no
account in Europe. That they will entirely disappear we have little
hope. But that they will be very considerably diminished by the galling
chastisement which Prussia has inflicted, is what we try to believe,
although the events which have transpired in Paris during the last
fortnight, in which the bloodthirsty cruelty and aimless recklessness of
the Paris mob have been met by the miserable irresolution, divided
councils, and practical imbecility of the Versailles government, almost
destroy all reasonable hope. It is just in proportion to the degree in
which hatred of Prussia, and the desire of being revenged for the
punishment she has recently administered, shall diminish the rancour of
political factions and amalgamate all the feelings and strength of the
country into one flood-tide of patriotism, that we must look for the
political regeneration of France. Prussia, by the exorbitant demands she
has imposed, has certainly done her utmost to bring about this result.
She has purchased the triumphs and security of to-day, at the expense of
future ages of misery and retribution. But it is not consolatory to
think that, whatever may be her efforts, so low is the present position
of France, that she must consent to remain a political cypher during the
present century, and that her only means of recovering her position,
even as a first-class power, and of directing her united energies and
resources to that end, is by renewing the struggle with her relentless
enemy.
That France in the school of adversity will unlearn much of the
frivolity and self-glorifying spirit which has distinguished her people
during the Second Empire, is another advantage which may be hoped rather
than expected from her recent disasters--an advantage, indeed, which
would confer as many benefits upon herself as upon the world. France,
ever since the days of Louis Quatorze, has been too much accustomed to
deem herself the arbitress of Europe. She had come to recognise it as
her peculiar mission to open or shut the Temple of Janus, and give peace
or war to the world. It was her boast that not a gun could be fired off
in Europe without her consent. This had been repeated so often, in later
times, that not only Frenchmen but mankind generally came to believe it.
The consequence was, that when any restlessness was exhibited at the
Tuileries, foreign nations began to look at their muskets, increase
their armaments, and prepare for eventualities. Nor will anyone, who
considers the exploits of the First Napoleon, the marvels he
accomplished in the midst of a divided Italy and a dismembered Germany,
regard the belief as having no foundation. But France, while trading on
the splendid reminiscences of the First Empire, during the Second,
completely lost that daring and resolute spirit by which those wonders
had been achieved. While pandering to all the foolish vanities, and
indulging in the hectoring and blustering swagger, generated by the
victories of the First Napoleon, she had sunk in the slough of
effeminacy all that martial dash, that burning ardour, and fearless
courage which enabled her, against overwhelming odds, to nail victory to
her standards at Marengo and Austerlitz. The delusion under which she
laboured, was not surpassed by that of Greece, who, when debauched by
her Asiatic conquests, imagined, in her struggles with the Roman Empire,
that she possessed the prowess of the heroes who made such havoc with
the Persian armies at Marathon and Thermopylæ. The folly, into which
this delusion has betrayed her, can only be measured by the colossal
nature of the task she undertook--a task before which even the
adventurous genius of Napoleon would have quailed, that of defeating
upwards of forty millions of Germans armed to the teeth, and united
against her as one man. The result must open her own eyes to the hollow
nature of her pretensions, quite as much as it has undeceived the world.
She must now learn, if she would not be ridiculous, since she cannot
bring her deeds up to the level of her words, to reduce her words to the
level of her performances. She must for ever renounce all idea of
military ascendancy in Europe--an idea, the realization of which has so
often covered her with wounds, and now has eclipsed all her glory. The
cultivation of a chastened spirit on the part of France, the abandonment
of her levity, the manifestation of a proper sense of the humiliation to
which she is reduced, will doubtless free the world from some
nightmares, and powerfully contribute to the rehabilitation of the
country. But the work is a question of time. The change cannot be
perceptibly felt during the lifetime of the present generation; and in
the interim, before she can exercise any marked influence on the course
of events, the keys of Europe may be fought for, and the world's Empire
given away.
When we contrast the past glories of France, the height of power she
attained, or even the influence she might have exerted under wise rulers
over contemporary events, with her present prostration and political
eclipse, it is impossible to over-estimate the gravity of the crisis to
humanity. A great force has been struck out of the nations. A power upon
which during the last half century we leaned for the enforcement of
order, and the progress of constitutional ideas in Europe, has been
removed. She is, at present, as politically dead as if the Atlantic wave
rolled over Limoges, and crested the Jura. Except England, which it is
the fashion to decry as selfish and sordid, her Crimean and Abyssinian
wars notwithstanding, France was the only nation in Europe that was
chivalrous enough to fight for abstract right, especially when it was
endangered among the Latin nations. It is owing to her that Italy has
become free, united, and independent. The Poles always found in her the
resolute champion of their interests. Russian ambition had nowhere a
more uncompromising enemy than the great people whose political
obsequies are now being celebrated by illuminations in Berlin. It is
true, on a few occasions, led away by a false sense of her own interest,
her Government refused to sanction the policy we recommended for its
adoption; and in the case of the Egyptian suzerainty and the Spanish
marriages, moved exactly in a contrary direction. But it may be safely
affirmed that for the last half-century, under every government France
has possessed, she has co-operated with our own, in resisting
aggression, and promoting the triumph of constitutional principles in
every part of Europe. Under the united flags of both countries, an
independent kingdom was founded in Greece. From 1830 to 1833 she
assisted us to establish Belgium, to promote constitutional government
in Switzerland and Piedmont, and to guard the infancy of the
constitutional monarchy of Spain. In 1839, we united our efforts to
extinguish the feud between Mehemet Ali and the Porte. We also joined
our protests, when Russia suppressed Warsaw, and Prussia and Austria
extinguished Cracow, just as we sent in our united protests when these
two powers made their raid on Denmark. Our forces fought together in
1827 to protect Greece from Turkey, as in 1854 to protect Turkey against
Russia. The two Western nations were, as regards force, the complements
of each other. What the one wanted to be complete, the other had.
Singly, they were impotent to withstand any combination of despots; but
united, they might have defied the world. Now France is a wreck, and we
stand isolated in Europe. The head of the Latin nations lies shattered
in the dust; and the people whose independence we assisted her to build
up, are unable by themselves to lift an arm, or to afford any effectual
barrier against aggression. Their sole resource now is in England, who
stands alone, looking with dismay upon the effacement of the two allies,
upon whom she mainly relied in her difficulties, and upon the alliance
of two military monarchies in Europe who dominate the situation. It
depends entirely upon the attitude of Great Britain during the next few
years whether she surely shall participate in the fate of her allies,
and abandon the world to a retrogressive policy; or whether the _foyers_
of freedom and independence shall be kept alive in Europe; and whether
the spirit of justice and rectitude, instead of that of rapacity and
conquest, shall sway the intercourse of nations.
For our part, it is not without some misgivings that we look forward to
the policy of Great Britain, during the next thirty years. We do not
lose our faith in God, nor in the power of right principles, nor do we
mistrust the indomitable spirit and resources of the country when once
fairly roused, disciplined, and utilized with sagacity and skill. But of
late years there has been a growing party in the State, who would
confine the energies of the Government to its own internal affairs; who
would withdraw it from active intervention in European politics; who
would employ every shilling of our expenditure upon developing the
commercial resources of the country, and who would not even prepare to
resist an enemy until they saw him actually approaching our shores. The
disciples of this school, fortified by the principles of political
economy, refuse to see any other element in our relations with foreign
countries than the mere ledger account of barter and gain; and anything
which suspends the traffic, or withdraws the national energies into
other paths, is denounced by them as suicidal to the national interests.
War shatters the doctrines of political economists. It is, therefore,
only natural they should attempt to relieve us of warlike armaments and
decry military organization. There can be no doubt that the Reform Bills
of 1831 and 1868, by throwing power into the hands of the great trading
classes, have augmented the strength of this party, until it weighs with
preponderating effect on the main-spring of Government. We gladly admit
the beneficial influences of the changes which this party have largely
contributed to bring about, in interior retrenchment and municipal
reforms, in the equalization of political privileges, in the extension
of education, in the partial abolition of University Tests, in the
liberation of commerce from protective duties, and of religion from
State-Church endowments. We heartily accord, moreover, with its
denunciations of the war spirit, as such. But we cannot shut our eyes to
the fact that these benefits have not been unalloyed by some admixture
of evil. For, to the fact of our applying all our energies in this
direction, may be traced the breakdown of our armies before Sebastopol;
the acceptance of the declaration of Paris, which strips England of one
of its most potent weapons in naval warfare; and the shameful
abandonment of Denmark in the affair of the Duchies, which has given
rise to three wars and to the present complicated difficulties which we
have to face.[241] It even now is a question whether, if Russia were to
enter upon a new phase of encroachment in the East, or Prussia were to
annex Holland, we could, or dare, interpose with dignity and effect. Any
joint scheme of conquest pursued by these two military monarchies, we
might certainly as well hope to resist, as a child might venture to
arrest an avalanche; and our individual incompetency would, in the eyes
of the governing class, be a solid reason for not endeavouring to
solicit the aid of a series of disorganized States who are weaker than
ourselves. For the last fifty years, our influence abroad has depended
very much on the martial spirit and the indomitable pluck we displayed
in our struggles with the First Napoleon. But, if we were now to enter
upon a Continental war of only one-fifth of the dimensions of that we
carried on against Napoleon, we should find ourselves, without allies,
as little competent to support our former prestige, as the French have
lately found themselves to support the prestige of the First Empire.
But the weakness of England lies not so much in the ascendancy of the
non-intervention party, as in the hand-to-mouth policy of the English
Executive. Every question of foreign policy is considered exclusively on
its own merits, and solely with relation to the circumstances of the
hour. It is never considered as evolved out of the events of the past,
and linked with the impending events of the future. The Minister,
instead of contemplating the question in its philosophic bearings,
surrounded with all the lights which his lofty position enables him to
command, counts his majorities, feels the pulse of the nation through
the organs of the press, and decides upon adopting that course which
shall most contribute to strengthen his power. In all these questions,
the necessity of preserving a Cabinet is always paramount to that of
saving a nation. At this crisis, it is unfortunate we have to do with
States which pursue an entirely opposite system. The foreign policy of
England fluctuates now in one direction, and then in another, much at
the mercy of vulgar opinion, according to whatever whims the Minister
may have who happens to be in power. But the foreign policy of Russia
and Prussia broadens out like a mighty stream which unceasingly rolls
its current in one direction, and never ceases to return with renewed
effort upon any point where it may have sustained a temporary defeat.
The policy of both Powers is one in act, identical in principle,
substance, and complexion. It is the simple abnegation of justice in the
comity of nations. Since the days of Peter the Great, and the first
Frederic, the policy of these two Powers has been one of continuous
annexation and conquest. Prussia has no more intention of arresting her
course at the foot of the Carpathians, than Russia at the foot of the
Caucasus. It behoves, therefore, the British people to change their
course, and adjust their sails to the altered circumstances of affairs.
Nor is it less incumbent on Ministers to be alive to the fact, that,
though they may receive their home policy from the dictates of the
people, it is their high sphere, on all questions of foreign policy, to
guide, direct, create, and fashion the opinion of the country. There may
be a difference of opinion as to how far the nation is bound to uphold
the principles of abstract justice and right in its dealings with other
Powers; but there can be no difference of opinion upon the obligation of
maintaining these principles with the greatest tenacity, wherever their
violation affects our interests. We would claim the support of the most
rabid economist for the expediency of maintaining our rank as a
first-class Power, if upon no higher principle than with a view to keep
open foreign markets for our goods, and to prevent ourselves from being
cut off from the sources of our commercial prosperity. A policy, which
directed all the energies of the country to its own internal affairs,
might be persisted in without radical injury, while the political
equilibrium was divided between five States, each bent upon neutralizing
its neighbour's power by counter-checks and balances; but the same
policy pursued while Europe is in the hands of two military monarchies,
apparently having only one game in view, would be simple ruin to the
nation.
We therefore regard the present Army Organization Bill as a step in the
right direction: our only objection to it is, that it does not go far
enough. What the nation wants is increased military efficiency, and
diminished expense. The Bill does not secure the one, and only partially
realizes the other. We, however, are content to proceed by steps, if we
are only secure of going in the right direction. Let us hope this
measure is only the prelude to a series of others, which may increase
our military efficiency without increasing the military burdens of the
country. But union is strength. The liberal States of Europe, like the
sticks in the fable, may be weak in themselves, but they can easily
become strong by mutual alliance. The time is not inopportune for a
League among the smaller States, based upon mutual defence from attack,
which, if it could not preserve peace, might afford England, in
conjunction with her crippled allies, a fulcrum of support in time of
need. At all events, it is our duty, besides attending to our military
organizations at home, to enter into closer relationship with the
independent States of Europe, that if the autocrats of the North persist
in indulging their old freak of enriching themselves at their
neighbours' expense, they may not find us unprepared to maintain the
power and greatness of this country.