Beacon Lights of History, Volume 10: European Leaders

When Nicholas discovered that he could not force his way to Constantinople over the Balkans, and had withdrawn his forces from the Danubian principalities, peace then might have been honorably declared by all parties. France perhaps might have withdrawn from the contest, which had effected the end at first proposed. But England not only had been entangled in the war by the French alliance, but now was resolved on taking Sebastopol, to destroy the power of Russia on the Euxine; and France was compelled to complete what she had undertaken, although she had nothing to gain beyond what she had already secured. To the credit of Louis Napoleon, he proved a chivalrous and faithful ally, in continuing a disastrous and expensive war for the glory of France and the interests of England alone, although he made a separate peace as soon as he could do so with honor.

It is not my purpose to repeat what I have already written on the Crimean war, although the more I read and think about it the stronger is my disapproval, on both moral and political grounds, of that needless and unfortunate conflict,–unfortunate alike to all parties concerned. It is a marvel that it did not in the end weaken the power and prestige of both Palmerston and Napoleon III. It strengthened the hands of both, as was foreseen by these astute statesmen. Napoleon III. after the war was regarded as a far-seeing statesman, as well as an able administrator. People no longer regarded him as a fool, or even a knave. Success had shut the mouths of his enemies, except of a few obdurate ones like Thiers and Victor Hugo,–the latter of whom in his voluntary exile in Guernsey and Jersey still persisted in calling him "Napoleon the Little." Thiers generally called him Celui-ci,--"That fellow." This illustrious statesman, in his restless ambition and desire of power, probably would have taken office under the man whom he both despised and hated; but he dared not go against his antecedents, and was unwilling to be a mere clerk, as all Louis Napoleon's ministers were, whatever their abilities. He was supported by the army and the people, and therefore was master of the situation. This was a fact which everybody was compelled to acknowledge. It was easy to call him usurper, tyrant, and fool,–anything; but he both "reigned and governed."

"When peace was finally restored, the empire presented the aspect of a stable government, resting solidly upon the approval of a contented and thriving people." This was the general opinion of those who were well acquainted with French affairs, and of those who visited Paris, which was then exceedingly prosperous. The city was filled with travellers, who came to see the glory of success. Great architectural improvements were then in progress, which gave employment to a vast number of men theretofore leading a precarious life. The chief of these were the new boulevards, constructed with immense expense,–those magnificent but gloomy streets, which, lined with palaces and hotels, excited universal admiration,–a wise expenditure on the whole, which promoted both beauty and convenience, although to construct them a quarter of the city was demolished. The Grand Opera-House arose over the débris of the demolished houses,–the most magnificent theatre erected in modern times. Paris presented a spectacle of perpetual fêtes, reviews of troops, and illuminations, which both amused and distracted the people. The Louvre was joined to the Tuileries by a grand gallery devoted chiefly to works of art. The Champs Elysées and the Bois de Boulogne were ornamented with new avenues, fountains, gardens, flowers, and trees, where the people could pursue their pleasure unobstructed. The number of beautiful equipages was vastly increased, and everything indicated wealth and prosperity. The military was wisely kept out of sight, except on great occasions, so that the people should not be reminded of their loss of liberties; the police were courteous and obliging, and interfered with no pleasures and no ordinary pursuits; the shops blazed with every conceivable attraction; the fashionable churches were crowded with worshippers and strangers to hear music which rivalled that of the opera; the priests, in their ecclesiastical uniform, were seen in every street with cheerful and beaming faces, for the government sought their support and influence; the papers were filled with the movements of the imperial court at races, in hunting-parties, and visits to the châteaux of the great. The whole city seemed to be absorbed in pleasure or gain, and crowds swarmed at all places of amusement with contented faces: there was no outward sign of despotism or unhappiness, since everybody found employment. Even the idlers who frequented the crowded cafés of the boulevards seemed to take unusual pleasure at their games of dominoes and at their tables of beer and wine. Visitors wondered at the apparent absence of all restraint from government and at the personal liberty which everybody seemed practically to enjoy. For ten years after the coup d'état it was the general impression that the government of Louis Napoleon was a success. In spite of the predictions and hostile criticisms of famous statesmen, it was, to all appearance at least, stable, and the nation was prosperous.

The enemies that the emperor had the most cause to dread were these famous statesmen themselves. Thiers, Guizot, Broglie, Odillon Barrot, had all been prime ministers, and most of the rest had won their laurels under Louis Philippe. They either declined to serve under Napoleon III. or had been neglected by him; their political power had passed away. They gave vent, whenever they could with personal safety, to their spleen, to their disappointment, to their secret hostility; they all alike prophesied evil; they all professed to believe that the emperor could not maintain his position two years,–that he would be carried off by assassination or revolution. And joined with them in bitter hatred was the whole literary class,–like Victor Hugo, Lamartine, and Cousin,–who hurled curses and defiance from their retreats, or from the fashionable salons and clubs which they frequented. The old noblesse stood aloof. St. Germain was like a foreign city rather than a part of Paris. All the traders among the Legitimists and Orléanists continued in a state of secret hostility, and threw all the impediments they could against the government.

The situation of Louis Napoleon was indeed extremely difficult and critical. He had to fight against the combined influences of rank, fashion, and intellect,–against an enlightened public opinion; for it could not be forgotten that his power was usurped, and sustained by brute force and the ignorant masses. He would have been nothing without the army. In some important respects he showed marvellous astuteness and political sagacity,–such, for instance, as in converting England from an enemy to a friend. But he won England by playing the card of common interests against Russia.

The emperor was afraid to banish the most eminent men in his empire; so he tolerated them and hated them,–suspending over their heads the sword of Damocles. This they understood, and kept quiet except among themselves. But France was a hotbed of sedition and discontent during the whole reign of Louis Napoleon, at least among the old government leaders,–Orléanists, Legitimists, and Republicans alike.

Considering the difficulties and hatreds with which Napoleon III. had to contend, I am surprised that his reign lasted as long as it did,–longer than those of Louis XVIII. and Charles X. combined; longer than that of Louis Philippe, with the aid of the middle classes and the ablest statesmen of France,–an impressive fact, which indicates great ability of some kind on the part of the despot. But he paid dearly for his passion for power in the enormous debts entailed by his first war of prestige, and in the death of more than a hundred thousand men in the camps, on the field of battle, and in the hospitals. If he had had any conscience he would have been appalled; but he had no conscience, any more than his uncle, when anything stood in his way. The gratification of his selfish ambition overmastered patriotism and real fame, and prepared the way for his fall and the ignominy which accompanied it.

Had either of the monarchs who ruled France since the Revolution of 1791 been animated with a sincere desire for the public good, and been contented to rule as a constitutional sovereign, as they all alike swore to rule, I do not see why they might not have transmitted their thrones to their heirs. Napoleon I. certainly could have perpetuated his empire in his family had he not made such awful blunders as the invasion of Spain and Russia, which made him unable to contend with external enemies. Charles X. might have continued to reign had he not destroyed all constitutional liberty. Louis Philippe might have transmitted his power to the House of Orléans had he not sacrificed public interests to his greediness for money and to his dynastic ambition. And Napoleon III. might have reigned until he died had he fulfilled his promises to the parties who elevated him; but he could have continued to reign in the violation of his oaths only so long as his army was faithful and successful. When at last hopelessly defeated and captured, his throne instantly crumbled away; he utterly collapsed, and was nothing but a fugitive. What a lesson this is to all ambitious monarchs who sacrifice the interest of their country to personal aggrandizement! So long as a nation sees the monarch laboring for the aggrandizement and welfare of the country rather than of himself, it will rally around him and venerate him, even if he leads his subjects to war and enrolls them in his gigantic armies,–as in the case of the monarchs of Prussia since Frederic II., and even those of Austria.

Napoleon III. was unlike all these, for with transcendent cunning and duplicity he stole his throne, and then sacrificed the interests of France to support his usurpation. That he was an adventurer–as his enemies called him–is scarcely true; for he was born in the Tuileries, was the son of a king, and nephew of the greatest sovereign of modern times. So far as his usurpation can be palliated,–for it never can be excused,–it must be by his deep-seated conviction that he was the heir of his uncle, that the government of the empire belonged to him as a right, and that he would ultimately acquire it by the will of the people. Had Thiers or Guizot or Changarnier seized the reins, they would have been adventurers. All men are apt to be called adventurers by their detractors when they reach a transcendent position. Even such men as Napoleon I., Cromwell, and Canning were stigmatized as adventurers by their enemies. A poor artist who succeeds in winning a rich heiress is often regarded as an adventurer, even though his ancestors have been respectable and influential for four generations. Most successful men owe their elevation to genius or patience or persistent industry rather than to accidents or tricks. Louis Napoleon plodded and studied and wrote for years with the ultimate aim of ruling France, even though he "waded through slaughter to a throne;" and he would have deserved his throne had he continued true to the principles he professed. What a name he might have left had he been contented only to be President of a great republic; for his elevation to the Presidency was legitimate, and even after he became a despot he continued to be a high-bred gentleman in the English sense, which is more than can be said of his uncle. No one has ever denied that from first to last Louis Napoleon was courteous, affable, gentle, patient, and kind, with a control over his feelings and thoughts absolutely marvellous and unprecedented in a public man,–if we except Disraeli. Nothing disturbed his serenity; very rarely was he seen in a rage; he stooped and coaxed and flattered, even when he sent his enemies to Cayenne.

The share taken by Napoleon III. in the affairs of Italy has already been treated of, yet a look from that point of view may find place here. The interference of Austria with the Italian States–not only her own subjects there, but the independent States as well–has been called "a standing menace to Europe." It was finally brought to a crisis of conflict by the King of Sardinia, who had already provided himself with a friend and ally in the French emperor; and when, on the 29th of April, 1859, Austria crossed the river Ticino in hostile array, the combined French and Sardinian troops were ready to do battle. The campaign was short, and everywhere disastrous to the Austrians; so that on July 6 an armistice was concluded, and on July 12 the peace of Villa Franca ended the war, with Lombardy ceded to Sardinia, while Nice and Savoy were the reward of the French,–justifying by this addition to the territory and glory of France the emperor's second war of prestige.

Louis Napoleon reached the culmination of his fame and of real or supposed greatness–I mean his external power and grandeur, for I see no evidence of real greatness except such as may be won by astuteness, tact, cunning, and dissimulation–when he returned to Paris as the conqueror of the Austrian armies. He was then generally supposed to be great both as a general and as an administrator, when he was neither a general nor an administrator, as subsequent events proved. But his court was splendid; distinguished foreigners came to do him homage; even monarchs sought his friendship, and a nod of his head was ominous. He had delivered Italy as he had humiliated Russia; he had made France a great political power; he had made Paris the most magnificent city of the world (though at boundless expense), and everybody extolled the genius of Hausmann, his engineer, who had created such material glories; his fêtes were beyond all precedent; his wife gave the law to fashions and dresses, and was universally extolled for her beauty and graces; the great industrial exhibition in 1855, which surpassed in attractiveness that of London in 1851, drew strangers to his capital, and gave a stimulus to art and industry. Certainly he seemed to be a most fortunate man,–for the murmurs and intrigues of that constellation of statesmen which grew up with the restoration of the Bourbons, and the antipathies of editors and literary men, were not generally known. The army especially gloried in the deeds of a man whose successes reminded them of his immortal uncle; while the lavish expenditures of government in every direction concealed from the eyes of the people the boundless corruption by which the services of his officials were secured.

But this splendid exterior was deceptive, and a turn came to the fortunes of Napoleon III.,–long predicted, yet unexpected. Constantly on the watch for opportunities to aggrandize his name and influence, the emperor allowed the disorders of civil war in Mexico–resulting in many acts of injustice to foreigners there–to lead him into a combination with England and Spain to interfere. This was in 1861, when the United States were entering upon the terrific struggles of their own civil war, and were not able to prevent this European interference, although regarding it as most unfriendly to republican institutions. Within a year England and Spain withdrew. France remained; sent more troops; declared war on the government of President Juarez; fought some battles; entered the City of Mexico; convened the "Assembly of Notables;" and, on their declaring for a limited hereditary monarchy, the French emperor proposed for their monarch the Archduke Maximilian,–younger brother of Francis Joseph the Austrian emperor. Maximilian accepted, and in June, 1864, arrived,–upheld, however, most feebly by the "Notables," and relying chiefly on French bayonets, which had driven Juarez to the northern part of the country.

But against the expectation of Napoleon III, the great rebellion in the United States collapsed, and this country became a military power which Europe was compelled to respect: a nation that could keep in the field over a million of soldiers was not to be despised. While the civil war was in progress the United States government was compelled to ignore the attempt to establish a French monarchy on its southern borders; but no sooner was the war ended than it refused to acknowledge any government in Mexico except that of President Juarez, which Louis Napoleon had overthrown; so that although the French emperor had bound himself with solemn treaties to maintain twenty-five thousand French troops in Mexico, he was compelled to withdraw these forces and leave Maximilian to his fate. He advised the young Austrian to save himself by abdication, and to leave Mexico with the troops; but Maximilian felt constrained by his sense of honor to remain, and refused. In March, 1867, this unfortunate prince was made prisoner by the republicans, and was unscrupulously shot. His calamities and death excited the compassion of Europe; and with it was added a profound indignation for the man who had unwittingly lured him on to his ruin. Louis Napoleon's military prestige received a serious blow, and his reputation as a statesman likewise; and although the splendor of his government and throne was as great as ever, his fall, in the eyes of the discerning, was near at hand.

By this time Louis Napoleon had become prematurely old; he suffered from acute diseases; his constitution was undermined; he was no longer capable of carrying the burdens he had assumed; his spirits began to fail; he lost interest in the pleasures which had at first amused him; he found delight in nothing, not even in his reviews and fêtes; he was completely ennuied; his failing health seemed to affect his mind; he became vacillating and irresolute; he lost his former energies. He saw the gulf opening which was to swallow him up; he knew that his situation was desperate, and that something must be done to retrieve his fortunes. His temporary popularity with his own people was breaking, too;–the Mexican fiasco humiliated them. The internal affairs of the empire were more and more interfered with and controlled by the Catholic Church, through the intrigues and influence of the empress, a bigoted Spanish Catholic,–and this was another source of unpopularity, for France was not a priest-ridden country, and the emperor was blamed for the growing ecclesiastical power in civil affairs. He had invoked war to interest the people, and war had saved him for a time; but the consequences of war pursued him. As he was still an overrated man, and known to be restless and unscrupulous, Germany feared him, and quietly armed, making preparations for an attack which seemed only too probable. His negotiation with the King of Holland for the cession of the Duchy of Luxemburg, by which acquisition he hoped to offset the disgrace which his Mexican enterprise had caused, excited the jealousy of Prussia; for by the treaties of 1815 Prussia obtained the right to garrison the fortress,–the strongest in Europe next to Gibraltar,–and had no idea of permitting it to fall into the hands of France.

The irresistible current which was then setting in for the union of the German States under the rule of Prussia, and for which Bismarck had long been laboring, as had Cavour for the unity of Italy, caused a great outcry among the noisy but shallow politicians of Paris, who deluded themselves with the idea that France was again invincible; and not only they, but the French people generally, fancied that France was strong enough to conquer half of Europe, The politicians saw in a war with Prussia the aggrandizement of French interests, and did all they could to hasten it on. It was popular with the nation at large, who saw only one side; and especially so with the generals of the army, who aspired to new laurels. Napoleon III. blustered and bullied and threatened, which pleased his people; but in his heart he had his doubts, and had no desire to attack Prussia so long as the independence of the southern States of Germany was maintained. But when the designs of Bismarck became more and more apparent to cement a united Germany, and thus to raise up a most formidable military power, Louis Napoleon sought alliances in anticipation of a conflict which could not be much longer delayed.

First, the French emperor turned to Austria, whom he had humiliated at Solferino and incensed by the aid which he had given to Victor Emmanuel to break the Austrian domination in Italy, as well as outraged its sympathies by his desertion of Maximilian in Mexico. No cordial alliance could be expected from this Power, unless he calculated on its hostility to Prussia for the victories she had lately won. Count Beust, the Austrian chancellor, was a bitter enemy to Prussia, and hoped to regain the ascendency which Austria had once enjoyed under Metternich. So promises were made to the French emperor; but they were never kept, and Austria really remained neutral in the approaching contest, to the great disappointment of Napoleon III. He also sought the aid of Italy, which he had reason to expect from the service he had rendered to Piedmont; but the Garibaldians had embroiled France with the Italian people in their attempt to overthrow the Papal government, which was protected by French troops; and Louis Napoleon by the reoccupation of Rome seemed to bar the union of the Italian people, passionately striving for national unity. Thus the Italians also stood aloof from France, although Victor Emmanuel personally was disposed to aid her.

In 1870 France found herself isolated, and compelled, in case of war with Prussia, to fight single-handed. If Napoleon III. had exercised the abilities he had shown at the beginning of his career, he would have found means to delay a conflict for which he was not prepared, or avoid it altogether; but in 1870 his intellect was shattered, and he felt himself powerless to resist the current which was bearing him away to his destruction. He showed the most singular incapacity as an administrator. He did not really know the condition of his army; he supposed he had four hundred and fifty thousand effective troops, but really possessed a little over three hundred thousand, while Prussia had over one-third more than this, completely equipped and disciplined, and with improved weapons. He was deceived by the reports of his own generals, to whom he had delegated everything, instead of looking into the actual state of affairs himself, as his uncle would have done, and as Thiers did under Louis Philippe. More than a third of his regiments were on paper alone, or dwindled in size; the monstrous corruptions of his reign had permeated every part of the country; the necessary arms, ammunition, and material of war in general were deplorably deficient; no official reports could be relied upon, and few of his generals could be implicitly trusted. If ever infatuation blinded a nation to its fate, it most signally marked France in 1870.

Nothing was now wanting but the spark to kindle the conflagration; and this was supplied by the interference of the French government with the nomination of a German prince to the vacant throne of Spain. The Prussian king gave way in the matter of Prince Leopold, but refused further concessions. Leopold was sufficiently magnanimous to withdraw his claims, and here French interference should have ended. But France demanded guarantees that no future candidate should be proposed without her consent. Of course the Prussian king,–seeing with the keen eyes of Bismarck, and armed to the teeth under the supervision of Moltke, the greatest general of the age, who could direct, with the precision of a steam-engine on a track, the movements of the Prussian army, itself a mechanism,–treated with disdain this imperious demand from a power which he knew to be inferior to his own. Count Bismarck craftily lured on his prey, who was already goaded forward by his home war-party, with the empress at their head; negotiations ceased, and Napoleon III. made his fatal declaration of hostilities, to the grief of the few statesmen who foresaw the end.

Even then the condition of France was not desperate if the government had shown capacity; but conceit, vanity, and ignorance blinded the nation. Louis Napoleon should have known, and probably did know, that the contending forces were uneven; that he had no generals equal to Moltke; that his enemies could crush him in the open field; that his only hope was in a well-organized defence. But his generals rushed madly on to destruction against irresistible forces, incapable of forming a combination, while the armies they led were smaller than anybody supposed. Napoleon III. hoped that by rapidity of movement he could enter southern Germany before the Prussian armies could be massed against him; but here he dreamed, for his forces were not ready at the time appointed, and the Prussians crossed the Rhine without obstruction. Then followed the battle of Worth, on the 6th of August, when Marshal McMahon, with only forty-five thousand men, ventured to resist the Prussian crown-prince with a hundred thousand, and lost consequently a large part of his army, and opened a passage through the northern Vosges to the German troops. On the same day Frossard's corps was defeated by Prince Frederic Charles near Saarbrücken, while the French emperor remained at Metz irresolute, infatuated, and helpless. On the 12th of August he threw up the direction of his armies altogether, and appointed Marshal Bazaine commander-in-chief,–thus proclaiming his own incapacity as a general. Bazaine still had more than two hundred thousand men under his command, and might have taken up a strong position on the Moselle, or retreated in safety to Chalons; but he fell back on Gravelotte, when, being defeated on the 18th, he withdrew within the defences of Metz. He was now surrounded by two hundred and fifty thousand men, and he made no effort to escape. McMahon attempted to relieve him, but was ordered by the government at Paris to march to the defence of that city. On this line, however, he got no farther than Sedan, where all was lost on September 1,–the entire army and the emperor himself surrendering as prisoners of war. The French had fought gallantly, but were outnumbered at every point.