In the later years of Napoleon's rule, when he had reached the summit of
power, and the various German States lay prostrate at his feet, there
arose in Austria a great man, on whom the eyes of Europe were speedily
fixed, and who gradually became the central figure of Continental
politics. This remarkable man was Count Metternich, who more than any
other man set in motion the secret springs which resulted in a general
confederation to shake off the degrading fetters imposed by the French
conqueror. In this matter he had a powerful ally in Baron von Stein, who
reorganized Prussia, and prepared her for successful resistance, when
the time came, against the common enemy. In another lecture I shall
attempt to show the part taken by Von Stein in the regeneration of
Germany; but it is my present purpose to confine attention to the
Austrian chancellor and diplomatist, his various labors, and the
services he rendered, not to the cause of Freedom and Progress, but to
that of Absolutism, of which he was in his day the most noted champion.
Metternich, in his character as diplomatist, is to be contemplated in
two aspects: first, as aiming to enlist the great powers in armed
combination against Napoleon; and secondly, as attempting to unite them
and all the German States to suppress revolutionary ideas and popular
insurrections, and even constitutional government itself. Before
presenting him in this double light, however, I will briefly sketch the
events of his life until he stood out as the leading figure in European
politics,--as great a figure as Bismarck later became.
Clemens Wenzel Nepomuk Lothar, Count von Metternich, was born at
Coblentz, on the Rhine, May 15, 1773. His father was a nobleman of
ancient family. I will not go into his pedigree, reaching far back in
the Middle Ages,--a matter so important in the eyes of German and even
English biographers, but to us in America of no more account than the
genealogy of the Dukes of Edom. The count his father was probably of
more ability than an ordinary nobleman in a country where nobles are so
numerous, since he was then, or soon after, Austrian ambassador to the
Netherlands. Young Metternich was first sent to the University of
Strasburg, at the age of fifteen, about the time when Napoleon was
completing his studies at a military academy. In 1790, a youth of
seventeen, he took part in the ceremonies attending the coronation of
Emperor Leopold at Frankfort, and made the acquaintance of the archduke,
who two years later succeeded to the imperial dignity as Francis II. We
next see him a student of law in the University of Mainz, spending his
vacations at Brussels, in his father's house.
Even at that time Metternich attracted attention for his elegant manners
and lively wit,--a born courtier, a favorite in high society, and so
prominent for his intelligence and accomplishments that he was sent to
London as an attaché to the Netherlands embassy, where it seems that he
became acquainted with the leading statesmen of England. There must have
been something remarkable about him to draw, at the age of twenty, the
attention of such men as Burke, Pitt, Fox, and Sheridan. What interested
him most in England were the sittings of the English Parliament and the
trial of Warren Hastings. At the early age of twenty-one he was
appointed minister to the Hague, but was prevented going to his post by
the war, and retired to Vienna, which he now saw for the first time.
Soon after, he married a daughter of Prince Kaunitz, eldest son of the
great chancellor who under three reigns had controlled the foreign
policy of the empire. He thus entered the circle of the highest
nobility of Austria,--the proudest and most exclusive on the face of the
whole earth.
At first the young count--living with his bride at the house of her
father, and occupying the highest social position, with wealth and ease
and every luxury at command, fond equally of books, of music, and of
art, but still fonder of the distinguished society of Vienna, and above
all, enamored of the charms of his beautiful and brilliant wife--wished
to spend his life in elegant leisure. But his remarkable talents and
accomplishments were already too well known for the emperor to allow him
to remain in his splendid retirement, especially when the empire was
beset with dangers of the most critical kind. His services were required
by the State, and he was sent as ambassador to Dresden, after the peace
of Luneville, 1801, when his diplomatic career in reality began.
Dresden, where were congregated at this time some of the ablest
diplomatists of Europe, was not only an important post of observation
for watching the movements of Napoleon, but it was itself a capital of
great attractions, both for its works of art and for its society. Here
Count Metternich resided for two years, learning much of politics, of
art, and letters,--the most accomplished gentleman among all the
distinguished people that he met; not as yet a man of power, but a man
of influence, sending home to Count Stadion, minister of foreign
affairs, reports and letters of great ability, displaying a sagacity and
tact marvellous for a man of twenty-eight.
Napoleon was then engaged in making great preparations for a war with
Austria, and it was important for Austria to secure the alliance of
Prussia, her great rival, with whom she had never been on truly friendly
terms, since both aimed at ascendency in Germany. Frederick William III.
was then on the throne of Prussia, having two great men among his
ministers,--Von Stein and Hardenberg; the former at the head of
financial affairs, and the latter at the head of the foreign bureau. To
the more important post of Berlin, Metternich was therefore sent. He
found great difficulty in managing the Prussian king, whose jealousy of
Austria balanced his hatred of Napoleon, and who therefore stood aloof
and inactive, indisposed for war, in strict alliance with Russia, who
also wanted peace.
The Czar Alexander I., who had just succeeded his murdered father Paul,
was a great admirer of Napoleon. His empire was too remote to fear
French encroachments or French ideas. Indeed, he started with many
liberal sentiments. By nature he was kind and affectionate; he was
simple in his tastes, truthful in his character, philanthropic in his
views, enthusiastic in his friendships, and refined in his
intercourse,--a broad and generous sovereign. And yet there was
something wanting in Alexander which prevented him from being great. He
was vacillating in his policy, and his judgment was easily warped by
fanciful ideas. "His life was worn out between devotion to certain
systems and disappointment as to their results. He was fitful,
uncertain, and unpractical. Hence he made continual mistakes. He meant
well, but did evil, and the discovery of his errors broke his heart. He
died of weariness of life, deceived in all his calculations," in 1825.
Metternich spent four years in Berlin, ferreting out the schemes of
Napoleon, and striving to make alliances against him; but he found his
only sincere and efficient ally to be England, then governed by Pitt.
The king of Prussia was timid, and leaned on Russia; he feared to offend
his powerful neighbor on the north and east. Nor was Prussia then
prepared for war. As for the South German States, they all had their
various interests to defend, and had not yet grasped the idea of German
unity. There was not a great statesman or a great general among them
all. They had their petty dynastic prejudices and jealousies, and were
absorbed in the routine of court etiquette and pleasures, stagnant and
unenlightened. The only brilliant court life was at Weimar, where Goethe
reigned in the circle of his idolaters. The great men of Germany at
that time were in the universities, interested in politics, like the
Humboldts at Berlin, but not taking a prominent part. Generals and
diplomatists absorbed the active political field. As for orators, there
were none; for there were no popular assemblies,--no scope for their
abilities. The able men were in the service of their sovereigns as
diplomatists in the various courts of Europe, and generally were nobles.
Diplomacy, in fact, was the only field in which great talents were
developed and rewarded outside the realm of literature.
In this field Metternich soon became pre-eminently distinguished. He was
at once the prompting genius and the agent of an absolute sovereign who
ruled over the most powerful State, next to France, on the continent of
Europe, and the most august. The emperor of Austria was supposed to be
the heir of the Caesars and of Charlemagne. His territories were more
extensive than that of France, and his subjects more numerous than those
of all the other German States combined, except Prussia. But the emperor
himself was a feeble man, sickly in body, weak in mind, and governed by
his ministers, the chief of whom was Count Stadion, minister of foreign
affairs. In Austria the aristocracy was more powerful and wealthy than
the nobility of any other European State. It was also the most
exclusive. No one could rise by any talents into their favored circle.
They were great feudal landlords; and their ranks were not recruited, as
in England, by men of genius and wealth. Hence, they were narrow,
bigoted, and arrogant; but they had polished and gracious manners, and
shone in the stiff though elegant society of Vienna,--not brilliant as
in Paris or London, but exceedingly attractive, and devoted to pleasure,
to grand hunting-parties on princely estates, to operas and balls and
theatres. Probably Vienna society was dull, if it was elegant, from the
etiquette and ceremonies which marked German courts; for what was called
society was not that of distinguished men in letters and art, but almost
exclusively that of nobles. A learned professor or wealthy merchant
could no more get access to it than he could climb to the moon. But as
Vienna was a Catholic city, great ecclesiastical dignitaries, not always
of noble birth, were on an equality with counts and barons. It was only
in the Church that a man of plebeian origin could rise. Indeed, there
was no field for genius at all. The musician Haydn was almost the only
genius that Austria at that time possessed outside of diplomatic or
military ranks.
Napoleon had now been crowned emperor, and his course had been from
conquering to conquer. The great battles of Austerlitz and Jena had been
fought, which placed Austria and Prussia at the mercy of the conqueror.
It was necessary that some one should be sent to Paris capable of
fathoming the schemes of the French emperor, and in 1806 Count
Metternich was transferred from Berlin to the French capital. No abler
diplomatist could be found in Europe. He was now thirty-three years of
age, a nobleman of the highest rank, his father being a prince of the
empire. He had a large private fortune, besides his salary as
ambassador. His manners were perfect, and his accomplishments were
great. He could speak French as well as his native tongue. His head was
clear; his knowledge was accurate and varied. Calm, cold, astute,
adroit, with infinite tact, he was now brought face to face with
Talleyrand, Napoleon's minister of foreign affairs, his equal in
astuteness and dissimulation, as well as in the charms of conversation
and the graces of polished life. With this statesman Metternich had the
pleasantest relations, both social and diplomatic. Yet there was a
marked difference between them. Talleyrand had accepted the ideas of the
Revolution, but had no sympathy with its passions and excesses. He was
the friend of law and order, and in his heart favored constitutional
government. On this ground he supported Napoleon as the defender of
civilization, but afterward deserted him when he perceived that the
Emperor was resolved to rule without constitutional checks. His nature
was selfish, and he made no scruple of enriching himself, whatever
master he served; but he was not indifferent to the welfare and glory of
France. Metternich, on the other hand, abhorred the ideas of the
Revolution as much as he did its passions. He saw in absolutism the only
hope of stability, the only reign of law. He distrusted constitutional
government as liable to changes, and as unduly affected by popular ideas
and passions. He served faithfully and devotedly his emperor as a sacred
personage, ruling by divine right, to whom were intrusted the interests
of the nation. He was comparatively unselfish, and was prepared for any
personal sacrifices for his country and his sovereign.
Metternich was treated with distinguished consideration at Paris, not
only because he was the representative of the oldest and proudest
sovereignty in Europe,--still powerful in the midst of disasters,--but
also on account of his acknowledged abilities, independent attitude, and
stainless private character. All the other ambassadors at Paris were
directed to act in accordance with his advice. In 1807 he concluded the
treaty of Fontainebleau, which was most favorable to Austrian interests.
He was the only man at court whom Napoleon could not browbeat or
intimidate in his affected bursts of anger. Personally, Napoleon liked
him as an accomplished and agreeable gentleman; as a diplomatist and
statesman the Emperor was afraid of him, knowing that the Austrian was
at the bottom of all the intrigues and cabals against him. Yet he dared
not give Metternich his passports, nor did he wish to quarrel with so
powerful a man, who might defeat his schemes to marry the daughter of
the Austrian emperor,--the light-headed and frivolous Marie Louise. So
Metternich remained in honor at Paris for three years, studying the
character and aims of Napoleon, watching his military preparations, and
preparing his own imperial master for contingencies which would probably
arise; for Napoleon was then meditating the conquest of Spain, as well
as the invasion of Russia, and Metternich as well as Talleyrand knew
that this would be a great political blunder, diverting his armies from
the preservation of the conquests he had already made, and giving to the
German States the hope of shaking off their fetters at the first
misfortune which should overtake him. No man in Europe so completely
fathomed the designs of Napoleon as Metternich, or so profoundly
measured and accurately estimated his character. And I here cannot
forbear to quote his own language, both to show his sagacity and to
reproduce the portrait he drew of Napoleon.
"He became," says Metternich, "a great legislator and administrator, as
he became a great soldier, by following out his instincts. The turn of
his mind always led him toward the positive. He disliked vague ideas,
and hated equally the dreams of visionaries and the abstractions of
idealists. He treated as nonsense everything that was not clearly and
practically presented to him. He valued only those sciences which can be
verified by the senses, or which rest on experience and observation. He
had the greatest contempt for the false philosophy and false
philanthropy of the eighteenth century. Among its teachers, Voltaire was
the special object of his aversion. As a Catholic, he recognized in
religion alone the right to govern human societies. Personally
indifferent to religious practices, he respected them too much to permit
the slightest ridicule of those who followed them; and yet religion with
him was the result of an enlightened policy rather than an affair of
sentiment. He was persuaded that no man called to public life could be
guided by any other motive than that of interest.
"He was gifted with a particular tact in recognizing those men who could
be useful to him. He had a profound knowledge of the national character
of the French. In history he guessed more than he knew. As he always
made use of the same quotations, he must have drawn from a few books,
especially abridgments. His heroes were Alexander, Caesar, and
Charlemagne. He laid great stress on aristocratic birth and the
antiquity of his own family. He had no other regard for men than a
foreman in a manufactory feels for his work-people. In private, without
being amiable, he was good-natured. His sisters got from him all they
wanted. Simple and easy in private life, he showed himself to little
advantage in the great world. Nothing could be more awkward than he in a
drawing-room. He would have made great sacrifices to have added three
inches to his height. He walked on tiptoe. His costumes were studied to
form a contrast with the circle which surrounded him, by extreme
simplicity or extreme elegance. Talma taught him attitudes.
"Having but one passion,--that of power,--he never lost either his time
or his means in those objects which deviated from his aims. Master of
himself, he soon became master of events. In whatever period he had
appeared, he would have played a prominent part. His prodigious
successes blinded him; but up to 1812 he never lost sight of the
profound calculations by which he so often conquered. He never recoiled
from fear of the wounds he might cause. As a war-chariot crushes
everything it meets on its way, he thought of nothing but to advance. He
could sympathize with family troubles; he was indifferent to political
calamities.
"Disinterested generosity he had none; he only dispensed his favors in
proportion to the value he put on the utility of those who received
them. He was never influenced by affection or hatred in his public acts.
He crushed his enemies without thinking of anything but the necessity of
getting rid of them.
"In his political combinations he did not fail to reckon largely on the
weakness or errors of his adversaries. The alliance of 1813 crushed him
because he was not able to persuade himself that the members of the
coalition could remain united, and persevere in a given course of
action. The vast edifice he constructed was exclusively the work of his
own hands, and he was the keystone of the arch; but the gigantic
construction was essentially wanting in its foundations, the materials
of which were nothing but the ruins of other buildings."
Such is the verdict of one of the acutest and most dispassionate men
that ever lived. Napoleon is not painted as a monster, but as a
supremely selfish man bent entirely on his own exaltation, making the
welfare of France subservient to his own glory, and the interests of
humanity itself secondary to his pride and fame. History can add but
little to this graphic sketch, although indignant and passionate enemies
may dilate on the Corsican's hard-heartedness, his duplicity, his
treachery, his falsehood, his arrogance, and his diabolic egotism. On
the other hand, weak and sentimental idolaters will dwell on his
generosity, his courage, his superhuman intellect, and the love and
devotion with which he inspired his soldiers,--all which in a sense is
true. The philosophical historian will enumerate the services Napoleon
rendered to his country, whatever were his virtues or faults; but of
these services the last person to perceive the value was Metternich
himself, even as he would be the last to acknowledge the greatness of
those revolutionary ideas of which Napoleon was simply the product. It
was the French Revolution which produced Napoleon, and it was the French
Revolution which Metternich abhorred, in all its aspects, beyond any
other event in the whole history of the world. But he was not a
rhetorician, as Burke was, and hence confined himself to acts, and not
to words. He was one of those cool men who could use decent and
temperate language about the Devil himself and the Pandemonium in which
he reigns.
On the breaking up of diplomatic relations between Austria and France in
1809, Metternich was recalled to Vienna to take the helm of state in the
impending crisis. Count von Stadion, though an able man, was not great
enough for the occasion. Only such a consummate statesman as Metternich
was capable of taking the reins intrusted to him with unbounded
confidence by his feeble master, whose general policy and views were
similar to those of his trusted minister, but who had not the energy to
carry them out. Metternich was now made a prince, with large gifts of
land and money, and occupied a superb position,--similar to that which
Bismarck occupied later on in Prussia, as chancellor of the empire. It
was Metternich's policy to avert actual hostilities until Austria could
recover from the crushing defeat at Austerlitz, and until Napoleon
should make some great mistake. He succeeded in arranging another treaty
with France within the year.
The object which Napoleon had in view at this time was his marriage with
Marie Louise, from which he expected an heir to his vast dominions, and
a more completely recognized position among the great monarchs of
Europe. He accordingly divorced Josephine,--some historians say with her
consent. Ten years earlier his offers would, of course, have been
indignantly rejected, or three years later, after the disasters of the
Russian campaign. But Napoleon was now at the summit of his power,--the
arbiter of Europe, the greatest sovereign since Julius Caesar, with a
halo of unprecedented glory, a prodigy of genius as well as a recognized
monarch. Nothing was apparently beyond his aspirations, and he wanted
the daughter of the successor of Charlemagne in marriage. And her
father, the proud Austrian emperor, was willing to give her up to his
conqueror from reasons of state, and from policy and expediency. To all
appearance it was no sacrifice to Marie Louise to be transferred from
the dull court of Vienna to the splendid apartments of the Tuileries, to
be worshipped by the brilliant marshals and generals who had conquered
Europe, and to be crowned as empress of the French by the Pope himself.
Had she been a nobler woman, she might have hesitated and refused; but
she was vain and frivolous, and was overwhelmed by the glory with which
she was soon to be surrounded.
And yet the marriage was a delicate affair, and difficult to be managed.
It required all the tact of an arch-diplomatist. So Prince Metternich
was sent to Paris to bring it about. In fact, it was he more than any
one else who for political reasons favored this marriage. Napoleon was
exceedingly gracious, while Metternich had his eyes and ears open. He
even dared to tell the Emperor many unpleasant truths. The affair,
however, was concluded; and after Napoleon's divorce from Josephine, in
1810, the Austrian princess became empress of the French.
One thing was impressed on the mind of Metternich during the festivities
of this second visit to Paris; and that was that during the year 1811
the peace of Europe would not be disturbed. Napoleon was absorbed with
the preparations for the invasion of Russia,--the only power he had not
subdued, except England, and a power in secret coalition with both
Prussia and Austria. His acquisitions would not be secure unless the
Colossus of the North was hopelessly crippled. Metternich saw that the
campaign could not begin till 1812, and that the Emperor had need of all
the assistance he could get from conquered allies. He saw also the
mistakes of Napoleon, and meant to profit by them. He anticipated for
that daring soldier nothing but disaster in attempting to battle the
powers of Nature at such a distance from his capital. He perceived that
Napoleon was alienating, in his vast schemes of aggrandizement, even his
own ministers, like Talleyrand and Fouché, who would leave him the
moment they dared, although his marshals and generals might remain true
to him because of the enormous rewards which he had lavished upon them
for their military services. He knew the discontent of Italy and Poland
because of unfulfilled promises. He knew the intense hatred of Prussia
because of the humiliations and injuries Napoleon had inflicted on her.
Metternich was equally aware of the hostility of England, although Pitt
had passed away; and he despised the arrogance of a man who looked upon
himself as greater than destiny. "It is an evidence of the weakness of
the human understanding," said the infatuated conqueror, "for any one to
dream of resisting me."
So Metternich, after the marriage ceremony and its attendant
festivities, foreseeing the fall of the conqueror, retired to his post
at Vienna to complete his negotiations, and make his preparations for
the renewal of the conflict, which he now saw was inevitable. His work
was to persuade Prussia, Russia, and the lesser Powers, of the absolute
necessity of a sincere and cordial alliance to make preparations for the
conflict to put down, or at least successfully to resist, the common
enemy,--the ruthless and unscrupulous disturber of the peace of Europe;
not to make war, but to prepare for war in view of contingencies; and
this not merely to preserve the peace of Europe, but to save themselves
from ruin. All his confidential letters to his sovereign indicate his
conviction that the throne of Austria was in extreme danger of being
subverted. All his despatches to ambassadors show that affairs were
extremely critical. His policy, in general terms, was pacific; he longed
for peace on a settled basis. But his policy in the great crisis of 1811
and 1812 was warlike,--not for immediate hostilities, but for war as
soon as it would be safe to declare it. It was his profound conviction
that a lasting peace was utterly impossible so long as Napoleon reigned;
and this was the conviction also of Pitt and Castlereagh of England and
of the Prussian Hardenberg.
The main trouble was with Prussia. Frederick William III. was timid, and
considering the intense humiliation of his subjects and the overpowering
ascendency of Napoleon, saw no hope but in submission. He was afraid to
make a move, even when urged by his ministers. Indeed, he had in 1808
exiled the greatest of them, Stein, at the imperious demand of the
French emperor,--sending him to a Rhenish city, whence he was soon after
compelled to lead a fugitive life as an outlaw. It is true the king did
not like Stein, and saw him go without regret. He could not endure the
overshadowing influence of that great man, and was offended by his
brusque manners and his plain speech. But Stein saw things as
Metternich saw them, and had when prime minister devoted himself to
administrative and political reforms. Prince Hardenberg, the successor
of Stein, was easily convinced of Metternich's wisdom; for he was a
patriot and an honest man, though loose in his private morals in some
respects. Metternich had an ally, too, in Schornhurst, who was
remodelling the whole military system of Prussia.
The king, however, persisted in his timid policy until the Russian
campaign,--a course which, singularly enough, proved the wisest in his
circumstances. When at last the king yielded, all Prussia arose with
unbounded enthusiasm to engage in the war of liberation; Prussia needed
no urging when actually invaded; Austria openly threw off her
conservative appearance of armed neutrality: and the coalition for which
Metternich had long been laboring, and of which he was the life and
brain, became a reality. The battle of Leipsic settled the fate
of Napoleon.
Even before that fatal battle was fought, however, Napoleon, had he been
wise, might have saved himself. If he had been content in 1812 to spend
the winter in Smolensk, instead of hurrying on to Moscow, the enterprise
might not have been disastrous; but after his retreat from Russia, with
the loss of the finest army that Europe ever saw, he was doomed. Yet he
could not brook further humiliation. He resolved still to struggle. "It
may cost me my throne," said he, "but I will bury the world beneath its
ruins." He marched into Germany, in the spring of 1813, with a fresh
army of three hundred and fifty thousand men, replacing the half million
he had squandered in Russia. Metternich shrank from further bloodshed,
but clearly saw the issue. "You may still have peace," said he in an
audience with Napoleon. "Peace or war lie in your own hands; but you
must reduce your power, or you will fail in the contest." "Never!"
replied Napoleon; "I shall know how to die, but I will not yield a
handbreadth of soil." "You are lost, then," said the Austrian
chancellor, and withdrew. "It is all over with the man," said Metternich
to Berthier, Napoleon's chief of staff; and he turned to marshal the
forces of his empire. A short time was given Napoleon to reconsider, but
without effect. At twelve o'clock, Aug. 10, 1813, negotiations ceased;
the beacon fires were lighted, and hostilities recommenced. During the
preparations for the Russian campaign, Austria had been neutral and the
rest of Germany submissive; but now Russia, Prussia, and Austria were
allied, by solemn compact, to fight to the bitter end,--not to ruin
France, but to dethrone Napoleon.
The allied monarchs then met at Toplitz, with their ministers, to
arrange the plan of the campaign,--the Austrian armies being commanded
by Prince Schwartzenberg, and the Prussians by Blücher. Then followed
the battle of Leipsic, on the 16th to the 18th of October, 1813,--"the
battle of the nations," it has been called,--and Napoleon's power was
broken. Again the monarchs, with their ministers, met at Basle to
consult, and were there joined by Lord Castlereagh, who represented
England, the allied forces still pursuing the remnants of the French
army into France. From Basle the conference was removed to the heights
of the Vosges, which overlooked the plains of France. On the 1st of
April, 1814, the allied sovereigns took up their residence in the
Parisian palaces; and on April 4 Napoleon abdicated, and was sent to
Elba. He still had twelve thousand or fifteen thousand troops at
Fontainebleau; but his marshals would have shot him had he made further
resistance. On the 4th of May Louis XVIII. was seated on the throne of
his ancestors, and Europe was supposed to be delivered.
Considering the evils and miseries which Napoleon had inflicted on the
conquered nations, the allies were magnanimous in their terms. No war
indemnity was even asked, and Napoleon in Elba was allowed an income of
six million francs, to be paid by France.
After the leaders of the allies had settled affairs at Paris, they
reassembled at Vienna,--ostensibly to reconstruct the political system
of Europe and secure a lasting peace; in reality, to divide among the
conquerors the spoils taken from the vanquished. The Congress of
Vienna,--in session from November, 1814, to June, 1815,--of which Prince
Metternich was chosen president by common consent, was one of the
grandest gatherings of princes and statesmen seen since the Diet of
Worms. There were present at its deliberations the Czar of Russia, the
Emperor of Austria, the kings of Prussia, Denmark, Bavaria, and
Würtemberg, and nearly every statesman of commanding eminence in Europe.
Lord Castlereagh represented England; Talleyrand represented the
Bourbons of France; and Hardenberg, Prussia. Von Stein was also present,
but without official place. Besides these was a crowd of petty princes,
each with attachés. Metternich entertained the visitors in the most
lavish and magnificent manner. The government, though embarrassed and
straitened by the expense of the late wars, allowed £10,000 a day, equal
perhaps in that country and at that time to £50,000 to-day in London.
Nothing was seen but the most brilliant festivities, incessant balls,
fêtes, and banquets. The greatest actors, the greatest singers, and the
greatest dancers were allured to the giddy capital, never so gay before
or since. Beethoven was also there, at the height of his fame, and the
great assembly rooms were placed at his disposal.
The sittings of the Congress, in view of the complicated questions
which had to be settled, did not regularly begin till November. The
meetings at first were harmonious; but ere long they became acrimonious,
as the views of the representatives of the four great powers--Russia,
Austria, England, and Prussia--were brought to light. They all, except
England, claimed enormous territories as a compensation for the
sacrifices they had made. Talleyrand at first was excluded from the
conferences; but his wonderful skill as a diplomatist soon made his
power felt. He was the soul of intrigue and insincerity. All the
diplomatists were at first wary and prudent, then greedy and
unscrupulous. Violent disputes arose. The Emperor Alexander openly
quarrelled with Metternich, and refused to be present at his parties,
although they had been on the most friendly terms.
In the division of the spoils, the Czar claimed the Grand Duchy of
Warsaw, to be nominally under the rule of a sovereign, but really to be
incorporated with his vast empire. Metternich resisted this claim with
all the ability he had, as bringing Russia too dangerously near the
frontiers of Austria; but Alexander had laid Prussia under such immense
obligations that Frederick William supported his claims,--with the
mutual understanding, however, that Prussia should annex the kingdom of
Saxony, since Saxony had supported Napoleon. The plenipotentiaries were
in such awe of the vast armies of the Czar, that they were obliged to
yield to this wicked annexation; and Poland--once the most powerful of
the mediaeval kingdoms of Europe--was wiped out of the map of
independent nations. This acquisition by far outbalanced all the
expenses which Alexander had incurred during the war of liberation. It
made Russia the most powerful military empire in the world.
Although Prussia and Austria had been, since the times of Frederic the
Great, in perpetual rivalry, the greatness of the common danger from
such a warlike neighbor now induced Metternich to make every overture to
Prussia to prevent a possible calamity to Germany; but Frederick William
was obstinate, and his league with Alexander could not be broken. It
appears, from the memoirs of Metternich, that it had been for a long
time his desire to unite Prussia and Austria in a firm alliance, in
order to protect Germany in case of future wars. That was undoubtedly
his true policy. It was the policy fifty years later of Bismarck,
although he was obliged to fight and humble Austria before he could
consummate it. With Russia on one side and France on the other, the only
hope of Germany is in union. But this aim of the great Austrian
statesman was defeated by the stupidity and greed of the Prussian king,
and by his interested friendship with "the autocrat of all the
Russias." Alexander got Poland, with an addition of about four million
subjects to his empire.
A greater resistance was made to the outrageous claims of Prussia. She
wanted to annex the whole of Saxony and important provinces on the
Rhine, which would have made her more powerful than Austria. Neither
Metternich nor Talleyrand nor Castlereagh would hear of this crime; and
so angry and threatening were the disputes in the Congress that a treaty
was signed by England, France, and Austria for an offensive and
defensive alliance against Prussia and Russia, in case the claims of
Prussia were persisted in. After the combination of Russia, Prussia,
Austria, and England against Napoleon, there was imminent danger of war
breaking out between these great Powers in the matter of a division of
spoils. In rapacity and greed they showed themselves as bad as
Napoleon himself.
Prussia, however, was the most greedy and insatiable of all the
contracting parties. She always has been so since she was erected into a
kingdom. The cruel terms exacted by Bismarck and Moltke in their late
contest with France indicate the real animus of Prussia. The conquerors
would have exacted ten milliards instead of five, as a war indemnity, if
they had thought that France could pay it. They did not dare to carry
away the pictures of the Louvre, nor perhaps did those iron warriors
care much for them; but they did want money and territory, and were
determined to get all they could. Prussia was a poor country, and must
be enriched any way by the unexpected spoils which the fortune of war
threw into her hands.
This same rapacity was seen at the Congress of Vienna; but the
opposition to it was too great to risk another war, and Prussia, at the
entreaty of Alexander, abated some of her demands, as did also Russia
her own. The result was that only half of Saxony was ceded to Prussia,
raising the subjects of Prussia to ten millions. The tact and firmness
of Talleyrand and Castlereagh had prevented the utter absorption of
Saxony in the new military monarchy. Talleyrand, whose designs could
never be fathomed by the most astute of diplomatists, had succeeded also
in isolating Russia and Prussia from the rest of Europe, and raising
France into a great power, although her territories were now confined to
the limits which had existed in 1792. He had succeeded in detaching
Austria and the southern States of Germany from Prussia. He had split
Germany into two rival powers, just what Louis Napoleon afterwards
aspired to do, hoping to derive from their mutual jealousies some great
advantage to France in case of war. Neither of them, however, realized
the intense common love of both Austria and Prussia, and indeed of all
the German States at heart, for "Fatherland," needing only the genius
of a very great man finally to unite them together in one great nation,
impossible to be hereafter vanquished by any single power.
Austria retained for her share Lombardy, Venice, Parma, Placentia,--the
finest part of Italy, that which was known in the time of Julius Caesar
as Cisalpine Gaul. She did not care for the Low Countries, which formed
a part of the old empire of Charles V., since to keep that territory
would cost more than it would pay. She also received from Bavaria the
Tyrol. As further results of the Congress of Vienna, the Netherlands and
Holland were united in one kingdom, under a prince of the house of
Nassau; Naples returned to the rule of the Bourbons; Genoa became a part
of Piedmont. The petty independent States of Germany (some three
hundred) were united into a confederation of thirty-seven, called the
German Confederacy, to afford mutual support in time of war, and to be
directed by a Diet, in which Austria and Prussia were to have two votes
each, while Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Hanover were to have one vote each.
Thus, Prussia and Austria had four votes out of seven; which practically
gave to these two powers, if they chose to unite, the control of all
external relations. As to internal affairs, the legislative power was
vested in representatives from all the States, both small and great. It
will be seen that the higher interests of Germany were not considered
in this Congress at all, attention being directed solely to a division
of spoils.
But while the Congress was dividing between the princes who composed it
its acquisition of territory by conquest, and quarrelling about their
respective shares like the members of a family that had come into a
large fortune, news arrived of the escape of Napoleon from Elba, after a
brief ten months' detention, the adherence to him of the French army,
and the consequent dethronement of Louis XVIII. The Congress at once
dispersed, forgetting all its differences, while the great monarchs
united once more in pouring such an avalanche of troops into France and
Belgium that Napoleon stood no chance of retaining his throne, whatever
military genius he might display. After his defeat at Waterloo the
allies occupied Paris, and this time exacted a large war indemnity of
£40,000,000, and left an army of occupation of one hundred and fifty
thousand men in France until the money should be paid. They also
returned to their owners the pictures of the Louvre which Napoleon had
taken in his various conquests.
It was while the allies were in Paris settling the terms of the second
peace, that what is called the "Holy Alliance" was formed between
Alexander, Frederick William, and Francis (to whom were afterward added
the kings of France, Naples, and Spain), which had for its object the
suppression of liberal ideas throughout the Continent, in the name of
religion. Some of these monarchs were religious men in their
way,--especially the Czar, who had been much interested in the spread of
Christianity, and the king of Prussia; but even these men thought more
of putting down revolutionary ideas than they did of the triumphs
of religion.
We must, however, turn our attention to Metternich as the administrator
of a large empire, rather than as a diplomatist, although for thirty
years after this his hand was felt, if not seen, in all the political
affairs of Europe. He was now forty-four years of age, in the prime of
his strength and the fulness of his fame,--a prince of the empire,
chancellor and prime minister to the Emperor Francis. On his shoulders
were imposed the burdens of the State. He ruled with delegated powers
indeed, but absolutely. The master whom he served was weak, but was
completely in accord with Metternich on all political questions. He of
course submitted all important documents to the emperor, and requested
instructions; but all this was a matter of form. He was allowed to do as
he pleased. He was always exceedingly deferential, and never made
himself disagreeable to his sovereign, who could not do without him.
From first to last they were on the most friendly terms with each
other, and there was no jealousy of his power on the part of the
emperor. The chancellor was a gentleman, and had extraordinary tact. But
his labors were prodigious, and gave him no time for pleasure, or even
social intercourse, which finally became irksome to him. He was too busy
with public affairs to be a great scholar, and was not called upon to
make speeches, as there was no deliberative assembly to address. Nor was
he a national idol. He lived retired in his office, among ministers and
secretaries, and appeared in public as little as possible.
After the final dethronement of Napoleon, the policy of Metternich with
reference to foreign powers was pacific. He had seen enough of war, and
it had no charm for him. War had brought Germany to the verge of
political ruin. All his efforts as chancellor were directed to the
preservation of peace and the balance of power among all nations. At the
close of the great European struggle the finances of all the German
States were alike disordered, and their industries paralyzed. Compared
with France and England Germany was poor, and wages for all kinds of
labor were small. It became Metternich's aim to develop the material
resources of the empire, which could be best done in time of peace.
Austria, accordingly, took part in no international contest for fifty
years, except to preserve her own territories. Metternich did not seem
to be ambitious of further territorial aggrandizement for his country;
it required all his talents to preserve what she had. Indeed, the
preservation of the _status quo_ everywhere was his desire, without
change, and without progress. He was a conservative, like the English
Lord Eldon, who supported established institutions because they _were_
established; and any movement or any ideas which interrupted the order
of things were hateful to him, especially agitations for greater
political liberty. A constitutional government was his abhorrence.
Hence, the policy of Metternich's home rule was fatal to all expansion,
to all emancipating movements, to all progress, to everything which
looked like popular liberty. Men might smoke, drink beer, attend
concerts and theatres, amuse themselves in any way they pleased, but
they should not congregate together to discuss political questions; they
should not form clubs or societies with political intent of any kind;
they should not even read agitating tracts and books. He could not help
their thinking, but they should not criticise his government. They
should be taught in schools directed by Roman Catholic priests, who were
good classical scholars, good mathematicians, but who knew but little
and cared less about theories of political economy, or even history
unless modified to suit religious bigots of the Mediaeval type. He
maintained that men should be contented with the sphere in which they
were born; that discontent was no better than rebellion against
Providence; that any change would be for the worse. He had no liking for
universities, in which were fomented liberal ideas; and those professors
who sought to disturb the order of things, or teach new ideas,--anything
to make young scholars think upon anything but ordinary duties,--were
silenced or discharged or banished. The word "rights" was an abomination
to him; men, he thought, had no rights,--only duties. He disliked the
Press more than he did the universities. It was his impression that it
was antagonistic to all existing governments; hence he fettered the
Press with restrictions, and confined it to details of little
importance. He would allow no comments which unsettled the minds of
readers. In no country was the censorship of the Press more inexorable
than in Austria and its dependent States. All that spies and a secret
police and priests could do to ferret out associations which had in view
a greater liberty, was done; all that soldiers could do to suppress
popular insurrection was effected,--and all in the name of religion,
since he looked upon free inquiry as logically leading to scepticism,
and scepticism to infidelity, and infidelity to revolution.
In the Catholic sense Metternich was a religious man, since he
recognized in the Roman Catholic Church the conservation of all that is
valuable in society, in government, and even in civilization. He brought
Catholics to his aid in cementing political despotism, for "Absolutism
and Catholicism," as Sir James Stephen so well said, "are but
convertible terms." Accordingly, he brought back the Jesuits, and
restored them to their ancient power and wealth. He formed the strictest
union with the Pope. He rewarded ecclesiastics, and honored the great
dignitaries of the established church as his most efficient and trusted
lieutenants in the war he waged on human liberty.
But I must allude to some of the things which gave this great man
trouble. Of course nothing worried him so much as popular insurrections,
since they endangered the throne, and opposed the cherished ends of his
life. As early as 1817, what he called "sects" disturbed central Europe.
These were a class of people who resembled the Methodists of England,
and the followers of Madam von Krüdener in Russia,--generally mystics in
religion, who practised the greatest self-denial in this world to make
sure of the promises of the next. The Kingdom of Würtemberg, the Grand
Duchy of Baden, and Suabia were filled with these people,--perfectly
harmless politically, yet with views which Metternich considered an
innovation, to be stifled in the beginning. So of Bible societies; he
was opposed to these as furnishing a class of subjects for discussion
which brought up to his mind the old dissertations on "the rights of
man." "The Catholic Church," he writes to Count Nesselrode, the Russian
minister, "does not encourage the universal reading of the Bible, which
should be confined to persons who are calm and enlightened." But he goes
on to say that he himself at forty-five reads daily one or two chapters,
and finds new beauties in them, while at the age of twenty he was a
sceptic, and found it difficult not to think that the family of Lot was
unworthy to be saved, Noah unworthy to have lived, Saul a great
criminal, and David a terrible man; that he had tried to understand
everything, but that now he accepts everything without cavil or
criticism. Truly, a Catholic might say, "See the glorious peace and
repose which our faith brings to the most intellectual of men!"
In 1819 an event occurred, of no great importance in itself, but which
was made the excuse for increased stringency in the suppression of
liberal sentiments throughout Germany. This was the assassination of Von
Kotzebue, the dramatic author, at Manheim, at the hands of a fanatic by
the name of Sand. Kotzebue had some employment under the Russian
government, and was supposed to be a propagandist of the views of the
Czar, who had lately become exceedingly hostile to all emancipating
movements. In the early part of his reign Alexander was called a
Jacobin by Metternich, who despised his philanthropical and sentimental
theories, and his energetic labors in behalf of literature, educational
institutions, freer political conditions, etc.; but when Napoleon was
sent to St. Helena, the Russian ruler, wearied with great events and
dreading revolutionary tendencies, changed his opinions, and was now
leagued with the King of Prussia and the Emperor of Austria in
supporting the most stringent measures against all reformers. Sand was a
theological student in the University of Jena, who thought he was doing
God's service by removing from the earth with his assassin's dagger a
vile wretch employed by the Russian tyrant to propagate views which
mocked the loftiest aspirations of mankind. The murder of Kotzebue
created an immense sensation throughout Europe, and was followed by
increased rigor on the part of all despotic governments in muzzling the
press, in the suppression of public meetings of every sort, and
especially in expelling from the universities both students and
professors who were known or even supposed to entertain liberal ideas.
Metternich went so far as to write a letter to the King of Prussia
urging him to disband the gymnasia, as hotbeds of mischief. His
influence on this monarch was still further seen in dissuading him to
withhold the constitution promised his subjects during the war of
liberation. He regarded the meeting of a general representation of the
nation as scarcely less evil than democratic violence, and his hatred of
constitutional checks on a king was as great as of intellectual
independence in a professor at a gymnasium. Universities and constituent
assemblies, to him, were equally fatal to undisturbed peace and
stability in government.
In the midst of these efforts to suppress throughout Germany all
agitating political ideas and movements, the news arrived of the
revolution in Naples, July, 1820, effected by the Carbonari, by which
the king was compelled to restore the constitution of 1813, or abdicate.
Metternich lost no time in assembling the monarchs of Austria, Prussia,
and Russia, with their principal ministers, to a conference or congress
at Troppau, with a view of putting down the insurrection by armed
intervention. The result is well known. The armies of Austria and
Russia--170,000 men--restored the Neapolitan tyrant to his throne; while
he, on his part, revoked the constitution he had sworn to defend, and
affairs at Naples became worse than they were before. In no country in
the world was there a more execrable despotism than that exercised by
the Bourbon Ferdinand. The prisons were filled with political prisoners;
and these prisons were filthy, without ventilation, so noisome and
pestilential that even physicians dared not enter them; while the
wretched prisoners, mostly men of culture, chained to the most
abandoned and desperate murderers and thieves, dragged out their weary
lives without trial and without hope. And this was what the king,
supported and endorsed by Metternich, considered good government to be.
The following year saw an insurrection in Piedmont, when the patriotic
party hoped to throw all Northern Italy upon the rear of the Austrians,
but which resulted, as will be treated elsewhere, in a sad collapse. The
victory of absolutism in Italy was complete, and all people seeking
their liberties became the object of attack from the three great Powers,
who obeyed the suggestions of the Austrian chancellor,--now
unquestionably the most prominent figure in European politics. He had
not only suppressed liberty in the country which he directly governed,
but he had united Austria, Prussia, and Russia in a war against the
liberties of Europe, and this under the guise of religion itself.
Metternich now thought he had earned a vacation, and in the fall of 1821
he made a visit to Hanover. He had previously visited Italy with the
usual experience of cultivated Germans,--unbounded admiration for its
works of art and sunny skies and historical monuments. He was as
enthusiastic as Madame de Staël over St. Peter's and the Pantheon. In
his private letters to his wife and children, so simple, so frank, so
childlike in his enjoyment, no one would suppose he was the arch and
cruel enemy of all progress, with monarchs for his lieutenants, and
governors for his slaves. His journey to Hanover was a triumphant
procession. The King George IV. embraced him with that tenderness which
is usual with monarchs when they meet one another, and in the
fulsomeness of his praises compared him to all the great men of
antiquity and of modern times,--Caesar, Cato, Gustavus Adolphus,
Marlborough, Pitt, Wellington, and the whole catalogue of heroes. On his
return journey to Vienna, Metternich stopped to rest himself a while at
Johannisberg, the magnificent estate on the Rhine which the emperor had
given him, near where he was born, and where he had stored away forty
huge casks of his own vintage, worth six hundred ducats a cask, for the
use of monarchs and great nobles alone. From thence he proceeded to
Frankfort, a beautiful but to him a horrible town, I suppose, because it
was partially free; and while there he took occasion to visit five
universities, at all of which he was received as a sort of deity,--the
students following his carriage with uncovered heads, and with cheers
and shouts, curious to see what sort of a man it was who had so easily
suppressed revolution in Italy, and who ruled Germany with such an
iron hand.
And yet while Metternich so completely extinguished the fires of
liberty in the countries which he governed, he was doomed to see how
hopeless it was to do the same in other lands by mere diplomatic
intrigues. In 1822 the Spanish revolution broke out; and a year after
came the Greek revolution, with all its complications, ending in a war
between Russia and Turkey. From this he stood aloof, since if he helped
the Turks to put down insurrection he would offend the Emperor
Alexander, thus far his best ally, and commit Austria to a war from
which he shrank. It was his policy to preserve his country from
entangling wars. It was as much as he could do to preserve order and law
in the various States of Germany, at the cost of all intellectual
progress. But he watched the developments of liberty in other parts of
Europe with the keenest interest, and his correspondence with the
different potentates--whether monarchs or their ministers--is very
voluminous, and was directed to the support of absolutism, in which
alone he saw hope for Europe. The liberal views of the English Canning
gave Metternich both solicitude and disgust; and he did all he could to
undermine the influence of Capo D'Istrias, the Greek diplomatist, with
his imperial master the Czar. He hated any man who was politically
enlightened, and destroyed him if he could. The event in his long reign
which most perplexed him and gave him the greatest solicitude was the
revolution in France in 1830, which unseated the Bourbons, and
established the constitutional government of Louis Philippe; and this
was followed by the insurrection of the Netherlands, revolts in the
German States, and the Polish revolution. With the year 1830 began a new
era in European politics,--a period of reform, not always successful,
but enough to show that the spirit of innovation could no longer be
suppressed; that the subterranean fires of liberty would burst forth
when least expected, and overthrow the strongest thrones.
But amid all the reforms which took place in England, in France, in
Belgium, in Piedmont, Austria remained stationary, so cemented was the
power of Metternich, so overwhelming was his influence,--the one central
figure in Germany for eighteen years longer. In 1835 the Emperor Francis
died, recommending to his son and successor Ferdinand to lean on the
powerful arm of the chancellor, and continue him in great offices. Nor
was it until the outbreak in Vienna in 1848, when emperor and minister
alike fled from the capital, that the official career of Metternich
closed, and he finally retired to his estates at Johannisberg to spend
his few declining years in leisure and peace.
For forty years Metternich had borne the chief burdens of the State. For
forty years his word was the law of Germany. For forty years all the
cabinets of continental Europe were guided more or less by his advice;
and his advice, from first to last, was uniform,--to put down popular
movements and uphold absolutism at any cost, and severely punish all
people, of whatever rank or character, who tempted the oppressed to
shake off their fetters, or who dared to give expression to emancipating
ideas, even in the halls of universities.
In view of the execrable tyranny, both political and religious, which
Metternich succeeded in establishing for thirty years, it is natural for
an ordinary person to look upon him as a monster,--hard, cruel,
unscrupulous, haughty, gloomy; a sort of Wallenstein or Strafford, to be
held in abhorrence; a man to be assassinated as the enemy of mankind.
But Metternich was nothing of the sort. As a man, in all his private
relations he was amiable, gentle, and kind to everybody, and greatly
revered by domestic servants and public functionaries. By his imperial
master he was treated as a brother or friend, rather than as a minister;
while on his part he never presumed on any liberties, and seemed simply
to obey the orders of his sovereign,--orders which he himself suggested,
with infinite tact and politeness; unlike Stein and Bismarck, who were
overbearing and rude even in the presence of the sovereign and court.
Metternich had better manners and more self-control. Indeed, he was the
model of a gentleman wherever he went. He was the hardest worked man in
the empire; and he worked from the stimulus of what he conceived to be
his duty, and for the welfare of the country, as he understood it.
Though one of the richest men in Austria, and of the highest social
rank, he lived in frugal simplicity, despising pomp and extravagance
alike. His highest enjoyment, outside the society of his family, was
music. The whole realm of art was his delight; but he loved Nature more
even than art. He enjoyed greatly the repose of his own library,--an
apartment eighteen feet high, and containing fifteen thousand volumes.
The only unamiable thing about Metternich was his fear of being bored.
He maintained that it was impossible to find over six interesting men in
any company whatever. With people whom he trusted he was unusually frank
and free-spoken. With diplomatists he wore a mask, and made it a point
to conceal his thoughts. He deceived even Napoleon. No one could
penetrate his intentions. Under a smooth and placid countenance,
unruffled and calm on all occasions, he practised when he pleased the
profoundest dissimulation; and he dissimulated by telling the truth
oftener than by concealing it. He knew what the _ars celare artem_
meant. When he could find leisure he was fond of travelling, especially
in Italy; but he hated and avoided the discomforts of travel. If he
made distant journeys he travelled luxuriously, and wherever he went he
was received with the greatest honors. At Rome the Pope treated him as a
sovereign. The Czar Alexander commanded his magnates to give to him the
same deference that they gave to himself.
While the world regarded Metternich as the most fortunate of men, he yet
had many sorrows and afflictions, which saddened his life. He lost two
wives and three of his children, to all of whom he was devotedly
attached, yet bore the loss with Christian resignation. He found relief
in work, and in his duties. There were no scandals in his private life.
He professed and seemed to feel the greatest reverence for religion, in
the form which had been taught him. He detested vulgarity in every
shape, as he did all ordinary vices, from which he was free. He was
self-conscious, and loved attention and honors, but was not a slave to
them, like most German officials. Nothing could be more tender and
affectionate than his letters to his mother, to his wife, and to his
daughters. His father he treated with supreme reverence. No public man
ever gave more dignity to domestic pleasures. "The truest friends of my
life," said he, "are my family and my master;" and to each he was
equally devoted. On the death of his second wife, in 1829, he writes,--
"I feel this misfortune most deeply. I have lost everything for the
remainder of my days. The other world is daily more and more peopled
with beings to whom I am united by the closest ties of affection. I too
shall take my place there, and I shall disengage myself from this life
with all the less regret. My only relief is in work. I am at my desk by
nine in the morning. I leave it at five, and return to it at half-past
six, and work till half-past ten, when I receive visitors till
midnight."
Time, however, brought its relief, and in 1831 he married the Princess
Melanie, and his third marriage was as happy as the others appear to
have been. In the diary of this wife, December 31, I read:--
"We supped at midnight, and exchanged good wishes for the new year. May
God long preserve to me my good, kind Clement, and illuminate him with
His divine light. It touches me to see the pleasure it gives him to talk
with me on business, and read to me what he writes."
Such was the great Austrian statesman in his private life,--a dutiful
son, a loving and devoted husband, an affectionate father, a faithful
servant to his emperor, a kind master to his dependants, a courteous
companion, a sincere believer in the doctrines of his church, a man
conscientious in the discharge of duties, and having at heart the
welfare of his country as he understood it, amid innumerable perils from
foreign and domestic foes. As a statesman he was vigilant, sagacious,
experienced, and devoted to the interests of his imperial master.
But what were Metternich's services, by which great men claim to be
judged? He could say that he was the promoter of law and order; that he
kept the nation from entangling alliances with foreign powers; that he
was the friend of peace, and detested war except upon necessity; that he
developed industrial resources and wisely regulated finances; that he
secured national prosperity for forty years after desolating wars; that
he never disturbed the ordinary vocations of the people, or inflicted
unnecessary punishments; and that he secured to Austria a proud
pre-eminence among the nations of Europe.
But this was all. Metternich did nothing for the higher interests of
Germany. He kept it stagnant for forty years. He neither advanced
education, nor philanthropy, nor political economy. He was the
unrelenting foe of all political reforms, and of all liberal ideas. What
we call civilization, beyond amusements and pleasures and the ordinary
routine of business, owes to him nothing,--not even codes of law, or
enlightened principles of government. Judged by his services to
humanity, Metternich was not a great man. His highest claims to
greatness were in a vigorous administration of public affairs and
diplomatic ability in his treatment of foreign powers, but not in
far-reaching views or aims. As a ruler he ranks no higher than Mazarin
or Walpole or Castlereagh, and far below Canning, Peel, Pitt, or Thiers.
Indeed, Metternich takes his place with the tyrants of mankind, yet
showing how benignant, how courteous, how interesting, and even
religious and beloved, a tyrant can be; which is more than can be said
of Richelieu or Bismarck, the only two statesmen with whom he can be
compared,--all three ruling with absolute power delegated by
irresponsible and imperial masters, like Mordecai behind the throne of
Xerxes, or Maecenas at the court of Augustus.