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CHAPTER IV
EUROPE UNDER THE CONCERT OF THE POWERS

Having disposed of Alexander’s plan for a federation of nations it now remains to consider the other plan which, under the name of “Concert of Europe,” was adopted by Castlereagh and Metternich, though not for the same purpose as that which had inspired the tsar. Its fundamental idea had been in the positions taken by Pitt and Castlereagh when replying to the tsar’s proposals, but it found its official basis in a Treaty of Alliance signed by Great Britain, Russia, Austria, and Prussia at Paris, November 20, 1815, the same day they accepted the Holy Alliance. Its chief provisions were as follows: 1. The Powers bound themselves to see that the second treaty of Paris, regulating affairs between France and the allies, was executed. 2. They agreed to meet from time to time to take cognizance of the state of affairs in Europe. 3. They promised to suppress any recurrence of the revolutionary activity of France. 4. They settled upon the quota of men and supplies that each nation should furnish in case common action became necessary. 5. They undertook to “consolidate the intimate tie which unites the four sovereigns for the happiness of the world.” The most important of these provisions for the purpose of this inquiry was the second, taken in connection with the fifth.

The first meeting that may be said to have been called under the agreement was the Conference of Aix-la-Chapelle, in 1818. It was called to determine whether or not France should be relieved of her garrisons of occupation, a matter which was soon adjusted. Alexander I saw his opportunity and urged that the sovereigns should take steps to make the Holy Alliance a more vital kind of league. But Castlereagh interposed, as in former meetings, and turned the efforts of the tsar aside without arousing his displeasure. This may be considered the last gasp of the Holy Alliance, as it was the complete triumph of the Concert over it. At the same time France was admitted to the alliance of the four powers, which henceforth was known as the Quintuple Alliance. But if ever a question were to come up in which France was at variance with the four other Powers over matters connected with her obligations assumed in recent treaties, these four Powers would continue to act in their old capacity. Mr. W. A. Phillips remarks that the Quadruple Alliance still survived as “a rod in pickle for a France but doubtfully disciplined.” For us, who are chiefly concerned to see the result of the attempt to take the affairs of Europe under the protection of the great Powers, it is sufficient to remember that France gave no further trouble of the kind anticipated, and that the Quintuple Alliance, as the formal expression of the Concert of Europe, had other problems to consider.

The first arose out of revolutions in Spain and Naples, where armed men seized the power and forced the kings to accept liberal constitutions. Alexander I and Metternich looked on with different feelings. The former had been encouraging the liberals in Italy and was not greatly shocked by the revolution there, but he was deeply concerned over the upheaval in Spain and would have led a Russian army thither to suppress it. The suggestion alarmed Metternich, who did not relish the idea of Alexander’s marching through Austrian lands with a great body of men. He did what he could to discourage the expedition against Spain. At the same time he believed that Naples should be disciplined, since its revolution endangered the safety of Austrian possessions in Italy. It is amusing to see how self-interest ran across the currents of the general good as proclaimed in the Concert of Europe.

The tsar thought the situation warranted calling another conference of the Quintuple Alliance. Metternich objected, being chiefly concerned by the seeming certainty that the tsar would wish to carry into the situation his well-known views in support of liberalism. To him it seemed sufficient that the powers should agree severally to give their arms to the suppression of revolution, without meeting in conference. After much discussion a conference was called, at Troppau, but it was regularly attended by only three of the five powers. The suppression of constitutional government was not popular in Great Britain, and her government took no official part in the conference. France held aloof also; she was so much under the protection of Great Britain that she did not dare risk British displeasure by allying herself with the forces of repression.

Did the absence of two nations from Troppau presage the dissolution of the Alliance? Castlereagh gave a negative reply. His nation, he said, was not bound beyond her treaty obligations, the terms of which were clear and specific. They were embodied in the Treaties of Chaumont and Paris. He considered the project of dealing with revolution in its present form as beyond the meaning of these agreements. “If,” he said, “it is desired to extend the Alliance so as to include all objects present and future, foreseen and unforeseen, it would change its character to such an extent and carry us so far, that we should see in it an additional motive for adhering to our course at the risk of seeing the Alliance move away from us without our having quitted it.” These frank words show that the Alliance was strained but not broken. It would seem that a system like that of which we speak should have at bottom some broad common principles. In purpose it should be harmonious. As between the prevailing British idea of liberty and Metternich’s ideas of legitimacy there was no ground for mutual support; and out of this divergence of views was to grow the disruption of the Alliance, as we shall soon see.

Up to this time the two ideas that had run side by side were the tsar’s plan for a league to secure coöperation of a general nature and the British plan limiting common action to a few specific matters, chiefly connected with the repression of France in case she wished to return to a policy which would threaten the peace of Europe. As it became increasingly apparent that France was no longer a menace this type of union became less important, and the British ardor for it cooled, especially since it was becoming more and more certain that the Alliance was being used to support repression.

At the same time a change was passing through the mind of the tsar. In all he had done he had been supported by liberal ministers, against whose influence at his court Metternich did not hesitate to intrigue. Alexander’s conversion to the cause of repression came suddenly and completely in 1820, when there was a mutiny in a favorite regiment of his guard. Sober advisers pointed out to him that the action of the regiment had no political significance, but he would not be convinced. He insisted he would not countenance revolt abroad, lest it encourage insurrection at home. All the fervor he had shown in behalf of liberal ideas he now manifested in behalf of repression. At Troppau he met Metternich in a spirit of profound repentance for what he had done in the past, saying with an outburst of emotion: “So we are at one, Prince, and it is to you that we owe it. You have correctly judged the state of affairs. I deplore the waste of time, which we must try to repair. I am here without any fixed ideas; without any plan; but I bring you a firm and unalterable resolution. It is for your Emperor to use it as he wills. Tell me what you desire, and what you wish me to do, and I will do it.” The speech astonished the Prince as much as it pleased him. All his schemes had lost in the defection of Castlereagh, and probably more, was made up in the accession of his new ally. Not only was the cause of legitimacy, as he advocated it, made safe; but the danger was removed of a Franco-Russian alliance, always a thing to be dreaded by the great Powers in the center of Europe.

In the conference at Troppau, Austria, Russia, and Prussia now acted together. Up to that time Metternich had ignored the Holy Alliance. He now brought it out as his stalking horse. The three sovereigns, controlling the conference, issued a declaration suspending from the Alliance any state that tolerated revolution in its borders and declaring that the other Powers in the Alliance would bring back the offending state by force of arms. Under the indefinite terms of the instrument this was a legal interpretation of power, but it was not in the spirit of the benevolent sovereign who made the Holy Alliance possible.

Those of us who now favor a league or federation of states as a means of preserving peace perpetually may well study the crisis to which a similar system had come in the development of international relations in 1820. The tsar’s ideal was a thing of glory thrown before a sordid world. Not even he, as we see, was proof against the debasement of his surroundings. If his plan had been adopted by all the nations, it is likely that the time would have come when the confederation thus formed would have become an agency for reaction against which liberal views would have been unable to contend.

On the other hand, we must not ignore the weight that a confederation would have had as an idea in promoting respect for liberal government. If it had been established under the protection of the tsar, it may well have been that Metternich would not have taken up the crusade of legitimacy, that the tsar and Castlereagh acting together in behalf of liberal institutions would have insured a steadier attitude on the part of the former, and that under such circumstances the kings of Spain and Naples would have been less inclined to the severe measures which provoked revolution. Of course, these are mere conjectures, but it is only fair to mention them as things to be said for the other side of the question.

When we come to apply the lessons of 1815–1820 to the present day, we must not forget that conditions are now very greatly changed. It was the supremacy of arbitrary government in Europe that made the hopes of 1815 come to naught. Of all the agents who then controlled affairs in the great states of Europe, Castlereagh, next to the tsar, was the most liberal. If a plan of union were adopted after the present war, it might not be a success, but the failure would not be for the same reasons as those that brought the Alliance of 1815 to a nullity.

Castlereagh made a protest against the purposes of the three Powers at Troppau in which were some telling arguments against such a league as was threatening. They were well made and would be applicable to the situation today, if it were proposed to establish a league like that which found favor at Troppau. The plan proposed, said he, was too general in its scope. It gave the projected confederation the right to interfere in the internal affairs of independent states on the ground that the general good was concerned, and if carried out the Alliance would, in effect, be charged with the function of policing such states. Against all this he protested, and he pointed out that so many grounds of dissatisfaction lay in the scheme that to try to enforce it would surely lead to counter alliances, the end of which would be war. It ought to be said, also, that Castlereagh was opposed to giving up war as a means of settling disputes. “The extreme right of interference,” he said, “between nation and nation can never be made a matter of written stipulation or be assumed as the attribute of an alliance.” If a man takes that position he can hardly be expected to see good points in any scheme to preserve peace perpetually.

The evils he pointed out are largely eliminated in the modern plans that are offered. For example, the jurisdiction of the proposed leagues or federations is strictly limited to the enforcement of peace. A supreme court held by eminent judges would pass upon cases as they come up and say whether or not the central authority should employ force. Under the plan it would be hard to bring a purely internal question before the court, and if brought there it would not be considered by the judges, since the pact of the federation would specify that such cases were not to be tried. The pact would be the constitution of the federation, and the court would be expected to pass on the constitutionality of measures from the standpoint of that instrument. Under a system like that recently advocated a revolution in Naples would have to be submitted to a court whose members were appointed from states in which free institutions are in existence. It could not be the tool of a Metternich. Under such a system the whim of a tsar, if such a ruler ever again wears a crown, could not make or mar a question like that which underlay the calling of the Conference of Troppau. So many are the differences that it is, perhaps, not profitable to dwell longer on this point. The study of the peace problem and the attempt to solve it a hundred years ago is extremely interesting to one who considers the situation now existing, but it is chiefly because the mind, having grasped the development of the former problem and become accustomed to see the process as a whole, is in a better state to understand the present and to know wherein it differs from the past and in what respect old factors are supplemented by new factors. Such lessons from the past are open to all who will but read.

These reflections should not make us forget the main thread of our story, which became relatively weak after Troppau. From that time it was clear that Europe had no hopes of peace through coöperation under either of the two plans that had been suggested. Almost immediately began a train of events which gave added impulse to the dissolution of the Alliance. In 1821 began the Greek War of Independence. Austria was in consternation lest the revolution should spread to her own people. Russia, however, was deeply sympathetic with the Greeks, partly through religious affiliations and partly because the Russian people, looking toward the possession of Constantinople, were anxious to weaken the Turk in any of his European possessions. Alexander I showed signs of going to war for the Greeks, and Metternich hastily sought to counteract any such course.

At the same time the situation in Spain’s American colonies was becoming more urgent, because the weakness of the government had stimulated the South American revolutionists to renewed activity until Mexico as well as the rest of the Continental colonies except Peru was in successful revolt. Metternich would have helped Turkey against the Greeks and allowed the tsar to carry out his long cherished wish of intervening in Spain, as a means of keeping him quiet. The situation seemed to call for another conference and after some discussion a meeting was arranged at Verona, 1822. France was anxious to take over the task of punishing the Spanish revolutionists, and as Russia, Austria, and Prussia agreed to her plan, four of the five Great Powers now stood side by side in favor of repression. They would have gone further, and settled the fate of the American revolutionists, but against that course Great Britain made such a protest that the question was left open.

It was not definitely closed until the next year, and then through the action of the United States, taken in association with Great Britain. For when France had performed her task, she looked forward to taking some of the Spanish colonies as indemnity for her expenses. The principle of federation among the Powers was working so well that it was considered only a natural thing to call another conference at which France could be assigned the right of conquering the colonies. Canning, at the head of the British government, was genuinely alarmed. The four united Powers were willing to defy Great Britain if she stood alone. He turned to the United States as the only ally in sight. Would we support him in opposition to the designs of the Powers? President Monroe, influenced by John Quincy Adams’ stout patriotism, replied in the affirmative and went a step further; for he insisted that the defiance of the Powers should be announced in Washington, not as a mere expedient to meet an isolated case, but as a general policy of our government. The Monroe Doctrine was one of the things that broke up the Quintuple Alliance, already weakened by the alienation of Great Britain.

The last blow was the revolution in France in 1880, which drove the Bourbon king into exile and made a liberal government possible. At the same time so strong were the manifestations of republicanism in other countries that the old conservatism was lowered in tone and chastened in pride. From France the revolutionary movement passed into Belgium, which the Congress of Vienna had decreed should be a part of the kingdom of the Netherlands. So completely was the revolution successful that even the Great Powers had to bow to it, and in a congress at London they recognized Belgium as a separate state and saw it set up a liberal constitution with a king at the head of the government. Several of the small German governments also adopted more liberal forms. Poland broke into rebellion and before its power of resistance was crushed by Russia the infection spread into Lithuania and Podolia. At last the arms of the tsar overpowered all resistance and peace reigned; but the reactionaries were sobered, and the dream of a league to enforce repression passed away.

Glancing backward we may see through what a development the ideas of reform had passed. Europe, distressed by the wars of 1800–1815, had hungered for peace. Having issued from a decade of discussion of liberty and humanity, the friends of freedom were more than ordinarily earnest for replacing war by an age of reason. In our own day the cause of universal peace stands on a broader and better laid foundation than a hundred years ago, but it is, perhaps, no more impressive. At any rate the philosophically inclined men of the earlier period supported Kant and Rousseau, among them, Alexander I. A considerable portion of the world believed that the outcome of the war madness then reigning must be an era of sanity.

We have seen that two plans of improvement were formed in the minds of men who were in position to have practical influence: the tsar’s scheme for a league, or federation, that was so strongly integrated that the central authority should be able to enforce its commands upon constituent states; and the plan of Castlereagh for prolonging the existing system of coöperation in a form which we may call the Concert of the Great Powers. We have seen that the tsar’s plan, ignored at first, was seized on by Metternich as a possibility for enforcing a system of reaction, that it met the opposition of Great Britain and aroused the revolutionary protest of 1830, and thus it came to an end. It was never the dream of any of the philosophers that a federation should be formed which might become an engine of despotism, yet practical use showed that such a course was within the bounds of possibility. The mere glimpse of such a thing was enough to make Europe prefer the old era of wars.

One does not have to look far into the situation to see that the real failure of the plan was due to the wide use of arbitrary government in Europe. Had Austria, Russia, and Prussia been ruled by the people, either as republics or as liberal monarchies, the great alliance of Europe could hardly have been turned to the side of repression; and under the guidance of enlightened statesmen it might have been the beginning of a long era of peace and international good will. The failure of the nineteenth century, therefore, does not prove that federation is essentially impossible. It only proves that a century ago the world was not ready to employ it successfully.

CHAPTER V
THE LATER PHASES OF THE CONCERT OF EUROPE

The revolutionary movement of 1830 did not destroy the influence of Metternich in Europe. He was too able a man to be overthrown as leader of the legitimists merely because the people were in a ferment. To his party he was still the man to be trusted, and as legitimacy managed to beat down revolution in most of the areas in which commotion appeared, the scope of his power was wide, although it was evident that he could not use it with former impunity.

At the same time he gave up the pretense of making the Alliance of the Powers a federation. He was content to try to secure that concert of action that would enable the states that leaned to legitimacy to act together against incipient revolution; and for a time he was successful. In anticipation of the failure of the plan to permit France to interfere in the Spanish colonies, Canning exclaimed: “Things are getting back to a wholesome state again. Every nation for itself and God for us all!” But the cry of joy was premature. The time had not returned in which each crisis was to be met in its own way, without reference to a recognized concert of action, and the reason was the deep consciousness of the states that certain grave questions that ever hung over the horizon had in them the possibilities of general war. Let one of these questions loom large, and common action was taken to avert the threatened danger. In such way the Concert of Europe was kept alive, and remained something to be reckoned with as a part of the background of European policy. In spite of its temporary disuse, it was a thing to be brought forth again if the nations decided that it was needed to meet an emergency.

In fact, it reappeared many times in the course of the nineteenth century, notably in 1840, when the so-called Eastern question became prominent. At that time Mehemet Ali, who had made himself lord of Egypt and seized Syria, was threatening Constantinople, having the support of France. Russia became alarmed, made a close alliance with the sultan, and seemed about to get that secure foothold on the Bosphorus for which she had striven many years. Great Britain, Austria, and Prussia resented this prospect and took steps jointly to counteract it. Their object was to preserve Turkey from the dangers that threatened to divide her. Before such a combination Russia was not able to stand, and she gave up her pretensions in order to join the other three powers. France, however, held to her purpose, supporting the adventurer of Egypt. Thus it happened that the four Great Powers, reviving the Concert of Europe, but leaving out the government of Louis Philippe, had a conference in London to settle Eastern affairs. They decided to offer Mehemet Ali certain concessions and to make war on him if he refused to accept them. He spurned their counsel and was expelled from Syria but was saved from utter destruction by the interference of France, who secured a settlement by which he was left in firm possession of Egypt, as hereditary ruler under the nominal authority of Turkey. All the powers now united in an agreement by which Turkey was to exclude foreign warships from the Dardanelles. Thus, by an appeal to the principle of the Concert of Europe, a grave crisis was averted, and war between Great Britain and Russia was avoided.

In 1848, seven years after the conclusion of these negotiations, Europe was thrown into convulsions by the appearance of a new era of revolution. France became a republic, and Germany, Austria, and Hungary went through such violent upheavals that the existence of arbitrary government hung for a time in the balance. Out of the struggle emerged Napoleon III, of France, who thought some military achievement was necessary to stabilize his power. At that time Russia was asserting a protectorate over all Christians in Turkey, and it was generally believed that she was about to establish vital political control. Napoleon took up the sword against her and Great Britain came to help, the result being the Crimean War, 1854–1856.

In the beginning of this struggle the Concert of Europe seemed to be dead, but two years of heavy fighting and nearly futile losses brought it to life again. The war, which began in an outburst of international rivalry, ended in the Conference of Paris, 1856, in which all the Great Powers but Prussia undertook to settle the Eastern question by neutralizing the Euxine and the Danube and by making new allotments of territory which were supposed to adjust boundaries in such a manner that rivalries would disappear. The Conference went on to take up the work of a true European congress by agreeing upon the Declaration of Paris, in which were assembled a body of rules regulating neutral trade in time of war. England gave up her long defended pretension to seize enemy goods on neutral ships and neutral goods on enemy ships, and in return gained the recognition that privateering was unlawful. Thus the Crimean War, fought by Great Britain and France against Russia, and in support of Turkey – with Austria and Prussia as neutrals – was at last ended by an agreement between all the parties concerned. The nations undertook to settle the long Eastern dispute by pledging the sultan to reforms which it was not in his nature to carry out.

The next three wars were fought without respect to the Concert of Europe. They arose from local causes and were soon determined without the aid of the Great Powers. They were the war of Austria and France over the liberation of Italy, 1859; the war between Prussia and Austria, 1866, in which Prussia overthrew the Austrian predominancy in Germany; and the Franco-Prussian war in 1870–1871, in which Prussia crushed France and made herself the head of the German Empire. In the first of these struggles no state could gain enough power to become a menace to the other states, since Italy was to be the recipient of all territory gained. Had the contest gone so far as to promise the vast enlargement of the power of France by reason of an alliance with enlarged Italy, interference might have resulted. In fact, the German states began to suspect such a result, and the realization of it was one of Napoleon’s reasons for withdrawing very unceremoniously from the war. Here we see, therefore, that the principle of concert was not entirely dead. The second and third wars were fought by a brilliantly organized state, Prussia, with whose successful armies no nation cared to make a trial of strength.

In 1877 Russia made war on Turkey and proceeded with such energy that she soon forced the sultan to sign the treaty of San Stefano, altogether in favor of Russia. The particulars of the struggle belong to another chapter,⁷ but here it is only necessary to point out that the Concert of Europe was now suddenly revived by the Great Powers, and Russia was forced to submit her well won victory to the Congress of Berlin, which scaled down the awards of San Stefano until Russia might well ask what was left of her victory. A similar thing happened in the Balkan War of 1912–1913. Here the parties concerned had fought their quarrel out to the end and had nearly expelled Turkey from Europe, dividing the spoils among themselves. Then in stepped the Great Powers, prescribing in a treaty at London the limits of gain to the successful contestants. They acted in the interest of peace; for Austria, watching the actions of Serbia and Greece, let it be known that she would not allow Serbia to have Albania, and the Powers interfered in order to prevent such action from kindling a great European war.

Thus in three notable wars, the Crimean War, the Russo-Turkish War, and the Balkan War, the action of the Great Powers was not to prevent war, but to neutralize its gains. So far did this principle go that writers were known to suggest that war would no longer be profitable to nations, since in a Concert of Europe the Great Powers would ever nullify the gains of the contestants.

At this time concert had come to mean another thing than it meant in the decade after the fall of Napoleon. Then it was a fixed system of consultation and decision in anticipation of some issue that threatened war: now it was concerted action to keep a local war from going so far as to involve a general conflict. It was a last resort in the presence of dire danger. A more present means of preserving peace was the Balance of Power, which consisted in forming the states in groups one of which balanced another group and prevented the development of overwhelming strength. The principle was well known in the past history of Europe, but it was never so clearly defined in the remote past as in the last half century. For our purposes its modern phase begins after the Franco-Prussian War, 1870–1871.

Before that time Prussia was strong in Europe but not over-whelmingly great. On one side was Austria, long her enemy, and on the other was France. Within five years they were defeated with such quick and crushing blows that the world was startled and the Germans themselves were as much astonished as delighted. Out of this brilliant period of success arose the German Empire, with Prussia for its corner-stone and Bismarck for its builder and guardian. Immediately a singular thing happened. One would hardly expect that a beaten state would straightway form an alliance with the power that had humiliated her; yet such a relation was established between Germany and Austria, and it has lasted to this day. Where Germany has loved Austria has loved, where Germany has hated Austria has hated, and the ambition of one has been supported by the other. Bismarck’s policy had this state of friendship in view and he gave Austria generous terms of peace in 1866, when she was at his feet. Common blood bound the two states together and later led to the hope of unification in a great Pan-German empire.

With France, however, the empire which Bismarck founded was to have no such state of amity. Between them was no brotherhood, not even in the tenuous bonds of the theory of the rights of man. Back of 1871 were many acts of aggression, many bitter wars, and some very humiliating experiences for states inhabited by Germans. And now the tables were turned. France was weak and the often beaten Germans were strong and victorious. Their vengeance was expressed in the long siege of Paris, the proclamation of the German Empire in the château of the old French kings, the humiliating indemnity levied on the French people, and the annexation of Alsace and Lorraine, so long in the quiet keeping of France that they were thoroughly French in sympathy and political purpose. Bismarck usually ruled his heart with his head, but he lost himself for the moment when he sent a defeated neighbor under the yoke of needless disgrace, and Germany has paid the price many times over in maintaining a great army and parrying the diplomatic thrusts of France. The hostile feelings thus engendered gave rise to the particular kind of balance of power that has existed in Europe since 1871; for on whatever side Germany was found France was on the other, and however the elements shifted in the grouping of nations these two states were always opponents.