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Beacon Lights of History, Volume 09: European Statesmen
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.