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Title: The Development of the European Nations, 1870-1914 (5th ed.)

Author: J. Holland Rose

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
DEVELOPMENT OF THE EUROPEAN NATIONS, 1870-1914 (5TH
ED.) ***

Campaigns 1859-71.

THE DEVELOPMENT
OF THE

EUROPEAN NATIONS
1870-1914
BY

J. HOLLAND ROSE LITT.D.
FELLOW OF CHRIST'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE
AUTHOR OF 'THE LIFE OF NAPOLEON,' 'THE LIFE OF WILLIAM PITT,'
'THE ORIGINS OF THE WAR,' ETC.

'Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas.'--VIRGIL.

FIFTH EDITION, WITH A NEW PREFACE AND THREE SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTERS

1915

First Edition October 1905.
Second " November 1905.
Third " December 1911.
Fourth " November 1914.
Fifth " October 1915.

TO
MY WIFE

WITHOUT WHOSE HELP
THIS WORK
COULD NOT HAVE BEEN COMPLETED

PREFACE TO THE FIFTH EDITION

In this Edition are included three new chapters (Nos. XXI.-XXIII.), in
which I seek to describe the most important and best-ascertained facts of
the period 1900-14. Necessarily, the narrative is tentative at many points;
and it is impossible to attain impartiality; but I have sought to view events
from the German as well as the British standpoint, and to sum up the
evidence fairly. The addition of these chapters has necessitated the omission
of the former Epilogue and Appendices. I regret the sacrifice of the
Epilogue, for it emphasised two important considerations, (1) the tendency
of British foreign policy towards undue complaisance, which by other
Powers is often interpreted as weakness; (2) the danger arising from the
keen competition in armaments. No one can review recent events without
perceiving the significance of these considerations. Perhaps they may prove
to be among the chief causes producing the terrible finale of July-August
1914. I desire to express my acknowledgments and thanks for valuable
advice given by Mr. J.W. Headlam, M.A., Mr. A.B. Hinds, M.A., and Dr.
R.W. Seton-Watson, D. Litt.
J.H.R.
CAMBRIDGE,
September 5, 1915.

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION

The outbreak of war in Europe is an event too momentous to be treated
fully in this Preface. But I may point out that the catastrophe resulted from
the two causes of unrest described in this volume, namely, the Alsace-
Lorraine Question and the Eastern Question. Those disputes have dragged
on without any attempt at settlement by the Great Powers. The Zabern
incident inflamed public opinion in Alsace-Lorraine, and illustrated the
overbearing demeanour of the German military caste; while the insidious
attempts of Austria in 1913 to incite Bulgaria against Servia marked out the
Hapsburg Empire as the chief enemy of the Slav peoples of the Balkan
Peninsula after the collapse of Turkish power in 1912. The internal troubles
of the United Kingdom, France, and Russia in July 1914 furnished the
opportunity so long sought by the forward party at Berlin and Vienna; and
the Austro-German Alliance, which, in its origin, was defensive (as I have
shown in this volume), became offensive, Italy parting from her allies when
she discovered their designs. Drawn into the Triple Alliance solely by pique
against France after the Tunis affair, she now inclines towards the Anglo-
French connection.
Readers of my chapter on the Eastern Question will not fail to see how the
neglect of the Balkan peoples by the Great Powers has left that wound
festering in the weak side of Europe; and they will surmise that the Balkan
troubles have, by a natural Nemesis, played their part in bringing about the
European War. It is for students of modern Europe to seek to form a healthy
public opinion so that the errors of the past may not be repeated, and that
the new Europe shall be constituted in conformity with the aspirations of
the peoples themselves.
CAMBRIDGE,
September 25, 1914.

PREFACE

The line of Virgil quoted on the title-page represents in the present case a
sigh of aspiration, not a paean of achievement. No historical student, surely,
can ever feel the conviction that he has fathomed the depths of that well
where Truth is said to lie hid. What, then, must be the feelings of one who
ventures into the mazy domain of recent annals, and essays to pick his way
through thickets all but untrodden? More than once I have been tempted to
give up the quest and turn aside to paths where pioneers have cleared the
way. There, at least, the whereabouts of that fabulous well is known and the
plummet is ready to hand. Nevertheless, I resolved to struggle through with
my task, in the consciousness that the work of a pioneer may be helpful,
provided that he carefully notches the track and thereby enables those who
come after him to know what to seek and what to avoid.
After all, there is no lack of guides in the present age. The number of
memoir-writers and newspaper correspondents is legion; and I have come to
believe that they are fully as trustworthy as similar witnesses have been in
any age. The very keenness of their rivalry is some guarantee for truth.
Doubtless competition for good "copy" occasionally leads to artful
embroidering on humdrum actuality; but, after spending much time in
scanning similar embroidery in the literature of the Napoleonic Era, I
unhesitatingly place the work of Archibald Forbes, and that of several
knights of the pen still living, far above the delusive tinsel of Marbot,
Thiébault, and Ségur. I will go further and say that, if we could find out
what were the sources used by Thucydides, we should notice qualms of
misgiving shoot through the circles of scientific historians as they
contemplated his majestic work. In any case, I may appeal to the example
of the great Athenian in support of the thesis that to undertake to write
contemporary history is no vain thing.
Above and beyond the accounts of memoir-writers and newspaper
correspondents there are Blue Books. I am well aware that they do not

always contain the whole truth. Sometimes the most important items are of
necessity omitted. But the information which they contain is enormous;
and, seeing that the rules of the public service keep the original records in
Great Britain closed for well-nigh a century, only the most fastidious can
object to the use of the wealth of materials given to the world in
Parliamentary Papers.
Besides these published sources there is the fund of information possessed
by public men and the "well-informed" of various grades. Unfortunately
this is rarely accessible, or only under conventional restrictions. Here and
there I have been able to make use of it without any breach of trust; and to
those who have enlightened my darkness I am very grateful. The
illumination, I know, is only partial; but I hope that its effect, in respect to
the twilight of diplomacy, may be compared to that of the Aurora Borealis
lights.
After working at my subject for some time, I found it desirable to limit it to
events which had a distinctly formative influence on the development of
European States. On questions of motive and policy I have generally
refrained from expressing a decided verdict, seeing that these are always the
most difficult to probe; and facile dogmatism on them is better fitted to
omniscient leaderettes than to the pages of an historical work. At the same
time, I have not hesitated to pronounce a judgment on these questions, and
to differ from other writers, where the evidence has seemed to me decisive.
To quote one instance, I reject the verdict of most authorities on the
question of Bismarck's treatment of the Ems telegram, and of its effect in
the negotiations with France in July 1870.
For the most part, however, I have dealt only with external events, pointing
out now and again the part which they have played in the great drama of
human action still going on around us. This limitation of aim has enabled
me to take only specific topics, and to treat them far more fully than is done
in the brief chronicle of facts presented by MM. Lavisse and Rambaud in
the concluding volume of their Histoire Générale. Where a series of events
began in the year 1899 or 1900, and did not conclude before the time with
which this narrative closes, I have left it on one side. Obviously the Boer
War falls under this head. Owing to lack of space my references to the
domestic concerns of the United Kingdom have been brief. I have

regretfully omitted one imperial event of great importance, the formation of
the Australian Commonwealth. After all, that concerned only the British
race; and in my survey of the affairs of the Empire I have treated only those
which directly affected other nations as well, namely the Afghan and
Egyptian questions and the Partition of Africa. Here I have sought to show
the connection with "world politics," and I trust that even specialists will
find something new and suggestive in this method of treatment.
In attempting to write a history of contemporary affairs, I regard it as
essential to refer to the original authority, or authorities, in the case of every
important statement. I have sought to carry out this rule (though at the cost
of great additional toil) because it enables the reader to check the accuracy
of the narrative and to gain hints for further reading. To compile
bibliographies, where many new books are coming out every year, is a
useless task; but exact references to the sources of information never lose
their value.
My thanks are due to many who have helped me in this undertaking.
Among them I may name Sir Charles Dilke, M.P., Mr. James Bryce, M.P.,
and Mr. Chedo Mijatovich, who have given me valuable advice on special
topics. My obligations are also due to a subject of the Czar, who has placed
his knowledge at my service, but for obvious reasons does not wish his
name to be known. Mr. Bernard Pares, M.A., of the University of
Liverpool, has very kindly read over the proofs of the early chapters, and
has offered most helpful suggestions. Messrs. G. Bell and Sons have
granted me permission to make use of the plans of the chief battles of the
Franco-German War from Mr. Hooper's work, Sedan and the Downfall of
the Second Empire, published by them. To Mr. H.W. Wilson, author of
Ironclads in Action, my thanks are also due for permission to make use of
the plan illustrating the fighting at Alexandria in 1882.
J.H.R.
July, 1905.

CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I
THE CAUSES OF THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR.

CHAPTER II
FROM WÖRTH TO GRAVELOTTE

CHAPTER III
SEDAN

CHAPTER IV
THE FOUNDING OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC

CHAPTER V
THE FOUNDING OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC--continued

CHAPTER VI
THE GERMAN EMPIRE

CHAPTER VII
THE EASTERN QUESTION

CHAPTER VIII
THE RUSSO-TURKISH WAR

CHAPTER IX
THE BALKAN SETTLEMENT

CHAPTER X
THE MAKING OF BULGARIA

CHAPTER XI
NIHILISM AND ABSOLUTISM IN RUSSIA

CHAPTER XII
THE TRIPLE AND DUAL ALLIANCES

CHAPTER XIII
THE CENTRAL ASIAN QUESTION

CHAPTER XIV
THE AFGHAN AND TURKOMAN CAMPAIGNS

CHAPTER XV
BRITAIN IN EGYPT

CHAPTER XVI
GORDON AND THE SUDAN

CHAPTER XVII
THE CONQUEST OF THE SUDAN

CHAPTER XVIII
THE PARTITION OF AFRICA

CHAPTER XIX
THE CONGO FREE STATE

CHAPTER XX
RUSSIA IN THE FAR EAST

CHAPTER XXI
THE NEW GROUPING OF THE GREAT POWERS (1900-1907)

CHAPTER XXII
TEUTON versus SLAV (1908-13)

CHAPTER XXIII

THE CRISIS OF 1914

INDEX

MAPS AND PLANS

Campaigns of 1859-71

Sketch Map of the District between Metz and the Rhine

Plan of the Battle of Wörth

Plan of the Battles of Rezonville and Gravelotte

Plan of the Battle of Sedan

Map of Bulgaria

Plan of Plevna

Map of the Treaties of Berlin and San Stefano

Map of Thessaly

Map of Afghanistan

Battle of Maiwand

Battle of Alexandria (Bombardment of, 1882)

Map of the Nile

The Battle of Omdurman

Plan of Khartum

Map of Africa (1902) end of volume

INTRODUCTION
"The movements in the masses of European peoples
are divided and slow, and their progress interrupted
and impeded, because they are such great and
unequally formed masses; but the preparation for the
future is widely diffused, and . . . the promises of the
age are so great that even the most faint-hearted
rouse themselves to the belief that a time has arrived
in which it is a privilege to live."--GERVINUS,
1853.

The Roman poet Lucretius in an oft-quoted passage describes the
satisfaction that naturally fills the mind when from some safe vantage-
ground one looks forth on travellers tossed about on the stormy deep. We
may perhaps use the poet's not very altruistic words as symbolising many of
the feelings with which, at the dawn of the twentieth century, we look back
over the stormy waters of the century that has passed away. Some
congratulation on this score is justifiable, especially as those wars and
revolutions have served to build up States that are far stronger than their
predecessors, in proportion as they correspond more nearly with the desires
of the nations that compose them.
As we gaze at the revolutions and wars that form the storm-centres of the
past century, we can now see some of the causes that brought about those
storms. If we survey them with discerning eye, we soon begin to see that, in
the main, the cyclonic disturbances had their origins in two great natural
impulses of the civilised races of mankind. The first of these forces is that
great impulse towards individual liberty, which we name Democracy; the
second is that impulse, scarcely less mighty and elemental, that prompts
men to effect a close union with their kith and kin: this we may term
Nationality.

Now, it is true that these two forces have not led up to the last and crowning
phase of human development, as their enthusiastic champions at one time
asserted that they would; far from that, they are accountable, especially so
the force of Nationality, for numerous defects in the life of the several
peoples; and the national principle is at this very time producing great and
needless friction in the dealings of nations. Yet, granting all this, it still
remains true that Democracy and Nationality have been the two chief
formative influences in the political development of Europe during the
Nineteenth Century.
In no age of the world's history have these two impulses worked with so
triumphant an activity. They have not always been endowed with living
force. Among many peoples they lay dormant for ages and were only called
to life by some great event, such as the intolerable oppression of a despot or
of a governing caste that crushed the liberties of the individual, or the
domination of an alien people over one that obstinately refused to be
assimilated. Sometimes the spark that kindled vital consciousness was the
flash of a poet's genius, or the heroism of some sturdy son of the soil. The
causes of awakening have been infinitely various, and have never wholly
died away; but it is the special glory of the Nineteenth Century that races
which had hitherto lain helpless and well-nigh dead, rose to manhood as if
by magic, and shed their blood like water in the effort to secure a free and
unfettered existence both for the individual and the nation. It is a true
saying of the German historian, Gervinus, "The history of this age will no
longer be only a relation of the lives of great men and of princes, but a
biography of nations."
At first sight, this illuminating statement seems to leave out of count the
career of the mighty Napoleon. But it does not. The great Emperor
unconsciously called into vigorous life the forces of Democracy and
Nationality both in Germany and in Italy, where there had been naught but
servility and disunion. His career, if viewed from our present standpoint,
falls into two portions: first, that in which he figured as the champion of
Revolutionary France and the liberator of Italy from foreign and domestic
tyrants; and secondly, as imperial autocrat who conquered and held down a
great part of Europe in his attempt to ruin British commerce. In the former
of these enterprises he had the new forces of the age acting with him and
endowing him with seemingly resistless might; in the latter part of his life

he mistook his place in the economy of Nature, and by his violation of the
principles of individual liberty and racial kinship in Spain and Central
Europe, assured his own downfall.
The greatest battle of the century was the tremendous strife that for three
days surged to and fro around Leipzig in the month of October 1813, when
Russians, Prussians, Austrians, Swedes, together with a few Britons,
Hanoverians, and finally his own Saxon allies, combined to shake the
imperial yoke from the neck of the Germanic peoples. This Völkerschlacht
(Battle of the Peoples), as the Germans term it, decided that the future of
Europe was not to be moulded by the imperial autocrat, but by the will of
the princes and nations whom his obstinacy had embattled against him. Far
from recognising the verdict, the great man struggled on until the
pertinacity of the allies finally drove him from power and assigned to
France practically the same boundaries that she had had in 1791, before the
time of her mighty expansion. That is to say, the nation which in its purely
democratic form had easily overrun and subdued the neighbouring States in
the time of their old, inert, semi-feudal existence, was overthrown by them
when their national consciousness had been trampled into being by the
legions of the great Emperor.
In 1814, and again after Waterloo, France was driven in on herself, and
resumed something like her old position in Europe, save that the throne of
the Bourbons never acquired any solidity--the older branch of that family
being unseated by the Revolution of 1830. In the centre of the Continent,
the old dynasties had made common cause with the peoples in the national
struggles of 1813-14, and therefore enjoyed more consideration--a fact
which enabled them for a time to repress popular aspirations for
constitutional rule and national unity.
Nevertheless, by the Treaties of Vienna (1814-15) the centre of Europe was
more solidly organised than ever before. In place of the effete institution
known as the Holy Roman Empire, which Napoleon swept away in 1806,
the Central States were reorganised in the German Confederation--a
cumbrous and ineffective league in which Austria held the presidency.
Austria also gained Venetia and Lombardy in Italy. The acquisition of the
fertile Rhine Province by Prussia brought that vigorous State up to the
bounds of Lorraine and made her the natural protectress of Germany against

France. Russia acquired complete control over nearly the whole of the
former Kingdom of Poland. Thus, the Powers that had been foremost in the
struggle against Napoleon now gained most largely in the redistribution of
lands in 1814-15, while the States that had been friendly to him now
suffered for their devotion. Italy was split up into a mosaic of States;
Saxony ceded nearly the half of her lands to Prussia; Denmark yielded up
her ancient possession, Norway, to the Swedish Crown.
In some respects the triumph of the national principle, which had brought
victory to the old dynasties, strengthened the European fabric. The Treaties
of Vienna brought the boundaries of States more nearly into accord with
racial interests and sentiments than had been the case before; but in several
instances those interests and feelings were chafed or violated by designing
or short-sighted statesmen. The Germans, who had longed for an effective
national union, saw with indignation that the constitution of the new
Germanic Confederation left them under the control of the rulers of the
component States and of the very real headship exercised by Austria, which
was always used to repress popular movements. The Italians, who had also
learned from Napoleon the secret that they were in all essentials a nation,
deeply resented the domination of Austria in Lombardy-Venetia and the
parcelling out of the rest of the Peninsula between reactionary kings
somnolent dukes, and obscurantist clerics. The Belgians likewise protested
against the enforced union with Holland in what was now called the
Kingdom of the United Netherlands (1815-30). In the east of Europe the
Poles struggled in vain against the fate which once more partitioned them
between Russia, Austria, and Prussia. The Germans of Holstein, Schleswig,
and Lauenburg submitted uneasily to the Danish rule; and only under the
stress of demonstrations by the allies did the Norwegians accept the union
with Sweden.
It should be carefully noted that these were the very cases which caused
most of the political troubles in the following period. In fact, most of the
political occurrences on the Continent in the years 1815 to 1870--the
revolts, revolutions, and wars, that give a special character to the history of
the century--resulted directly from the bad or imperfect arrangements of the
Congress of Vienna and of the so-called Holy Alliance of the monarchs who
sought to perpetuate them. The effect of this widespread discontent was not
felt at once. The peoples were too exhausted by the terrific strain of the

Napoleonic wars to do much for a generation or more, save in times of
popular excitement. Except in the south-east of Europe, where Greece, with
the aid of Russia, Britain, and France, wrested her political independence
from the grasp of the Sultan (1827), the forty years that succeeded Waterloo
were broken by no important war; but they were marked by oft-recurring
unrest and sedition. Thus, when the French Revolution of 1830 overthrew
the reactionary dynasty of the elder Bourbons, the universal excitement
caused by this event endowed the Belgians with strength sufficient to shake
off the heavy yoke of the Dutch; while in Italy, Germany, and Poland the
democrats and nationalists (now working generally in accord) made valiant
but unsuccessful efforts to achieve their ideals.
The same was the case in 1848. The excitement, which this time originated
in Italy, spread to France, overthrew the throne of Louis Philippe (of the
younger branch of the French Bourbons), and bade fair to roll half of the
crowns of Europe into the gutter. But these spasmodic efforts of the
democrats speedily failed. Inexperience, disunion, and jealousy paralysed
their actions and yielded the victory to the old Governments. Frenchmen, in
dismay at the seeming approach of communism and anarchy, fell back upon
the odd expedient of a Napoleonic Republic, which in 1852 was easily
changed by Louis Napoleon into an Empire modelled on that of his far
greater uncle. The democrats of Germany achieved some startling successes
over their repressive Governments in the spring of the year 1848, only to
find that they could not devise a working constitution for the Fatherland;
and the deputies who met at the federal capital, Frankfurt, to unify Germany
"by speechifying and majorities," saw power slip back little by little into the
hands of the monarchs and princes. In the Austrian Empire nationalist
claims and strivings led to a very Babel of discordant talk and action,
amidst which the young Hapsburg ruler, Francis Joseph, thanks to Russian
military aid, was able to triumph over the valour of the Hungarians and the
devotion of their champion, Kossuth.
In Italy the same sad tale was told. In the spring of that year of revolutions,
1848, the rulers in quick succession granted constitutions to their subjects.
The reforming Pope, Pius IX., and the patriotic King of Sardinia, Charles
Albert, also made common cause with their peoples in the effort to drive out
the Austrians from Lombardy-Venetia; but the Pope and all the potentates
except Charles Albert speedily deserted the popular cause; friction between

the King and the republican leaders, Mazzini and Garibaldi, further
weakened the nationalists, and the Austrians had little difficulty in crushing
Charles Albert's forces, whereupon he abdicated in favour of his son, Victor
Emmanuel II. (1849). The Republics set up at Rome and Venice struggled
valiantly for a time against great odds--Mazzini, Garibaldi, and their
volunteers being finally overborne at the Eternal City by the French troops
whom Louis Napoleon sent to restore the Pope (June 1849); while, two
months later, Venice surrendered to the Austrians whom she had long held
at bay. The Queen of the Adriatic under the inspiring dictatorship of Manin
had given a remarkable example of orderly constitutional government in
time of siege.
It seemed to be the lot of the nationalists and democrats to produce leaders
who could thrill the imagination of men by lofty teachings and sublime
heroism; who could, in a word, achieve everything but success. A poetess,
who looked forth from Casa Guidi windows upon the tragi-comedy of
Florentine failure in those years, wrote that what was needed was a firmer
union, a more practical and intelligent activity, on the part both of the
people and of the future leader:

A land's brotherhood
Is most puissant: men, upon the whole,
Are what they can be,--nations, what they would.

Will therefore to be strong, thou Italy!
Will to be noble! Austrian Metternich
Can fix no yoke unless the neck agree.

Whatever hand shall grasp this oriflamme,
Whatever man (last peasant or first Pope
Seeking to free his country) shall appear,
Teach, lead, strike fire into the masses, fill
These empty bladders with fine air, insphere
These wills into a unity of will,

And make of Italy a nation--dear
And blessed be that man!

When Elizabeth Barrett Browning penned those lines she cannot have
surmised that two men were working their way up the rungs of the political
ladder in Piedmont and Prussia, whose keen intellects and masterful wills
were to weld their Fatherlands into indissoluble union within the space of
one momentous decade. These men were Cavour and Bismarck.
It would far exceed the limits of space of this brief Introduction to tell,
except in the briefest outline, the story of the plodding preparation and far-
seeing diplomacy by which these statesmen raised their respective countries
from depths of humiliation to undreamt of heights of triumph. The first
thing was to restore the prestige of their States. No people can be strong in
action that has lost belief in its own powers and has allowed its neighbours
openly to flout it. The history of the world has shown again and again that
politicians who allow their country to be regarded as une quantité
négligeable bequeath to some abler successor a heritage of struggle and
war--struggle for the nation to recover its self-respect, and war to regain
consideration and fair treatment from others. However much frothy talkers
in their clubs may decry the claims of national prestige, no great statesman
has ever underrated their importance. Certainly the first aim both of Cavour
and Bismarck was to restore self-respect and confidence to their States after
the humiliations and the dreary isolation of those dark years, 1848-51. We
will glance, first, at the resurrection (Risorgimento) of the little Kingdom of
Sardinia, which was destined to unify Italy.
Charles Albert's abdication immediately after his defeat by the Austrians
left no alternative to his son and successor, Victor Emmanuel II., but that of
signing a disastrous peace with Austria. In a short time the stout-hearted
young King called to his councils Count Cavour, the second son of a noble
Piedmontese family, but of firmly Liberal principles, who resolved to make
the little kingdom the centre of enlightenment and hope for despairing Italy.
He strengthened the constitution (the only one out of many granted in 1848
that survived the time of reaction); he reformed the tariff in the direction of
Free Trade; and during the course of the Crimean War he persuaded his
sovereign to make an active alliance with France and England, so as to bind
them by all the claims of honour to help Sardinia in the future against

Austria. The occasion was most opportune; for Austria was then suspected
and disliked both by Russia and the Western Powers owing to her policy of
armed neutrality. Nevertheless the reward of Cavour's diplomacy came
slowly and incompletely. By skilfully vague promises (never reduced to
writing) Cavour induced Napoleon III. to take up arms against Austria; but,
after the great victory of Solferino (June 24, 1859), the French Emperor
enraged the Italians by breaking off the struggle before the allies recovered
the great province of Venetia, which he had pledged himself to do. Worse
still, he required the cession of Savoy and Nice to France, if the Central
Duchies and the northern part of the Papal States joined the Kingdom of
Sardinia, as they now did. Thus, the net result of Napoleon's intervention in
Italy was his acquisition of Savoy and Nice (at the price of Italian hatred),
and the gain of Lombardy and the central districts for the national cause
(1859-60).
The agony of mind caused by this comparative failure undermined Cavour's
health; but in the last months of his life he helped to impel and guide the
revolutionary elements in Italy to an enterprise that ended in a startling and
momentous triumph. This was nothing less than the overthrow of Bourbon
rule in Sicily and Southern Italy by Garibaldi. Thanks to Cavour's
connivance, this dashing republican organised an expedition of about 1000
volunteers near Genoa, set sail for Sicily, and by a few blows shivered the
chains of tyranny in that island. It is noteworthy that British war-ships lent
him covert but most important help at Palermo and again in his crossing to
the mainland; this timely aid and the presence of a band of Britons in his
ranks laid the foundation of that friendship which has ever since united the
two nations. In Calabria the hero met with the feeblest resistance from the
Bourbon troops and the wildest of welcomes from the populace. At Salerno
he took tickets for Naples and entered the enemy's capital by railway train
(September 7). Then he purposed, after routing the Bourbon force north of
the city, to go on and attack the French at Rome and proclaim a united Italy.
Cavour took care that he should do no such thing. The Piedmontese
statesman knew when to march onwards and when to halt. As his
compatriot, Manzoni, said of him, "Cavour has all the prudence and all the
imprudence of the true statesman." He had dared and won in 1855-59, and
again in secretly encouraging Garibaldi's venture. Now it was time to stop
in order to consolidate the gains to the national cause.

The leader of the red-shirts, having done what no king could do, was
thenceforth to be controlled by the monarchy of the north. Victor Emmanuel
came in as the deus ex machina; his troops pressed southwards, occupying
the eastern part of the Papal States in their march, and joined hands with the
Garibaldians to the north of Naples, thus preventing the collision with
France which the irregulars would have brought about. Even as it was,
Cavour had hard work to persuade Napoleon that this was the only way of
curbing Garibaldi and preventing the erection of a South Italian Republic;
but finally the French Emperor looked on uneasily while the Pope's eastern
territories were violated, and while the cause of Italian Unity was assured at
the expense of the Pontiff whom France was officially supporting in Rome.
A plébiscite, or mass vote, of the people of Sicily, South Italy, and the
eastern and central parts of the Papal States, was resorted to by Cavour in
order to throw a cloak of legality over these irregular proceedings. The
device pleased Napoleon, and it resulted in an overwhelming vote in favour
of annexation to Victor Emmanuel's kingdom. Thus, in March 1861, the
soldier-king was able amidst universal acclaim to take the title of King of
Italy. Florence was declared to be the capital of the realm (1864), which
embraced all parts of Italy except the Province of Venetia, pertaining to
Austria, and the "Patrimonium Petri"--that is, Rome and its vicinity,--still
held by the Pope and garrisoned by the French. The former of these was to
be regained for la patria in 1866, the latter in 1870, in consequence of the
mighty triumphs then achieved by the principle of nationality in Prussia and
Germany. To these triumphs we must now briefly advert.
No one who looked at the state of European politics in 1861, could have
imagined that in less than ten years Prussia would have waged three wars
and humbled the might of Austria and France. At that time she showed no
signs of exceptional vigour: she had as yet produced no leaders so inspiring
as Mazzini and Garibaldi, no statesman so able as Cavour. Her new king,
William, far from arousing the feelings of growing enthusiasm that centred
in Victor Emmanuel, was more and more distrusted and disliked by Liberals
for the policy of militarism on which he had just embarked. In fact, the
Hohenzollern dynasty was passing into a "Conflict Time" with its
Parliament which threatened to impair the influence of Prussia abroad and
to retard her recovery from the period of humiliations through which she
had recently passed.

A brief recital of those humiliations is desirable as showing, firstly, the
suddenness with which the affairs of a nation may go to ruin in slack and
unskilful hands, and, secondly, the immense results that can be achieved in
a few years by a small band of able men who throw their whole heart into
the work of national regeneration.
The previous ruler, Frederick William IV., was a gifted and learned man,
but he lacked soundness of judgment and strength of will--qualities which
are of more worth in governing than graces of the intellect. At the time of
the revolutionary outbreaks of 1848 he capitulated to the Berlin mob and
declared for a constitutional régime in which Prussia should merge herself
in Germany; but when the excesses of the democrats had weakened their
authority, he put them down by military force, refused the German Crown
offered him by the popularly elected German Parliament assembled at
Frankfurt-on-Main (April 1849); and thereupon attempted to form a smaller
union of States, namely, Prussia, Saxony, and Hanover. This Three Kings'
League, as it was called, soon came to an end; for it did not satisfy the
nationalists who wished to see Germany united, the constitutionalists who
aimed at the supremacy of Parliament, or the friends of the old order of
things. The vacillations of Frederick William and the unpractical theorisings
of the German Parliament at Frankfurt having aroused general disgust,
Austria found little difficulty in restoring the power of the old Germanic
Confederation in September, 1850. Strong in her alliance with Russia, she
next compelled Frederick William to sign the Convention of Olmütz (Nov.
1850). By this humiliating compact he agreed to forbear helping the
German nationalists in Schleswig-Holstein to shake off the oppressive rule
of the Danes; to withdraw Prussian troops from Hesse-Cassel and Baden,
where strifes had broken out; and to acknowledge the supremacy of the old
Federal Diet under the headship of Austria. Thus, it seemed that the
Prussian monarchy was a source of weakness and disunion for North
Germany, and that Austria, backed up by the might of Russia, must long
continue to lord it over the cumbrous Germanic Confederation.
But a young country squire, named Bismarck, even then resolved that the
Prussian monarchy should be the means of strengthening and binding
together the Fatherland. The resolve bespoke the patriotism of a sturdy,
hopeful nature; and the young Bismarck was nothing if not patriotic, sturdy,
and hopeful. The son of an ancient family in the Mark of Brandenburg, he

brought to his life-work powers inherited from a line of fighting ancestors;
and his mind was no less robust than his body. Quick at mastering a mass of
details, he soon saw into the heart of a problem, and his solution of it was
marked both by unfailing skill and by sound common sense as to the choice
of men and means. In some respects he resembles Napoleon the Great.
Granted that he was his inferior in the width of vision and the versatility of
gifts that mark a world-genius, yet he was his equal in diplomatic
resourcefulness and in the power of dealing lightning strokes; while his
possession of the priceless gift of moderation endowed his greatest political
achievements with a soundness and solidity never possessed by those of the
mighty conqueror who "sought to give the mot d'ordre to the universe." If
the figure of the Prussian does not loom so large on the canvas of universal
history as that of the Corsican--if he did not tame a Revolution, remodel
society, and reorganise a Continent--be it remembered that he made a
United Germany, while Napoleon the Great left France smaller and weaker
than he found her.
Bismarck's first efforts, like those of Cavour for Sardinia, were directed to
the task of restoring the prestige of his State. Early in his official career, the
Prussian patriot urged the expediency of befriending Russia during the
Crimean War, and he thus helped on that rapprochement between Berlin
and St. Petersburg which brought the mighty triumphs of 1866 and 1870
within the range of possibility. In 1857 Frederick William became insane;
and his brother William took the reins of Government as Regent, and early
in 1861 as King. The new ruler was less gifted than his unfortunate brother;
but his homely common sense and tenacious will strengthened Prussian
policy where it had been weakest. He soon saw the worth of Bismarck,
employed him in high diplomatic positions, and when the royal proposals
for strengthening the army were decisively rejected by the Prussian House
of Representatives, he speedily sent for Bismarck to act as Minister-
President (Prime Minister) and "tame" the refractory Parliament. The
constitutional crisis was becoming more and more acute when a great
national question came into prominence owing to the action of the Danes in
Schleswig-Holstein affairs.
Without entering into the very tangled web of customs, treaties, and
dynastic claims that made up the Schleswig-Holstein question, we may here
state that those Duchies were by ancient law very closely connected

together, that the King of Denmark was only Duke of Schleswig-Holstein,
and that the latter duchy, wholly German in population, formed part of the
Germanic Confederation. Latterly the fervent nationalists in Denmark,
while leaving Holstein to its German connections, had resolved thoroughly
to "Danify" Schleswig, the northern half of which was wholly Danish, and
they pressed on this policy by harsh and intolerant measures, making it
difficult or well-nigh impossible for the Germans to have public worship in
their own tongue and to secure German teachers for their children in the
schools. Matters were already in a very strained state, when shortly before
the death of King Frederick VII. of Denmark (November, 1863) the
Rigsraad at Copenhagen sanctioned a constitution for Schleswig, which
would practically have made it a part of the Danish monarchy. The King
gave his assent to it, an act which his successor, Christian IX., ratified.
Now, this action violated the last treaty--that signed by the Powers at
London in 1852, which settled the affairs of the Duchies; and Bismarck
therefore had strong ground for appealing to the Powers concerned, as also
to the German Confederation, against this breach of treaty obligations. The
Powers, especially England and France, sought to set things straight, but the
efforts of our Foreign Minister, Lord John Russell, had no effect. The
German Confederation also refused to take any steps about Schleswig as
being outside its jurisdiction. Bismarck next persuaded Austria to help
Prussia in defeating Danish designs on that duchy. The Danes, on the other
hand, counted on the unofficial expressions of sympathy which came from
the people of Great Britain and France at sight of a small State menaced by
two powerful monarchies. In fact, the whole situation was complicated by
this explosion of feeling, which seemed to the Danes to portend the armed
intervention of the Western States, especially England, on their behalf. As
far as is known, no official assurance to that effect ever went forth from
London. In fact, it is certain that Queen Victoria absolutely forbade any
such step; but the mischief done by sentimental orators, heedless
newspaper-editors, and factious busybodies, could not be undone. As Lord
John Russell afterwards stated in a short "Essay on the Policy of England":
"It pleased some English advisers of great influence to meddle in this affair;
they were successful in thwarting the British Government, and in the end,
with the professed view, and perhaps the real intention, of helping
Denmark, their friendship tended to deprive her of Holstein and Schleswig

altogether." This final judgment of a veteran statesman is worth quoting as
showing his sense of the mischief done by well-meant but misguided
sympathy, which pushed the Danes on to ruin and embittered our relations
with Prussia for many years.
Not that the conduct of the German Powers was flawless. On January 16,
1864, they sent to Copenhagen a demand for the withdrawal of the
constitution for Schleswig within two days. The Danish Foreign Minister
pointed out that, as the Rigsraad was not in session, this could not possibly
be done within two days. In this last step, then, the German Powers were
undoubtedly the aggressors[1]. The Prussian troops were ready near the
River Eider, and at once invaded Schleswig. The Danes were soon beaten
on the mainland; then a pause occurred, during which a Conference of the
Powers concerned was held at London. It has been proved by the German
historian, von Sybel, that the first serious suggestion to Prussia that she
should take both the Duchies came secretly from Napoleon III. It was in
vain that Lord John Russell suggested a sensible compromise, namely, the
partition of Schleswig between Denmark and Germany according to the
language-frontier inside the Duchy. To this the belligerents demurred on
points of detail, the Prussian representative asserting that he would not
leave a single German under Danish rule. The war was therefore resumed,
and ended in a complete defeat for the weaker State, which finally
surrendered both Duchies to Austria and Prussia (1864)[2].
The question of the sharing of the Duchies now formed one of the causes of
the far greater war between the victors; but, in truth, it was only part of the
much larger question, which had agitated Germany for centuries, whether
the balance of power should belong to the North or the South. Bismarck
also saw that the time was nearly ripe for settling this matter once for all in
favour of Prussia; but he had hard work even to persuade his own
sovereign; while the Prussian Parliament, as well as public opinion
throughout Germany, was violently hostile to his schemes and favoured the
claims of the young Duke of Augustenburg to the Duchies--claims that had
much show of right. Matters were patched up for a time between the two
German States, by the Convention of Gastein (August 1865), while in
reality each prepared for war and sought to gain allies.

Here again Bismarck was successful. After vainly seeking to buy Venetia
from the Austrian Court, Italy agreed to side with Prussia against that Power
in order to wrest by force a province which she could not hope to gain
peaceably. Russia, too, was friendly to the Court of Berlin, owing to the
help which the latter had given her in crushing the formidable revolt of the
Poles in 1863. It remained to keep France quiet. In this Bismarck thought he
had succeeded by means of interviews which he held with Napoleon III. at
Biarritz (Nov. 1865). What there occurred is not clearly known. That
Bismarck played on the Emperor's foible for oppressed nationalities, in the
case of Italy, is fairly certain; that he fed him with hopes of gaining
Belgium, or a slice of German land, is highly probable, and none the less so
because he later on indignantly denied in the Reichstag that he ever "held
out the prospect to anybody of ceding a single German village, or even as
much as a clover-field." In any case Napoleon seems to have promised to
observe neutrality--not because he loved Prussia, but because he expected
the German Powers to wear one another out and thus leave him master of
the situation. In common with most of the wiseacres of those days he
believed that Prussia and Italy would ultimately fall before the combined
weight of Austria and of the German States, which closely followed her in
the Confederation; whereupon he could step in and dictate his own
terms[3].
Bismarck and the leaders of the Prussian army had few doubts as to the
result. They were determined to force on the war, and early in June 1866
brought forward proposals at the Frankfurt Diet for the "reform" of the
German Confederation, the chief of them being the exclusion of Austria, the
establishment of a German Parliament elected by manhood suffrage, and
the formation of a North German army commanded by the King of Prussia.
A great majority of the Federal Diet rejected these proposals, and war
speedily broke out, Austria being supported by nearly all the German States
except the two Mecklenburgs.
The weight of numbers was against Prussia, even though she had the help
of the Italians operating against Venetia. On that side Austria was
completely successful, as also in a sea-fight near Lissa in the Adriatic; but
in the north the Hapsburgs and their German allies soon found out that
organisation, armament, and genius count for more than numbers. The great

organiser, von Roon, had brought Prussia's citizen army to a degree of
efficiency that surprised every one; and the quick-firing "needle-gun" dealt
havoc and terror among the enemy. Using to the full the advantage of her
central position against the German States, Prussia speedily worsted their
isolated and badly-handled forces, while her chief armies overthrew those
of Austria and Saxony in Bohemia. The Austrian plan of campaign had been
to invade Prussia by two armies--a comparatively small force advancing
from Cracow as a base into Silesia, while another, acting from Olmütz,
advanced through Bohemia to join the Saxons and march on Berlin, some
50,000 Bavarians joining them in Bohemia for the same enterprise. This
design speedily broke down owing to the short-sighted timidity of the
Bavarian Government, which refused to let its forces leave their own
territory; the lack of railway facilities in the Austrian Empire also hampered
the moving of two large armies to the northern frontier. Above all, the swift
and decisive movements of the Prussians speedily drove the allies to act on
the defensive--itself a grave misfortune in war.
Meanwhile the Prussian strategist, von Moltke, was carrying out a far more
incisive plan of operations--that of sending three Prussian armies into the
middle of Bohemia, and there forming a great mass which would sweep
away all obstacles from the road to Vienna. This design received prompt
and skilful execution. Saxony was quickly overrun, and the irruption of
three great armies into Bohemia compelled the Austrians and their Saxon
allies hurriedly to alter their plans. After suffering several reverses in the
north of Bohemia, their chief array under Benedek barred the way of the
two northern Prussian armies on the heights north of the town of
Königgrätz. On the morning of July 3 the defenders long beat off all frontal
attacks with heavy loss; but about 2 P.M. the Army of Silesia, under the
Crown Prince Frederick of Prussia, after a forced march of twelve miles,
threw itself on their right flank, where Benedek expected no very serious
onset. After desperate fighting the Army of Silesia carried the village of
Chlum in the heart of the Austrian position, and compelled Austrians and
Saxons to a hurried retreat over the Elbe. In this the Austrian infantry was
saved from destruction by the heroic stand made by the artillery. Even so,
the allies lost more than 13,000 killed and wounded, 22,000 prisoners, and
187 guns[4].

Königgrätz (or Sadowa, as it is often called) decided the whole campaign.
The invaders now advanced rapidly towards Vienna, and at the town of
Nikolsburg concluded the Preliminaries of Peace with Austria (July 26),
whereupon a mandate came from Paris, bidding them stop. In fact, the
Emperor of the French offered his intervention in a manner most
threatening to the victors. He sought to detach Italy from the Prussian
alliance by the offer of Venetia as a left-handed present from himself--an
offer which the Italian Government subsequently refused.
To understand how Napoleon III. came to change front and belie his earlier
promises, one must look behind the scenes. Enough is already known to
show that the Emperor's hand was forced by his Ministers and by the
Parisian Press, probably also by the Empress Eugénie. Though desirous,
apparently, of befriending Prussia, he had already yielded to their persistent
pleas urging him to stay the growth of the Protestant Power of North
Germany. On June 10, at the outbreak of the war, he secretly concluded a
treaty with Austria, holding out to her the prospect of recovering the great
province of Silesia (torn from her by Frederick the Great in 1740) in return
for a magnanimous cession of Venetia to Italy. The news of Königgrätz led
to a violent outburst of anti-Prussian feeling; but Napoleon refused to take
action at once, when it might have been very effective.
The best plan for the French Government would have been to send to the
Rhine all the seasoned troops left available by Napoleon III.'s ill-starred
Mexican enterprise, so as to help the hard-pressed South German forces,
offering also the armed mediation of France to the combatants. In that case
Prussia must have drawn back, and Napoleon III. could have dictated his
own terms to Central Europe. But his earlier leanings towards Prussia and
Italy, the advice of Prince Napoleon ("Plon-Plon") and Lavalette, and the
wheedlings of the Prussian ambassador as to compensations which France
might gain as a set-off to Prussia's aggrandisement, told on the French
Emperor's nature, always somewhat sluggish and then prostrated by severe
internal pain; with the result that he sent his proposals for a settlement of
the points in dispute, but took no steps towards enforcing them. A fortnight
thus slipped away, during which the Prussians reaped the full fruits of their
triumph at Königgrätz; and it was not until July 29, three days after the
Preliminaries of Peace were signed, that the French Foreign Minister,
Drouyn de Lhuys, worried his master, then prostrate with pain at Vichy, into

sanctioning the following demands from victorious Prussia: the cession to
France of the Rhenish Palatinate (belonging to Bavaria), the south-western
part of Hesse Darmstadt, and that part of Prussia's Rhine-Province lying in
the valley of the Saar which she had acquired after Waterloo. This would
have brought within the French frontier the great fortress of Mainz
(Mayence); but the great mass of these gains, it will be observed, would
have been at the expense of South German States, whose cause France
proclaimed her earnest desire to uphold against the encroaching power of
Prussia.
Bismarck took care to have an official copy of these demands in writing, the
use of which will shortly appear; and having procured this precious
document, he defied the French envoy, telling him that King William, rather
than agree to such a surrender of German land, would make peace with
Austria and the German States on any terms, and invade France at the head
of the forces of a united Germany. This reply caused another change of
front at Napoleon's Court. The demands were disavowed and the Foreign
Minister, Drouyn de Lhuys, resigned[5].
The completeness of Prussia's triumph over Austria and her German allies,
together with the preparations of the Hungarians for revolt, decided the
Court of Vienna to accept the Prussian terms which were embodied in the
Treaty of Prague (Aug. 23); they were, the direct cession of Venetia to Italy;
the exclusion of Austria from German affairs and her acceptance of the
changes there pending; the cession to Prussia of Schleswig-Holstein; and
the payment of 20,000,000 thalers (about £3,000,000) as war indemnity.
The lenience of these conditions was to have a very noteworthy result,
namely, the speedy reconciliation of the two Powers: within twenty years
they were firmly united in the Triple Alliance with Italy (see Chapter X.).
Some difficulties stood in the way of peace between Prussia and her late
enemies in the German Confederation, especially Bavaria. These last were
removed when Bismarck privately disclosed to the Bavarian Foreign
Minister the secret demand made by France for the cession of the Bavarian
Palatinate. In the month of August, the South German States, Bavaria,
Würtemberg and Baden, accepted Prussia's terms; whereby they paid small
war indemnities and recognised the new constitution of Germany.
Outwardly they formed a South German Confederation; but this had a very

shadowy existence; and the three States by secret treaties with Prussia
agreed to place their armies and all military arrangements, in case of war,
under the control of the King of Prussia. Thus within a month from the
close of "the Seven Weeks' War," the whole of Germany was quietly but
firmly bound to common action in military matters; and the actions of
France left little doubt as to the need of these timely precautions.
On those German States which stood in the way of Prussia's territorial
development and had shown marked hostility, Bismarck bore hard. The
Kingdom of Hanover, Electoral Hesse (Hesse-Cassel), the Duchy of
Nassau, and the Free City of Frankfurt were annexed outright, Prussia
thereby gaining direct contact with her Westphalian and Rhenish Provinces.
The absorption of Frankfurt-on-the-Main, and the formation of a new
league, the North German Confederation, swept away all the old federal
machinery, and marked out Berlin, not Vienna or Frankfurt, as the future
governing centre of the Fatherland. It was doubtless a perception of the vast
gains to the national cause which prompted the Prussian Parliament to pass
a Bill of Indemnity exonerating the King's Ministers for the illegal acts
committed by them during the "Conflict Time" (1861-66)--acts which saved
Prussia in spite of her Parliament.
Constitutional freedom likewise benefited largely by the results of the war.
The new North German Confederation was based avowedly on manhood
suffrage, not because either King William or Bismarck loved democracy,
but because after lately pledging themselves to it as the groundwork of
reform of the old Confederation, they could not draw back in the hour of
triumph. As Bismarck afterwards confessed to his Secretary, Dr. Busch, "I
accepted universal suffrage, but with reluctance, as a Frankfurt tradition"
(i.e. of the democratic Parliament of Frankfurt in 1848)[6]. All the lands,
therefore, between the Niemen and the Main were bound together in a
Confederation based on constitutional principles, though the governing
powers of the King and his Ministers continued to be far larger than is the
case in Great Britain. To this matter we shall recur when we treat of the
German Empire, formed by the union of the North and South German
Confederations of 1866.
Austria also was soon compelled to give way before the persistent demands
of the Hungarian patriots for their ancient constitution, which happily

blended monarchy and democracy. Accordingly, the centralised Hapsburg
monarchy was remodelled by the Ausgleich (compromise) of 1867, and
became the Dual-Monarchy of Austria-Hungary, the two parts of the realm
being ruled quite separately for most purposes of government, and united
only for those of army organisation, foreign policy, and finance.
Parliamentary control became dominant in each part of the Empire; and the
grievances resulting from autocratic or bureaucratic rule vanished from
Hungary. They disappeared also from Hanover and Hesse-Cassel, where the
Guelf sovereigns and Electors had generally repressed popular movements.
Greatest of all the results of the war of 1866, however, was the gain to the
national cause in Germany and Italy. Peoples that had long been divided
were now in the brief space of three months brought within sight of the
long-wished-for unity. The rush of these events blinded men to their
enduring import and produced an impression that the Prussian triumph was
like that of Napoleon I., too sudden and brilliant to last. Those who
hazarded this verdict forgot that his political arrangements for Europe
violated every instinct of national solidarity; while those of 1866 served to
group the hitherto divided peoples of North Germany and Italy around the
monarchies that had proved to be the only possible rallying points in their
respective countries. It was this harmonising of the claims and aspirations
of monarchy, nationality, and democracy that gave to the settlement of 1866
its abiding importance, and fitted the two peoples for the crowning triumph
of 1870.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] Lord Wodehouse (afterwards Earl of Kimberley) was at that time sent
on a special mission to Copenhagen. When his official correspondence is
published, it will probably throw light on many points.
[2] Sybel, Die Begründung des deutschen Reiches, vol. iii. pp. 299-344;
Débidour, Hist. diplomatique de l'Europe, vol. ii. pp. 261-273; Lowe, Life
of Bismarck, vol. i. chap. vi.; Headlam, Bismarck, chap. viii.; Lord
Malmesbury, Memoirs of an ex-Minister pp. 584-593 (small edition);
Spencer Walpole, Life of Lord J. Russell, vol. ii. pp. 396-411.

In several respects the cause of ruin to Denmark in 1863-64 bears a
remarkable resemblance to that which produced war in South Africa in
1899, viz. high-handed action of a minority towards men whom they treated
as Outlanders, the stiff-necked obstinacy of the smaller State, and reliance
on the vehement but (probably) unofficial offers of help or intervention by
other nations.
[3] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol. ii. p. 17 (Eng. edit.); Débidour, Histoire
diplomatique de l'Europe (1814-1878), vol ii. pp. 291-293. Lord Loftus in
his Diplomatic Reminiscences (vol. ii. p. 280) says: "So satisfied was
Bismarck that he could count on the neutrality of France, that no defensive
military measures were taken on the Rhine and western frontier. He had no
fears of Russia on the eastern frontier, and was therefore able to concentrate
the military might of Prussia against Austria and her South German Allies."

Light has been thrown on the bargainings between Italy and Prussia by the
Memoirs of General Govone, who found Bismarck a hard bargainer.
[4] Sybel, Die Begründung des deutschen Reiches, vol. v. pp. 174-205;
Journals of Field Marshal Count von Blumenthal for 1866 and 1871 (Eng.
edit.), pp. 37-44.
[5] Sybel, op. cit. vol. v. pp. 365-374. Débidour, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 315-318.
See too volume viii. of Ollivier's work, L'Empire libéral, published in 1904;
and M. de la Gorce's work, Histoire du second Empire, vol. vi. (Paris 1903).
[6] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol. ii. p. 196 (English edit.).

CHAPTER I
THE CAUSES OF THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR

"After the fatal year 1866, the Empire was in a state
of decadence."--L. GREGOIRE, Histoire de France.

The irony of history is nowhere more manifest than in the curious destiny
which called a Napoleon III. to the place once occupied by Napoleon I., and
at the very time when the national movements, unwittingly called to
vigorous life by the great warrior, were attaining to the full strength of
manhood. Napoleon III. was in many ways a well-meaning dreamer, who,
unluckily for himself, allowed his dreams to encroach on his waking
moments. In truth, his sluggish but very persistent mind never saw quite
clearly where dreams must give way to realities; or, as M. de Falloux
phrased it, "He does not know the difference between dreaming and
thinking[7]." Thus his policy showed an odd mixture of generous haziness
and belated practicality.
Long study of his uncle's policy showed him, rightly enough, that it erred in
trampling down the feeling of nationality in Germany and elsewhere. The
nephew resolved to avoid this mistake and to pose as the champion of the
oppressed and divided peoples of Italy, Germany, Poland, and the Balkan
Peninsula--a programme that promised to appeal to the ideal aspirations of
the French, to embarrass the dynasties that had overthrown the first
Napoleon, and to yield substantial gains for his nephew. Certainly it did so
in the case of Italy; his championship of the Roumanians also helped on the
making of that interesting Principality (1861) and gained the goodwill of
Russia; but he speedily forfeited this by his wholly ineffective efforts on
behalf of the Poles in 1863. His great mistakes, however, were committed
in and after the year 1863, when he plunged into Mexican politics with the
chimerical aim of founding a Roman Catholic Empire in Central America,
and favoured the rise of Prussia in connection with the Schleswig-Holstein

question. By the former of these he locked up no small part of his army in
Mexico when he greatly needed it on the Rhine; by the latter he helped on
the rise of the vigorous North German Power.
As we have seen, he secretly advised Prussia to take both Schleswig and
Holstein, thereby announcing his wish for the effective union of Germans
with the one great State composed almost solely of Germans. "I shall
always be consistent in my conduct," he said. "If I have fought for the
independence of Italy, if I have lifted up my voice for Polish nationality, I
cannot have other sentiments in Germany, or obey other principles." This
declaration bespoke the doctrinaire rather than the statesman. Untaught by
the clamour which French Chauvinists and ardent Catholics had raised
against his armed support of the Italian national cause in 1859, he now
proposed to further the aggrandisement of the Protestant North German
Power which had sought to partition France in 1815.
The clamour aroused by his leanings towards Prussia in 1864-66 was
naturally far more violent, in proportion as the interests of France were
more closely at stake. Prussia held the Rhine Province; and French patriots,
who clung to the doctrine of the "natural frontiers"--the Ocean, Pyrenees,
Alps, and Rhine--looked on her as the natural enemy. They pointed out that
millions of Frenchmen had shed their blood in the Revolutionary and
Napoleonic wars to win and to keep the Rhine boundary; and their most
eloquent spokesman, M. Thiers, who had devoted his historical gifts to
glorifying those great days, passionately declaimed against the policy of
helping on the growth of the hereditary foe.
We have already seen the results of this strife between the pro-Prussian
foibles of the Emperor and the eager prejudices of Frenchmen, whose love
of oppressed and divided nations grew in proportion to their distance from
France, and changed to suspicion or hatred in the case of her neighbours. In
1866, under the breath of ministerial arguments and oratorical onslaughts
Napoleon III.'s policy weakly wavered, thereby giving to Bismarck's
statecraft a decisive triumph all along the line. In vain did he in the latter
part of that year remind the Prussian statesman of his earlier promises
(always discreetly vague) of compensation for France, and throw out
diplomatic feelers for Belgium, or at any rate Luxemburg[8]. In vain did M.
Thiers declare in the Chamber of Deputies that France, while recognising

accomplished facts in Germany, ought "firmly to declare that we will not
allow them to go further" (March 14, 1867). Bismarck replied to this
challenge of the French orator by publishing five days later the hitherto
secret military alliances concluded with the South German States in August
1866. Thenceforth France knew that a war with Prussia would be war with a
united Germany.
In the following year the Zollverein, or German Customs' Union (which had
been gradually growing since 1833), took a definitely national form in a
Customs' Parliament which assembled in April 1868, thus unifying
Germany for purposes of trade as well as those of war. This sharp rebuff
came at a time when Napoleon's throne was tottering from the utter collapse
of his Mexican expedition; when, too, he more than ever needed popular
support in France for the beginnings of a more constitutional rule. Early in
1867 he sought to buy Luxemburg from Holland. This action aroused a
storm of wrath in Prussia, which had the right to garrison Luxemburg; but
the question was patched up by a Conference of the Powers at London, the
Duchy being declared neutral territory under the guarantee of Europe; the
fortifications of its capital were also to be demolished, and the Prussian
garrison withdrawn. This success for French diplomacy was repeated in
Italy, where the French troops supporting the Pope crushed the efforts of
Garibaldi and his irregulars to capture Rome, at the sanguinary fight of
Mentana (November 3, 1867). The official despatch, stating that the new
French rifle, the chassepôt, "had done wonders," spread jubilation through
France and a sharp anti-Gallic sentiment throughout Italy.
And while Italy heaved with longings for her natural capital, popular
feelings in France and North Germany made steadily for war.
Before entering upon the final stages of the dispute, it may be well to take a
bird's-eye view of the condition of the chief Powers in so far as it explains
their attitude towards the great struggle.
The condition of French politics was strangely complex. The Emperor had
always professed that he was the elect of France, and would ultimately
crown his political edifice with the corner-stone of constitutional liberty.
Had he done so in the successful years 1855-61, possibly his dynasty might
have taken root. He deferred action, however, until the darker years that

came after 1866. In 1868 greater freedom was allowed to the Press and in
the case of public meetings. The General Election of the spring of 1869
showed large gains to the Opposition, and decided the Emperor to grant to
the Corps Législatif the right of initiating laws concurrently with himself,
and he declared that Ministers should be responsible to it (September 1869).
These and a few other changes marked the transition from autocracy to the
"Liberal Empire." One of the champions of constitutional principles, M.
Emile Ollivier, formed a Cabinet to give effect to the new policy, and the
Emperor, deeming the time ripe for consolidating his power on a
democratic basis, consulted the country in a plébiscite, or mass vote,
primarily as to their judgment on the recent changes, but implicitly as to
their confidence in the imperial system as a whole. His skill in joining
together two topics that were really distinct, gained him a tactical victory.
More than 7,350,000 affirmative votes were given, as against 1,572,000
negatives; while 1,900,000 voters registered no vote. This success at the
polls emboldened the supporters of the Empire; and very many of them,
especially, it is thought, the Empress Eugénie, believed that only one thing
remained in order to place the Napoleonic dynasty on a lasting basis--that
was, a successful war.
Champions of autocracy pointed out that the growth of Radicalism
coincided with the period of military failures and diplomatic slights. Let
Napoleon III., they said in effect, imitate the policy of his uncle, who, as
long as he dazzled France by triumphs, could afford to laugh at the efforts
of constitution-mongers. The big towns might prate of liberty; but what
France wanted was glory and strong government. Such were their pleas:
there was much in the past history of France to support them. The
responsible advisers of the Emperor determined to take a stronger tone in
foreign affairs, while the out-and-out Bonapartists jealously looked for any
signs of official weakness so that they might undermine the Ollivier
Ministry and hark back to absolutism. When two great parties in a State
make national prestige a catchword of the political game, peace cannot be
secure: that was the position of France in the early part of 1870[9].
The eve of the Franco-German War was a time of great importance for the
United Kingdom. The Reform Bill of 1867 gave a great accession of power
to the Liberal Party; and the General Election of November 1868 speedily

led to the resignation of the Disraeli Cabinet and the accession of the
Gladstone Ministry to power. This portended change in other directions
than home affairs. The tradition of a spirited foreign policy died with Lord
Palmerston in 1865. With the entry of John Bright to the new Cabinet peace
at all costs became the dominant note of British statesmanship. There was
much to be said in favour of this. England needed a time of rest in order to
cope with the discontent of Ireland and the problems brought about by the
growth of democracy and commercialism in the larger island. The
disestablishment and partial disendowment of the Protestant Church in
Ireland (July 1869), the Irish Land Act (August 1870), and the Education
Act of 1870, showed the preoccupation of the Ministry for home affairs;
while the readiness with which, a little later, they complied with all the
wishes of the United States in the "Alabama" case, equally proclaimed their
pacific intentions. England, which in 1860 had exercised so powerful an
influence on the Italian national question, was for five years a factor of
small account in European affairs. Far from pleasing the combatants, our
neutrality annoyed both of them. The French accused England of
"deserting" Napoleon III. in his time of need--a charge that has lately been
revived by M. Hanotaux. To this it is only needful to reply that the French
Emperor entered into alliance with us at the time of the Crimean War
merely for his own objects, and allowed all friendly feeling to be ended by
French threats of an invasion of England in 1858 and his shabby treatment
of Italy in the matter of Savoy and Nice a year later. On his side, Bismarck
also complained that our feeling for the German cause went no further than
"theoretical sympathy," and that "during the war England never
compromised herself so far in our favour as to endanger her friendship with
France. On the contrary." These vague and enigmatic charges at bottom
only express the annoyance of the combatants at their failure to draw
neutrals into the strife[10].
The traditions of the United States, of course, forbade their intervention in
the Franco-Prussian dispute. By an article of their political creed termed the
Monroe Doctrine, they asserted their resolve not to interfere in European
affairs and to prevent the interference of any strictly European State in those
of the New World. It was on this rather vague doctrine that they cried
"hands off" from Mexico to the French Emperor; and the abandonment of
his protégé, the so-called Emperor Maximilian, by French troops, brought

about the death of that unhappy prince and a sensible decline in the prestige
of his patron (June 1867).
Russia likewise remembered Napoleon III.'s championship of the Poles in
1863, which, however Platonic in its nature, caused the Czar some
embarrassment. Moreover, King William of Prussia had soothed the Czar's
feelings, ruffled by the dethroning of three German dynasties in 1866, by a
skilful reply which alluded to his (King William's) desire to be of service to
Russian interests elsewhere--a hint which the diplomatists of St. Petersburg
remembered in 1870 to some effect.
For the rest, the Czar Alexander II. (1855-81) and his Ministers were still
absorbed in the internal policy of reform, which in the sixties freed the serfs
and gave Russia new judicial and local institutions, doomed to be swept
away in the reaction following the murder of that enlightened ruler. The
Russian Government therefore pledged itself to neutrality, but in a sense
favourable to Prussia. The Czar ascribed the Crimean War to the ambition
of Napoleon III., and remembered the friendship of Prussia at that time, as
also in the Polish Revolt of 1863[11]. Bismarck's policy now brought its
reward.
The neutrality of Russia is always a matter of the utmost moment for the
Central Powers in any war on their western frontiers. Their efforts against
Revolutionary France in 1792-94 failed chiefly because of the ambiguous
attitude of the Czarina Catherine II.; and the collapse of Frederick William
IV.'s policy in 1848-51 was due to the hostility of his eastern neighbour. In
fact, the removal of anxiety about her open frontier on the east was now
worth a quarter of a million of men to Prussia.
But the Czar's neutrality was in one matter distinctly friendly to his uncle,
King William of Prussia. It is an open secret that unmistakable hints went
from St. Petersburg to Vienna to the effect that, if Austria drew the sword
for Napoleon III. she would have to reckon with an irruption of the
Russians into her open Galician frontier. Probably this accounts for the
conduct of the Hapsburg Power, which otherwise is inexplicable. A war of
revenge against Prussia seemed to be the natural step to take. True, the
Emperor Francis Joseph had small cause to like Napoleon III. The loss of
Lombardy in 1859 still rankled in the breast of every patriotic Austrian; and

the suspicions which that enigmatical ruler managed to arouse, prevented
any definite agreement resulting from the meeting of the two sovereigns at
Salzburg in 1867.
The relations of France and Austria were still in the same uncertain state
before the War of 1870. The foreign policy of Austria was in the hands of
Count Beust, a bitter foe of Prussia; but after the concession of
constitutional rule to Hungary by the compromise (Ausgleich) of 1867, the
Dual Monarchy urgently needed rest, especially as its army was undergoing
many changes. The Chancellor's action was therefore clogged on all sides.
Nevertheless, when the Luxemburg affair of 1867 brought France and
Prussia near to war, Napoleon began to make advances to the Court of
Vienna. How far they went is not known. Beust has asserted in his
correspondence with the French Foreign Minister, the Duc de Gramont
(formerly ambassador at Vienna), that they never were more than
discussions, and that they ended in 1869 without any written agreement.
The sole understanding was to the effect that the policy of both States
should be friendly and pacific, Austria reserving the right to remain neutral
if France were compelled to make war. The two Empires further promised
not to make any engagement with a third Power without informing the
other.
This statement is not very convincing. States do not usually bind
themselves in the way just described, unless they have some advantageous
agreement with the Power which has the first claim on their alliance. It is
noteworthy, however, that the Duc de Gramont, in the correspondence
alluded to above, admits that, as Ambassador and as Foreign Minister of
France, he never had to claim the support of Austria in the war with
Prussia[12].
How are we to reconcile these statements with the undoubted fact that the
Emperor Napoleon certainly expected help from Austria and also from
Italy? The solution of the riddle seems to be that Napoleon, as also Francis
Joseph and Victor Emmanuel, kept their Foreign Ministers in the dark on
many questions of high policy, which they transacted either by private
letters among themselves, or through military men who had their
confidence. The French and Italian sovereigns certainly employed these

methods, the latter because he was far more French in sympathy than his
Ministers.
As far back as the year 1868, Victor Emmanuel made overtures to Napoleon
with a view to alliance, the chief aim of which, from his standpoint, was to
secure the evacuation of Rome by the French troops, and the gain of the
Eternal City for the national cause. Prince Napoleon lent his support to this
scheme, and from an article written by him we know that the two
sovereigns discussed the matter almost entirely by means of confidential
letters[13]. These discussions went on up to the month of June 1869.
Francis Joseph, on hearing of them, urged the French Emperor to satisfy
Italy, and thus pave the way for an alliance between the three Powers
against Prussia. Nothing definite came of the affair, and chiefly, it would
seem, owing to the influence of the Empress Eugénie and the French
clerics. She is said to have remarked: "Better the Prussians in Paris than the
Italian troops in Rome." The diplomatic situation therefore remained vague,
though in the second week of July 1870, the Emperor again took up the
threads which, with greater firmness and foresight, he might have woven
into a firm design.
The understanding between the three Powers advanced only in regard to
military preparations. The Austrian Archduke Albrecht, the victor of
Custoza, burned to avenge the defeat of Königgrätz, and with this aim in
view visited Paris in February to March 1870. He then proposed to
Napoleon an invasion of North Germany by the armies of France, Austria,
and Italy. The French Emperor developed the plan by more specific
overtures which he made in the month of June; but his Ministers were so far
in the dark as to these military proposals that they were then suggesting the
reduction of the French army by 10,000 men, while Ollivier, the Prime
Minister, on June 30 declared to the French Chamber that peace had never
been better assured[14].
And yet on that same day General Lebrun, aide-de-camp to the Emperor,
was drawing up at Paris a confidential report of the mission with which he
had lately been entrusted to the Austrian military authorities. From that
report we take the following particulars. On arriving at Vienna, he had three
private interviews with the Archduke Albrecht, and set before him the
desirability of a joint invasion of North Germany in the autumn of that year.

To this the Archduke demurred, on the ground that such a campaign ought
to begin in the spring if the full fruits of victory were to be gathered in
before the short days came. Austria and Italy, he said, could not place
adequate forces in the field in less than six weeks owing to lack of
railways[15].
Developing his own views, the Archduke then suggested that it would be
desirable for France to undertake the war against North Germany not later
than the middle of March 1871, Austria and Italy at the same time
beginning their mobilisations, though not declaring war until their armies
were ready at the end of six weeks. Two French armies should in the
meantime cross the Rhine in order to sever the South Germans from the
Confederation of the North, one of them marching towards Nuremberg,
where it would be joined by the western army of Austria and the Italian
forces sent through Tyrol. The other Austrian army would then invade
Saxony or Lusatia in order to strike at Berlin. He estimated the forces of the
States hostile to Prussia as follows:--

Men. Horses. Cannon.
France 309,000 35,000 972
Austria (exclusive of
360,000 27,000 1128
reserve)
Italy 68,000 5000 180
260,000
Denmark 2000 72
(?)

He thus reckoned the forces of the two German Confederations:--

Men. Horses. Cannon.
North 377,000 48,000 1284
South 97,000 10,000 288

but the support of the latter might be hoped for. Lebrun again urged the
desirability of a campaign in the autumn, but the Archduke repeated that it
must begin in the spring. In that condition, as in his earlier statement that

France must declare war first, while her allies prepared for war, we may
discern a deep-rooted distrust of Napoleon III.
On June 14 the Archduke introduced Lebrun to the Emperor Francis Joseph,
who informed him that he wanted peace; but, he added, "if I make war, I
must be forced to it." In case of war Prussia might exploit the national
German sentiment existing in South Germany and Austria. He concluded
with these words, "But if the Emperor Napoleon, compelled to accept or to
declare war, came with his armies into South Germany, not as an enemy but
as a liberator, I should be forced on my side to declare that I [would] make
common cause with him. In the eyes of my people I could do no other than
join my armies to those of France. That is what I pray you to say for me to
the Emperor Napoleon; I hope that he will see, as I do, my situation both in
home and foreign affairs." Such was the report which Lebrun drew up for
Napoleon III. on June 30. It certainly led that sovereign to believe in the
probability of Austrian help in the spring of 1871, but not before that time.
The question now arises whether Bismarck was aware of these proposals. If
warlike counsels prevailed at Vienna, it is probable that some preparations
would be made, and the secret may have leaked out in this way, or possibly
through the Hungarian administration. In any case, Bismarck knew that the
Austrian chancellor, Count Beust, thirsted for revenge for the events of
1866[16]. If he heard any whispers of an approaching league against
Prussia, he would naturally see the advantage of pressing on war at once,
before Austria and Italy were ready to enter the lists. Probably in this fact
will be found one explanation of the origin of the Franco-German War.
Before adverting to the proximate cause of the rupture, we may note that
Beust's despatch of July 11, 1870, to Prince Metternich, Austrian
ambassador at Paris, displayed genuine fear lest France should rush blindly
into war with Prussia; and he charged Metternich tactfully to warn the
French Government against such a course of action, which would "be
contrary to all that we have agreed upon. . . . Even if we wished, we could
not suddenly equip a respectably large force. . . . Our services are gained to
a certain extent [by France]; but we shall not go further unless events carry
us on; and we do not dream of plunging into war because it might suit
France to do so."

Again, however, the military men seem to have pushed on the diplomatists.
The Archduke Albrecht and Count Vitzthum went to Paris charged with
some promises of support to France in case of war. Thereafter, Count Beust
gave the assurance at Vienna that the Austrians would be "faithful to our
engagements, as they have been recorded in the letters exchanged last year
between the two sovereigns. We consider the cause of France as ours, and
we will contribute to the success of her arms to the utmost of our
power[17]."
In the midst of this maze of cross-purposes this much is clear: that both
Emperors had gone to work behind the backs of their Ministers, and that the
military chiefs of France and Austria brought their States to the brink of war
while their Ministers and diplomatists were unaware of the nearness of
danger.
As we have seen, King Victor Emmanuel II. longed to draw the sword for
Napoleon III., whose help to Italy in 1859-60 he so curiously overrated.
Fortunately for Italy, his Ministers took a more practical view of the
situation; but probably they too would have made common cause with
France had they received a definite promise of the withdrawal of French
troops from Rome and the satisfaction of Italian desires for the Eternal City
as the national capital. This promise, even after the outbreak of war, the
French Emperor declined to give, though his cousin, Prince Napoleon,
urged him vehemently to give way on that point[18].
In truth, the Emperor could not well give way. An Oecumenical Council sat
at Rome from December 1869 to July 1870; its Ultramontane tendencies
were throughout strongly marked, as against the "Old Catholic" views; and
it was a foregone conclusion that the Council would vote the dogma of the
infallibility of the Pope in matters of religion--as it did on the day before
France declared war against Prussia. How, then, could the Emperor, the
"eldest son of the Church," as French monarchs have proudly styled
themselves, bargain away Rome to the Italian Government, already stained
by sacrilege, when this crowning aureole of grace was about to encircle the
visible Head of the Church? There was no escape from the dilemma. Either
Napoleon must go into war with shouts of "Judas" hurled at him by all
pious Roman Catholics; or he must try his fortunes without the much-
coveted help of Austria and Italy. He chose the latter alternative, largely, it

would seem, owing to the influence of his vehemently Catholic
Empress[19]. After the first defeats he sought to open negotiations, but then
it was too late. Prince Napoleon went to Florence and arrived there on
August 20; but his utmost efforts failed to move the Italian Cabinet from
neutrality.
Even this brief survey of international relations shows that Napoleon III.
was a source of weakness to France. Having seized on power by perfidious
means, he throughout his whole reign strove to dazzle the French by a
series of adventures, which indeed pleased the Parisians for the time, but at
the cost of lasting distrust among the Powers. Generous in his aims, he at
first befriended the German and Italian national movements, but forfeited
all the fruits of those actions by his pettifogging conduct about Savoy and
Nice, the Rhineland and Belgium; while his final efforts to please French
clericals and Chauvinists[20] by supporting the Pope at Rome, lost him the
support of States that might have retrieved the earlier blunders. In brief, by
helping on the nationalists of North Germany and Italy he offended French
public opinion; and his belated and spasmodic efforts to regain popularity at
home aroused against him the distrust of all the Powers. Their feelings
about him may be summarised in the mot of a diplomatist, "Scratch the
Emperor and you will find the political refugee."
How different were the careers of Napoleon III. and of Bismarck! By
resolutely keeping before him the national aim, and that only, the Prussian
statesman had reduced the tangle of German affairs to simplicity and now
made ready for the crowning work of all. In his Reminiscences he avows his
belief, as early as 1866, "that a war with France would succeed the war with
Austria lay in the logic of history"; and again, "I did not doubt that a
Franco-German War must take place before the construction of a United
Germany could take place[21]." War would doubtless have broken out in
1867 over the Luxemburg question, had he not seen the need of delay for
strengthening the bonds of union with South Germany and assuring the
increase of the armies of the Fatherland by the adoption of Prussian
methods; or, as he phrased it, "each year's postponement of the war would
add 100,000 trained soldiers to our army[22]." In 1870 little was to be
gained by delay. In fact, the unionist movement in Germany then showed
ominous signs of slackening. In the South the Parliaments opposed any
further approach to union with the North; and the voting of the military

budget in the North for that year was likely to lead to strong opposition in
the interests of the overtaxed people. A war might solve the unionist
problem which was insoluble in time of peace; and a casus belli was at
hand.
Early in July 1870, the news leaked out that Prince Leopold of
Hohenzollern was the officially accepted candidate for the throne of Spain,
left vacant since the revolution which drove Queen Isabella into exile in
1868[23]. At once a thrill of rage shot through France; and the Duc de
Gramont, Foreign Minister of the new Ollivier Ministry, gave expression to
the prevailing feeling in his answer to a question on the subject in the
Chamber of Deputies (July 6):--

We do not think that respect for the rights of a
neighbouring people [Spain] obliges us to allow an
alien Power [Prussia], by placing one of its princes
on the throne of Charles V., to succeed in upsetting
to our disadvantage the present equilibrium of forces
in Europe, and imperil the interests and honour of
France. We have the firm hope that this eventuality
will not be realised. To hinder it, we count both on
the wisdom of the German people and on the
friendship of the Spanish people. If that should not
be so, strong in your support and in that of the
nation, we shall know how to fulfil our duty without
hesitation and without weakness[24].

The opening phrases were inaccurate. The prince in question was Prince
Leopold of the Swabian and Roman Catholic branch of the Hohenzollern
family, who, as the Duc de Gramont knew, could by no possibility recall the
days when Charles V. reigned as Emperor in Germany and monarch in
Spain. This misstatement showed the intention of the French Ministry to
throw down the glove to Prussia--as is also clear from this statement in
Gramont's despatch of July 10 to Benedetti: "If the King will not advise the
Prince of Hohenzollern to withdraw, well, it is war forthwith, and in a few
days we are at the Rhine[25]."

Nevertheless, those who were behind the scenes had just cause for anger
against Bismarck. The revelations of Benedetti, French ambassador at
Berlin, as well as the Memoirs of the King of Roumania (brother to Prince
Leopold of Hohenzollern) leave no doubt that the candidature of the latter
was privately and unofficially mooted in 1868, and again in the spring of
1869 through a Prussian diplomatist, Werthern, and that it met with no
encouragement whatever from the Prussian monarch or the prince himself.
But early in 1870 it was renewed in an official manner by the provisional
Government of Spain, and (as seems certain) at the instigation of Bismarck,
who, in May-June, succeeded in overcoming the reluctance of the prince
and of King William. Bismarck even sought to hurry the matter through the
Spanish Cortes so as to commit Spain to the plan; but this failed owing to
the misinterpretation of a ciphered telegram from Berlin at Madrid[26].
Such was the state of the case when the affair became known to the Ollivier
Ministry. Though not aware, seemingly, of all these details, Napoleon's
advisers were justified in treating the matter, not as a private affair between
the Hohenzollerns and Spain (as Germans then maintained it was) but as an
attempt of the Prussian Government to place on the Spanish throne a prince
who could not but be friendly to the North German Power. In fact, the
French saw in it a challenge to war; and putting together all the facts as now
known, we must pronounce that they were almost certainly right. Bismarck
undoubtedly wanted war; and it is impossible to think that he did not intend
to use this candidature as a means of exasperating the French. The man who
afterwards declared that, at the beginning of the Danish disputes in 1863, he
made up his mind to have Schleswig-Holstein for Prussia[27], certainly saw
in the Hohenzollern candidature a step towards a Prusso-Spanish alliance or
a war with France that might cement German unity.
In any case, that was the outcome of events. The French papers at once
declaimed against the candidature in a way that aroused no less passion on
the other side of the Rhine. For a brief space, however, matters seemed to
be smoothed over by the calm good sense of the Prussian monarch and his
nephew. The King was then at Ems, taking the waters, when Benedetti, the
French ambassador, waited on him and pressed him most urgently to
request Prince Leopold to withdraw from the candidature to the Spanish
Crown. This the King declined to do in the way that was pointed out to him,
rightly considering that such a course would play into the hands of the

French by lowering his own dignity and the prestige of Prussia. Moreover,
he, rather illogically, held the whole matter to be primarily one that affected
the Hohenzollern family and Spain. The young prince, however, on hearing
of the drift of events, solved the problem by declaring his intention not to
accept the Crown of Spain (July 12). The action was spontaneous,
emanating from Prince Leopold and his father Prince Antony, not from the
Prussian monarch, though, on hearing of their decision, he informed
Benedetti that he entirely approved it.
If the French Government had really wished for peace, it would have let the
matter end there. But it did not do so. The extreme Bonapartists--plus
royalistes que le roi--all along wished to gain prestige for their sovereign by
inflicting an open humiliation on King William and through him on Prussia.
They were angry that he had evaded the snare, and now brought pressure to
bear on the Ministry, especially the Duc de Gramont, so that at 7 P.M. of
that same day (July 12) he sent a telegram to Benedetti at Ems directing
him to see King William and press him to declare that he "would not again
authorise this candidature." The Minister added: "The effervescence of
spirits [at Paris] is such that we do not know whether we shall succeed in
mastering it." This was true. Paris was almost beside herself. As M. Sorel
says: "The warm July evening drove into the streets a populace greedy of
shows and excitements, whose imagination was spoiled by the custom of
political quackery, for whom war was but a drama and history a
romance[28]." Such was the impulse which led to Gramont's new demand,
and it was made in spite of the remonstrances of the British ambassador,
Lord Lyons.
Viewing that demand in the clearer light of the present time, we must say
that it was not unreasonable in itself; but it was presented in so insistent a
way that King William declined to entertain it. Again Gramont pressed
Benedetti to urge the matter; but the utmost that the King would do was to
state: "He gives his approbation entirely and without reserve to the
withdrawal of the Prince of Hohenzollern: he cannot do more." He refused
to see the ambassador further on this subject; but on setting out to return to
Berlin--a step necessitated by the growing excitement throughout Germany-
-he took leave of Benedetti with perfect cordiality (July 14). The
ambassador thereupon returned to Paris.

Meanwhile, however, Bismarck had given the last flick to the restive
courses of the Press on both sides of the Rhine. In his Reminiscences he has
described his depression of spirits on hearing the news of the withdrawal of
Prince Leopold's candidature and of his nearly formed resolve to resign as a
protest against so tame a retreat before French demands. But while Moltke,
Roon, and he were dining together, a telegram reached him from the King at
Ems, dated July 13, 3.50 P.M., which gave him leave to inform the
ambassadors and the Press of the present state of affairs. Bismarck saw his
chance. The telegram could be cut down so as to give a more resolute look
to the whole affair. And, after gaining Moltke's assurance that everything
was ready for war, he proceeded to condense it. The facts here can only be
understood by a comparison of the two versions. We therefore give the
original as sent to Bismarck by Abeken, Secretary to the Foreign Office,
who was then at Ems:--

His Majesty writes to me: "Count Benedetti spoke to
me on
the promenade, in order to demand from me, finally
in a very
importunate manner, that I should authorise him to
telegraph at
once that I bound myself for all future time never
again to give my
consent if the Hohenzollerns should renew their
candidature. I
refused at last somewhat sternly, as it is neither right
nor possible
to undertake engagements of this kind à tout jamais.
Naturally I
told him that I had as yet received no news, and as he
was earlier
informed about Paris and Madrid than myself, he
could see clearly
that my Government once more had no hand in the
matter." His
Majesty has since received a letter from the Prince.
His Majesty

having told Count Benedetti that he was awaiting
news from the
Prince, has decided, with reference to the above
demand, upon the
representation of Count Eulenburg and myself, not to
receive
Count Benedetti again, but only to let him be
informed through an
aide-de-camp: "That his Majesty had now received
from the
Prince confirmation of the news which Benedetti had
already
received from Paris, and had nothing further to say
to the
ambassador." His Majesty leaves it to your
Excellency whether
Benedetti's fresh demand and its rejection should not
be at once
communicated both to our ambassadors and to the
Press.

Bismarck cut this down to the following:--

After the news of the renunciation of the hereditary
Prince of
Hohenzollern had been officially communicated to
the Imperial
Government of France by the Royal Government of
Spain, the
French ambassador at Ems further demanded of his
Majesty, the
King, that he would authorise him to telegraph to
Paris that his
Majesty, the King, bound himself for all future time
never again
to give his consent if the Hohenzollerns should
renew their

candidature. His Majesty, the King, thereupon
decided not to
receive the French ambassador again, and sent to tell
him through
the aide-de-camp on duty that his Majesty had
nothing further to
communicate to the ambassador.

Efforts have been made to represent Bismarck's "editing" of the Ems
telegram as the decisive step leading to war; and in his closing years, when
seized with the morbid desire of a partly discredited statesman to
exaggerate his influence on events, he himself sought to perpetuate this
version. He claims that the telegram, as it came from Ems, described the
incident there "as a fragment of a negotiation still pending, and to be
continued at Berlin." This claim is quite untenable. A careful perusal of the
original despatch from Ems shows that the negotiation, far from being "still
pending," was clearly described as having been closed on that matter. That
Benedetti so regarded it is proved by his returning at once to Paris. If it
could have been "continued at Berlin," he most certainly would have
proceeded thither. Finally, the words in the original as to the King refusing
Benedetti "somewhat sternly" were omitted, and very properly omitted, by
Bismarck in his abbreviated version. Had he included those words, he might
have claimed to be the final cause of the War of 1870. As it is, his claim
must be set aside as the offspring of senile vanity. His version of the
original Ems despatch did not contain a single offensive word, neither did it
alter any statement. Abeken also admitted that his original telegram was far
too long, and that Bismarck was quite justified in abbreviating it as he
did[29].
If we pay attention, not to the present more complete knowledge of the
whole affair, but to the imperfect information then open to the German
public, war was the natural result of the second and very urgent demand that
came from Paris. The Duc de Gramont in dispatching it must have known
that he was playing a desperate game. Either Prussia would give way and
France would score a diplomatic triumph over a hated rival; or Prussia
would fight. The friends of peace in France thought matters hopeless when
that demand was sent in so insistent a manner. As soon as Gladstone heard
of the second demand of the Ollivier Ministry, he wrote to Lord Granville,

then Foreign Minister: "It is our duty to represent the immense
responsibility which will rest upon France, if she does not at once accept as
satisfactory and conclusive the withdrawal of the candidature of Prince
Leopold[30]."
On the other hand, we must note that the conduct of the German Press at
this crisis was certainly provocative of war. The morning on which
Bismarck's telegram appeared in the official North German Gazette, saw a
host of violent articles against France, and gleeful accounts of imaginary
insults inflicted by the King on Benedetti. All this was to be expected after
the taunts of cowardice freely levelled by the Parisian papers against
Prussia for the last two days; but whether Bismarck directly inspired the
many sensational versions of the Ems affair that appeared in North German
papers on July 14 is not yet proven.
However that may be, the French Government looked on the refusal of its
last demand, the publication of Bismarck's telegram, and the insults of the
German Press as a casus belli. The details of the sitting of the Emperor's
Council at 10 P.M. on July 14, at which it was decided to call out the French
reserves, are not yet known. Ollivier was not present. There had been a few
hours of wavering on this question; but the tone of the Parisian evening
papers--it was the French national day--the loud cries of the rabble for war,
and their smashing the windows of the Prussian embassy, seem to have
convinced the Emperor and his advisers that to draw back now would
involve the fall of the dynasty. Report has uniformly pointed to the Empress
as pressing these ideas on her consort, and the account which the Duc de
Gramont later on gave to Lord Malmesbury of her words at that momentous
Council-meeting support popular rumour. It is as follows:--

Before the final resolve to declare war the Emperor,
Empress, and Ministers went to St. Cloud. After
some discussion Gramont told me that the Empress,
a high-spirited and impressionable woman, made a
strong and most excited address, declaring that "war
was inevitable if the honour of France was to be
sustained." She was immediately followed by
Marshal Leboeuf, who, in the most violent tone,
threw down his portfolio and swore that if war was

not declared he would give it up and renounce his
military rank. The Emperor gave way, and Gramont
went straight to the Chamber to announce the fatal
news[31].

On the morrow (July 15) the Chamber of Deputies appointed a
Commission, which hastily examined the diplomatic documents and
reported in a sense favourable to the Ollivier Ministry, The subsequent
debate made strongly for a rupture; and it is important to note that Ollivier
and Gramont based the demand for warlike preparations on the fact that
King William had refused to see the French ambassador, and held that that
alone was a sufficient insult. In vain did Thiers protest against the war as
inopportune, and demand to see all the necessary documents. The Chamber
passed the war supplies by 246 votes to 10; and Thiers had his windows
broken. Late on that night Gramont set aside a last attempt of Lord
Granville to offer the mediation of England in the cause of peace, on the
ground that this would be to the harm of France--"unless means were found
to stop the rapid mobilisation of the Prussian armies which were
approaching our frontier[32]." In this connection it is needful to state that
the order for mobilising the North German troops was not given by the
King of Prussia until late on July 15, when the war votes of the French
Chambers were known at Berlin.
Benedetti, in his review of the whole question, passes the following very
noteworthy and sensible verdict: "It was public opinion which forced the
[French] Government to draw the sword, and by an irresistible onset
dictated its resolutions[33]." This is certainly true for the public opinion of
Paris, though not of France as a whole. The rural districts which form the
real strength of France nearly always cling to peace. It is significant that the
Prefects of French Departments reported that only 16 declared in favour of
war, while 37 were in doubt on the matter, and 34 accepted war with regret.
This is what might be expected from a people which in the Provinces is
marked by prudence and thrift.
In truth, the people of modern Europe have settled down to a life of
peaceful industry, in which war is the most hateful of evils. On the other
hand, the massing of mankind in great cities, where thought is superficial
and feelings can quickly be stirred by a sensation-mongering Press, has

undoubtedly helped to feed political passions and national hatred. A rural
population is not deeply stirred by stories of slights to ambassadors. The
peasant of Brittany had no active dislike for the peasant of Brandenburg.
Each only asked to be left to till his fields in peace and safety. But the
crowds on the Parisian boulevards and in Unter den Linden took (and
seemingly always will take) a very different view of life. To them the news
of the humiliation of the rival beyond the Rhine was the greatest and
therefore the most welcome of sensations; and, unfortunately, the papers
which pandered to their habits set the tone of thought for no small part of
France and Germany and exerted on national policy an influence out of all
proportion to its real weight.
The story of the Franco-German dispute is one of national jealousy
carefully fanned for four years by newspaper editors and popular speakers
until a spark sufficed to set Western Europe in a blaze. The spark was the
Hohenzollern candidature, which would have fallen harmless had not the
tinder been prepared since Königgratz by journalists at Paris and Berlin.
The resulting conflagration may justly be described as due partly to national
friction and partly to the supposed interests of the Napoleonic dynasty, but
also to the heat engendered by a sensational Press.
It is well that one of the chief dangers to the peace of the modern world
should be clearly recognised. The centralisation of governments and of
population may have its advantages; but over against them we must set
grave drawbacks; among those of a political kind the worst are the growth
of nervousness and excitability, and the craving for sensation--qualities
which undoubtedly tend to embitter national jealousies at all times, and in
the last case to drive weak dynasties or Cabinets on to war. Certainly
Bismarck's clever shifts to bring about a rupture in 1870 would have failed
had not the atmosphere both at Paris and Berlin been charged with
electricity[34].

FOOTNOTES:
[7] Notes from a Diary, 1851-1872, by Sir M.E. Grant Duff, vol. i. p. 120.

[8] In 1867 Bismarck's promises went so far as the framing of a secret
compact with France, one article of which stated that Prussia would not
object to the annexation of Belgium by France. The agreement was first
published by the Times on July 25, 1870, Bismarck then divulging the
secret so as to inflame public opinion against France.
[9] See Ollivier's great work, L'Empire libéral, for full details of this time.
[10] Hanotaux, Contemporary France, vol. i. p. 9 (Eng. ed.); Bismarck: his
Reflections and Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 61. The popular Prussian view
about England found expression in the comic paper Kladderdatsch:--

Deutschland beziehe billige Sympathien
Und Frankreich theures Kriegsmateriel.
[11] See Sir H. Rumbold's Recollections of a Diplomatist (First Series), vol.
ii. p. 292, for the Czar's hostility to France in 1870.
[12] Memoirs of Count Beust, vol. ii. pp. 358-359 (Appendix D, Eng. edit.).
[13] Revue des deux Mondes for April 1, 1878.
[14] Seignobos, A Political History of Contemporary Europe, vol. ii. pp.
806-807 (Eng. edit.). Oncken, Zeitalter des Kaisers Wilhelm (vol. i. pp.
720-740), tries to prove that there was a deep conspiracy against Prussia. I
am not convinced by his evidence.
[15] Souvenirs militaires, by General B.L.J. Lebrun (Paris 1895), pp. 95-
148.
[16] Bismarck: his Reflections and Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 58.
[17] Memoirs of Count Beust, vol. ii. p. 359. The Present Position of
European Politics p. 366 (1887). By the author of Greater Britain.
[18] See the Rev. des deux Mondes for April 1, 1878, and "Chronique" of
the Revue d'Histoire diplomatique for 1905, p. 298; also W.H. Stillman, The
Union of Italy, 1815-1895, p. 348.
[19] For the relations of France to the Vatican, see Histoire du second
Empire, by M. De la Gorce, vol. vi. (Paris, 1903); also Histoire

Contemporaine (i.e. of France in 1869-1875), by M. Samuel Denis, 4 vols.
The Empress Eugénie once said that she was "deux fois Catholique," as a
Spaniard and as French Empress. (Sir M.K. Grant Duff, Notes from a Diary,
1851-1872, vol. i. p. 125.)
[20] Chauvinist is a term corresponding to our "Jingo." It is derived from a
man named Chauvin, who lauded Napoleon I. and French glory to the skies.
[21] Bismarck, Reminiscences, vol. ii. pp. 41, 57 (Eng. edit.).
[22] Ib. p. 58.
[23] The ex-queen Isabella died in Paris in April 1904.
[24] Sorel, Hist. diplomatique de la Guerre Franco-Allemande, vol. i. p. 77.
[25] Benedetti, Ma Mission en Prusse, p.34. This work contains the French
despatches on the whole affair.
[26] In a recent work, Kaiser Wilhelm und die Begründung des Reichs,
1866-1871, Dr. Lorenz tries to absolve Bismarck from complicity in these
intrigues, but without success. See Reminiscences of the King of Roumania
(edited by S. Whitman), pp. 70, 86-87, 92-95; also Headlam's Bismarck, p.
327.
[27] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol. i. p. 367.
[28] Sorel, Hist. diplomatique de la Guerre Franco-Allemande, vol. i. chap.
iv.; also for the tone of the French Press, Giraudeau, La Vérité sur la
Campagne de 1870, pp. 46-60.

Ollivier tried to persuade Sir M.E. Grant Duff (Notes from a Diary, 1873-
1881, vol. i. p. 45) that the French demand to King William was quite
friendly and natural.
[29] Heinrich Abeken, by Hedwig Abeken, p. 375. Bismarck's successor in
the chancellory, Count Caprivi, set matters in their true light in a speech in
the Reichstag shortly after the publication of Bismarck's Reminiscences.

I dissent from the views expressed by the well-informed reviewer of
Ollivier's L'Empire libéral (vol. viii.) in the Times of May 27, 1904, who

pins his faith to an interview of Bismarck with Lord Loftus on July 13,
1870. Bismarck, of course wanted war; but so did Gramont, and I hold that
the latter brought it about.
[30] J. Morley, Life of Gladstone, vol. ii. p. 328.
[31] This version has, I believe, not been refuted. Still, I must look on it
with suspicion. No Minister, who had done so much to stir up the war-
feeling, ought to have made any such confession--least of all against a lady,
who could not answer it. M. Seignobos in his Political History of
Contemporary Europe, vol. i. chap. vi. p. 184 (Eng edit.) says of Gramont:
"He it was who embroiled France in the war with Prussia." In the course of
the parliamentary inquiry of 1872 Gramont convicted himself and his
Cabinet of folly in 1870 by using these words: "Je crois pouvoir déclarer
que si on avait eu un doute, un seule doute, sur notre aptitude à la guerre, on
eût immédiatement arrêté la négociation" (Enquête parlementaire, I. vol. i.
p. 108).
[32] Quoted by Sorel, op. cit. vol. i. p. 196.
[33] Benedetti, Ma Mission en Prusse, p. 411.
[34] Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern died at Berlin on June 8, 1905. He
was born in 1835, and in 1861 married the Infanta of Portugal.

CHAPTER II
FROM WÖRTH TO GRAVELOTTE

"The Chief of the General Staff had his eye fixed
from the first upon the capture of the enemy's
capital, the possession of which is of more
importance in France than in other countries. . . . It is
a delusion to believe that a plan of war may be laid
for a prolonged period and carried out in every
point."--VON MOLTKE, The Franco-German War.

In olden times, before the invention of long-range arms of precision,
warfare was decided mainly by individual bravery and strength. In the
modern world victory has inclined more and more to that side which
carefully prepares beforehand to throw a force, superior alike in armament
and numbers, against the vitals of its enemy. Assuming that the combatants
are fairly equal in physical qualities--and the spread of liberty has
undoubtedly lessened the great differences that once were observable in this
respect among European peoples--war becomes largely an affair of
preliminary organisation. That is to say, it is now a matter of brain rather
than muscle. Writers of the school of Carlyle may protest that all modern
warfare is tame when compared with the splendidly rampant animalism of
the Homeric fights. In the interests of Humanity it is to be hoped that the
change will go on until war becomes wholly scientific and utterly
unattractive. Meanwhile, the soldier-caste, the politician, and the tax-payer
have to face the fact that the fortunes of war are very largely decided by
humdrum costly preparations in time of peace.
The last chapter set forth the causes that led to war in 1870. That event
found Germany fully prepared. The lessons of the campaign of 1866 had
not been lost upon the Prussian General Staff. The artillery was improved
alike in matériel and in drill-tactics, Napoleon I.'s plan of bringing massed

batteries to bear on decisive points being developed with Prussian
thoroughness. The cavalry learnt to scout effectively and act as "the eyes
and ears of an army," as well as to charge in brigades on a wavering foe.
Universal military service had been compulsory in Prussia since 1813; but
the organisation of territorial army corps now received fuller development,
so that each part of Prussia, including, too, most of the North German
Confederation, had its own small army complete in all arms, and reinforced
from the Reserve, and, at need, from the Landwehr[35]. By virtue of the
military conventions of 1866, the other German States adopted a similar
system, save that while Prussians served for three years (with few
exceptions in the case of successful examinees), the South Germans served
with the colours for a shorter period. Those conventions also secured
uniformity, or harmony, in the railway arrangements for the transport of
troops.
The General Staff of the North German Army had used these advantages to
the utmost, by preparing a most complete plan of mobilisation--so
complete, in fact, that the myriad orders had only to be drawn from their
pigeon-holes and dated in the last hours of July 15. Forthwith the whole of
the vast machinery started in swift but smooth working. Reservists speedily
appeared at their regimental depôts, there found their equipment, and
speedily brought their regiments up to the war footing; trains were ready,
timed according to an elaborate plan, to carry them Rhinewards; provisions
and stores were sent forward, ohne Hast, ohne Rast, as the Germans say;
and so perfect were the plans on rail, river, and road, that none of those
blocks occurred which frequently upset the plans of the French. Thus, by
dint of plodding preparation, a group of federal States gained a decisive
advantage over a centralised Empire which left too many things to be
arranged in the last few hours.
Herein lies the true significance of the War of 1870. All Governments that
were not content to jog along in the old military ruts saw the need of careful
organisation, including the eventual control of all needful means of
transport; and all that were wise hastened to adapt their system to the new
order of things, which aimed at assuring the swift orderly movement of
great masses of men by all the resources of mechanical science. Most of the
civilised States soon responded to the new needs of the age; but a few
(among them Great Britain) were content to make one or two superficial

changes and slightly increase the number of troops, while leaving the all-
important matter of organisation almost untouched; and that, too, despite
the vivid contrast which every one could see between the machine-like
regularity of the German mobilisation and the chaos that reigned on the
French side.
Outwardly, the French army appeared to be beyond the reach of criticism.
The troops had in large measure seen active service in the various wars
whereby Napoleon III. fulfilled his promise of 1852--"The Empire is
peace"; and their successes in the Crimea, Lombardy, Syria, and China,
everywhere in fact but Mexico, filled them with warlike pride. Armed with
the chassepôt, a newer and better rifle than the needle-gun, while their
artillery (admittedly rather weak) was strengthened by the mitrailleuse, they
claimed to be the best in the world, and burned to measure swords with the
upstart forces of Prussia.

Sketch Map Of The District Between Metz And The Rhine.
But there was a sombre reverse to this bright side. All thinking Frenchmen,
including the Emperor, were aware of grave defects--the lack of training of
the officers[36], and the want of adaptability in the General Staff, which
had little of that practical knowledge that the German Staff secured by
periods of service with the troops. Add to this the leaven of republicanism
working strongly in the army as in the State, and producing distrust between
officers and men; above all, the lack of men and materials; and the outlook
was not reassuring to those who knew the whole truth. Inclusive of the
levies of the year 1869, which were not quite ready for active service,
France would have by August 1, 1870, as many as 567,000 men in her
regular army; but of these colonial, garrison, and other duties claimed as
many as 230,000--a figure which seems designed to include the troops that
existed only on paper. Not only the personnel but the matériel came far
below what was expected. General Leboeuf, the War Minister, ventured to
declare that all was ready even to the last button on the gaiters; but his boast
at once rang false when at scores of military depôts neither gaiters, boots,
nor uniforms were ready for the reservists who needed them.

Even where the organisation worked at its best, that best was slow and
confused. There were no territorial army corps in time of peace; and the
lack of this organisation led to a grievous waste of time and energy.
Regiments were frequently far away from the depôts which contained the
reservists' equipment; and when these had found their equipment, they often
wandered widely before finding their regiments on the way to the frontier.
One general officer hunted about on the frontier for a command which did
not exist. As a result of this lack of organisation, and of that control over the
railways which the Germans had methodically enforced, France lost the
many advantages which her compact territory and excellent railway system
ought to have ensured over her more straggling and poorer rival.
The loss of time was as fatal as it was singular under the rule of a Napoleon
whose uncle had so often shattered his foes by swift movements of troops.
In 1870 Napoleonic France had nothing but speed and dash on which to
count. Numbers were against her. In 1869 Marshal Leboeuf had done away
with the Garde Mobile, a sort of militia which had involved only fifteen
days' drill in the year; and the Garde Nationale of the towns was less fit for
campaigning than the re-formed Mobiles proved to be later on in the war.
Thus France had no reserves: everything rested on the 330,000 men
struggling towards the frontiers. It is doubtful whether there were more than
220,000 men in the first line by August 6, with some 50,000 more in reserve
at Metz, etc.
Against them Germany could at once put into the field 460,000 infantry,
56,000 cavalry, with 1584 cannon; and she could raise these forces to some
1,180,000 men by calling out all the reserves and Landwehr. These last
were men who had served their time and had not, as a rule, lost their
soldierly qualities in civil life. Nearly 400,000 highly trained troops were
ready to invade France early in August.
In view of these facts it seems incredible that Ollivier, the French Prime
Minister, could have publicly stated that he entered on war with a light
heart. Doubtless, Ministers counted on help from Austria or Italy, perhaps
from both; but, as it proved, they judged too hastily. As was stated in
Chapter I. of this work, Austria was not likely to move as long as Russia
favoured the cause of Prussia; for any threatening pressure of the
Muscovites on the open flank of the Hapsburg States, Galicia, has sufficed

to keep them from embarking on a campaign in the West. In this case, the
statesmen of Vienna are said to have known by July 20 that Russia would
quietly help Prussia; she informed the Hapsburg Government that any
increase in its armaments would be met by a corresponding increase in
those of Russia. The meaning of such a hint was clear; and Austria decided
not to seek revenge for Königgrätz unless the French triumph proved to be
overwhelming. As for Italy, her alliance with France alone was very
improbable for the reasons previously stated.
Another will o' the wisp which flitted before the ardent Bonapartists who
pushed on the Emperor to war, was that the South German States would
forsake the North and range their troops under the French eagles, as they
had done in the years 1805-12. The first plan of campaign drawn up at Paris
aimed at driving a solid wedge of French troops between the two
Confederations and inducing or compelling the South to join France; it was
hoped that Saxony would follow. As a matter of fact, very many of the
South Germans and Saxons disliked Prussian supremacy; Catholic Bavaria
looked askance at the growing power of Protestant Prussia. Würtemberg
was Protestant, but far too democratic to wish for the control of the cast-
iron bureaucrats of Berlin. The same was even more true of Saxony, where
hostility to Prussia was a deep-rooted tradition; some of the Saxon troops
on leaving their towns even shouted Napoleon soll leben[37]. It is therefore
quite possible that, had France struck quickly at the valleys of the Neckar
and Main, she might have reduced the South German States to neutrality.
Alliance perhaps was out of the question save under overwhelming
compulsion; for France had alienated the Bavarian and Hessian
Governments by her claims in 1866, and the South German people by her
recent offensive treatment of the Hohenzollern candidature. It is, however,
safe to assert that if Napoleon I. had ordered French affairs he would have
swept the South Germans into his net a month after the outbreak of war, as
he had done in 1805. But Nature had not bestowed warlike gifts on the
nephew, who took command of the French army at Metz at the close of July
1870. His feeble health, alternating with periods of severe pain, took from
him all that buoyancy which lends life to an army and vigour to the
headquarters; and his Chief of Staff, Leboeuf, did not make good the lack of
these qualities in the nominal chief.

All the initiative and vigour were on the east of the Rhine. The spread of the
national principle to Central and South Germany had recently met with
several checks; but the diplomatic blunders of the French Government, the
threats of their Press that the Napoleonic troops would repeat the wonders
of 1805; above all, admiration of the dignified conduct of King William
under what were thought to be gratuitous insults from France, began to
kindle the flame of German patriotism even in the particularists of the
South. The news that the deservedly popular Crown Prince of Prussia,
Frederick William, would command the army now mustering in the
Palatinate, largely composed of South Germans, sent a thrill of joy through
those States. Taught by the folly of her stay-at-home strategy in 1866,
Bavaria readily sent her large contingent beyond the Rhine; and all danger
of a French irruption into South Germany was ended by the speedy massing
of the Third German Army, some 200,000 strong in all, on the north of
Alsace. For the French to cross the Rhine at Speyer, or even at Kehl, in
front of a greatly superior army (though as yet they knew not its actual
strength) was clearly impossible; and in the closing hours of July the French
headquarters fell back on other plans, which, speaking generally, were to
defend the French frontier from the Moselle to the Rhine by striking at the
advanced German troops. At least, that seems to be the most natural
explanation of the sudden and rather flurried changes then made.
It was wise to hide this change to a strategic defensive by assuming a
tactical offensive; and on August 2 two divisions of Frossard's corps
attacked and drove back the advanced troops of the Second German Army
from Saarbrücken. The affair was unimportant: it could lead to nothing,
unless the French had the means of following up the success. This they had
not; and the advance of the First and Second German Armies, commanded
by General Steinmetz and Prince Frederick Charles, was soon to deprive
them of this position.
Meanwhile the Germans were making ready a weighty enterprise. The
muster of the huge Third Army to the north of Alsace enabled their General
Staff to fix August 4 for a general advance against that frontier. It fell to this
army, under the Crown Prince of Prussia, Frederick William, to strike the
first great blow. Early on August 4 a strong Bavarian division advanced
against the small fortified town of Weissenburg, which lies deep down in
the valley of the Lauter, surrounded by lofty hills. There it surprised a weak

French division, the vanguard of MacMahon's army, commanded by
General Abel Douay, whose scouts had found no trace of the advancing
enemy. About 10 A.M. Douay fell, mortally wounded; another German
division, working round the town to the east, carried the strong position of
the Geisberg; and these combined efforts, frontal and on the flank, forced
the French hastily to retreat westwards over the hills to Wörth, after losing
more than 2000 men.
The news of this reverse and of the large German forces ready to pour into
the north of Alsace led the Emperor to order the 7th French corps at Belfort,
and the 5th in and around Bitsch, to send reinforcements to MacMahon,
whose main force held the steep and wooded hills between the villages of
Wörth, Fröschweiler, and Reichshofen. The line of railway between
Strassburg and Bitsch touches Reichshofen; but, for some reason that has
never been satisfactorily explained, MacMahon was able to draw up only
one division from the side of Strassburg and Belfort, and not one from
Bitsch, which was within an easy march. The fact seems to be that de Failly,
in command at Bitsch, was a prey to conflicting orders from Metz, and
therefore failed to bring up the 5th corps as he should have done.
MacMahon's cavalry was also very defective in scouting, and he knew
nothing as to the strength of the forces rapidly drawing near from
Weissenburg and the east.
Certainly his position at Wörth was very strong. The French lines were
ranged along the steep wooded slope running north and south, with
buttress-like projections, intersected by gullies, the whole leading up to a
plateau on which stand the village

Plan of the Battle of Wörth.
of Fröschweiler and the hamlet of Elsasshausen. Behind is the wood called
the Grosser Wald, while the hamlet is flanked on the south and in front by
an outlying wood, the Niederwald. Behind the Grosser Wald the ground
sinks away to the valley in which runs the Bitsch-Reichshofen railway. In
front of MacMahon's position lay the village of Wörth, deep in the valley of
the Sauerbach. The invader would therefore have to carry this village or
cross the stream, and press up the long open slopes on which were ranged
the French troops and batteries with all the advantages of cover and
elevation on their side. A poor general, having forces smaller than those of
his enemy, might hope to hold such a position. But there was one great
defect. Owing to de Failly's absence MacMahon had not enough men to
hold the whole of the position marked out by Nature for defence.
Conscious of its strength, the Prussian Crown Prince ordered the leaders of
his vanguard not to bring on a general engagement on August 6, when the
invading army had not at hand its full striking strength[38]. But orders
failed to hold in the ardour of the Germans under the attacks of the French.
Affairs of outposts along the Sauerbach early on that morning brought on a
serious fight, which up to noon went against the invaders. At that time the

Crown Prince galloped to the front, and ordered an attack with all available
forces. The fighting, hitherto fierce but spasmodic between division and
division, was now fed by a steady stream of German reinforcements, until
87,000 of the invaders sought to wrest from MacMahon the heights, with
their woods and villages, which he had but 54,000 to defend. The
superiority of numbers soon made itself felt. Pursuant to the Crown Prince's
orders, parts of two Bavarian corps began to work their way (but with one
strangely long interval of inaction) through the wood to the north of the
French left wing; on the Prussian 11th corps fell the severer task of winning
their way up the slopes south of Wörth, and thence up to the Niederwald
and Elsasshausen. When these woods were won, the 5th corps was to make
its frontal attack from Wörth against Fröschweiler. Despite the desperate
efforts of the French and their Turco regiments, and a splendid but hopeless
charge of two regiments of Cuirassiers and one of Lancers against the
German infantry, the Niederwald and Elsasshausen were won; and about
four o'clock the sustained fire of fifteen German batteries against
Fröschweiler enabled the 5th corps to struggle up that deadly glacis in spite
of desperate charges by the defenders.
Throughout the day the French showed their usual dash and devotion, some
regiments being cut to pieces rather than retire. But by five o'clock the
defence was outflanked on the two wings and crushed at the centre; human
nature could stand no more after eight hours' fighting; and after a final
despairing effort of the French Cuirassiers all their line gave way in a
general rout down the slopes to Reichshofen and towards Saverne. Apart
from the Würtembergers held in reserve, few of the Germans were in a
condition to press the pursuit. Nevertheless the fruits of victory were very
great: 10,000 Frenchmen lay dead or wounded; 6000 unwounded prisoners
were taken, with 28 cannon and 5 mitrailleuses. Above all, MacMahon's
fine army was utterly broken, and made no attempt to defend any of the
positions on the north of the Vosges. Not even a tunnel was there blown up
to delay the advance of the Germans. Hastily gathering up the 5th corps
from Bitsch--the corps which ought to have been at Wörth--that gallant but
unfortunate general struck out to the south-west for the great camp at
Châlons. The triumph, however, cost the Germans dear. As many as 10,600
men were killed or wounded, the 5th Prussian corps alone losing more than

half that number. Their cavalry failed to keep touch with the retreating
French.
On that same day (August 6) a disaster scarcely less serious overtook the
French 2nd corps, which had been holding Saarbrücken. Convinced that
that post was too advanced and too weak in presence of the foremost
divisions of the First and Second German Armies now advancing rapidly
against it, General Frossard drew back his vanguard some mile and a half to
the line of steep hills between Spicheren and Forbach, just within the
French frontier. This retreat, as it seemed, tempted General Kameke to
attack with a single division, as he was justified in doing in order to find the
direction and strength of the retiring force. The attack, when pushed home,
showed that the French were bent on making a stand on their commanding
heights; and an onset on the Rothe Berg was stoutly beaten off about noon.
But now the speedy advance and intelligent co-operation of other German
columns was instrumental in turning an inconsiderable repulse into an
important victory. General Göben was not far off, and marching towards the
firing, sent to offer his help with the 8th corps. General von Alvensleben,
also, with the 3rd corps had reached Neunkirchen when the sound of firing
near Saarbrücken led him to push on for that place with the utmost speed.
He entrained part of his corps and brought it up in time to strengthen the
attack on the Rothe Berg and other heights nearer to Forbach. Each
battalion as it arrived was hurled forward, and General von François,
charging with his regiment, gained a lodgment half-way up the broken slope
of the Rothe Berg, which was stoutly maintained even when he fell mortally
wounded. Elsewhere the onsets were repelled by the French, who, despite
their smaller numbers, kept up a sturdy resistance on the line of hills in the
woods behind, and in the iron-works in front of Forbach. Even when the
Germans carried the top of the Rothe Berg, their ranks were riddled by a
cross fire; but by incredible exertions they managed to bring guns to the
summit and retaliate with effect[39].
This, together with the outflanking movement which their increasing
numbers enabled them to carry out against the French left wing at Forbach,
decided the day; and Frossard's corps fell back shattered towards the corps
of Bazaine. It is noteworthy that this was but nine or ten miles to the rear.
Bazaine had ordered three divisions to march towards the firing: one made

for a wrong point and returned; the others made half-hearted efforts, and
thus left Frossard to be overborne by numbers. The result of these disjointed
movements was that both Frossard and Bazaine hurriedly retired towards
Metz, while the First and Second German Armies now gathered up all their
strength with the aim of shutting up the French in that fortress. To this end
the First Army made for Colombey, east of Metz, while the leading part of
the Second Army purposed to cross the Moselle south of Metz, and circle
round that stronghold on the west.
It is now time to turn to the French headquarters. These two crushing
defeats on a single day utterly dashed Napoleon's plan of a spirited defence
of the north-east frontier, until such time as the levies of 1869 should be
ready, or Austria and Italy should draw the sword. On July 26 the Austrian
ambassador assured the French Ministry that Austria was pushing on her
preparations. Victor Emmanuel was with difficulty restrained by his
Ministers from openly taking the side of France. On the night of August 6
he received telegraphic news of the Battles of Wörth and Forbach,
whereupon he exclaimed, "Poor Emperor! I pity him, but I have had a lucky
escape." Austria also drew back, and thus left France face to face with the
naked truth that she stood alone and unready before a united and triumphant
Germany, able to pour treble her own forces through the open portals of
Lorraine and northern Alsace.
Napoleon III., to do him justice, had never cherished the wild dreams that
haunted the minds of his consort and of the frothy "Mamelukes" lately in
favour at Court; still less did the "silent man of destiny" indulge in the idle
boasts that had helped to alienate the sympathy of Europe and to weld
together Germany to withstand the blows of a second Napoleonic invasion.
The nephew knew full well that he was not the Great Napoleon--he knew it
before Victor Hugo in spiteful verse vainly sought to dub him the Little.
True, his statesmanship proved to be mere dreamy philosophising about
nationalities; his administrative powers, small at the best, were ever clogged
by his too generous desire to reward his fellow-conspirators of the coup
d'état of 1851; and his gifts for war were scarcely greater than those of the
other Napoléonides, Joseph and Jerome. Nevertheless the reverses of his
early life had strengthened that fund of quiet stoicism, that energy to resist
if not to dare, which formed the backbone of an otherwise somewhat weak,
shadowy, and uninspiring character. And now, in the rapid fall of his

fortunes, the greatest adventurer of the nineteenth century showed to the
full those qualities of toughness and dignified reserve which for twenty
years had puzzled and imposed on that lively emotional people. By the side
of the downcast braggarts of the Court and the unstrung screamers of the
Parisian Press, his mien had something of the heroic. Tout peut se rétablir--
"All may yet be set right"--such was the vague but dignified phrase in
which he summarised the results of August 6 to his people.
The military situation now required a prompt retirement beyond the
Moselle. The southerly line of retreat, which MacMahon and de Failly had
been driven to take, forbade the hope of their junction with the main army
at Metz in time to oppose a united front to the enemy. And it was soon
known that their flight could not be stayed at Nancy or even at Toul. During
the agony of suspense as to their movements and those of their German
pursuers, the Emperor daily changed his plans. First, he and Leboeuf
planned a retreat beyond the Moselle and Meuse; next, political
considerations bade them stand firm on the banks of the Nied, some twelve
miles east of Metz; and when this position seemed unsafe, they ended the
marchings and counter-marchings of their troops by taking up a position at
Colombey, nearer to Metz.
Meanwhile at Paris the Chamber of Deputies had overthrown the Ollivier
Ministry, and the Empress-Regent installed in office Count Palikao. There
was a general outcry against Leboeuf, and on the 12th the Emperor resigned
the command to Marshal Bazaine (Lebrun now acting as Chief of Staff),
with the injunction to retreat westwards to Verdun. For the Emperor to order
such a retreat in his own name was thought to be inopportune. Bazaine was
a convenient scapegoat, and he himself knew it. Had he thrown an army
corps into Metz and obeyed the Emperor's orders by retreating on Verdun,
things would certainly have gone better than was now to be the case. In his
printed defence Bazaine has urged that the army had not enough provisions
for the march, and, further, that the outlying forts of Metz were not yet
ready to withstand a siege--a circumstance which, if true, partly explains
Bazaine's reluctance to leave the "virgin city[40]." Napoleon III. quitted it
early on the 16th: he and his escort were the last Frenchmen to get free of
that death-trap for many a week.

While Metz exercised this fatal fascination over the protecting army, the
First and Second German Armies were striding westwards to envelop both
the city and its guardians. Moltke's aim was to hold as many of the French
to the neighbourhood of the fortress, while his left wing swung round it on
the south. The result was the battle of Colombey on the east of Metz
(August 14). It was a stubborn fight, costing the Germans some 5000 men,
while the French with smaller losses finally withdrew under the eastern
walls of Metz. But that heavy loss meant a great ultimate gain to Germany.
The vacillations of Bazaine, whose strategy was far more faulty than that of
Napoleon III. had been, together with the delay caused by the defiling of a
great part of the army through the narrow streets of Metz, gave the Germans
an opportunity such as had not occurred since the year 1805, when
Napoleon I. shut up an Austrian army in Ulm.
The man who now saw the splendid chance of which Fortune vouchsafed a
glimpse, was Lieutenant-General von Alvensleben, Commander of the 3rd
corps, whose activity and resource had so largely contributed to the victory
of Spicheren-Forbach. Though the orders of his Commander-in-Chief,
Prince Frederick Charles, forbade an advance until the situation in front was
more fully known, the General heard enough to convince himself that a
rapid advance southwards to and over the Moselle might enable him to
intercept the French retreat on Verdun, which might now be looked on as
certain. Reporting his conviction to his chief as also to the royal
headquarters, he struck out with all speed on the 15th, quietly threw a
bridge over the river, and sent on his advanced guard as far as Pagny, near
Gorze, while all his corps, about 33,000 strong, crossed the river about
midnight. Soon after dawn, he pushed on towards Gorze, knowing by this
time that the other corps of the Second Army were following him, while the
7th and 8th corps of the First Army were about to cross the river nearly
opposite that town.
This bold movement, which would have drawn on him sharp censure in
case of overthrow, was more than justifiable seeing the discouraged state of
the French troops, the supreme need of finding their line of retreat, and the
splendid results that must follow on the interception of that retreat. The
operations of war must always be attended with risk, and the great
commander is he whose knowledge of the principles of strategy enables

him quickly to see when the final gain warrants the running of risks, and
how they may be met with the least likelihood of disaster.
Alvensleben's advance was in accordance with Moltke's general plan of
operations; but that corps-leader, finding the French to be in force between
him and Metz, determined to attack them in order to delay their retreat. The
result was the battle of August 16, variously known as Vionville,
Rezonville, or Mars-la-Tour--a battle that defies brief description, inasmuch
as it represented the effort of the Third, or Brandenburg, corps, with little
help at first from others, to hold its ground against the onsets of two French
corps. Early in the fight Bazaine galloped up, but he did not bring forward
the masses in his rear, probably because he feared to be cut off from Metz.
Even so, all through the forenoon, it seemed that the gathering forces of the
French must break through the thin lines audaciously thrust into that almost
open plain on the flank of their line of march. But Alvensleben and his men
held their ground with a dogged will that nothing could shatter. In one sense
their audacity saved them. Bazaine for a long time could not believe that a
single corps would throw itself against one of the two roads by which his
great army was about to retreat. He believed that the northern road might
also be in danger, and therefore did not launch at Alvensleben the solid
masses that must have swept him back towards the Meuse. At noon four
battalions of the German 10th corps struggled up from the south and took
their share of the hitherto unequal fight.
But the crisis of the fight came a little later. It was marked by one of the
most daring and effective strokes ever dealt in modern warfare. At 2
o'clock, when the advance of Canrobert's 6th corps towards Vionville
threatened to sweep away the wearied Brandenburgers, six squadrons of the
7th regiment of Cuirassiers with a few Uhlans flung themselves on the new
lines of foemen, not to overpower them--that was impossible--but to delay
their advance and weaken their impact. Only half of the brave horsemen
returned from that ride of death, but they gained their end.
The mad charge drove deep into the French array about Rezonville, and
gave their leaders pause in the belief that it was but the first of a series of
systematic attacks on the French left. System rather than dash was supposed
to characterise German tactics; and the daring of their enemies for once
made the French too methodical. Bazaine scarcely brought the 3rd corps

and the Guard into action at all, but kept them in reserve. As the afternoon
sun waned, the whole weight of the German 10th corps was thrown into the
fight about Vionville, and the vanguards of the 8th and 9th came up from
Gorze to threaten the French left. Fearing that he might be cut off from
Metz on the south--a fear which had unaccountably haunted him all the
day--Bazaine continued to feed that part of his lines; and thus Alvensleben
was able to hold the positions near the southern road to Verdun, which he
had seized in the morning. The day closed with a great cavalry combat on
the German left wing in which the French had to give way. Darkness alone
put an end to the deadly strife. Little more than two German corps had
sufficed to stay the march of an army which potentially numbered in all
more than 170,000 men.
On both sides the losses were enormous, namely, some 16,000 killed and
wounded. No cannon, standards, or prisoners were taken; but on that day
the army of Prince Frederick Charles practically captured the whole of
Bazaine's army. The statement may seem overdrawn, but it is none the less
true. The advance of other German troops on that night made Bazaine's
escape from Metz far more difficult than before, and very early on the
morrow he drew back his lines through Gravelotte to a strong position
nearer Metz. Thus, a battle, which in a tactical sense seemed to be
inconclusive, became, when viewed in the light of strategy, the most
decisive of the war. Had Bazaine used even the forces which he had in the
field ready to hand he must have overborne Alvensleben; and the arrival of
170,000 good troops at Verdun or Châlons would have changed the whole
course of the war. The campaign would probably have followed the course
of the many campaigns waged in the valleys of the Meuse and Marne; and
Metz, held by a garrison of suitable size, might have defied the efforts of a
large besieging army for fully six months. These conjectures are not
fanciful. The duration of the food supply of a garrison cut off from the
outside world varies inversely with the size of that garrison. The
experiences of armies invading and defending the East of France also show
with general accuracy what might have been expected if the rules of sound
strategy had been observed. It was the actual course of events which
transcended experience and set all probabilities at defiance.
The battle of Gravelotte, or St. Privat, on the 18th completed the work so
hardily begun by the 3rd German corps on the 16th. The need of driving

back Bazaine's army upon Metz was pressing, and his inaction on the 17th
gave time for nearly all the forces of the First and Second German Armies
to be brought up to the German positions, some nine miles west of Metz,
though one corps was left to the east of that fortress to hinder any attempt of
the French to break out on that side. Bazaine, however, massed his great
army on the west along a ridge stretching north and south, and presenting,
especially in the southern half, steep slopes to the assailants. It also sloped
away to the rear, thus enabling the defenders (as was the case with
Wellington at Waterloo) secretly to reinforce any part of the line. On the
French left wing, too, the slopes curved inward, thus giving the defenders
ample advantage against any flanking movements on that side. On the
north, between Amanvillers and Ste. Marie-aux-Chênes, the defence had
fewer strong points except those villages, the Jaumont Wood, and the
gradual slope of the ground away to the little River Orne, which formed an
open glacis. Bazaine massed his reserves on the plateau of Plappeville and
to the rear of his left wing; but this cardinal fault in his dispositions--due to
his haunting fear of being cut off from Metz--was long hidden by the woods
and slopes in the rear of his centre. The position here and on the French left
was very strong, and at several parts so far concealed the troops that up to
11 A.M. the advancing Germans were in doubt whether the French would
not seek to break away towards the north-west. That so great an army would
remain merely on the defensive, a course so repugnant to the ardour of the
French nature and the traditions of their army, entered into the thoughts of
few.
Yet such was the case. The solution of the riddle is to be found in Bazaine's
despatch of August 17 to the Minister of War: "We are going to put forth
every effort to make good our supplies of all kinds in order to resume our
march in two days if that is possible[41]." That the army was badly
hampered by lack of stores is certain; but to postpone even for a single day
the march to Verdun by the northern road--that by way of Briey--was fatal.
Possibly, however, he hoped to deal the Germans so serious a blow, if they
attacked him on the 18th, as to lighten the heavy task of cutting his way out
on the 19th.
If so, he nearly succeeded. The Germans were quite taken aback by the
extent and strength of his lines. Their intention was to outflank his right
wing, which was believed to stretch no further north than Amanvillers; but

the rather premature advance of Manstein's 9th corps soon drew a deadly
fire from that village and the heights on either side, which crushed the
artillery of that corps. Soon the Prussian Guards and the 12th corps began to
suffer from the fire poured in from the trenches that crowned the hill. On
the German right, General Steinmetz, instead of waiting for the hoped-for
flank attack on the north to take effect, sent the columns of the First Army
to almost certain death in the defile in front of Gravelotte, and he persisted
in these costly efforts even when the strength of the French position on that
side was patent to all. For this the tough old soldier met with severe censure
and ultimate disgrace. In his defence, however, it may be urged that when a
great battle is raging with doubtful fortunes, the duty of a commander on
the attacking side is to busy the enemy at as many points as possible, so that
the final blow may be dealt with telling effect on a vital point where he
cannot be adequately reinforced; and the bull-dog tactics of Steinmetz in
front of Gravelotte, which cost the assailants many thousands of men, at
any rate served to keep the French reserves on that side, and thereby
weaken the support available for a more important point at the crisis of the
fight. It so happened, too, that the action of Steinmetz strengthened the
strange misconception of Bazaine that the Germans were striving to cut him
off from Metz on the south.
The real aim of the Germans was exactly the contrary, namely, to pin his
whole army to Metz by swinging round their right flank on the villages of
St. Privat and Raucourt. Having some 40,000 men under Canrobert in and
between these villages, whose solid buildings gave the defence the best of
cover, Bazaine had latterly taken little thought for that part of his lines,
though it was dangerously far removed from his reserves. These he kept on
the south, under the misconception which clung to him here as at
Rezonville.
The mistake was to prove fatal. As we have said, the German plan was to
turn the French right wing in the more open country on the north. To this
end the Prussian Guards and the Saxons, after driving the French outposts
from Ste. Marie-aux-Chênes, brought all their strength to the task of
crushing the French at their chief stronghold on the right, St. Privat. The
struggle of the Prussian Guards up the open slope between that village and
Amanvillers left them a mere shadow of their splendid array; but the efforts
of the German artillery cost the defenders dear: by seven o'clock St. Privat

was in flames, and as the Saxons (the 12th corps), wheeling round from the
north after a long flank-march, closed in on the outlying village of
Raucourt, Canrobert saw that the day was lost unless he received prompt
aid from the Imperial Guard. Bourbaki, however, brought up only some
3000 of these choice troops, and that too late to save St. Privat from the
persistent fury of the German onset.
As dusk fell over the scene of carnage the French right fell back in some
disorder, even from part of Amanvillers. Farther south, they held their
ground. On the whole they had dealt to their foes a loss of 20,159 men, or
nearly a tenth of their total. Of the French forces engaged, some 150,000 in
number, 7853 were killed and wounded, and 4419 were taken prisoners.
The disproportion in the losses shows the toughness of the French defence
and the (in part) unskilful character of the German attack. On this latter
point the recently published Journals of Field-Marshal Count von
Blumenthal supply some piquant details. He describes the indignation of
King William at the wastefulness of the German tactics at Gravelotte: "He
complained bitterly that the officers of the higher grades appeared to have
forgotten all that had been so carefully taught them at manoeuvres, and had
apparently all lost their heads." The same authority supplies what may be in
part an explanation of this in his comment, written shortly before
Gravelotte, that he believed there might not be another battle in the whole
war--a remark which savours of presumption and folly. Gravelotte,
therefore, cannot be considered as wholly creditable to the victors. Still, the
result was that some 180,000 French troops were shut up within the
outworks of Metz[42].

NOTE THE SECOND EDITION
With reference to M. Ollivier's statement (quoted on p. 55) that he entered
on war with a light heart, it should be added that he has since explained his
meaning to have been that the cause of France was just, that of Prussia
unjust.

FOOTNOTES:

[35] By the Prussian law of November 9, 1867, soldiers had to serve three
years with the colours, four in the reserve, and five in the Landwehr. Three
new army corps (9th, 10th, and 11th) were formed in the newly annexed or
confederated lands, Hanover, Hesse-Cassel, Saxony, etc. (Maurice, The
Franco-German War, 1900).
[36] M. de la Gorce in his Histoire du second Empire, vol. vi., tells how the
French officers scouted study of the art of war, while most of them looked
on favouritism as the only means of promotion. The warnings of Colonel
Stoffel, French Military Attaché at Berlin, were passed over, as those of "a
Prussomane, whom Bismarck had fascinated."
[37] I.e. "Long live Napoleon." The author had this from an Englishman
who was then living in Saxony.
[38] See von Blumenthal's Journals, p. 87 (Eng. edit.): "The battle which I
had expected to take place on the 7th, and for which I had prepared a good
scheme for turning the enemy's right flank, came on of itself to-day."
[39] For these details about the fighting at the Rothe Berg I am largely
indebted to my friend, Mr. Bernard Pares, M.A., who has made a careful
study of the ground there, as also at Wörth and Sedan.
[40] Bazaine gave this excuse in his Rapport sommaire sur les Opérations
de l'Armée du Rhin; but as a staff-officer pointed out in his incisive
Réponse, this reason must have been equally cogent when Napoleon
(August 12) ordered him to retreat; and he was still bound to obey the
Emperor's orders.
[41] Bazaine, Rapport sommaire, etc. The sentence quoted above is
decisive. The defence which Bazaine and his few defenders later on put
forward, as well as the attacks of his foes, are of course mixed up with
theories evolved after the event.
[42] For fuller details of these battles the student should consult the two
great works on the subject--the Staff Histories of the war, issued by the
French and German General Staffs; Bazaine, L'Armée du Rhin, and
Episodes de la Guerre; General Blumenthal's Journals; Aus drei Kriegen,
by Gen. von Lignitz; Maurice, The Franco-German War; Hooper, The

Campaign of Sedan; the War Correspondence of the Times and the Daily
News, published in book form.

CHAPTER III
SEDAN

"Nothing is more rash and contrary to the principles
of war than to make a flank-march before an army in
position, especially when this army occupies heights
before which it is necessary to defile."--NAPOLEON
I.

The success of the German operations to the south and west of Metz
virtually decided the whole of the campaign. The Germans could now draw
on their vast reserves ever coming on from the Rhine, throw an iron ring
around that fortress, and thereby deprive France of her only great force of
regular troops. The throwing up of field-works and barricades went on with
such speed that the blockading forces were able in a few days to detach a
strong column towards Châlons-sur-Marne in order to help the army of the
Crown Prince of Prussia. That army in the meantime was in pursuit of
MacMahon by way of Nancy, and strained every nerve so as to be able to
strike at the southern railway lines out of Paris. It was, however, diverted to
the north-west by events soon to be described.
The German force detached from the neighbourhood of Metz consisted of
the Prussian Guards, the 4th and 12th corps, and two cavalry divisions. This
army, known as the Army of the Meuse, was placed under the command of
the Crown Prince of Saxony. Its aim was, in common with the Third
German Army (that of the Crown Prince of Prussia), to strike at MacMahon
before he received reinforcements. The screen of cavalry which preceded
the Army of the Meuse passed that river on the 22nd, when the bulk of the
forces of the Crown Prince of Prussia crossed not many miles farther to the
south. The two armies swept on westwards within easy distance of one
another; and on the 23rd their cavalry gleaned news of priceless value,

namely, that MacMahon's army had left Châlons. On the next day the great
camp was found deserted.
In fact, MacMahon had undertaken a task of terrible difficulty. On taking
over the command at Châlons, where Napoleon III. arrived from Metz on
the 16th, he found hopeless disorder not only among his own beaten troops,
but among many of the newcomers; the worst were the Garde Mobile, many
regiments of whom greeted the Emperor with shouts of À Paris. To meet
the Germans in the open plains of Champagne with forces so incoherent
and dispirited was sheer madness; and a council of war on the 17th came to
the conclusion to fall back on the capital and operate within its outer forts--
a step which might enable the army to regain confidence, repress any rising
in the capital, and perhaps inflict checks on the Germans, until the
provinces rose en masse against the invaders. But at this very time the
Empress-Regent and the Palikao Ministry at Paris came to an exactly
contrary decision, on the ground that the return of the Emperor with
MacMahon's army would look like personal cowardice and a mean
desertion of Bazaine at Metz. The Empress was for fighting à outrance, and
her Government issued orders for a national rising and the enrolling of
bodies of irregulars, or francs-tireurs, to harass the Germans[43].
Their decision was telegraphed to Napoleon III. at Châlons. Against his
own better judgment the Emperor yielded to political considerations--that
mill-stone around the neck of the French army in 1870--and decided to
strike out to the north with MacMahon's army, and by way of Montmédy
stretch a hand to Bazaine, who, on his side, was expected to make for that
rendezvous. On the 21st, therefore, they marched to Reims. There the
Emperor received a despatch which Bazaine had been able to get through
the enemies' lines on the 19th, stating that the Germans were making their
way in on Metz, but that he (Bazaine) hoped to break away towards
Montmédy and so join MacMahon's army. (This, it will be observed, was
after Gravelotte had been lost.) Napoleon III. thereupon replied: "Received
yours of the 19th at Reims; am going towards Montmédy; shall be on the
Aisne the day after to-morrow, and there will act according to
circumstances to come to your aid." Bazaine did not receive this message
until August 30, and then made only two weak efforts to break out on the
north (August 31-September 1). The Marshal's action in sending that
message must be pronounced one of the most fatal in the whole war. It led

the Emperor and MacMahon to a false belief as to the position at Metz, and
furnished a potent argument to the Empress and Palikao at Paris to urge a
march towards Montmédy at all costs.
Doubtfully MacMahon led his straggling array from Reims in a north-
easterly direction towards Stenay on the Meuse. Rain checked his progress,
and dispirited the troops; but on the 27th August, while about half-way
between the Aisne and the Meuse, his outposts touched those of the enemy.
They were, in fact, those of the Prussian Crown Prince, whose army was
about to cross the northern roads over the Argonne, the line of hills that saw
the French stem the Prussian invasion in 1792. Far different was the state of
affairs now. National enthusiasm, organisation, enterprise--all were on the
side of the invaders. As has been pointed out, their horsemen found out on
the 23rd that the Châlons camp was deserted; on the next day their scouts
found out from a Parisian newspaper that MacMahon was at Reims; and, on
the day following, newspaper tidings that had come round by way of
London revealed the secret that MacMahon was striving to reach Bazaine.
How it came about that this news escaped the eye of the censor has not been
explained. If it was the work of an English journalist, that does not absolve
the official censorship from the charge of gross carelessness in leaving even
a loophole for the transmission of important secrets. Newspaper
correspondents, of course, are the natural enemies of Governments in time
of war; and the experience of the year 1870 shows that the fate of Empires
may depend on the efficacy of the arrangements for controlling them. As a
proof of the superiority of the German organisation, or of the higher
patriotism of their newspapers, we may mention that no tidings of urgent
importance leaked out through the German Press. This may have been due
to a solemn declaration made by German newspaper editors and
correspondents that they would never reveal such secrets; but, from what
we know of the fierce competition of newspapers for priority of news, it is
reasonable to suppose that the German Government took very good care
that none came in their way.
As a result of the excellent scouting of their cavalry and of the slipshod
Press arrangements of the French Government, the German Army of the
Meuse, on the 26th, took a general turn towards the north-west. This
movement brought its outposts near to the southernmost divisions of

MacMahon, and sent through that Marshal's staff the foreboding thrill felt
by the commander of an unseaworthy craft at the oncoming of the first gust
of a cyclone. He saw the madness of holding on his present course and
issued orders for a retreat to Mézières, a fortress on the Meuse below
Sedan. Once more, however, the Palikao Ministry intervened to forbid this
salutary move--the only way out of imminent danger--and ordered him to
march to the relief of Bazaine. At this crisis Napoleon III. showed the good
sense which seemed to have deserted the French politicians: he advised the
Marshal not to obey this order if he thought it dangerous. Nevertheless,
MacMahon decided to yield to the supposed interests of the dynasty, which
the Emperor was ready to sacrifice to the higher claims of the safety of
France. Their rôles were thus curiously reversed. The Emperor reasoned as
a sound patriot and a good strategist. MacMahon must have felt the same
promptings, but obedience to the Empress and the Ministry, or chivalrous
regard for Bazaine, overcame his scruples. He decided to plod on towards
the Meuse.
The Germans were now on the alert to entrap this army that exposed its
flank in a long line of march near to the Belgian frontier. Their ubiquitous
horsemen captured French despatches which showed them the intended
moves in MacMahon's desperate game; Moltke hurried up every available
division; and the elder of the two Alvenslebens had the honour of surprising
de Failly's corps amidst the woods of the Ardennes near Beaumont, as they
were in the midst of a meal. The French rallied and offered a brisk defence,
but finally fell back in confusion northwards on Mouzon, with the loss of
2000 prisoners and 42 guns (August 30).
This mishap, the lack of provisions, and the fatigue and demoralisation of
his troops, caused MacMahon on the 31st to fall back on Sedan, a little
town in the valley of the Meuse. It is surrounded by ramparts planned by
the great Vauban, but, being commanded by wooded heights, it no longer
has the importance that it possessed before the age of long-range guns of
precision. The chief strength of the position for defence lay in the deep loop
of the river below the town, the dense Garenne Wood to the north-east, and
the hollow formed by the Givonne brook on the east, with the important
village of Bazeilles. It is therefore not surprising that von Moltke, on seeing
the French forces concentrating in this hollow, remarked to von

Blumenthal, Chief of the Staff: "Now we have them in a trap; to-morrow
we must cross over the Meuse early in the morning."
The Emperor and MacMahon seem even then, on the afternoon of the 31st,
to have hoped to give their weary troops a brief rest, supply them with
provisions and stores from the fortress, and on the morrow, or the 2nd,
make their escape by way of Mézières. Possibly they might have done so on
that night, and certainly they could have reached the Belgian frontier, only
some six miles distant, and there laid down their arms to the Belgian troops
whom the resourceful Bismarck had set on the qui vive. To remain quiet
even for a day in Sedan was to court disaster; yet passivity characterised the
French headquarters and the whole army on that afternoon and evening.
True, MacMahon gave orders for the bridge over the Meuse at Donchéry to
be blown up, but the engine-driver who took the engineers charged with this
important task, lost his nerve when German shells whizzed about his
engine, and drove off before the powder and tools could be deposited. A
second party, sent later on, found that bridge in the possession of the enemy.
On the east side, above Sedan, the Bavarians seized the railway bridge
south of Bazeilles, driving off the French who sought to blow it up[44].
Over the Donchéry bridge and two pontoon bridges constructed below that
village the Germans poured their troops before dawn of September 1, and as
the morning fog of that day slowly lifted, their columns were seen working
round the north of the deep loop of the Meuse, thus cutting off escape on
the west and north-west. Meanwhile, on the other side of the town, von der
Tann's Bavarians had begun the fight. Pressing in on Bazeilles so as to
hinder the retreat of the enemy (as had been so effectively done at
Colombey, on the east of Metz), they at first surprised the sleeping French,
but quickly drew on themselves a sharp and sustained counter-attack from
the marines attached to the 12th French corps.
In order to understand the persistent vigour of the French on this side, we
must note the decisions formed by their headquarters on August 31 and
early on September 1. At a council of war held on the afternoon of the 31st
no decision

Plan of the Battle of Sedan.
was reached, probably because the exhaustion of the 5th and 7th corps and
the attack of the Bavarians on the 12th corps at Bazeilles rendered any
decided movement very difficult. The general conclusion was that the army
must have some repose; and Germans afterwards found on the battlefield a
French order--"Rest to-day for the whole army." But already on the 30th an
officer had come from Paris determined to restore the morale of the army
and break through towards Bazaine. This was General de Wimpffen, who
had gained distinction in previous wars, and, coming lately from Algeria to
Paris, was there appointed to supersede de Failly in command of the 5th
corps. Nor was this all. The Palikao Ministry apparently had some doubts as
to MacMahon's energy, and feared that the Emperor himself hampered the
operations. De Wimpffen therefore received an unofficial mandate to infuse
vigour into the counsels at headquarters, and was entrusted with a secret
written order to take over the supreme command if anything were to happen
to MacMahon. On taking command of the 5th corps on the 30th, de
Wimpffen found it demoralised by the hurried retreat through Mouzon; but
neither this fact nor the exhaustion of the whole army abated the
determination of this stalwart soldier to break through towards Metz.

Early on September 1 the positions held by the French formed, roughly
speaking, a triangle resting on the right bank of the Meuse from, near
Bazeilles to Sedan and Glaire. Damming operations and the heavy rains of
previous days had spread the river over the low-lying meadows, thus
rendering it difficult, if not impossible, for an enemy to cross under fire; but
this same fact lessened the space by which the French could endeavour to
break through. Accordingly they deployed their forces almost wholly along
the inner slopes of the Givonne brook and of the smaller stream that flows
from the high land about Illy down to the village of Floing and thence to the
Meuse. The heights of Illy, crowned by the Calvaire, formed the apex of the
French position, while Floing and Bazeilles formed the other corners of
what was in many respects good fighting-ground. Their strength was about
120,000 men, though many of these were disabled or almost helpless from
fatigue; that of the Germans was greater on the whole, but three of their
corps could not reach the scene of action before 1 P.M. owing to the
heaviness of the roads[45]. At first, then, the French had a superiority of
force and a far more compact position, as will be seen by the accompanying
plan.
We now resume the account of the battle. The fighting in and around
Bazeilles speedily led to one very important result. At 6 A.M. a splinter of a
shell fired by the assailants from the hills north-east of that village, severely
wounded Marshal MacMahon as he watched the conflict from a point in
front of the village of Balan. Thereupon he named General Ducrot as his
successor, passing over the claims of two generals senior to him. Ducrot,
realising the seriousness of the position, prepared to draw off the troops
towards the Calvaire of Illy preparatory to a retreat on Mézières by way of
St. Menges. The news of this impending retreat, which must be conducted
under the hot fire of the Germans now threatening the line of the Givonne,
cut de Wimpffen to the quick. He knew that the Crown Prince held a force
to the south-west of Sedan, ready to fall on the flank of any force that
sought to break away to Mézières; and a temporary success of his own 5th
corps against the Saxons in la Moncelle strengthened his prepossession in
favour of a combined move eastwards towards Carignan and Metz.
Accordingly, about nine o'clock he produced the secret order empowering
him to succeed MacMahon should the latter be incapacitated. Ducrot at
once yielded to the ministerial ukase; the Emperor sought to intervene in

favour of Ducrot, only to be waved aside by the confident de Wimpffen;
and thus the long conflict between MacMahon and the Palikao Ministry
ended in victory for the latter--and disaster for France[46].
In hazarding this last statement we do not mean to imply that a retreat on
Mézières would then have saved the whole army. It might, however, have
enabled part of it to break through either to Mézières or the Belgian
boundary; and it is possible that Ducrot had the latter objective in view
when he ordered the concentration at Illy. In any case, that move was now
countermanded in favour of a desperate attack on the eastern assailants. It
need hardly be said that the result of these vacillations was deplorable,
unsteadying the defenders, and giving the assailants time to bring up troops
and cannon, and thereby strengthen their grip on every important point.
Especially valuable was the approach of the 2nd Bavarian corps; setting out
from Raucourt at 4 A.M. it reached the hills south of Sedan about 9, and its
artillery posted near Frénois began a terrible fire on the town and the French
troops near it.
About the same time the Second Division of the Saxons reinforced their
hard-pressed comrades to the north of la Moncelle, where, on de
Wimpffen's orders, the French were making a strong forward move. The
opportune arrival of these new German troops saved their artillery, which
had been doing splendid service. The French were driven back across the
Givonne with heavy loss, and the massed battery of 100 guns crushed all
further efforts at advance on this side. Meanwhile at Bazeilles the marines
had worthily upheld the honour of the French arms. Despite the terrible
artillery fire now concentrated on the village, they pushed the German
footmen back, but never quite drove them out. These, when reinforced,
renewed the fight with equal obstinacy; the inhabitants themselves joined in
with whatever weapons fury suggested to them and as that merciless strife
swayed to and fro amidst the roar of artillery, the crash of walls, and the
hiss of flame, war was seen in all its naked ferocity.
Yet here again, as at all points, the defence was gradually overborne by the
superiority of the German artillery. About eleven o'clock the French, despite
their superhuman efforts, were outflanked by the Bavarians and Saxons on
the north of the village. Even then, when the regulars fell back, some of the
inhabitants went on with their mad resistance; a great part of the village was

now in flames, but whether they were kindled by the Germans, or by the
retiring French so as to delay the victors, has never been cleared up. In
either case, several of the inhabitants perished in the flames; and it is
admitted that the Bavarians burnt some of the villagers for firing on them
from the windows[47].
In the defence of Bazeilles the French infantry showed its usual courage
and tenacity. Elsewhere the weary and dispirited columns were speedily
becoming demoralised under the terrific artillery fire which the Germans
poured in from many points of vantage. The Prussian Guards coming up
from Villers Cernay about 10 A.M. planted their formidable batteries so as
to sweep the Bois de Garenne and the ground about the Calvaire d'Illy from
the eastward; and about that time the guns of the 5th and 11th German
corps, that had early crossed the Meuse below Sedan, were brought to bear
on the west front of that part of the French position. The apex of the
defenders' triangle was thus severely searched by some 200 guns; and their
discharges, soon supported by the fire of skirmishers and volleys from the
troops, broke all forward movements of the French on that side. On the
south and south-east as many cannon swept the French lines, but from a
greater distance.
Up to nearly noon there seemed some chance of the French bursting
through on the north, and some of them did escape. Yet no well-sustained
effort took place on that side, apparently because, even after the loss of
Bazeilles at eleven o'clock, de Wimpffen clung to the belief that he could
cut his way out towards Carignan, if not by Bazeilles, then perhaps by some
other way, as Daigny or la Moncelle. The reasoning by which he convinced
himself is hard to follow; for the only road to Carignan on that side runs
through Bazeilles. Perhaps we ought to say that he did not reason, but was
haunted by one fixed notion; and the history of war from the time of the
Roman Varro down to the age of the Austrian Mack and the French de
Wimpffen shows that men whose brains work in grooves and take no
account of what is on the right hand and the left, are not fit to command
armies; they only yield easy triumphs to the great masters of warfare--
Hannibal, Napoleon the Great, and von Moltke.
De Wimpffen, we say, paid little heed to the remonstrances of Generals
Douay and Ducrot at leaving the northern apex and the north-western front

of the defence to be crushed by weight of metal and of numbers. He rode
off towards Balan, near which village the former defenders of Bazeilles
were making a gallant and partly successful stand, and no reinforcements
were sent to the hills on the north. The villages of Illy and Floing were lost;
then the French columns gave ground even up the higher ground behind
them, so great was the pressure of the German converging advance. Worst
of all, skulkers began to hurry from the ranks and seek shelter in the woods,
or even under the ramparts of Sedan far in the rear. The French gunners still
plied their guns with steady devotion, though hopelessly outmatched at all
points, but it was clear that only a great forward dash could save the day.
Ducrot therefore ordered General Margueritte with three choice cavalry
regiments (Chasseurs d'Afrique) and several squadrons of Lancers to charge
the advancing lines. Moving forward from the northern edge of the Bois de
Garenne to judge his ground, Margueritte fell mortally wounded. De
Bauffremont took his place, and those brave horsemen swept forward on a
task as hopeless as that of the Light Brigade at Balaclava, or that of the
French Cuirassiers at Wörth[48]. Their conduct was as glorious; but the
terrible power of the modern rifle was once more revealed. The pounding of
distant batteries they could brave; disordered but defiant they swept on
towards the German lines, but when the German infantry opened fire almost
at pistol range, rank after rank of the horsemen went down as grass before
the scythe. Here and there small bands of horsemen charged the footmen on
the flank, even in a few cases on their rear, it is said; but the charge, though
bravely renewed, did little except to delay the German triumph and retrieve
the honour of France.
By about two o'clock the French cavalry was practically disabled, and there
now remained no Imperial Guard, as at Waterloo, to shed some rays of
glory over the disaster. Meanwhile, however, de Wimpffen had resolved to
make one more effort. Gathering about him a few of the best infantry
battalions in and about Sedan, he besought the Emperor to join him in
cutting a way out towards the east. The Emperor sent no answer to this
appeal; he judged that too much blood had already been needlessly shed.
Still, de Wimpffen persisted in his mad endeavour. Bursting upon the
Bavarians in the village of Balan, he drove them back for a space until his
men, disordered by the rush, fell before the stubborn rally of the Bavarians
and Saxons. With the collapse of this effort and the cutting up of the French

cavalry behind Floing, the last frail barriers to the enemy's advance gave
way. The roads to Sedan were now thronged with masses of fugitives,
whose struggles to pass the drawbridges into the little fortress resembled an
African battue; for King William and his Staff, in order to hurry on the
inevitable surrender, bade the 200 or more pieces on the southern heights
play upon the town. Still de Wimpffen refused to surrender, and, despite the
orders of his sovereign, continued the hopeless struggle. At length, to stay
the frightful carnage, the Emperor himself ordered the white flag to be
hoisted[49]. A German officer went down to arrange preliminaries, and to
his astonishment was ushered into the presence of the Emperor. The
German Staff had no knowledge of his whereabouts. On hearing the news,
King William, who throughout the day sat on horseback at the top of the
slope behind Frénois, said to his son, the Crown Prince: "This is indeed a
great success; and I thank thee that thou hast contributed to it." He gave his
hand to his son, who kissed it, and then, in turn, to Moltke and to Bismarck,
who kissed it also. In a short time, the French General Reille brought to the
King the following autograph letter:--

MONSIEUR MON FRÈRE--N'ayant pu mourir au
milieu de mes troupes, il ne me reste qu'à remettre
mon épée entre les mains de Votre Majesté.--Je suis
de Votre Majesté le bon Frère

NAPOLÉON.

SÉDAN, le 1er Septembre, 1870.

The King named von Moltke to arrange the terms and then rode away to a
village farther south, it being arranged, probably at Bismarck's suggestion,
that he should not see the Emperor until all was settled. Meanwhile de
Wimpffen and other French generals, in conference with von Moltke,
Bismarck, and Blumenthal, at the village of Donchéry, sought to gain easy
terms by appealing to their generosity and by arguing that this would end
the war and earn the gratitude of France. To all appeals for permission to let
the captive army go to Algeria, or to lay down its arms in Belgium, the
Germans were deaf,--Bismarck at length plainly saying that the French
were an envious and jealous people on whose gratitude it would be idle to

count. De Wimpffen then threatened to renew the fight rather than
surrender, to which von Moltke grimly assented, but Bismarck again
interposed to bring about a prolongation of the truce. Early on the morrow,
Napoleon himself drove out to Donchéry in the hope of seeing the King.
The Bismarckian Boswell has given us a glimpse of him as he then
appeared: "The look in his light grey eyes was somewhat soft and dreamy,
like that of people who have lived too fast." [In his case, we may remark,
this was induced by the painful disease which never left him all through the
campaign, and carried him off three years later.] "He wore his cap a little on
the right, to which side his head also inclined. His short legs were out of
proportion to the long upper body. His whole appearance was a little
unsoldier-like. The man looked too soft--I might say too spongy--for the
uniform he wore."
Bismarck, the stalwart Teuton who had wrecked his policy at all points, met
him at Donchéry and foiled his wish to see the King, declaring this to be
impossible until the terms of the capitulation were settled. The Emperor
then had a conversation with the Chancellor in a little cottage belonging to a
weaver. Seating themselves on two rush-bottomed chairs beside the one
deal table, they conversed on the greatest affairs of State. The Emperor said
he had not sought this war--"he had been driven into it by the pressure of
public opinion. I replied" (wrote Bismarck) "that neither had any one with
us wished for war--the King least of all[50]." Napoleon then pleaded for
generous terms, but admitted that he, as a prisoner, could not fix them; they
must be arranged with de Wimpffen. About ten o'clock the latter agreed to
an unconditional surrender for the rank and file of the French army, but
those officers who bound themselves by their word of honour (in writing)
not to fight again during the present war were to be set free. Napoleon then
had an interview with the King. What transpired is not known, but when the
Emperor came out "his eyes" (wrote Bismarck) "were full of tears."
The fallen monarch accepted the King's offer of the castle of Wilhelmshöhe
near Cassel for his residence up to the end of the war; it was the abode on
which Jerome Bonaparte had spent millions of thalers, wrung from
Westphalian burghers, during his brief sovereignty in 1807-1813. Thither
his nephew set out two days after the catastrophe of Sedan. And this, as it
seems, was the end of a dynasty whose rise to power dated from the
thrilling events of the Bridge of Lodi, Arcola, Rivoli, and the Pyramids. The

French losses on September 1 were about 3000 killed, 14,000 wounded, and
21,000 prisoners. On the next day there surrendered 83,000 prisoners by
virtue of the capitulation, along with 419 field-pieces and 139 cannon of the
fortress. Some 3000 had escaped, through the gap in the German lines on
the north-east, to the Belgian frontier, and there laid down their arms.
The news of this unparalleled disaster began to leak out at Paris late on the
2nd; on the morrow, when details were known, crowds thronged into the
streets shouting "Down with the Empire! Long live the Republic!" Power
still remained with the Empress-Regent and the Palikao Ministry. All must
admit that the Empress Eugénie did what was possible in this hopeless
position. She appealed to that charming literary man, M. Prosper Mérimée,
to go to his friend, M. Thiers (at whom we shall glance presently), and beg
him to form a Ministry that would save the Empire for the young Prince
Imperial. M. Thiers politely but firmly refused to give a helping hand to the
dynasty which he looked on as the author of his country's ruin.
On that day the Empress also summoned the Chambers--the Senate and the
Corps Législatif--a vain expedient, for in times of crisis the French look to a
man, not to Chambers. The Empire had no man at hand. General Trochu,
Governor of Paris, was suspected of being a Republican--at any rate he let
matters take their course. On the 4th, vast crowds filled the streets; a rush
was made to the Chamber, where various compromises were being
discussed; the doors were forced, and amid wild excitement a proposal to
dethrone the Napoleonic dynasty was put. Two Republican deputies,
Gambetta and Jules Favre, declared that the Hôtel de Ville was the fit place
to declare the Republic. There, accordingly, it was proclaimed, the deputies
for the city of Paris taking office as the Government of National Defence.
They were just in time to prevent Socialists like Blanqui, Flourens, and
Henri Rochefort from installing the "Commune" in power. The Empress
and the Prince Imperial at once fled, and, apart from a protest by the Senate,
no voice was raised in defence of the Empire. Jules Favre who took up the
burden of Foreign Affairs in the new Government of National Defence was
able to say in his circular note of September 6 that "the Revolution of
September 4 took place without the shedding of a drop of blood or the loss
of liberty to a single person[51]."

That fact shows the unreality of Bonapartist rule in France. At bottom
Napoleon III.'s ascendancy was due to several causes, that told against
possible rivals rather than directly in his favour. Hatred of the socialists,
whose rash political experiments had led to the bloody days of street
fighting in Paris in June 1848, counted for much. Added to this was the
unpopularity of the House of Orleans after the sordid and uninteresting rule
of Louis Philippe (1830-48). The antiquated royalism of the Elder or
Legitimist branch of that ill-starred dynasty made it equally an
impossibility. Louis Napoleon promised to do what his predecessors,
Monarchical and Republican, had signally failed to do, namely, to reconcile
the claims of liberty and order at home and uphold the prestige of France
abroad. For the first ten years the glamour of his name, the skill with which
he promoted the material prosperity of France, and the successes of his
early wars, promised to build up a lasting power. But then came the days of
failing health and tottering prestige--of financial scandals, of the Mexican
blunder, of the humiliation before the rising power of Prussia. To retrieve
matters he toyed with democracy in France, and finally allowed his
Ministers to throw down a challenge to Prussia; for, in the words of a
French historian, the conditions on which he held power "condemned him
to be brilliant[52]."
Failing at Sedan, he lost all; and he knew it. His reign, in fact, was one long
disaster for France. The canker of moral corruption began to weaken her
public life when the creatures of whom he made use in the coup d'état of
1851 crept into place and power. The flashy sensationalism of his policy,
setting the tone for Parisian society, was fatal to the honest unseen drudgery
which builds up a solid edifice alike in public and in private life. Even the
better qualities of his nature told against ultimate success. As has been
shown, his vague but generous ideas on Nationality drew French policy
away from the paths of obvious self-interest after the year 1864, and gave
an easy victory to the keen and objective statecraft of Bismarck. That he
loved France as sincerely as he believed in the power of the Bonapartist
tradition to help her, can scarcely admit of doubt. His conduct during the
war of 1870 showed him to be disinterested, while his vision was clearer
than that of the Generals about him. But in the field of high policy, as in the
moral events that make or mar a nation's life, his influence told heavily
against the welfare of France; and he must have carried into exile the

consciousness that his complex nature and ill-matched strivings had but
served to bring his dynasty and his country to an unexampled overthrow.

It may be well to notice here an event of world-wide importance, which
came as a sequel to the military collapse of France. Italians had always
looked to the day when Rome would be the national capital. The great
Napoleon during his time of exile at St. Helena had uttered the prophetic
words: "Italy isolated between her natural limits is destined to form a great
and powerful nation. . . . Rome will without doubt be chosen by the Italians
as their capital." The political and economic needs of the present,
coinciding herein with the voice of tradition, always so strong in Italian
hearts, pointed imperiously to Rome as the only possible centre of national
life.
As was pointed out in the Introduction, Pius IX. after the years of
revolution, 1848-49, felt the need of French troops in his capital, and his
harsh and reactionary policy (or rather, that of his masterful Secretary of
State, Antonelli) before long completely alienated the feelings of his
subjects.
After the master-mind of Cavour was removed by death, (June 1861), the
patriots struggled desperately, but in vain, to rid Rome of the presence of
foreign troops and win her for the national cause. Garibaldi's raids of 1862
and 1867 were foiled, the one by Italian, the other by French troops; and the
latter case, which led to the sharp fight of Mentana, effaced any feelings of
gratitude to Napoleon III. for his earlier help, which survived after his
appropriation of Savoy and Nice. Thus matters remained in 1867-70, the
Pope relying on the support of French bayonets to coerce his own subjects.
Clearly this was a state of things which could not continue. The first great
shock must always bring down a political edifice which rests not on its own
foundations, but on external buttresses. These were suddenly withdrawn by
the war of 1870. Early in August, Napoleon ordered all his troops to leave
the Papal States; and the downfall of his power a month later absolved
Victor Emmanuel from the claims of gratitude which he still felt towards
his ally of 1859.
At once the forward wing of the Italian national party took action in a way
that either forced, or more probably encouraged, Victor Emmanuel's

Government to step in under the pretext of preventing the creation of a
Roman Republic. The King invited Pius IX. to assent to the peaceful
occupation of Rome by the royal troops, and on receiving the expected
refusal, moved forward 35,000 soldiers. The resistance of the 11,000 Papal
troops proved to be mainly a matter of form. The wall near the Porta Pia
soon crumbled before the Italian cannon, and after a brief struggle at the
breach, the white flag was hoisted at the bidding of the Pope (Sept. 20).
Thus fell the temporal power of the Papacy. The event aroused
comparatively little notice in that year of marvels, but its results have been
momentous. At the time there was a general sense of relief, if not of joy, in
Italy, that the national movement had reached its goal, albeit in so tame and
uninspiring a manner. Rome had long been a prey to political reaction,
accompanied by police supervision of the most exasperating kind. The
plébiscite as to the future government gave 133,681 votes for Victor
Emmanuel's rule, and only 1507 negative votes[53].
Now, for the first time since the days of Napoleon I. and of the short-lived
Republic for which Mazzini and Garibaldi worked and fought so nobly in
1849, the Eternal City began to experience the benefits of progressive rule.
The royal government soon proved to be very far from perfect. Favouritism,
the multiplication of sinecures, municipal corruption, and the prosaic
inroads of builders and speculators, soon helped to mar the work of political
reconstruction, and began to arouse a certain amount of regret for the more
picturesque times of the Papal rule. A sentimental reaction of this kind is
certain to occur in all cases of political change, especially in a city where
tradition and emotion so long held sway.
The consciences of the faithful were also troubled when the fiat of the Pope
went forth excommunicating the robber-king and all his chief abettors in the
work of sacrilege. Sons of the Church throughout Italy were bidden to hold
no intercourse with the interlopers and to take no part in elections to the
Italian Parliament which thenceforth met in Rome. The schism between the
Vatican and the King's Court and Government was never to be bridged
over; and even to-day it constitutes one of the most perplexing problems of
Italy.

Despite the fact that Rome and Italy gained little of that mental and moral
stimulus which might have resulted from the completion of the national
movement solely by the action of the people themselves, the fact
nevertheless remains that Rome needed Italy and Italy needed Rome. The
disappointment loudly expressed by idealists, sentimentalists, and
reactionaries must not blind us to the fact that the Italians, and above all the
Romans, have benefited by the advent of unity, political freedom, and civic
responsibility. It may well be that, in acting as the leader of a constitutional
people, the Eternal City will little by little develop higher gifts than those
nurtured under Papal tutelage, and perhaps as beneficent to Humanity as
those which, in the ancient world, bestowed laws on Europe.
As Mazzini always insisted, political progress, to be sound, must be based
ultimately on moral progress. It is of its very nature slow, and is therefore
apt to escape the eyes of the moralist or cynic who dwells on the untoward
signs of the present. But the Rome for which Mazzini and his compatriots
yearned and struggled can hardly fail ultimately to rise to the height of her
ancient traditions and of that noble prophecy of Dante: "There is the seat of
empire. There never was, and there never will be, a people endowed with
such capacity to acquire command, with more vigour to maintain it, and
more gentleness in its exercise, than the Italian nation, and especially the
Holy Roman people." The lines with which Mr. Swinburne closed his
"Dedication" of Songs before Sunrise to Joseph Mazzini are worthy of
finding a place side by side with the words of the mediaeval seer:--

Yea, even she as at first,
Yea, she alone and none other,
Shall cast down, shall build up, shall bring home,
Slake earth's hunger and thirst,
Lighten, and lead as a mother;
First name of the world's names, Rome.

FOOTNOTES:
[43] See General Lebrun's Guerre de 1870: Bazailles-Sedan, for an account
of his corps of MacMahon's army.

In view of the events of the late Boer War, it is worth noting that the
Germans never acknowledged the francs-tireurs as soldiers, and forthwith
issued an order ending with the words, "They are amenable to martial law
and liable to be sentenced to death" (Maurice, Franco-German War, p.
215).
[44] Moltke, The Franco-German War, vol. i. p. 114. Hooper, The
Campaign of Sedan, p. 296.
[45] Maurice, The Franco-German War, p. 235.
[46] See Lebrun's Guerre de 1870: Bazeilles-Sédan, for these disputes.
[47] M. Busch, Bismarck in the Franco-German War, vol. i. p. 114.
[48] Lebrun (op. cit. pp. 126-127; also Appendix D) maintains that de
Bauffremont then led the charge, de Gallifet leading only the 3rd Chasseurs
d'Afrique.
[49] Lebrun, op. cit. pp. 130 et seq. for the disputes about surrender.
[50] Busch, Bismarck on the Franco-German War, vol. i. p. 109. Contrast
this statement with his later efforts (Reminiscences, vol. ii. pp. 95-100) to
prove that he helped to bring on war.
[51] Gabriel Hanotaux, Contemporary France, vol. i. p. 14 (Eng. edit.)
[52] Said in 1852 by an eminent Frenchman to our countryman, Nassau
Senior (Journals, ii. ad fin).
[53] Countess Cesaresco, The Liberation of Italy, p. 411.

CHAPTER IV
THE FOUNDING OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC

"[Greek: egigneto te logo men daemokratia, ergo de
hupo tou protou andros archae]."

"Thus Athens, though still in name a democracy, was
in fact ruled by her greatest man."--THUCYDIDES,
book ii. chap. 65.

The aim of this work being to trace the outlines only of those outstanding
events which made the chief States of the world what they are to-day, we
can give only the briefest glance at the remaining events of the Franco-
German War and the splendid though hopeless rally attempted by the
newly-installed Government of National Defence. Few facts in recent
history have a more thrilling interest than the details of the valiant efforts
made by the young Republic against the invaders. The spirit in which they
were made breathed through the words of M. Picard's proclamation on
September 4: "The Republic saved us from the invasion of 1792. The
Republic is proclaimed."
Inspiring as was this reference to the great and successful effort of the First
Republic against the troops of Central Europe in 1792, it was misleading.
At that time Prussia had lapsed into a state of weakness through the double
evils of favouritism and a facing-both-ways policy. Now she felt the
strength born of sturdy championship of a great principle--that of
Nationality--which had ranged nearly the whole of the German race on her
side. France, on the other hand, owing to the shocking blunders of her
politicians and generals during the war, had but one army corps free, that of
General Vinoy, which hastily retreated from the neighbourhood of Mézières
towards Paris on September 2 to 4. She therefore had to count almost
entirely on the Garde Mobile, the Garde Nationale, and Francs-tireurs; but

bitter experience was to show that this raw material could not be organised
in a few weeks to withstand the trained and triumphant legions of Germany.
Nevertheless there was no thought of making peace with the invaders. The
last message of Count Palikao to the Chambers had been one of defiance to
the enemy; and the Parisian deputies, nearly all of them Republicans, who
formed the Government of National Defence, scouted all faint-hearted
proposals. Their policy took form in the famous phrase of Jules Favre,
Minister of Foreign Affairs: "We will give up neither an inch of our territory
nor a stone of our fortresses." This being so, all hope of compromise with
the Germans was vain. Favre had interviews with Bismarck at the Château
de Ferrières (September 19); but his fine oratory, even his tears, made no
impression on the Iron Chancellor, who declared that in no case would an
armistice be granted, not even for the election of a National Assembly,
unless France agreed to give up Alsace and a part of Lorraine, allowing the
German troops also to hold, among other places, Strassburg and Toul.
Obviously, a self-constituted body like the provisional Government at Paris
could not accept these terms, which most deeply concerned the nation at
large. In the existing temper of Paris and France, the mention of such terms
meant war to the knife, as Bismarck must have known. On their side,
Frenchmen could not believe that their great capital, with its bulwarks and
ring of outer forts, could be taken; while the Germans--so it seems from the
Diary of General von Blumenthal--looked forward to its speedy
capitulation. One man there was who saw the pressing need of foreign aid.
M. Thiers (whose personality will concern us a little later) undertook to go
on a mission to the chief Powers of Europe in the hope of urging one or
more of them to intervene on behalf of France.
The details of that mission are, of course, not fully known. We can only
state here that Russia now repaid Prussia's help in crushing the Polish
rebellion of 1863 by neutrality, albeit tinged with a certain jealousy of
German success. Bismarck had been careful to dull that feeling by
suggesting that she (Russia) should take the present opportunity of
annulling the provision, made after the Crimean War, which prevented her
from sending war-ships on to the Black Sea; and this was subsequently
done, under a thin diplomatic disguise, at the Congress of London (March
1871). Bismarck's astuteness in supporting Russia at this time therefore

kept that Power quiet. As for Austria, she undoubtedly wished to intervene,
but did not choose to risk a war with Russia, which would probably have
brought another overthrow. Italy would not unsheathe her sword for France
unless the latter recognised her right to Rome (which the Italian troops
entered on September 20). To this the young French Republic demurred.
Great Britain, of course, adhered to the policy of neutrality which she at
first declared[54].
Accordingly, France had to rely on her own efforts. They were surprisingly
great. Before the complete investment of Paris (September 20), a
Delegation of the Government of National Defence had gone forth to Tours
with the aim of stirring up the provinces to the succour of the besieged
capital. Probably the whole of the Government ought to have gone there;
for, shut up in the capital, it lost touch with the provinces, save when
balloons and carrier-pigeons eluded the German sharpshooters and brought
precious news[55]. The mistake was seen in time to enable a man of
wondrous energy to leave Paris by balloon on October 7, to descend as a
veritable deus ex machina on the faltering Delegation at Tours, and to stir
the blood of France by his invective. There was a touch of the melodramatic
not only in his apparition but in his speeches. Frenchmen, however, follow
a leader all the better if he is a good stage-manager and a clever actor. The
new leader was both; but he was something more.
Léon Gambetta had leaped to the front rank at the Bar in the closing days of
1868 by a passionate outburst against the coup d'état, uttered, to the
astonishment of all, in a small Court of Correctional Police, over a petty
case of State prosecution of a small Parisian paper. Rejecting the ordinary
methods of defence, the young barrister flung defiance at Napoleon III. as
the author of the coup d'état and of all the present degradation of France.
The daring of the young barrister, who thus turned the tables on the
authorities and impeached the head of the State, made a profound
impression; it was redoubled by the Southern intensity of his thought and
expression. Disdaining all forms of rhetoric, he poured forth a torrent of
ideas, clothing them in the first words that came to his facile tongue,
enforcing them by blows of the fist or the most violent gestures, and yet,
again, modulating the roar of passion to the falsetto of satire or the whisper
of emotion. His short, thick-set frame, vibrating with strength, doubled the
force of all his utterances. Nor did they lack the glamour of poetry and

romance that might be expected from his Italian ancestry. He came of a
Genoese stock that had for some time settled in the South of France.
Strange fate, that called him now to the front with the aim of repairing the
ills wrought to France by another Italian House! In time of peace his power
over men would have raised him to the highest positions had his Bohemian
exuberance of thought and speech been tameable. It was not. He scorned
prudence in moderation at all times, and his behaviour, when the wave of
Revolution at last carried him to power, gave point to the taunt of Thiers--
"c'est un fou furieux." Such was the man who now brought the quenchless
ardour of his patriotism to the task of rousing France. As far as words and
energy could call forth armies, he succeeded; but as he lacked all military
knowledge, his blind self-confidence was to cost France dear.
Possibly the new levies of the Republic might at some point have pierced
the immense circle of the German lines around Paris (for at first the
besieging forces were less numerous than the besieged), had not the
assailants been strengthened by the fall of Metz (Oct. 27). This is not the
place to discuss the culpability of Bazaine for the softness shown in the
defence. The voluminous evidence taken at his trial shows that he was very
slack in the critical days at the close of August; it is also certain that
Bismarck duped him under the pretence that, on certain conditions to be
arranged with the Empress Eugénie, his army might be kept intact for the
sake of re-establishing the Empire[56]. The whole scheme was merely a
device to gain time and keep Bazaine idle, and the German Chancellor
succeeded here as at all points in his great game. On October 27, then, 6000
officers, 173,000 rank and file, were constrained by famine to surrender,
along with 541 field-pieces and 800 siege guns.
This capitulation, the greatest recorded in the history of civilised nations,
dealt a death-blow to the hopes of France. Strassburg had hoisted the white
flag a month earlier; and the besiegers of these fortresses were free to march
westwards and overwhelm the new levies. After gaining a success at
Coulmiers, near Orleans (Nov. 9), the French were speedily driven down
the valley of the Loire and thence as far west as Le Mans. In the North, at
St. Quentin, the Germans were equally successful, as also in Burgundy
against that once effective free-lance, Garibaldi, who came with his sons to
fight for the Republic. The last effort was made by Bourbaki and a large but
ill-compacted army against the enemy's communications in Alsace. By a

speedy concentration the Germans at Héricourt, near Belfort, defeated this
daring move (imposed by the Government of National Defence on
Bourbaki against his better judgment), and compelled him and his hard-
pressed followers to pass over into Switzerland (January 30, 1871).
Meanwhile Paris had already surrendered. During 130 days, and that too in
a winter of unusual severity, the great city had held out with a courage that
neither defeats, schisms, dearth of food, nor the bombardment directed
against its southern quarters could overcome. Towards the close of January
famine stared the defenders in the face, and on the 28th an armistice was
concluded, which put an end to the war except in the neighbourhood of
Belfort. That exception was due to the determination of the Germans to
press Bourbaki hard, while the French negotiators were not aware of his
plight. The garrison of Paris, except 12,000 men charged with the duty of
keeping order, surrendered; the forts were placed in the besiegers' hands.
When that was done the city was to be revictualled and thereafter pay a war
contribution of 200,000,000 francs (£8,000,000). A National Assembly was
to be freely elected and meet at Bordeaux to discuss the question of peace.
The National Guards retained their arms, Favre maintaining that it would be
impossible to disarm them; for this mistaken weakness he afterwards
expressed his profound sorrow[57].
Despite the very natural protests of Gambetta and many others against the
virtual ending of the war at the dictation of the Parisian authorities, the
voice of France ratified their action. An overwhelming majority declared for
peace. The young Republic had done wonders in reviving the national
spirit: Frenchmen could once more feel the self-confidence which had been
damped by the surrenders of Sedan and Metz; but the instinct of self-
preservation now called imperiously for the ending of the hopeless struggle.
In the hurried preparations for the elections held on February 8, few
questions were asked of the candidates except that of peace or war; and it
soon appeared that a great majority was in favour of peace, even at the cost
of part of the eastern provinces.
Of the 630 deputies who met at Bordeaux on February 12, fully 400 were
Monarchists, nearly evenly divided between the Legitimists and Orleanists;
200 were professed Republicans; but only 30 Bonapartists were returned. It
is not surprising that the Assembly, which met in the middle of February,

should soon have declared that the Napoleonic Empire had ceased to exist,
as being "responsible for the ruin, invasion, and dismemberment of the
country" (March 1). These rather exaggerated charges (against which
Napoleon III. protested from his place of exile, Chislehurst) were natural in
the then deplorable condition of France. What is surprising and needs a
brief explanation here, is the fact that a monarchical Assembly should have
allowed the Republic to be founded.
This paradoxical result sprang from several causes, some of them of a
general nature, others due to party considerations, while the personal
influence of one man perhaps turned the balance at this crisis in the history
of France. We will consider them in the order here named.
Stating the matter broadly, we may say that the present Assembly was not
competent to decide on the future constitution of France; and that vague but
powerful instinct, which guides representative bodies in such cases, told
against any avowedly partisan effort in that direction. The deputies were
fully aware that they were elected to decide the urgent question of peace or
war, either to rescue France from her long agony, or to pledge the last drops
of her life-blood in an affair of honour. By an instinct of self-preservation,
the electors, especially in the country districts, turned to the men of
property and local influence as those who were most likely to save them
from the frothy followers of Gambetta. Accordingly, local magnates were
preferred to the barristers and pressmen, whose oratorical and literary gifts
usually carry the day in France; and more than 200 noblemen were elected.
They were chosen not on account of their nobility and royalism, but
because they were certain to vote against the fou furieux.
Then, too, the Royalists knew very well that time would be required to
accustom France to the idea of a King, and to adjust the keen rivalries
between the older and the younger branches of the Bourbon House.
Furthermore, they were anxious that the odium of signing a disastrous
peace should fall on the young Republic, not on the monarch of the future.
Just as the great Napoleon in 1814 was undoubtedly glad that the giving up
of Belgium and the Rhine boundary should devolve on his successor, Louis
XVIII., and counted on that as one of the causes undermining the restored
monarchy, so now the Royalists intended to leave the disagreeable duty of
ceding the eastern districts of France to the Republicans who had so

persistently prolonged the struggle. The clamour of no small section of the
Republican party for war à outrance still played into the hands of the
royalists and partly justified this narrow partisanship. Events, however,
were to prove here, as in so many cases, that the party which undertook a
pressing duty and discharged it manfully, gained more in the end than those
who shirked responsibility and left the conduct of affairs to their opponents.
Men admire those who dauntlessly pluck the flower, safety, out of the
nettle, danger.
Finally, the influence of one commanding personality was ultimately to be
given to the cause of the Republic. That strange instinct which in times of
crisis turns the gaze of a people towards the one necessary man, now
singled out M. Thiers. The veteran statesman was elected in twenty-six
Departments. Gambetta and General Trochu, Governor of Paris, were each
elected nine times over. It was clear that the popular voice was for the
policy of statesmanlike moderation which Thiers now summed up in his
person; and Gambetta for a time retired to Spain.
The name of Thiers had not always stood for moderation. From the time of
his youth, when his journalistic criticisms on the politics, literature, art and
drama of the Restoration period set all tongues wagging, to the day when
his many-sided gifts bore him to power under Louis Philippe, he stood for
all that is most beloved by the vivacious sons of France. His early work,
The History of the French Revolution, had endeared him to the survivors of
the old Jacobin and Girondin parties, and his eager hostility to England
during his term of office flattered the Chauvinist feelings that steadily grew
in volume during the otherwise dull reign of Louis Philippe. In the main,
Thiers was an upholder of the Orleans dynasty, yet his devotion to
constitutional principles, the ardour of his Southern temperament,--he was a
Marseillais by birth,--and the vivacious egotism that never brooked
contradiction, often caused sharp friction with the King and the King's
friends. He seemed born for opposition and criticism. Thereafter, his
conduct of affairs helped to undermine the fabric of the Second Republic
(1848-51). Flung into prison by the minions of Louis Napoleon at the time
of the coup d'état, he emerged buoyant as ever, and took up again the rôle
that he loved so well.

Nevertheless, amidst all the seeming vagaries of Thiers' conduct there
emerge two governing principles--a passionate love of France, and a sincere
attachment to reasoned liberty. The first was absolute and unchangeable; the
second admitted of some variations if the ruler did not enhance the glory of
France, and also (as some cynics said) recognise the greatness of M. Thiers.
For the many gibes to which his lively talents and successful career exposed
him, he had his revenge. His keen glance and incisive reasoning generally
warned him of the probable fate of Dynasties and Ministries. Like
Talleyrand, whom he somewhat resembled in versatility, opportunism, and
undying love of France, he might have said that he never deserted a
Government before it deserted itself. He foretold the fall of Louis Philippe
under the reactionary Guizot Ministry as, later on, he foretold the fall of
Napoleon III. He blamed the Emperor for not making war on Prussia in
1866 with the same unanswerable logic that marked his opposition to the
mad rush for war in 1870. And yet the war spirit had been in some sense
strengthened by his own writings. His great work, The History of the
Consulate and Empire, which appeared from 1845 to 1862--the last eight
volumes came out during the Second Empire--was in the main a
glorification of the First Napoleon. Men therefore asked with some
impatience why the panegyrist of the uncle should oppose the supremacy of
the nephew; and the action of the crowd in smashing the historian's
windows after his great speech against the war of 1870 cannot be called
wholly illogical, even if it erred on the side of Gallic vivacity.
In the feverish drama of French politics Time sometimes brings an
appropriate Nemesis. It was so now. The man who had divided the energies
of his manhood between parliamentary opposition of a somewhat factious
type and the literary cultivation of the Napoleonic legend, was now in the
evening of his days called upon to bear a crushing load of responsibility in
struggling to win the best possible terms of peace from the victorious
Teuton, in mediating between contending factions at Bordeaux and Paris,
and, finally, in founding a form of government which never enlisted his
whole-hearted sympathy, save as the least objectionable expedient then
open to France.
For the present, the great thing was to gain peace with the minimum of
sacrifice for France. Who could drive a better bargain than Thiers, the man
who knew France so well, and had recently felt the pulse of the

Governments of Europe? Accordingly, on the 17th of February, the
Assembly named him Head of the Executive Power "until it is based upon
the French Constitution." He declined to accept this post until the words "of
the French Republic" were substituted for the latter clause. He had every
reason for urging this demand. Unlike the Republic of 1848, the strength of
which was chiefly, or almost solely, in Paris, the Republic was proclaimed
at Lyons, Marseilles, and Bordeaux, before any news came of the overthrow
of the Napoleonic dynasty at the capital[58].
He now entrusted three important portfolios, those for Foreign Affairs,
Home Affairs, and Public Instruction, to pronounced Republicans--Jules
Favre, Picard, and Jules Simon. Having pacified the monarchical majority
by appealing to them to defer all questions respecting the future constitution
until affairs were more settled, he set out to meet Bismarck at Versailles.
A disadvantage which almost necessarily besets parliamentary institutions
had weakened the French case before the negotiations began. The
composition of the Assembly implied a strong desire for peace--a fact
which Thiers had needlessly emphasised before he left Bordeaux. On the
other hand, Bismarck was anxious to end the war. He knew enough to be
uneasy at the attitude of the neutral States; for public opinion was veering
round in England, Austria, and Italy to a feeling of keen sympathy for
France, and even Russia was restless at the sight of the great military
Empire that had sprung into being on her flank. The recent proclamation of
the German Empire at Versailles--an event that will be treated in a later
chapter--opened up a vista of great developments for the Fatherland, not
unmixed with difficulties and dangers. Above all, sharp differences had
arisen between him and the military men at the German headquarters, who
wished to "bleed France white" by taking a large portion of French Lorraine
(including its capital Nancy), a few colonies, and part of her fleet. It is now
known that Bismarck, with the same moderation that he displayed after
Königgrätz, opposed these extreme claims, because he doubted the
advisability of keeping Metz, with its large French population. The words in
which he let fall these thoughts while at dinner with Busch on February 21
deserve to be quoted:--

If they (the French) gave us a milliard more
(£40,000,000) we might perhaps let them have Metz.

We would then take 800,000,000 francs, and build
ourselves a fortress a few miles further back,
somewhere about Falkenberg or Saarbrück--there
must be some suitable spot thereabouts. We should
thus make a clear profit of 200,000,000 francs.
[N.B.--A milliard = 1,000,000,000 francs.] I do not
like so many Frenchmen being in our house against
their will. It is just the same with Belfort. It is all
French there too. The military men, however, will
not be willing to let Metz slip, and perhaps they are
right[59].

A sharp difference of opinion had arisen between Bismarck and Moltke on
this question, and the Emperor Wilhelm intervened in favour of Moltke.
That decided the question of Metz against Thiers despite his threat that this
might lead to a renewal of war. For Belfort, however, the French statesman
made a supreme effort. That fortress holds a most important position.
Strong in itself, it stands as sentinel guarding the gap of nearly level ground
between the spurs of the Vosges and those of the Jura. If that virgin
stronghold were handed over to Germany, she would easily be able to pour
her legions down the valley of the Doubs and dominate the rich districts of
Burgundy and the Lyonnais. Besides, military honour required France to
keep a fortress that had kept the tricolour flying. Metz the Germans held,
and it was impossible to turn them out. Obviously the case of Belfort was
on a different footing. In his conference of February 24, Thiers at last defied
Bismarck in these words: "No; I will never yield Belfort and Metz in the
same breath. You wish to ruin France in her finances, in her frontiers. Well!
Take her. Conduct her administration, collect her revenues, and you will
have to govern her in the face of Europe--if Europe permits[60]."
Probably this defiance had less weight with the Iron Chancellor than his
conviction, noticed above, that to bring two entirely French towns within
the German Empire would prove a source of weakness; beside which his
own motto, Beati possidentes, told with effect in the case of Belfort. That
stronghold was accordingly saved for France. Thiers also obtained a
reduction of a milliard from the impossible sum of six milliards first named
for the war indemnity due to Germany; in this matter Jules Favre states that
British mediation had been of some avail. If so, it partly accounts for the

hatred of England which Bismarck displayed in his later years. The
Preliminaries of Peace were signed at Versailles on February 26.
One other matter remained. The Germans insisted that, if Belfort remained
to France, part of their army should enter Paris. In vain did Thiers and Jules
Favre point out the irritation that this would cause and the possible ensuing
danger. The German Emperor and his Staff made it a point of honour, and
30,000 of their troops accordingly marched in and occupied for a brief
space the district of the Champs Élysées. The terms of peace were finally
ratified in the Treaty of Frankfurt (May 10, 1871), whereby France ceded
Alsace and part of Lorraine, with a population of some 1,600,000 souls, and
underwent the other losses noted above. Last but not least was the burden of
supporting the German army of occupation that kept its grip on the north-
east of France until, as the instalments came in, the foreign troops were
proportionately drawn away eastwards. The magnitude of these losses and
burdens had already aroused cries of anguish in France. The National
Assembly at Bordeaux, on first hearing the terms, passionately confirmed
the deposition of Napoleon III.; while the deputies from the ceded districts
lodged a solemn protest against their expatriation (March 1). Some of the
advanced Republican deputies, refusing to acknowledge the cession of
territory, resigned their seats in the Assembly. Thus there began a schism
between the Radicals, especially those of Paris, and the Assembly, which
was destined to widen into an impassable gulf. Matters were made worse by
the decision of the Assembly to sit, not at the capital, but at Versailles,
where it would be free from the commotions of the great city. Thiers
himself declared in favour of Versailles; there the Assembly met for the first
time on March 20, 1871.
A conflict between this monarchical Assembly and the eager Radicals of
Paris perhaps lay in the nature of things. The majority of the deputies
looked forward to the return of the King (whether the Comte de Chambord
of the elder Bourbons, or the Comte de Paris of the House of Orleans) as
soon as France should be freed from the German armies of occupation and
the spectre of the Red Terror. Some of their more impatient members
openly showed their hand, and while at Bordeaux began to upbraid Thiers
for his obstinate neutrality on this question. For his part, the wise old man
had early seen the need of keeping the parties in check. On February 17 he
begged them to defer questions as to the future form of government,

working meanwhile solely for the present needs of France, and allowing
future victory to be the meed of that party which showed itself most worthy
of trust. "Can there be any man" (he exclaimed) "who would dare learnedly
to discuss the articles of the Constitution, while our prisoners are dying of
misery far away, or while our people, perishing of hunger, are obliged to
give their last crust to the foreign soldiers?" A similar appeal on March led
to the informal truce on constitutional questions known as the Compact of
Bordeaux. It was at best an uncertain truce, certain to be broken at the first
sign of activity on the Republican side.
That activity was now put forth by the "Reds" of Paris. It would take us far
too long to describe the origins of the municipal socialism which took form
in the Parisian Commune of 1871. The first seeds of that movement had
been sown by its prototype of 1792-93, which summed up all the daring and
vigour of the revolutionary socialism of that age. The idea had been kept
alive by the "National Workshops" of 1848, whose institution and final
suppression by the young Republic of that year had been its own undoing.
History shows, then, that Paris, as the head of France, was accustomed to
think and act vigorously for herself in time of revolution. But experience
proved no less plainly that the limbs, that is, the country districts, generally
refused to follow the head in these fantastic movements. Hence, after a
short spell of St. Vitus' activity, there always came a time of strife, followed
only too often by torpor, when the body reduced the head to a state of
benumbed subjection. The triumph of rural notions accounts for the
reactions of 1831-47, and 1851-70. Paris having once more regained
freedom of movement by the fall of the Second Empire on September 4, at
once sought to begin her politico-social experiments, and, as we pointed
out, only the promptitude of the "moderates," when face to face with the
advancing Germans, averted the catastrophe of a socialistic regime in Paris
during the siege. Even so, the Communists made two determined efforts to
gain power; the former of these, on October 31, nearly succeeded. Other
towns in the centre and south, notably Lyons, were also on the brink of
revolutionary socialism, and the success of the movement in Paris might
conceivably have led to a widespread trial of the communal experiment.
The war helped to keep matters in the old lines.

But now, the feelings of rage at the surrender of Paris and the cession of the
eastern districts of France, together with hatred of the monarchical
assembly that flouted the capital by sitting at the abode of the old Kings of
France, served to raise popular passion to fever heat. The Assembly
undoubtedly made many mistakes: it authorised the payment of rents and all
other obligations in the capital for the period of siege as if in ordinary times,
and it appointed an unpopular man to command the National Guards of
Paris. At the close of February the National Guards formed a Central
Committee to look after their interests and those of the capital; and when
the Executive of the State sent troops of the line to seize their guns parked
on Montmartre, the Nationals and the rabble turned out in force. The troops
refused to act against the National Guards, and these murdered two
Generals, Lecomte and Thomas (March 18). Thiers and his Ministers
thereupon rather tamely retired to Versailles, and the capital fell into the
hands of the Communists. Greater firmness at the outset might have averted
the horrors that followed.
The Communists speedily consulted the voice of the people by elections
conducted in the most democratic spirit. In many respects their programme
of municipal reforms marked a great improvement on the type of town-
government prevalent during the Empire. That was, practically, under the
control of the imperial préfets. The Communists now asserted the right of
each town to complete self-government, with the control of its officials,
magistrates, National Guards, and police, as well as of taxation, education,
and many other spheres of activity. The more ambitious minds looked
forward to a time when France would form a federation of self-governing
Communes, whose delegates, deciding matters of national concern, would
reduce the executive power to complete subservience. At bottom this
Communal Federalism was the ideal of Rousseau and of his ideal Cantonal
State.
By such means, they hoped, the brain of France would control the body, the
rural population inevitably taking the position of hewers of wood and
drawers of water, both in a political and material sense. Undoubtedly the
Paris Commune made some intelligent changes which pointed the way to
reforms of lasting benefit; but it is very questionable whether its aims could
have achieved permanence in a land so very largely agricultural as France
then was. Certainly it started its experiment in the worst possible way,

namely, by defying the constituted authorities of the nation at large, and by
adopting the old revolutionary calendar, and the red flag, the symbol of
social revolution. Thenceforth it was an affair of war to the knife.
The National Government, sitting at Versailles, could not at first act with
much vigour. Many of the line regiments sympathised with the National
Guards of Paris: these were 200,000 strong, and had command of the walls
and some of the posts to the south-west of Paris. The Germans still held the
forts to the north and east of the capital, and refused to allow any attack on
that side. It has even been stated that Bismarck favoured the Communists;
but this is said to have resulted from their misreading of his promise to
maintain a friedlich (peaceful) attitude, as if it were freundlich (friendly)
[61]. The full truth as to Bismarck's relations to the Commune is not known.
The Germans, however, sent back a force of French prisoners, and these
with other troops, after beating back the Communist sortie of April 3, began
to threaten the defences of the city. The strife at once took on a savage
character, as was inevitable after the murder of two Generals in Paris. The
Versailles troops, treating the Communists as mere rebels, shot their chief
officers. Thereupon the Commune retaliated by ordering the capture of
hostages, and by seizing the Archbishop of Paris, and several other
ecclesiastics (April 5). It also decreed the abolition of the budget for Public
Worship and the confiscation of clerical and monastic property throughout
France--a proposal which aroused ridicule and contempt.
It would be tedious to dwell on the details of this terrible strife. Gradually
the regular forces overpowered the National Guards of Paris, drove them
from the southern forts, and finally (May 21) gained a lodgment within the
walls of Paris at the Auteuil gate. Then followed a week of street-fighting
and madness such as Europe had not seen since the Peninsular War. "Room
for the people, for the bare-armed fighting men. The hour of the
revolutionary war has struck." This was the placard posted throughout Paris
on the 22nd, by order of the Communist chief, Delescluze. And again,
"After the barricades, our houses; after our houses, our ruins." Preparations
were made to burn down a part of Central Paris to delay the progress of the
Versaillese. Rumour magnified this into a plan of wholesale incendiarism,
and wild stories were told of pétroleuses flinging oil over buildings, and of
Communist firemen ready to pump petroleum. A squad of infuriated "Reds"
rushed off and massacred the Archbishop of Paris and six other hostages,

while elsewhere Dominican friars, captured regulars, and police agents fell
victims to the rage of the worsted party.
Madness seemed to have seized on the women of Paris. Even when the men
were driven from barricades by weight of numbers or by the capture of
houses on their flank, these creatures fought on with the fury of despair till
they met the death which the enraged linesmen dealt out to all who fought,
or seemed to have fought. Simpson, the British war correspondent, tells
how he saw a brutal officer tear the red cross off the arm of a nurse who
tended the Communist wounded, so that she might be done to death as a
fighter[62]. Both sides, in truth, were maddened by the long and murderous
struggle, which showed once again that no strife is so horrible as that of
civil war. On Sunday, May 28, the last desperate band was cut down at the
Cemetery Père-Lachaise, and fighting gave way to fusillades. Most of the
chiefs perished without the pretence of trial, and the same fate befel
thousands of National Guards, who were mown down in swathes and cast
into trenches. In the last day of fighting, and the horrible time that followed,
17,000 Parisians are said to have perished[63]. Little by little, law
reasserted her sway, but only to doom 9600 persons to heavy punishment.
Not until 1879 did feelings of mercy prevail, and then, owing to Gambetta's
powerful pleading, an amnesty was passed for the surviving Communist
prisoners.
The Paris Commune affords the last important instance of a determined
rising in Europe against a civilised Government. From this statement we of
course except the fitful efforts of the Carlists in Spain; and it is needless to
say that the risings of the Bulgarians and other Slavs against Turkish rule
have been directed against an uncivilised Government. The absence of
revolts in the present age marks it off from all that have preceded, and
seems to call for a brief explanation. Obviously, there is no lack of
discontent, as the sequel will show. Finland, portions of Caucasia, and all
the parts of the once mighty realm of Poland which have fallen to Russia
and Prussia, now and again heave with anger and resentment. But these
feelings are suppressed. They do not flame forth, as was the case in Poland
as late as the year 1863. What is the reason for this? Mainly, it would seem,
the enormous powers given to the modern organised State by the
discoveries of mechanical science and the triumphs of the engineer.
Telegraphy now flashes to the capital the news of a threatening revolt in the

hundredth part of the time formerly taken by couriers with their relays of
horses. Fully as great is the saving of time in the transport of large bodies of
troops to the disaffected districts. Thus, the all-important factors that make
for success--force, skill, and time--are all on the side of the central
Governments[64].
The spread of constitutional rule has also helped to dispel discontent--or, at
least, has altered its character. Representative government has tended to
withdraw disaffection from the market-place, the purlieus of the poor, and
the fastnesses of the forest, and to focus it noisily but peacefully in the
columns of the Press and the arena of Parliament. The appeal now is not so
much to arms as to argument; and in this new sphere a minority, provided
that it is well organised and persistent, may generally hope to attain its ends.
Revolt, even if it take the form of a refusal to pay taxes, is therefore an
anachronism under a democracy; unless, as in the case of the American
Civil War, two great sections of the country are irreconcilably opposed.
The fact, however, that there has been no widespread revolt in Russia since
the year 1863, shows that democracy has not been the chief influence
tending to dissolve or suppress discontent. As we shall see in a later chapter,
Russia has defied constitutionalism and ground down alien races and
creeds; yet (up to the year 1904) no great rising has shaken her autocratic
system to its base. This seems to prove that the immunity of the present age
in regard to insurrections is due rather to the triumphs of mechanical
science than to the progress of democracy. The fact is not pleasing to
contemplate; but it must be faced. So also must its natural corollary: that the
minority, if rendered desperate, may be driven to arm itself with new and
terrible engines of destruction in order to shatter that superiority of force
with which science has endowed the centralised Governments of to-day.
Certain it is that desperation, perhaps brought about by a sense of
helplessness in face of an armed nation, was one of the characteristics of the
Paris Commune, as it was also of Nihilism in Russia. In fact the Communist
effort of 1871 may be termed a belated attempt on the part of a daring
minority to dominate France by seizing the machinery of government at
Paris. The success of the Extremists of 1793 and 1848 in similar
experiments--not to speak of the Communistic rising of Babeuf in 1797--
was only temporary; but doubtless it encouraged the "Reds" of 1871 to

make their mad bid for power. Now, however, the case was very different.
France was no longer a lethargic mass, dominated solely by the eager brain
of Paris. The whole country thrilled with political life. For the time, the
provinces held the directing power, which had been necessarily removed
from the capital; and--most powerful motive of all--they looked on the
Parisian experiment as gross treason to la patrie, while she lay at the feet of
the Germans. Thus, the very motives which for a space lent such prestige
and power to the Communistic Jacobins of 1793 told against their imitators
in 1871.
The inmost details of their attempt will perhaps never be fully known; for
too many of the actors died under the ruins of the building they had so
heedlessly reared. Nevertheless, it is clear that the Commune was far from
being the causeless outburst that it has often been represented. In part it
resulted from the determination of the capital to free herself from the
control of the "rurals" who dominated the National Assembly; and in that
respect it foreshadowed, however crudely, what will probably be the
political future of all great States, wherein the urban population promises
altogether to outweigh and control that of the country. Further, it should be
remembered that the experimenters of 1871 believed the Assembly to have
betrayed the cause of France by ceding her eastern districts, and to be on the
point of handing over the Republic to the Monarchists. A fit of hysteria, or
hypochondria, brought on by the exhausting siege and by exasperation at
the triumphal entry of the Germans, added the touch of fury which enabled
the Radicals of Paris to challenge the national authorities and thereafter to
persist in their defiance with French logicality and ardour.
France, on the other hand, looked on the Communist movement at Paris and
in the southern towns as treason to the cause of national unity, when there
was the utmost need of concord. Thus on both sides there were deplorable
misunderstandings. In ordinary times they might have been cleared away by
frank explanations between the more moderate leaders; but the feverish
state of the public mind forbade all thoughts of compromise, and the very
weakness brought on by the war sharpened the fit of delirium which will
render the spring months of the year 1871 for ever memorable even in the
thrilling annals of Paris.

FOOTNOTES:
[54] See Débidour, Histoire diplomatique de l'Europe, vol. ii. pp. 412-415.
For Bismarck's fears of intervention, especially that of Austria, see his
Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 109 (English edit.); Count Beust's Aus drei
Viertel-Jahrhunderten, pt. ii. pp. 361, 395; for Thiers' efforts see his Notes
on the years 1870-73 (Paris 1904).
[55] M. Grégoire in his Histoire de France, vol. iv. p. 647, states that 64
balloons left Paris during the siege, 5 were captured and 2 lost in the sea;
363 carrier-pigeons left the city and 57 came in. For details of the French
efforts see Les Responsabilités de la Défense rationale, by H. Génevois;
also The People's War in France, 1870-1871, by Col. L. Hale (The Pall
Mall Military Series, 1904), founded on Hönig's Der Volkskrieg an der
Loire.
[56] Bazaine gives the details from his point of view in his Episodes de la
Guerre de 1870 et le Blocus de Metz (Madrid, 1883). One of the go-
betweens was a man Regnier, who pretended to come from the Empress
Eugénie, then at Hastings; but Bismarck seems to have distrusted him and
to have dismissed him curtly. The adventuress, Mme. Humbert, recently
claimed that she had her "millions" from this Regnier. A sharp criticism on
Bazaine's conduct at Metz is given in a pamphlet, Réponse au Rapport
sommaire sur les Opérations de l'Armée du Rhin, by one of his Staff
Officers. See, too, M. Samuel Denis in his recent work, Histoire
Contemporaine (de France).
[57] It of course led up to the Communist revolt. Bismarck's relations to the
disorderly elements in Paris are not fully known; but he warned Favre on
Jan. 26 to "provoke an émeute while you have an army to suppress it with"
(Bismarck in Franco-German War, vol. ii. p. 265).
[58] Seignobos, A Political History of Contemporary Europe, vol. i. p. 187
(Eng. edit.).
[59] Busch, Bismarck in the Franco-German War, vol. ii. p. 341.
[60] G. Hanotaux, Contemporary France, vol i. p. 124 (Eng. edit.). This
work is the most detailed and authoritative that has yet appeared on these
topics. See, too, M. Samuel Denis' work, Histoire Contemporaine.

[61] Débidour, Histoire diplomatique de l'Europe, vol. ii. p. 438-440.
[62] The Autobiography of William Simpson (London, 1903), p. 261.
[63] G. Hanotaux, Contemporary France, p. 225. For further details see
Lissagaray's History of the Commune; also personal details in Washburne's
Recollections of a Minister to France, 1869-1877, vol. ii. chaps, ii.-vii.
[64] See Turkey in Europe, by "Odysseus" (p. 130), for the parallel instance
of the enhanced power of the Sultan Abdul Hamid owing to the same
causes.

CHAPTER V
THE FOUNDING OF THE FRENCH REPUBLIC (continued)

The seemingly suicidal energy shown in the civil strifes at Paris served still
further to depress the fortunes of France. On the very day when the
Versailles troops entered the walls of Paris, Thiers and Favre signed the
treaty of peace at Frankfurt. The terms were substantially those agreed on in
the preliminaries of February, but the terms of payment of the indemnity
were harder than before. Resistance was hopeless. In truth, the Iron
Chancellor had recently used very threatening language: he accused the
French Government of bad faith in procuring the release of a large force of
French prisoners, ostensibly for the overthrow of the Commune, but really
in order to patch up matters with the "Reds" of Paris and renew the war
with Germany. Misrepresentations and threats like these induced Thiers and
Favre to agree to the German demands, which took form in the Treaty of
Frankfurt (May 10, 1871).
Peace having been duly ratified on the hard terms[65], it remained to build
up France almost de nova. Nearly everything was wanting. The treasury
was nearly empty, and that too in face of the enormous demands made by
Germany. It is said that in February 1871, the unhappy man who took up
the Ministry of Finance, carried away all the funds of the national
exchequer in his hat. As Thiers confessed to the Assembly, he had, for very
patriotism, to close his eyes to the future and grapple with the problems of
every day as they arose. But he had faith in France, and France had faith in
him. The French people can perform wonders when they thoroughly trust
their rulers. The inexhaustible wealth inherent in their soil, the thrift of the
peasantry, and the self-sacrificing ardour shown by the nation when nerved
by a high ideal, constituted an asset of unsuspected strength in face of the
staggering blows dealt to French wealth and credit. The losses caused by
the war, the Commune, and the cession of the eastern districts, involved
losses that have been reckoned at more than £614,000,000. Apart from the

1,597,000 inhabitants transferred to German rule, the loss of population due
to the war and the civil strifes has been put as high as 491,000 souls[66].
Yet France flung herself with triumphant energy into the task of paying off
the invaders. At the close of June 1871, a loan for two milliards and a
quarter (£90,000,000) was opened for subscription, and proved to be an
immense success. The required amount was more than doubled. By means
of the help of international banks, the first half milliard of the debt was paid
off in July 1871, and Normandy was freed from the burden of German
occupation. We need not detail the dates of the successive payments. They
revealed the unsuspected vitality of France and the energy of her
Government and financiers. In March 1873, the arrangements for the
payment of the last instalment were made, and in the autumn of that year
the last German troops left Verdun and Belfort. For his great services in
bending all the powers of France to this great financial feat, Thiers was
universally acclaimed as the Liberator of the Territory,
Yet that very same period saw him overthrown. To read this riddle aright,
we must review the outlines of French internal politics. We have already
referred to the causes that sent up a monarchical majority to the National
Assembly, the schisms that weakened the action of that majority, and the
peculiar position held by M. Thiers, an Orleanist in theory, but the chief
magistrate of the French Republic. No more paradoxical situation has ever
existed; and its oddity was enhanced by the usually clear-cut logicality of
French political thought. Now, after the war and the Commune, the outlook
was dim, even to the keenest sight. One thing alone was clear, the duty of
all citizens to defer raising any burning question until law, order, and the
national finances were re-established. It was the perception of this truth that
led to the provisional truce between the parties known as the Compact of
Bordeaux. Flagrantly broken by the "Reds" of Paris in the spring of 1871,
that agreement seemed doomed. The Republic itself was in danger of
perishing as it did after the socialistic extravagances of the Revolution of
1848. But Thiers at once disappointed the monarchists by stoutly declaring
that he would not abet the overthrow of the Republic: "We found the
Republic established, as a fact of which we are not the authors; but I will
not destroy the form of government which I am now using to restore order. .
. . When all is settled, the country will have the liberty to choose as it
pleases in what concerns its future destinies[67]." Skilfully pointing the

factions to the future as offering a final reward for their virtuous self-
restraint, this masterly tactician gained time in which to heal the worst
wounds dealt by the war.
But it was amidst unending difficulties. The Monarchists, eager to
emphasise the political reaction set in motion by the extravagances of the
Paris Commune, wished to rid themselves at the earliest possible time of
this self-confident little bourgeois who seemed to stand alone between them
and the realisation of their hopes. Their more unscrupulous members
belittled his services and hinted that love of power alone led him to cling to
the Republic, and thus belie his political past. Then, too, the Orleans
princes, the Duc d'Aumale and the Prince de Joinville, the surviving sons of
King Louis Philippe, took their seats as deputies for the Oise and Haute-
Marne Departments, thus keeping the monarchical ideal steadily before the
eye of France. True, the Duc d'Aumale had declared to the electorate that he
was ready to bow before the will of France whether it decided for a
Constitutional Monarchy or a Liberal Republic; and the loyalty with which
he served his country was destined to set the seal of honesty on a singularly
interesting career. But there was no guarantee that the Chamber would not
take upon itself to interpret the will of France and call from his place of
exile in London the Comte de Paris, son of the eldest descendant of Louis
Philippe, around whom the hopes of the Orleanists centred.
Had Thiers followed his earlier convictions and declared for such a
Restoration, it might quite conceivably have come about without very much
resistance. But early in the year 1871, or perhaps after the fall of the
Empire, he became convinced that France could not heal her grievous
wounds except under a government that had its roots deep in the people's
life. Now, the cause of monarchy in France was hopelessly weakened by
schisms. Legitimists and Orleanists were at feud ever since, in 1830, Louis
Philippe, so the former said, cozened the rightful heir out of his inheritance;
and the efforts now made to fuse the claims of the two rival branches
remained without result, owing to the stiff and dogmatic attitude of the
Comte de Chambord, heir to the traditions of the elder branch. A
Bonapartist Restoration was out of the question. Yet all three sections began
more and more to urge their claims. Thiers met them with consummate
skill. Occasionally they had reason to resent his tactics as showing
unworthy finesse; but oftener they quailed before the startling boldness of

his reminders that, as they constituted the majority of the deputies of
France, they might at once undertake to restore the monarchy--if they could.
"You do not, and you cannot, do so. There is only one throne and it cannot
have three occupants[68]." Or, again, he cowed them by the sheer force of
his personality: "If I were a weak man, I would flatter you," he once
exclaimed. In the last resort he replied to their hints of his ambition and
self-seeking by offering his resignation. Here again the logic of facts was
with him. For many months he was the necessary man, and he and they
knew it.
But, as we have seen, there came a time when the last hard bargains with
Bismarck as to the payment of the war debt neared their end; and the rapier-
play between the Liberator of the Territory and the parties of the Assembly
also drew to a close. In one matter he had given them just cause for
complaint. As far back as November 13, 1872 (that is, before the financial
problem was solved), he suddenly and without provocation declared from
the tribune of the National Assembly that it was time to establish the
Republic. The proposal was adjourned, but Thiers had damaged his
influence. He had broken the "Compact of Bordeaux" and had shown his
hand. The Assembly now knew that he was a Republican. Finally, he made
a dignified speech to the Assembly, justifying his conduct in the past,
appealing from the verdict of parties to the impartial tribunal of History, and
prophesying that the welfare of France was bound up with the maintenance
of the Conservative Republic. The Assembly by a majority of fourteen
decided on a course of action that he disapproved, and he therefore resigned
(May 24, 1873).
It seems that History will justify his appeal to her tribunal. Looking, not at
the occasional shifts that he used in order to disunite his opponents, but
rather at the underlying motives that prompted his resolve to maintain that
form of government which least divided his countrymen, posterity has
praised his conduct as evincing keen insight into the situation, a glowing
love for France before which all his earliest predilections vanished, and a
masterly skill in guiding her from the abyss of anarchy, civil war, and
bankruptcy that had but recently yawned at her feet. Having set her upon
the path of safety, he now betook himself once more to those historical and
artistic studies which he loved better than power and office. It is given to
few men not only to write history but also to make history; yet in both

spheres Thiers achieved signal success. Some one has dubbed him "the
greatest little man known to history." Granting even that the paradox is
tenable, we may still assert that his influence on the life of France exceeded
that of many of her so-called heroes.
In fact, it would be difficult to point out in any country during the
Nineteenth Century, since the time of Bonaparte's Consulate, a work of
political, economic, and social renovation greater than that which went on
in the two years during which Thiers held the reins of power. Apart from the
unparalleled feat of paying off the Germans, the Chief of the Executive
breathed new vigour into the public service, revived national spirit in so
noteworthy a way as to bring down threats of war from German military
circles in 1872 (to be repeated more seriously in 1875), and placed on the
Statute Book two measures of paramount importance. These were the
reform of Local Government and the Army Bill.
These measures claim a brief notice. The former of them naturally falls into
two parts, dealing severally with the Commune and the Department. These
are the two all-important areas in French life. In rural districts the
Commune corresponds to the English parish; it is the oldest and best-
defined of all local areas. In urban districts it corresponds with the
municipality or township. The Revolutionists of 1790 and 1848 had sought
to apply the principle of manhood suffrage to communal government; but
their plans were swept away by the ensuing reactions, and the dawn of the
Third Republic found the Communes, both rural and urban, under the
control of the préfets and their subordinates. We must note here that the
office of préfet, instituted by Bonaparte in 1800, was designed to link the
local government of the Departments closely to the central power: this
magistrate, appointed by the Executive at Paris, having almost unlimited
control over local affairs throughout the several Departments. Indeed, it was
against the excessive centralisation of the prefectorial system that the
Parisian Communists made their heedless and unmeasured protest. The
question having thus been thrust to the front, the Assembly brought forward
(April 1871) a measure authorising the election of Communal Councils
elected by every adult man who had resided for a year in the Commune. A
majority of the Assembly wished that the right of choosing mayors should
rest with the Communal Councils, but Thiers, browbeating the deputies by
his favourite device of threatening to resign, carried an amendment limiting

this right to towns of less than 20,000 inhabitants. In the larger towns, and
in all capitals of Departments, the mayors were to be appointed by the
central power. Thus the Napoleonic tradition in favour of keeping local
government under the oversight of officials nominated from Paris was to
some extent perpetuated even in an avowedly democratic measure.
Paris was to have a Municipal Council composed of eighty members
elected by manhood suffrage from each ward; but the mayors of the twenty
arrondissements, into which Paris is divided, were, and still are, appointed
by the State; and here again the control of the police and other extensive
powers are vested in the Préfet of the Department of the Seine, not in the
mayors of the arrondissements or the Municipal Council. The Municipal or
Communal Act of 1871, then, is a compromise--on the whole a good
working compromise--between the extreme demands for local self-
government and the Napoleonic tradition, now become an instinct with
most Frenchmen in favour of central control over matters affecting public
order[69].
The matter of Army Reform was equally pressing. Here, again, Thiers had
the ground cleared before him by a great overturn, like that which enabled
Bonaparte in his day to remodel France, and the builders of Modern
Prussia--Stein, Scharnhorst, and Hardenberg--to build up their State from its
ruins. In particular, the inefficiency of the National Guards and of the Garde
Mobile made it easy to reconstruct the French Army on the system of
universal conscription in a regular army, the efficiency of which Prussia had
so startlingly displayed in the campaigns of Königgrätz (Sadowa) and
Sedan. Thiers, however, had no belief in a short service system with its
result of a huge force of imperfectly trained troops: he clung to the old
professional army; and when that was shown to be inadequate to the needs
of the new age, he pleaded that the period of compulsory service should be,
not three, but five years. On the Assembly demurring to the expense and
vital strain for the people which this implied, he declared with passionate
emphasis that he would resign unless the five years were voted. They were
voted (June 10, 1872). At the same time, the exemptions, so numerous
during the Second Empire, were curtailed and the right of buying a
substitute was swept away. After five years' service with the active army
were to come four years with the reserve of the active army, followed by
further terms in the territorial army. The favour of one year's service instead

of five was to be accorded in certain well-defined cases, as, for instance, to
those who had distinguished themselves at the Lycées, or highest grade
public schools. Such was the law which was published on July 27,
1872[70].
The sight of a nation taking on itself this heavy blood-tax (heavier than that
of Germany, where the time of service with the colours was only for three
years) aroused universal surprise, which beyond the Rhine took the form of
suspicion that France was planning a war of revenge. That feeling grew in
intensity in military circles in Berlin three years later, as the sequel will
show. Undaunted by the thinly-veiled threats that came from Germany,
France proceeded with the tasks of paying off her conquerors and
reorganising her own forces; so that Thiers on his retirement from office
could proudly point to the recovery of French credit and prestige after an
unexampled overthrow.
In feverish haste, the monarchical majority of the National Assembly
appointed Marshal MacMahon to the Presidency (May 24, 1873). They
soon found out, however, the impossibility of founding a monarchy. The
Comte de Paris, in whom the hopes of the Orleanists centred, went to the
extreme of self-sacrifice, by visiting the Comte de Chambord, the
Legitimist "King" of France, and recognising the validity of his claims to
the throne. But this amiable pliability, while angering very many of the
Orleanists, failed to move the monarch-designate by one hair's-breadth from
those principles of divine right against which the more liberal monarchists
always protested. "Henri V." soon declared that he would neither accept any
condition nor grant a single guarantee as to the character of his future rule.
Above all, he declared that he would never give up the white flag of the
ancien régime. In his eyes the tricolour, which, shortly after the fall of the
Bastille, Louis XVI. had recognised as the flag of France, represented the
spirit of the Great Revolution, and for that great event he had the deepest
loathing. As if still further to ruin his cause, the Count announced his
intention of striving with all his might for the restoration of the Temporal
Power of the Pope. It is said that the able Bishop of Orleans, Mgr.
Dupanloup, on reading one of the letters by which the Comte de Chambord
nailed the white flag to the mast, was driven to exclaim, "There! That
makes the Republic! Poor France! All is lost."

Thus the attempts at fusion of the two monarchical parties had only served
to expose the weaknesses of their position and to warn France of the
probable results of a monarchical restoration. That the country had well
learnt the lesson appeared in the bye-elections, which in nearly every case
went in favour of Republican candidates. Another event that happened early
in 1873 further served to justify Thiers' contention that the Republic was the
only possible form of government. On January 9, Napoleon III. died of the
internal disease which for seven years past had been undermining his
strength. His son, the Prince Imperial, was at present far too young to figure
as a claimant to the throne.
It is also an open secret that Bismarck worked hard to prevent all possibility
of a royalist Restoration; and when the German ambassador at Paris, Count
Arnim, opposed his wishes in this matter, he procured his recall and
subjected him to a State prosecution. In fact, Bismarck believed that under a
Republic France would be powerless in war, and, further, that she could
never form that alliance with Russia which was the bugbear of his later
days. A Russian diplomatist once told the Duc de Broglie that the kind of
Republic which Bismarck wanted to see in France was "une République
dissolvante."
Everything therefore concurred to postpone the monarchical question, and
to prolong the informal truce which Thiers had been the first to bring about.
Accordingly, in the month of November, the Assembly extended the
Presidency of Marshal MacMahon to seven years--a period therefore known
as the Septennate.
Having now briefly shown the causes of the helplessness of the monarchical
majority in the matter that it had most nearly at heart, we must pass over
subsequent events save as they refer to that crowning paradox--the
establishment of a Republican Constitution. This was due to the despair felt
by many of the Orleanists of seeing a restoration during the lifetime of the
Comte de Chambord, and to the alarm felt by all sections of the monarchists
at the activity and partial success of the Bonapartists, who in the latter part
of 1874 captured a few seats. Seeking above all things to keep out a
Bonaparte, they did little to hinder the formation of a Constitution which all
of them looked on as provisional. In fact, they adopted the policy of
marking time until the death of the Comte de Chambord--whose hold on

life proved to be no less tenacious than on his creed--should clear up the
situation. Accordingly, after many diplomatic delays, the Committee which
in 1873 had been charged to draw up the Constitution, presented its plan,
which took form in the organic laws of February 25, 1875. They may be
thus summarised:--
The Legislature consists of two Assemblies--the Chamber of Deputies and
the Senate, the former being elected by "universal" (or, more properly,
manhood) suffrage. The composition of the Senate, as determined by a later
law, lies with electoral bodies in each of the Departments; these bodies
consist of the national deputies for that Department, the members of their
General Councils and District Councils, and delegates from the Municipal
Councils. Senators are elected for nine years; deputies to the Chamber of
Deputies for four years. The President of the Republic is chosen by the
Senate and the Chamber of Deputies sitting together for that purpose. He is
chosen for seven years and is eligible for re-election; he is responsible to
the Chambers only in case of high treason; he enjoys, conjointly with the
members of the two Chambers, the right of proposing laws; he promulgates
them when passed and supervises their execution; he disposes of the armed
forces of France and has the right of pardon formerly vested in the Kings of
France. Conformably to the advice of the Senate he may dissolve the
Chamber of Deputies. Each Chamber may initiate proposals for laws, save
that financial measures rest solely with the Chamber of Deputies.
The Chambers may decide that the Constitution shall be revised. In that
case, they meet together, as a National Assembly, to carry out such revision,
which is determined by the bare majority. Each arrondissement, or district
of a Department, elects one deputy. From 1885 to 1889 the elections were
decided by each Department on a list, but since that time the earlier plan has
been revived. We may also add that the seat of government was fixed at
Versailles; four years later this was altered in favour of Paris, but certain of
the most important functions, such as the election of a new President, take
place at Versailles.

Taken as a whole, this Constitution was a clever compromise between the
democratic and autocratic principles of government. Having its roots in
manhood suffrage, it delegated very extensive powers to the head of the
State. These powers are especially noteworthy if we compare them with
those of the Ministry. The President commissions such and such a senator
or deputy to form a Ministry (not necessarily representing the opinions of
the majority of the Chambers); and that Ministry is responsible to the
Chambers for the execution of laws and the general policy of the
Government; but the President is not responsible to the Chambers, save in
the single and very exceptional case of high treason to the State. Obviously,
the Assembly wished to keep up the autocratic traditions of the past as well
as to leave open the door for a revision of the Constitution at any time
favourable to the monarchical cause. That this Constitution did not pave the
way for the monarchy was due to several causes. Some we have named
above.
Another and perhaps a final cause was the unwillingness or inability of
Marshal MacMahon to bring matters to the test of force. Actuated, perhaps,
by motives similar to those which kept the Duke of Wellington from
pushing matters to an extreme in England in 1831, the Marshal refused to
carry out a coup d'état against the Republican majority sent up to the
Chamber of Deputies by the General Election of January 1876. Once or
twice he seemed on the point of using force. Thus, in May 1877, he
ventured to dissolve the Chamber of Deputies; but the Republican party, led
by the impetuous Gambetta, appealed to the country with decisive results.
That orator's defiant challenge to the Marshal, either to submit or to resign
(se soumettre ou se démettre) was taken up by France, with the result that
nearly all the Republican deputies were re-elected. The President
recognised the inevitable, and in December of that year charged M. Dufaure
to form a Ministry that represented the Republican majority. In January
1879 even, some senatorial elections went against the President, and he
accordingly resigned, January 30, 1879.
In the year 1887 the Republic seemed for a time to be in danger owing to
the intrigues of the Minister for War, General Boulanger. Making capital out
of the difficulties of France, the financial scandals brought home to
President Grévy, and his own popularity with the army, the General seemed

to be preparing a coup d'état. The danger increased when the Ministry had
to resign office (May 1887). A "National party" was formed, consisting of
monarchists, Bonapartists, clericals, and even some crotchety socialists--in
fact, of all who hoped to make capital out of the fell of the Parliamentary
regime. The malcontents called for a plebiscite as to the form of
government, hoping by these means to thrust in Boulanger as dictator to
pave the way for the Comte de Paris up to the throne of France. After a
prolonged crisis, the scheme ignominiously collapsed at the first show of
vigour on the Republican side. When the new Floquet Ministry summoned
Boulanger to appear before the High Court of Justice, he fled to Belgium,
and shortly afterwards committed suicide.
The chief feature of French political life, if one reviews it in its broad
outlines, is the increase of stability. When we remember that that veteran
opportunist, Talleyrand, on taking the oath of allegiance to the new
Constitution of 1830, could say, "It is the thirteenth," and that no régime
after that period lasted longer than eighteen years, we shall be chary of
foretelling the speedy overthrow of the Third Republic at any and every
period of Ministerial crisis or political ferment. Certainly the Republic has
seen Ministries made and unmade in bewilderingly quick succession; but
these are at most superficial changes--the real work of administration being
done by the hierarchy of permanent officials first established by the great
Napoleon. Even so terrible an event as the murder of President Sadi Carnot
(June 1894) produced none of the fatal events that British alarmists
confidently predicted. M. Casimir Périer was quietly elected and ruled
firmly. The same may be said of his successors, MM. Faure and Loubet.
Sensible, businesslike men of bourgeois origin, they typify the new France
that has grown up since the age when military adventurers could keep their
heels on her neck provided that they crowned her brow with laurels. That
age would seem to have passed for ever away. A well-known adage says: "It
is the unexpected that happens in French politics." To forecast their course
is notoriously unsafe in that land of all lands. That careful and sagacious
student of French life, Mr. Bodley, believes that the nation at heart dislikes
the prudent tameness of Parliamentary rule, and that "the day will come
when no power will prevent France from hailing a hero of her choice[71]."
Doubtless the advent of a Napoleon the Great would severely test the
qualities of prudence and patience that have gained strength under the

shelter of democratic institutions. Yet it must always be remembered that
Democracy has until now never had a fair chance in France. The bright
hopes of 1789 faded away ten years later amidst the glamour of military
glory. As for the Republic of 1848, it scarcely outlived the troubles of
infancy. The Third Republic, on the other hand, has attained to manhood. It
has met and overcome very many difficulties; at the outset parts of two
valued provinces and a vast sum of treasure were torn away. In those early
days of weakness it also crushed a serious revolt. The intrigues of
Monarchists and Bonapartists were foiled. Hardest task of all, the natural
irritation of Frenchmen at playing a far smaller part in the world was little
by little allayed.
In spite of these difficulties, the Third Republic has now lasted a quarter of
a century. That is to say, it rests on the support of a generation which has
gradually become accustomed to representative institutions--an advantage
which its two predecessors did not enjoy. The success of institutions
depends in the last resort on the character of those who work them; and the
testimony of all observers is that the character of Frenchmen has slowly but
surely changed in the direction which Thiers pointed out in the dark days of
February 1871 as offering the only means of a sound national revival--"Yes:
I believe in the future of France: I believe in it, but on condition that we
have good sense; that we no longer use mere words as the current coin of
our speech, but that under words we shall place realities; that we have not
only good sense, but good sense endowed with courage."
These are the qualities that have built up the France of to-day. The toil has
been enormous, and it has been doubled by the worries and disappointments
incident to Parliamentarism when grafted on to a semi-military
bureaucracy; but the toil and the disappointments have played their part in
purging the French nature of the frothy sensationalism and eager
irresponsibility that naturally resulted from the Imperialism of the two
Napoleons. France seems to be outgrowing the stage of hobble-de-hoyish
ventures, military or communistic, and to have taken on the staid, sober, and
self-respecting mien of manhood--a process helped on by the burdens of
debt and conscription resulting from her juvenile escapades. In a word, she
has attained to a full sense of responsibility. No longer are her constructive
powers hopelessly outmatched by her critical powers. In the political sphere

she has found a due balance between the brain and the hand. From analysis
she has worked her way to synthesis.
NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION
The following are the Ministries of the Republic in 1870-1900:--1870,
Favre; 1871, Dufaure (1); 1873, De Broglie (1); 1874, Cissey; 1875, Buffet;
1876, Dufaure (2); 1876, Simon; 1877, De Broglie (2); 1877, De
Rochebouet; 1877, Dufaure (3); 1879, Waddington; 1879, Freycinet (1);
1880, Ferry (1); 1881, Gambetta; 1882, Freycinet (2); 1882, Duclerc; 1883,
Fallières; 1883, Ferry (2); 1885, Brisson; 1886, Freycinet (3); 1886, Goblet;
1887, Rouvier; 1887, Tirard (1); 1888, Floquet; 1889, Tirard (2); 1890,
Freycinet (4); 1892, Loubet; 1892, Ribot (1); 1892, Dupuy (1); 1893,
Casimir Périer; 1894, Dupuy (2); 1895, Ribot (2); 1895, Bourgeois; 1896,
Méline; 1898, Brisson; 1898 Dupuy (3); 1899, Waldeck-Rousseau.

FOOTNOTES:
[65] They included the right to hold four more Departments until the third
half milliard (£20,000,000, that is, £60,000,000 in all) had been paid. A
commercial treaty on favourable terms, those of the "most favoured nation,"
was arranged, as also an exchange of frontier strips near Luxemburg and
Belfort. Germany acquired Elsass (Alsace) and part of Lorraine, free of all
their debts.

We may note here that the Anglo-French Treaty of Commerce arranged in
1860 with Napoleon largely by the aid of Cobden, was not renewed by the
French Republic, which thereafter began to exclude British goods.
Bismarck forced France at Frankfurt to concede favourable terms to
German products. England was helpless. For this subject, see Protection in
France, by H.O. Meredith (1905).
[66] Quoted by M. Hanotaux, Contemporary France, vol. i. pp. 323-327.
[67] Speech of March 27, 1871.
[68] De Mazade, Thiers, p. 467. For a sharp criticism of Thiers, see Samuel
Denis' Histoire Contemperaine (written from the royalist standpoint).

[69] On the strength of this instinct see Mr. Bodley's excellent work,
France, vol. i. pp. 32-42. etc. For the Act, see Hanotaux op. cit. pp. 236-
238.
[70] Hanotaux, op. cit. pp. 452-465.
[71] Mr. Bodley, France, vol. i. ad fin.

CHAPTER VI
THE GERMAN EMPIRE

"From the very beginning of my career my sole
guiding-star has been how to unify Germany, and,
that being achieved, how to strengthen, complete,
and so constitute her unification that it may be
preserved enduringly and with the goodwill of all
concerned in it."--BISMARCK: Speech in the North
German Reichstag, July 9, 1869.

On the 18th of January 1871, while the German cannon were still
thundering against Paris, a ceremony of world-wide import occurred in the
Palace of the Kings of France at Versailles. King William of Prussia was
proclaimed German Emperor. The scene lacked no element that could
appeal to the historic imagination. It took place in the Mirror Hall, where all
that was brilliant in the life of the old French monarchy used to encircle the
person of Louis XIV. And now, long after that dynasty had passed away,
and when the crown of the last of the Corsican adventurers had but recently
fallen beneath the feet of the Parisians, the descendant of the Prussian
Hohenzollerns celebrated the advent to the German people of that unity for
which their patriots had vainly struggled for centuries.
The men who had won this long-deferred boon were of no common stamp.
King William himself, as is now shown by the publication of many of his
letters to Bismarck, had played a far larger share in the making of a united
Germany than was formerly believed. His plain good sense and unswerving
fortitude had many times marked out the path of safety and kept his country
therein. The policy of the Army Bill of 1860, which brought salvation to
Prussia in spite of her Parliament, was wholly his. Bismarck's masterful
grip of the helm of State in and after 1862 helped to carry out that policy,
just as von Roon's organising ability perfected the resulting military

machine; but its prime author was the King, who now stood triumphant in
the hall of his ancestral foes. Beside and behind him on the dais, in front of
the colours of all the German States, were the chief princes of Germany--
witnesses to the strength of the national sentiment which the wars against
the First Napoleon had called forth, and the struggle with the nephew had
now brought to maturity. Among their figures one might note the stalwart
form of the Crown Prince, along with other members of the House of
Prussia; the Grand Duke of Baden, son-in-law of the Prussian King; the
Crown Prince of Saxony, and representatives of every reigning family of
Germany. Still more remarkable were some of the men grouped before the
King and princes. There was the thin war-worn face of Moltke; there, too,
the sturdy figure of Bismarck: the latter, wrote Dr. Russell, "looking pale,
but calm and self-possessed, elevated, as it were, by some internal
force[72]."
The King announced the re-establishment of the German Empire; and those
around must have remembered that that venerable institution (which
differed so widely from the present one that the word "re-establishment"
was really misleading) had vanished but sixty-four years before at the
behests of the First Napoleon. Next, Bismarck read the Kaiser's
proclamation, stating his sense of duty to the German nation and his hope
that, within new and stronger boundaries, which would guarantee them
against attacks from France, they would enjoy peace and prosperity. The
Grand Duke of Baden then called for three cheers for the Emperor, which
were given with wild enthusiasm, and were taken up by the troops far round
the iron ring that encircled Paris.
Few events in history so much impress one, at first sight, with a sense of
strength, spontaneity, and inevitableness. And yet, as more is known of the
steps that led up to the closer union of the German States, that feeling is
disagreeably warped. Even then it was known that Bavaria and Würtemberg
strongly objected to the closer form of union desired by the northern
patriots, which would have reduced the secondary States to complete
dependence on the federal Government. Owing to the great reluctance of
the Bavarian Government and people to give up the control of their
railways, posts and telegraphs, these were left at their disposal, the two
other Southern States keeping the direction of the postal and telegraphic
services in time of peace. Bavaria and Würtemberg likewise reserved the

control of their armed forces, though in case of war they were to be placed
at the disposal of the Emperor--arrangements which also hold good for the
Saxon forces. In certain legal and fiscal matters Bavaria also bargained for
freedom of action.
What was not known then, and has leaked out in more or less authentic
ways, was the dislike, not only of most of the Bavarian people, but also of
its Government, to the whole scheme of imperial union. It is certain that the
letter which King Louis finally wrote to his brother princes to propose that
union was originally drafted by Bismarck; and rumour asserts, on grounds
not to be lightly dismissed, that the opposition of King Louis was not
withdrawn until the Bavarian Court favourite, Count Holstein, came to
Versailles and left it, not only with Bismarck's letter, but also with a
considerable sum of money for his royal master and himself. Probably,
however, the assent of the Bavarian monarch, who not many years after
became insane, was helped by the knowledge that if he did not take the
initiative, it would pass to the Grand Duke of Baden, an ardent champion of
German unity.
Whatever may be the truth as to this, there can be no doubt as to the
annoyance felt by Roman Catholic Bavaria and Protestant democratic
Würtemberg at accepting the supremacy of the Prussian bureaucracy. This
doubtless explains why Bismarck was so anxious to hurry through the
negotiations, first, for the imperial union, and thereafter for the conclusion
of peace with France.
Even in a seemingly small matter he had met with much opposition, this
time from his master. The aged monarch clung to the title King of Prussia;
but if the title of Emperor was a political necessity, he preferred the title
"Emperor of Germany"; nevertheless, the Chancellor tactfully but firmly
pointed out that this would imply a kind of feudal over-lordship of all
German lands, and that the title "German Emperor", as that of chief of the
nation, was far preferable. In the end the King yielded, but he retained a
sore feeling against his trusted servant for some time on this matter. It
seems that at one time he even thought of abdicating in favour of his son
rather than "see the Prussian title supplanted[73]." However, he soon
showed his gratitude for the immense services rendered by Bismarck to the

Fatherland. On his next birthday (March 22) he raised the Chancellor to the
rank of Prince and appointed him Chancellor of the Empire.
It will be well to give here an outline of the Imperial Constitution. In all
essentials it was an extension, with few changes, of the North German
federal compact of the year 1866. It applied to the twenty-five States of
Germany--inclusive, that is, of Hamburg, Bremen, and Lubeck, but
exclusive, for the present, of Elsass-Lothringen (Alsace-Lorraine). In those
areas imperial law takes precedence of local law (save in a few specially
reserved cases for Bavaria and the Free Cities). The same laws of
citizenship hold good in all parts of the Empire. The Empire controls these
laws, the issuing of passports, surveillance of foreigners and of
manufactures, likewise matters relating to emigration and colonisation.
Commerce, customs dues, weights and measures, coinage, banking
regulations, patents, the consular service abroad, and matters relating to
navigation also fall under its control. Railways, posts and telegraphs (with
the exceptions noted above) are subject to imperial supervision, the
importance of which during the war had been so abundantly manifested.
The King of Prussia is ipso facto German Emperor. He represents the
Empire among foreign nations; he has the right to declare war, conclude
peace, and frame alliances; but the consent of the Federal Council
(Bundesrath) is needed for the declaration of war in the name of the
Empire. The Emperor convenes, adjourns, and closes the sessions of the
Federal Council and the Imperial Diet (Reichstag). They are convened
every year. The Chancellor of the Empire presides in the Federal Council
and supervises the conduct of its business. Proposals of laws are laid before
the Reichstag in accordance with the resolutions of the Federal Council, and
are supported by members of that Council. To the Emperor belongs the
right of preparing and publishing the laws of the Empire: they must be
passed by the Bundesrath and Reichstag, and then receive the assent of the
Kaiser. They are then countersigned by the Chancellor, who thereby
becomes responsible for their due execution.
The members of the Bundesrath are appointed by the Federal Governments:
they are sixty-two in number, and now include those from the Reichstand of
Elsass-Lothringen (Alsace-Lorraine)[74]

The Prussian Government nominates seventeen members; Bavaria six;
Saxony and Würtemburg and Alsace-Lorraine four each; and so on. The
Bundesrath is presided over by the Imperial Chancellor. At the beginning of
each yearly session it appoints eleven standing committees to deal with the
following matters: (1) Army and fortifications; (2) the Navy; (3) tariff,
excise, and taxes; (4) commerce and trade; (5) railways, posts and
telegraphs; (6) civil and criminal law; (7) financial accounts; (8) foreign
affairs; (9) Alsace-Lorraine; (10) the Imperial Constitution; (11) Standing
Orders. Each committee is presided over by a chairman. In each committee
at least four States of the Empire must be represented, and each State is
entitled only to one vote. To this rule there are two modifications in the case
of the committees on the army and on foreign affairs. In the former of these
Bavaria has a permanent seat, while the Emperor appoints the other three
members from as many States: in the latter case, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony,
and Würtemberg only are represented. The Bundesrath takes action on the
measures to be proposed to the Reichstag and the resolutions passed by that
body; it also supervises the execution of laws, and may point out any
defects in the laws or in their execution.
The members of the Reichstag, or Diet, are elected by universal (more
properly manhood) suffrage and by direct secret ballot, in proportion to the
population of the several States[75]. On the average, each of the 397
members represents rather more than 100,000 of the population. The
proceedings of the Reichstag are public; it has the right (concurrently with
those wielded by the Emperor and the Bundesrath) to propose laws for the
Empire. It sits for three years, but may be dissolved by a resolution of the
Bundesrath, with the consent of the Emperor. Deputies may not be bound
by orders and instructions issued by their constituents. They are not paid.
As has been noted above, important matters such as railway management,
so far as it relates to the harmonious and effective working of the existing
systems, and the construction of new lines needful for the welfare and the
defence of Germany, are under the Control of the Empire--except in the
case of Bavaria. The same holds good of posts and telegraphs except in the
Southern States. Railway companies are bound to convey troops and
warlike stores at uniform reduced rates. In fact, the Imperial Government
controls the fares of all lines subject to its supervision, and has ordered the
reduction of freightage for coal, coke, minerals, wood, stone, manure, etc.,

for long distances, "as demanded by the interests of agriculture and
industry." In case of dearth, the railway companies can be compelled to
forward food supplies at specially low rates.
Further, with respect to military affairs, the central authority exercises a
very large measure of control over the federated States. All German troops
swear the oath of allegiance to the Emperor. He appoints all commanders of
fortresses; the power of building fortresses within the Empire is also vested
in him; he determines the strength of the contingents of the federated States,
and in the last case may appoint their commanding officers; he may even
proclaim martial law in any portion of the Empire, if public security
demands it. The Prussian military code applies to all parts of the Empire
(save to Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Saxony in time of peace); and the
military organisation is everywhere of the same general description,
especially as regards length of service, character of the drill, and
organisation in corps and regiments. Every German, unless physically unfit,
is subject to military duty and cannot shift the burden on a substitute. He
must serve for seven years in the standing army: that is, three years in the
field army and four in the reserve; thereafter he takes his place in the
Landwehr[76].
The secondary States are protected in one important respect. The last
proviso of the Imperial Constitution stipulates that any proposal to modify it
shall fail if fourteen, or more, votes are cast against it in the Federal
Council. This implies that Bavaria, Würtemberg, and Saxony, if they vote
together, can prevent any change detrimental to their interests. On the
whole, the new system is less centralised than that of the North German
Confederation had been; and many of the Prussian Liberals, with whom the
Crown Prince of Prussia very decidedly ranged himself on this question,
complained that the government was more federal than ever, and that far too
much had been granted to the particularist prejudices of the Southern
States[77]. To all these objections Bismarck could unanswerably reply that
it was far better to gain this great end without bitterness, even if the
resulting compact were in some respects faulty, than to force on the
Southern States a more logically perfect system that would perpetuate the
sore feeling of the past.

Such in its main outlines is the new Constitution of Germany. On the whole,
it has worked well. That it has fulfilled all the expectations aroused in that
year of triumph and jubilation will surprise no one who knows that absolute
and lasting success is attained only in Utopias, never in practical politics. In
truth, the suddenness with which German unity was finally achieved was in
itself a danger.
The English reader will perhaps find it hard to realise this until he
remembers that the whole course of recorded history shows us the Germans
politically disunited, or for the most part engaged in fratricidal strifes.
When they first came within the ken of the historians of Ancient Rome,
they were a set of warring tribes who banded together only under the
pressure of overwhelming danger; and such was to be their fate for well-
nigh two thousand years. Their union under the vigorous rule of the great
Frankish chief whom the French call Charlemagne, was at best nominal and
partial. The Holy Roman Empire, which he founded in the year 800 by a
mystically vague compact with the Pope, was never a close bond of union,
even in his stern and able hands. Under his weak successors that imposing
league rarely promoted peace among its peoples, while the splendour of its
chief elective dignity not seldom conduced to war. Next, feudalism came in
as a strong political solvent, and thus for centuries Germany crumbled and
mouldered away, until disunion seemed to be the fate of her richest lands,
and particularism became a rooted instinct of her princes, burghers, and
peasants. Then again South was arrayed against North during and long after
the time of the Reformation; when the strife of creeds was stayed, the
rivalry of the Houses of Hapsburg and Hohenzollern added another cause of
hatred.
As a matter of fact, it was reserved for the two Napoleons, uncle and
nephew, to force those divided peoples to comradeship in arms. The close
of the campaign of 1813 and that of 1814 saw North and South, Prussians
and Austrians, for the first time fighting heartily shoulder to shoulder in a
great war--for that of 1792-94 had only served to show their rooted
suspicion and inner hostility. Owing to reasons that cannot be stated here,
the peace of 1814-15 led up to no effective union: it even perpetuated the
old dualism of interests. But once more the hostility of France under a
Napoleon strengthened the impulse to German consolidation, and on this
occasion there was at hand a man who had carefully prepared the way for

an abiding form of political union; his diplomatic campaign of the last
seven years had secured Russia's friendship and consequently Austria's
reluctant neutrality; as for the dislike of the Southern States to unite with
the North, that feeling waned for a few weeks amidst the enthusiasm caused
by the German triumphs. The opportunity was unexampled: it had not
occurred even in 1814; it might never occur again; and it was certain to pass
away when the war fever passed by. How wise, then, to strike while the iron
was hot! The smaller details of the welding process were infinitely less
important than the welding itself.
One last consideration remains. If the opportunity was unexampled, so also
were the statesmanlike qualities of the man who seized it. The more that we
know concerning the narrowly Prussian feelings of King William, the
centralising pedantry of the Crown Prince of Prussia, and the petty
particularism of the Governments of Bavaria and Würtemberg, the more
does the figure of Bismarck stand out as that of the one great statesman of
his country and era. However censurable much of his conduct may be, his
action in working up to and finally consummating German unity at the right
psychological moment stands out as one of the greatest feats of
statesmanship which history records.
But obviously a wedded life which had been preceded by no wooing, over
whose nuptials Mars shed more influence than Venus, could not be expected
to run a wholly smooth course. In fact, this latest instance in ethnical lore of
marriage by capture has on the whole led to a more harmonious result than
was to be expected. Possibly, if we could lift the veil of secrecy which is
wisely kept drawn over the weightiest proceedings of the Bundesrath and its
committees, the scene would appear somewhat different. As it is, we can
refer here only to some questions of outstanding importance the details of
which are fairly well known.
The first of these which subjected the new Empire to any serious strain was
a sharp religious struggle against the new claims of the Roman Catholic
hierarchy. Without detailing the many causes of friction that sprang up
between the new Empire and the Roman Catholic Church, we may state that
most of them had their roots in the activity shown by that Church among
the Poles of Prussian Poland (Posen), and also in the dogma of Papal
infallibility. Decreed by the Oecumenical Council at Rome on the very eve

of the outbreak of the Franco-German War, it seemed to be part and parcel
of that forward Jesuit policy which was working for the overthrow of the
chief Protestant States. Many persons--among them Bismarck[78]--claimed
that the Empress Eugénie's hatred of Prussia and the warlike influence
which she is said to have exerted on Napoleon III. on that critical day, July
14, 1870, were prompted by Jesuitical intrigues. However that may be (and
it is a matter on which no fair-minded man will dogmatise until her
confidential papers see the light) there is little doubt that the Pope at Rome
and the Roman hierarchy among the Catholics of Central and Eastern
Europe did their best to prevent German unity and to introduce elements of
discord. The dogma of the infallibility of the Pope in matters of faith and
doctrine was itself a cause of strife. Many of the more learned and moderate
of the German Catholics had protested against the new dogma, and some of
these "Old Catholics", as they were called, tried to avoid teaching it in the
Universities and schools. Their bishops, however, insisted that it should be
taught, placed some recalcitrants under the lesser ban, and deprived them of
their posts.
When these high-handed proceedings were extended even to the schools,
the Prussian Government intervened, and early in 1872 passed a law
ordaining that all school inspectors should be appointed by the King's
Government at Berlin. This greatly irritated the Roman Catholic hierarchy
and led up to aggressive acts on both sides, the German Reichstag taking up
the matter and decreeing the exclusion of the Jesuits from all priestly and
scholastic duties of whatever kind within the Empire (July 1872). The strife
waxed ever fiercer. When the Roman Catholic bishops of Germany
persisted in depriving "Old Catholics" of professorial and other charges, the
central Government retorted by the famous "May Laws" of 1873. The first
of these forbade the Roman Catholic Church to intervene in civil affairs in
any way, or to coerce officials and citizens of the Empire. The second
required of all ministers of religion that they should have passed the final
examination at a High School, and also should have studied theology for
three years at a German University: it further subjected all seminaries to
State inspection. The third accorded fuller legal protection to dissidents
from the various creeds.
This anti-clerical policy is known as the "Kultur-Kampf", a term that
denotes a struggle for civilisation against the forces of reaction. For some

years the strife was of the sharpest kind. The Roman Catholic bishops
continued to ban the "Old Catholics", while the State refused to recognise
any act of marriage or christening performed by clerics who disobeyed the
new laws. The logical sequel to this was obvious, namely, that the State
should insist on the religious ceremony of marriage being supplemented by
a civil contract[79]. Acts to render this compulsory were first passed by the
Prussian Landtag late in 1873 and by the German Reichstag in 1875.
It would be alike needless and tedious to detail the further stages of this
bitter controversy, especially as several of the later "May Laws" have been
repealed. We may, however, note its significance in the development of
parties. Many of the Prussian nobles and squires (Junkers the latter were
called) joined issue with Bismarck on the Civil Marriage Act, and this
schism weakened Bismarck's long alliance with the Conservative party. He
enjoyed, however, the enthusiastic support of the powerful National Liberal
party, as well as the Imperialist and Progressive groups. Differing on many
points of detail, these parties aimed at strengthening the fabric of the central
power, and it was with their aid in the Reichstag that the new institutions of
Germany were planted and took root. The General Election of 1874 sent up
as many as 155 National Liberals, and they, with the other groups just
named, gave the Government a force of 240 votes--a good working
majority as long as Bismarck's aims were of a moderately Liberal character.
This, however, was not always the case even in 1874-79, when he needed
their alliance. His demand for a permanently large military establishment
alienated his allies in 1874, and they found it hard to satisfy the
requirements of his exacting and rigorous nature.
The harshness of the "May Laws" also caused endless friction. Out of some
10,000 Roman Catholic priests in Prussia (to which kingdom alone the
severest of these laws applied) only about thirty bowed the knee to the
State. In 800 parishes the strife went so far that all religious services came
to an end. In the year 1875, fines amounting to 28,000 marks (£2800) were
imposed, and 103 clerics or their supporters were expelled from the
Empire[80]. Clearly this state of things could not continue without grave
danger to the Empire; for the Church held on her way with her usual
doggedness, strengthened by the "protesting" deputies from the Reichsland
on the south-west, from Hanover (where the Guelph feeling was still
uppermost), as well as those from Polish Posen and Danish Schleswig.

Bismarck and the anti-clerical majority of the Reichstag scorned any
thoughts of surrender. Yet, slowly but surely, events at the Vatican and in
Germany alike made for compromise. In February 1878, Pope Pius IX.
passed away. That unfortunate pontiff had never ceased to work against the
interests of Prussia and Germany, while his encyclicals since 1873 mingled
threats of defiance of the May Laws with insults against Prince Bismarck.
His successor, Leo XIII. (1878-1903), showed rather more disposition to
come to a compromise, and that, too, at a time when Bismarck's new
commercial policy made the support of the Clerical Centre in the Reichstag
peculiarly acceptable.
Bismarck's resolve to give up the system of Free Trade, or rather of light
customs dues, adopted by Prussia and the German Zollverein in 1865, is so
momentous a fact in the economic history of the modern world, that we
must here give a few facts which will enable the reader to understand the
conditions attending German commerce up to the years 1878-79, when the
great change came. The old order of things in Prussia, as in all German
States, was strongly protective--in fact, to such an extent as often to prevent
the passing of the necessaries of life from one little State to its Lilliputian
neighbours. The rise of the national idea in Germany during the wars
against the great Napoleon led to a more enlightened system, especially for
Prussia. The Prussian law of 1818 asserted the principle of imposing
customs dues for revenue purposes, but taxed foreign products to a
moderate extent. On this basis she induced neighbouring small German
States to join her in a Customs Union (Zollverein), which gradually
extended, until by 1836 it included all the States of the present Empire
except the two Mecklenburgs, the Elbe Duchies, and the three Free Cities of
Hamburg, Bremen, and Lübeck. That is to say, the attractive force of the
highly developed Prussian State practically unified Germany for purposes
of trade and commerce, and that, too, thirty-eight years before political
union was achieved.
This, be it observed, was on condition of internal Free Trade, but of
moderate duties being levied on foreign products. Up to 1840 these import
duties were on the whole reduced; after that date a protectionist reaction set
in; it was checked, however, by the strong wave of Free Trade feeling which
swept over Europe after the victory of that principle in England in 1846-49.
Of the new champions of Free Trade on the Continent, the foremost in point

of time was Cavour, for that kingdom of Sardinia on which he built the
foundations of a regenerated and united Italy. Far more important, however,
was the victory which Cobden won in 1859-60 by inducing Napoleon III. to
depart from the almost prohibitive system then in vogue in France. The
Anglo-French Commercial Treaty of January 1860 seemed to betoken the
speedy conversion of the world to the enlightened policy of unfettered
exchange of all its products. In 1862 and 1865 the German Zollverein
followed suit, relaxing duties on imported articles and manufactured goods-
-a process which was continued in its commercial treaties and tariff changes
of the years 1868 and 1869.
At this time Bismarck's opinions on fiscal matters were somewhat vague.
He afterwards declared that he held Free Trade to be altogether false. But in
this as in other matters he certainly let his convictions be shaped by
expediency. Just before the conclusion of peace with France he so far
approximated to Free Trade as to insist that the Franco-German
Commercial Treaty of 1862, which the war had of course abrogated--- war
puts an end to all treaties between the States directly engaged--should now
be again regarded as in force and as holding good up to the year 1887[81].
He even stated that he "would rather begin again the war of cannon-balls
than expose himself to a war of tariffs." France and Germany, therefore,
agreed to place one another permanently on "the most favoured nation"
footing. Yet this same man, who so much desired to keep down the Franco-
German tariff, was destined eight years later to initiate a protectionist policy
which set back the cause of Free Trade for at least a generation.
What brought about this momentous change? To answer this fully would
take up a long chapter. We can only glance at the chief forces then at work.
Firstly, Germany, after the year 1873, passed through a severe and
prolonged economic crisis. It was largely due to the fever of speculation
induced by the incoming of the French milliards into a land where gold had
been none too plentiful. Despite the efforts of the German Government to
hold back a large part of the war indemnity for purposes of military defence
and substantial enterprises, the people imagined themselves to be suddenly
rich. Prices rapidly rose, extravagant habits spread in all directions, and in
the years 1872-73 company-promoting attained to the rank of a fine art,
with the result that sober, hard-working Germany seemed to be almost
another England at the time of the South Sea Bubble. Alluding to this time,

Busch said to Bismarck early in 1887: "In the long-run the [French]
milliards were no blessing, at least not for our manufacturers, as they led to
over-production. It was merely the bankers who benefited, and of these only
the big ones[82]."
The result happened that always happens when a nation mistakes money,
the means of commercial exchange, for the ultimate source of wealth. After
a time of inflation came the inevitable collapse. The unsound companies
went by the board; even sound ventures were in some cases overturned.
How grievously public credit suffered may be seen by the later official
admission, that liquidations and bankruptcies of public companies in the
following ten years inflicted on shareholders a total loss of more than
345,000,000 marks (£17,250,000)[83].
Now, it was in the years 1876-77, while the nation lay deep in the trough of
economic depression, that the demand for "protection for home industries"
grew loud and persistent. Whether it would not have been raised even if
German finance and industry had held on its way in a straight course and on
an even keel, cannot of course be determined, for the protectionist
movement had been growing since the year 1872, owing to the propaganda
of the "Verein für Sozialpolitik" (Union for Social Politics) founded in that
year. But it is safe to say that the collapse of speculation due to inflowing of
the French milliards greatly strengthened the forces of economic reaction.
Bismarck himself put it in this way: that the introduction of Free Trade in
1865 soon produced a state of atrophy in Germany; this was checked for a
time by the French war indemnity; but Germany needed a permanent cure,
namely, Protection. It is true that his ideal of national life had always been
strict and narrow--in fact, that of the average German official; but we may
doubt whether he had in view solely the shelter of the presumedly tender
flora of German industry from the supposed deadly blasts of British,
Austrian, and Russian competition. He certainly hoped to strengthen the
fabric of his Empire by extending the customs system and making its
revenue depend more largely on that source and less on the contributions of
the federated States. But there was probably a still wider consideration. He
doubtless wished to bring prominently before the public gaze another great
subject that would distract it from the religious feuds described above and
bring about a rearrangement of political parties. The British people has

good reason to know that the discussion of fiscal questions that vitally
touch every trade and every consumer, does act like the turning of a
kaleidoscope upon party groupings; and we may fairly well assume that so
far-seeing a statesman as Bismarck must have forecast the course of events.
Reasons of statecraft also warned him to build up the Empire four-square
while yet there was time. The rapid recovery of France, whose milliards had
proved somewhat of a "Greek gift" to Germany, had led to threats on the
part of the war party at Berlin, which brought from Queen Victoria, as also
from the Czar Alexander, private but pressing intimations to Kaiser
Wilhelm that no war of extermination must take place. This affair and its
results in Germany's foreign policy will occupy us in Chapter XII. Here we
may note that Bismarck saw in it a reason for suspecting Russia, hating
England, and jealously watching every movement in France. Germany's
future, it seemed, would have to be safeguarded by all the peaceable means
available. How natural, then, to tone down her internal religious strifes by
bringing forward another topic of still more absorbing interest, and to aim at
building up a self-contained commercial life in the midst of uncertain, or
possibly hostile, neighbours. In truth, if we view the question in its broad
issues in the life of nations, we must grant that Free Trade could scarcely be
expected to thrive amidst the jealousies and fears entailed by the war of
1870. That principle presupposes trust and good-will between nations;
whereas the wars of 1859, 1864, and 1870 left behind bitter memories and
rankling ills. Viewed in this light, Germany's abandonment of Free Trade in
1878 was but the natural result of that forceful policy by which she had cut
the Gordian knot of her national problem.
The economic change was decided on in the year 1879, when the federated
States returned to "the time-honoured ways of 1823-65." Bismarck appealed
to the Reichstag to preserve at least the German market to German industry.
The chances of having a large export trade were on every ground
precarious; but Germany could, at the worst, support herself. All interests
were mollified by having moderate duties imposed to check imports. Small
customs dues were placed on corn and other food supplies so as to please
the agrarian party; imports of manufactured goods were taxed for the
benefit of German industries, and even raw materials underwent small
imposts. The Reichstag approved the change and on July 7 passed the
Government's proposals by 217 to 117: the majority comprised the

Conservatives, Clericals, the Alsace-Lorrainers, and a few National
Liberals; while the bulk of the last-named, hitherto Bismarck's supporters
on most topics, along with Radicals and Social Democrats, opposed it. The
new tariff came into force on January 1, 1880.
On the whole, much may be said in favour of the immediate results of the
new policy. By the year 1885 the number of men employed in iron and steel
works had increased by 35 per cent over the numbers of 1879; wages also
had increased, and the returns of shipping and of the export trade showed a
considerable rise. Of course, it is impossible to say whether this would not
have happened in any case owing to the natural tendency to recovery from
the deep depression of the years 1875-79. The duties on corn did not raise
its price, which appears strange until we know that the foreign imports of
corn were less than 8 per cent of the whole amount consumed. In 1885,
therefore, Bismarck gave way to the demands of the agrarians that the corn
duties should be raised still further, in order to make agriculture lucrative
and to prevent the streaming of rural population to the towns. Again the
docile Reichstag followed his lead. But, two years later, it seemed that the
new corn duties had failed to check the fall of prices and keep landlords and
farmers from ruin; once more, then, the duties were raised, being even
doubled on certain food products. This time they undoubtedly had one
important result, that of making the urban population, especially that of the
great industrial centres, more and more hostile to the agrarians and to the
Government which seemed to be legislating in their interests. From this
time forward the Social Democrats began to be a power in the land.
And yet, if we except the very important item of rent, which in Berlin
presses with cruel weight on the labouring classes, the general trend of the
prices of the necessaries of life in Germany has been downwards, in spite of
all the protectionist duties. The evidence compiled in the British official
Blue-book on "British and Foreign Trade and Industry" (1903. Cd. 1761, p.
226) yields the following results. By comparing the necessary expenditure
on food of a workman's family of the same size and living under the same
conditions, it appears that if we take that expenditure for the period 1897-
1901 to represent the number 100 we have these results:--

Period. Germany. United Kingdom.
1877-1881 112 140

1882-1886 101 125
1887-1891 103 106
1892-1896 99 98
1897-1901 100 100

Thus the fall in the cost of living of a British working man's family has
been 40 points, while that of the German working man shows a decline of
only 12 points. It is, on the whole, surprising that there has not been more
difference between the two countries[84].
Before dealing with the new social problems that resulted, at least in part,
from the new duties on food, we may point out that Bismarck and his
successors at the German Chancellory have used the new tariff as a means
of extorting better terms from the surrounding countries. The Iron
Chancellor has always acted on the diplomatic principle do ut des--"I give
that you may give"--with its still more cynical corollary--"Those who have
nothing to give will get nothing." The new German tariff on agricultural
products was stiffly applied against Austria for many years, to compel her
to grant more favourable terms to German manufactured goods. For eleven
years Austria-Hungary maintained their protective barriers; but in 1891
German persistence was rewarded in the form of a treaty by which the Dual
Monarchy let in German goods on easier terms provided that the corn duties
of the northern Power were relaxed. The fiscal strife with Russia was
keener and longer, but had the same result (1894). Of a friendlier kind were
the negotiations with Italy, Belgium, and Switzerland, which led to treaties
with those States in 1891. It is needless to say that in each of these cases the
lowering of the corn duties was sharply resisted by the German agrarians.
We may here add that the Anglo-German commercial treaty which expired
in 1903 has been extended for two years; and that Germany's other
commercial treaties were at the same time continued.
It is hazardous at present to venture on any definite judgment as to the
measure of success attained by the German protectionist policy.
Protectionists always point to the prosperity of Germany as the crowning
proof of its efficacy. In one respect they are, perhaps, fully justified in so
doing. The persistent pressure which Germany brought to bear on the even
more protectionist systems of Russia and Austria undoubtedly induced

those Powers to grant easier terms to German goods than they would have
done had Germany lost her bargaining power by persisting in her former
Free Trade tendencies. Her success in this matter is the best instance in
recent economic history of the desirability of holding back something in
reserve so as to be able to bargain effectively with a Power that keeps up
hostile tariffs. In this jealously competitive age the State that has nothing
more to offer is as badly off in economic negotiations as one that, in affairs
of general policy, has no armaments wherewith to face a well-equipped foe.
This consideration is of course scouted as heretical by orthodox economists;
but it counts for much in the workaday world, where tariff wars and
commercial treaty bargainings unfortunately still distract the energies of
mankind.
On the other hand, it would be risky to point to the internal prosperity of
Germany and the vast growth of her exports as proofs of the soundness of
protectionist theories. The marvellous growth of that prosperity is very
largely due to the natural richness of a great part of the country, to the
intelligence, energy, and foresight of her people and their rulers, and to the
comparatively backward state of German industry and commerce up to the
year 1870. Far on into the Nineteenth Century, Germany was suffering from
the havoc wrought by the Napoleonic wars and still earlier struggles. Even
after the year 1850, the political uncertainties of the time prevented her
enjoying the prosperity that then visited England and France. Therefore,
only since 1870 (or rather since 1877-78, when the results of the mad
speculation of 1873 began to wear away) has she entered on the normal
development of a modern industrial State; and he would be an eager
partisan who would put down her prosperity mainly to the credit of the
protectionist régime. In truth, no one can correctly gauge the value of the
complex causes--economic, political, educational, scientific and
engineering--that make for the prosperity of a vast industrial community. So
closely are they intertwined in the nature of things, that dogmatic arguments
laying stress on one of them alone must speedily be seen to be the merest
juggling with facts and figures.
As regards the wider influences exerted by Germany's new protective
policy, we can here allude only to one; and that will be treated more fully in
the chapter dealing with the Partition of Africa. That policy gave a great
stimulus to the colonial movement in Germany, and, through her, in all

European States. As happened in the time of the old Mercantile System,
Powers which limited their trade with their neighbours, felt an imperious
need for absorbing new lands in the tropics to serve as close preserves for
the mother-country. Other circumstances helped to impel Germany on the
path of colonial expansion; but probably the most important, though the
least obvious, was the recrudescence of that "Mercantilism" which Adam
Smith had exploded. Thus, the triumph of the national principle in and after
1870 was consolidated by means which tended to segregate the human race
in masses, regarding each other more or less as enemies or rivals, alike in
the spheres of politics, commerce, and colonial expansion.
We may conclude our brief survey of German constructive policy by
glancing at the chief of the experiments which may be classed as akin to
State Socialism.
In 1882 the German Government introduced the Sickness Insurance Bill
and the Accident Insurance Bill, but they were not passed till 1884, and did
not take effect till 1885. For the relief of sickness the Government relied on
existing institutions organised for that object. This was very wise, seeing
that the great difficulty is how to find out whether a man really is ill or is
merely shamming illness. Obviously a local club can find that out far better
than a great imperial agency can. The local club has every reason for
looking sharply after doubtful cases as a State Insurance Fund cannot do. As
regards sickness, then, the Imperial Government merely compelled all the
labouring classes, with few exceptions, to belong to some sick fund. They
were obliged to pay in a sum of not less than about fourpence in the pound
of their weekly wages; and this payment of the workman has to be
supplemented by half as much, paid by his employer--or rather, the
employer pays the whole of the premium and deducts the share payable by
the workman from his wages.
Closely linked with this is the Accident Insurance Law. Here the brunt of
the payment falls wholly on the employer. He alone pays the premiums for
all his work-people; the amount varies according to (1) the man's wage, (2)
the risk incidental to the employment. The latter is determined by the
actuaries of the Government. If a man is injured (even if it be by his own
carelessness) he receives payments during the first thirteen weeks from the
ordinary Sick Fund. If his accident keeps him a prisoner any longer, he is

paid from the Accident Fund of the employers of that particular trade, or
from the Imperial Accident Fund. Here of course the chance of shamming
increases, particularly if the man knows that he is being supported out of a
general fund made up entirely by the employers' payments. The burden on
the employers is certainly very heavy, seeing that for all kinds of accidents
relief may be claimed; the only exception is in cases where the injury can
be shown to be wilfully committed[85]. A British Blue-book issued on
March 31, 1905, shows that the enormous sum of £5,372,150 was paid in
Germany in the year 1902 as compensation to workmen for injuries
sustained while at work.
The burden of the employers does not end here. They have to bear their
share of Old Age Insurance. This law was passed in 1889, at the close of the
first year of the present Kaiser's reign. His father, the Emperor Frederick,
during his brief reign had not favoured the principles of State Socialism; but
the young Emperor William in November 1888 announced that he would
further the work begun by his grandfather, and though the difficulties of
insurance for old age were very great, yet, with God's help, they would
prove not to be insuperable.
Certainly the effort was by far the greatest that had yet been made by any
State. The young Emperor and his Chancellor sought to build up a fund
whereby 12,000,000 of work-people might be guarded against the ills of a
penniless old age. Their law provided for all workmen (even men in
domestic service) whose yearly income did not exceed 2000 marks (£100).
Like the preceding laws, it was compulsory. Every youth who is physically
and mentally sound, and who earns more than a minimum wage, must begin
to put by a fixed proportion of that wage as soon as he completes his
sixteenth year. His employer is also compelled to contribute the same
amount for him. Mr. Dawson, in the work already referred to, gives some
figures showing what the joint payment of employer and employed amount
to on this score. If the workman earns £15 a year (i.e. about 6s. a week), the
sum of 3s. 3-1/2d. is put by for him yearly into the State Fund. If he earns
£36 a year, the joint annual payment will be 5s. 7-1/2d.; if he earns £78, it
will be 7s. a year, and so on. These payments are reckoned up in various
classes, according to the amounts; and according to the total amount is the
final annuity payable to the worker in the evening of his days. That evening
is very slow in coming for the German worker. For old age merely, he

cannot begin to draw his full pension until he has attained the ripe age of
seventy-one years. Then he will draw the full amount. He may anticipate
that if he be incapacitated; but in that case the pension will be on a lower
scale, proportioned to the amounts paid in and the length of time of the
payments.
The details of the measure are so complex as to cause a good deal of
friction and discontent. The calculation of the various payments alone
employs an army of clerks: the need of safeguarding against personation
and other kinds of fraud makes a great number of precautions necessary;
and thus the whole system becomes tied up with red tape in a way that even
the more patient workman of the Continent cannot endure.
In a large measure, then, the German Government has failed in its efforts to
cure the industrial classes of their socialistic ideas. But its determination to
attach them to the new German Empire, and to make that Empire the
leading industrial State of the Continent, has had a complete triumph. So far
as education, technical training, research, and enlightened laws can make a
nation great, Germany is surely on the high road to national and industrial
supremacy.
It is a strange contrast that meets our eyes if we look back to the years
before the advent of King William and Bismarck to power. In the dark days
of the previous reign Germany was weak, divided, and helpless. In regard to
political life and industry she was still almost in swaddling-clothes; and her
struggles to escape from the irksome restraints of the old Confederation
seemed likely to be as futile as they had been since the year 1815. But the
advent of the King and his sturdy helper to power speedily changed the
situation. The political problems were grappled with one by one, and were
trenchantly solved. Union was won by Bismarck's diplomacy and Prussia's
sword; and when the longed-for goal was reached in seven momentous
years, the same qualities were brought to bear on the difficult task of
consolidating that union. Those qualities were the courage and honesty of
purpose that the House of Hohenzollern has always displayed since the days
of the Great Elector; added to these were rarer gifts, namely, the width of
view, the eagle foresight, the strength of will, the skill in the choice of
means, that made up the imposing personality of Bismarck. It was with an
eye to him, and to the astonishing triumphs wrought by his diplomacy over

France, that a diplomatist thus summed up the results of the year 1870:
"Europe has lost a mistress, but she has got a master."
After the lapse of a generation that has been weighted with the cuirass of
Militarism, we are able to appreciate the force of that remark. Equally true
is it that the formation of the German Empire has not added to the culture
and the inner happiness of the German people. The days of quiet culture and
happiness are gone; and in their place has come a straining after ambitious
aims which is a heavy drag even on the vitality of the Teutonic race. Still,
whether for good or for evil, the unification of Germany must stand out as
the greatest event in the history of the Nineteenth Century.

NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION
The statement on page 135 that service in the German army is compulsory
for seven years, three in the field army and four in the reserve, applies to the
cavalry and artillery only. In the infantry the time of service is two years
with the colours and five years in the reserve.

FOOTNOTES:
[72] Quoted by C. Lowe, Life of Bismarck, vol. i. p. 615.
[73] E. Marcks, Kaiser Wilhelm I. (Leipzig, 1900), pp. 337-343.
[74] Up to 1874 the government of Alsace-Lorraine was vested solely in the
Emperor and Chancellor. In 1874 the conquered lands returned deputies to
the Reichstag. In October 1879 they gained local representative institutions,
but under the strict control of the Governor, Marshal von Manteuffel. This
control has since been relaxed, the present administration being quasi-
constitutional.
[75] Bismarck said in a speech to the Reichstag, on September 16, 1878: "I
accepted universal suffrage, but with repugnance, as a Frankfurt tradition."
[76] The three years are shortened to one year for those who have taken a
high place in the Gymnasia (highest of the public schools); they feed and

equip themselves and are termed "volunteers." Conscription is the rule on
the coasts for service in the German Navy. For the text of the Imperial
Constitution, see Lowe, Life of Bismarck, vol. ii. App. F.
[77] J.W. Headlam, Bismarck, p. 367.
[78] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol i. p. 139, where he quotes a conversation
of Bismarck of Nov. 1883. On the Roman Catholic policy in Posen, see
ibid. pp. 143-145.
[79] Lowe, Life of Bismarck, vol. ii. p. 336, note.
[80] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol. i. p. 122, quotes speeches of his hero to
prove that Bismarck himself disliked this Civil Marriage Law. "From the
political point of view I have convinced myself that the State . . . is
constrained by the dictates of self-defence to enact this law in order to avert
from a portion of His Majesty's subjects the evils with which they are
menaced by the Bishops' rebellion against the laws and the State" (Speech
of Jan. 17, 1873). In 1849 he had opposed civil marriage.
[81] For that treaty, and Austria's desire in 1862 to enter the German
Zollverein, see The Diplomatic Reminiscences of Lord A. Loftus, vol. ii. pp.
250-251.
[82] Bismarck: Some Secret Pages of his History, by M. Busch, vol. iii. p.
161 (English edition).
[83] German State Paper of June 28, 1884, quoted by Dawson, Bismarck
and State Socialism, App. B.
[84] In a recent work, England and the English (London, 1904), Dr. Carl
Peters says: "Considering that wages in England average 20 per cent higher
in England than in Germany, that the week has only 54 working hours, and
that all articles of food are cheaper, the fundamental conditions of
prosperous home-life are all round more favourable in England than in
Germany. And yet he [the British working-man] does not derive greater
comfort from them, for the simple reason that a German labourer's wife is
more economical and more industrious than the English wife."

[85] For the account given above, as also that of the Old Age Insurance
Law, I am indebted to Mr. Dawson's excellent little work, Bismarck and
State Socialism (Swan Sonnenschein & Co., 1890). See also the Appendix
to The German Empire of To-day, by "Veritas" (1902).

CHAPTER VII
THE EASTERN QUESTION

"Perhaps one fact which lies at the root of all the
actions of the Turks, small and great, is that they are
by nature nomads. . . . Hence it is that when the Turk
retires from a country he leaves no more sign of
himself than does a Tartar camp on the upland
pastures where it has passed the summer."--Turkey in
Europe, by "Odysseus."

The remark was once made that the Eastern Question was destined to
perplex mankind up to the Day of Judgment. Certainly that problem is
extraordinarily complex in its details. For a century and a half it has
distracted the statesmen and philanthropists of Europe; for it concerns not
only the ownership of lands of great intrinsic and strategic importance, but
also the welfare of many peoples. It is a question, therefore, which no
intelligent man ought to overlook.
For the benefit of the tiresome person who insists on having a definition of
every term, the Eastern Question may be briefly described as the problem of
finding a modus vivendi between the Turks and their Christian subjects and
the neighbouring States. This may serve as a general working statement. No
one who is acquainted with the rules of Logic will accept it as a definition.
Definitions can properly apply only to terms and facts that have a clear
outline; and they can therefore very rarely apply to the facts of history,
which are of necessity as many-sided as human life itself. The statement
given above is incomplete, inasmuch as it neither hints at the great
difficulty of reconciling the civic ideas of Christian and Turkish peoples,
nor describes the political problems arising out of the decay of the Ottoman
Power and the ambitions of its neighbours.

It will be well briefly to see what are the difficulties that arise out of the
presence of Christians under the rule of a great Moslem State. They are
chiefly these. First, the Koran, though far from enjoining persecution of
Christians, yet distinctly asserts the superiority of the true believer and the
inferiority of "the people of the book" (Christians). The latter therefore are
excluded from participation in public affairs, and in practice are refused a
hearing in the law courts. Consequently they tend to sink to the position of
hewers of wood and drawers of water to the Moslems, these on their side
inevitably developing the defects of an exclusive dominant caste. This is so
especially with the Turks. They are one of the least gifted of the Mongolian
family of nations; brave in war and patient under suffering and reverses,
they nevertheless are hopelessly narrow-minded and bigoted; and the
Christians in their midst have fared perhaps worse than anywhere else
among the Mohammedan peoples.
M. de Lavelaye, who studied the condition of things in Turkey not long
after the war of 1877-78, thus summed up the causes of the social and
political decline of the Turks:--
The true Mussulman loves neither progress, novelty, nor education; the
Koran is enough for him. He is satisfied with his lot, therefore cares little
for its improvement, somewhat like a Catholic monk; but at the same time
he hates and despises the Christian raya, who is the labourer. He pitilessly
despoils, fleeces, and ill-treats him to the extent of completely ruining and
destroying those families, which are the only ones who cultivate the
ground; it was a state of war continued in time of peace, and transformed
into a regime of permanent spoliation and murder. The wife, even when she
is the only one, is always an inferior being, a kind of slave, destitute of any
intellectual culture; and as it is she who trains the children--boys and girls--
the bad results are plainly seen.
Matters were not always and in all parts of Turkey so bad as this; but they
frequently became so under cruel or corrupt governors, or in times when
Moslem fanaticism ran riot. In truth, the underlying cause of Turkey's
troubles is the ignorance and fanaticism of her people. These evils result
largely from the utter absorption of all devout Moslems in their creed and
ritual. Texts from the Koran guide their conduct; and all else is decided by
fatalism, which is very often a mere excuse for doing nothing[86].

Consequently all movements for reform are mere ripples on the surface of
Turkish life; they never touch its dull depths; and the Sultan and officials,
knowing this, cling to the old ways with full confidence. The protests of
Christian nations on behalf of their co-religionists are therefore met with a
polite compliance which means nothing. Time after time the Sublime Porte
has most solemnly promised to grant religious liberty to its Christian
subjects; but the promises were but empty air, and those who made them
knew it. In fact, the firmans of reform now and again issued with so much
ostentation have never been looked on by good Moslems as binding,
because the chief spiritual functionary, the Sheikh-ul-Islam, whose assent is
needed to give validity to laws, has withheld it from those very ordinances.
As he has power to depose the Sultan for a lapse of orthodoxy, the result
may be imagined. The many attempts of the Christian Powers to enforce
their notions of religious toleration on the Porte have in the end merely led
to further displays of Oriental politeness.
It may be asked: Why have not the Christians of Turkey united in order to
gain civic rights? The answer is that they are profoundly divided in race and
sentiment. In the north-east are the Roumanians, a Romano-Slavonic race
long ago Latinised in speech and habit of mind by contact with Roman
soldiers and settlers on the Lower Danube. South of that river there dwell
the Bulgars, who, strictly speaking, are not Slavs but Mongolians. After
long sojourn on the Volga they took to themselves the name of that river,
lost their Tartar speech, and became Slav in sentiment and language. This
change took place before the ninth century, when they migrated to the south
and conquered the districts which they now inhabit. Their neighbours on the
west, the Servians, are Slavs in every sense, and look back with pride to the
time of the great Servian Kingdom, carved out by Stephen Dushan, which
stretched southwards to the Ægean and the Gulf of Corinth (about 1350).
To the west of the present Kingdom of Servia dwell other Servians and
Slavs, who have been partitioned and ground down by various conquerors
and have kept fewer traditions than the Servians who won their freedom.
But from this statement we must except the Montenegrins, who in their
mountain fastnesses have ever defied the Turks. To the south of them is the
large but little-known Province of Albania, inhabited by the descendants of
the ancient Illyrians, with admixtures of Greeks in the south, Bulgarians in
the east, and Servians in the north-east. Most of the Albanians forsook

Christianity and are among the most fanatical and warlike upholders of
Islam; but in their turbulent clan-life they often defy the authority of the
Sultan, and uphold it only in order to keep their supremacy over the hated
and despised Greeks and Bulgars on their outskirts. Last among the non-
Turkish races of the Balkan Peninsula are a few Wallachs in Central
Macedonia, and Greeks; these last inhabit Thessaly and the seaboard of
Macedonia and of part of Roumelia. It is well said that Greek influence in
the Balkans extends no further inland than that of the sea breezes.
Such is the medley of races that complicates the Eastern Question. It may
be said that Turkish rule in Europe survives owing to the racial divisions
and jealousies of the Christians. The Sultan puts in force the old Roman
motto, Divide et impera, and has hitherto done so, in the main, with
success. That is the reason why Islam dominates Christianity in the south-
east of Europe.
This brief explanation will show what are the evils that affect Turkey as a
whole and her Christian subjects in particular. They are due to the collision
of two irreconcilable creeds and civilisations, the Christian and the
Mohammedan. Both of them are gifted with vitality and propagandist
power (witness the spread of the latter in Africa and Central Asia in our
own day); and, while no comparison can be made between them on ideal
grounds and in their ethical and civic results, it still remains true that Islam
inspires its votaries with fanatical bravery in war. There is the weakness of
the Christians of south-eastern Europe. Superior in all that makes for home
life, civilisation, and civic excellence, they have in time past generally
failed as soldiers when pitted against an equal number of Moslems. But the
latter show no constructive powers in time of peace, and have very rarely
assimilated the conquered races. Putting the matter baldly, we may say that
it is a question of the survival of the fittest between beavers and bears. And
in the Nineteenth Century the advantage has been increasingly with the
former.
These facts will appear if we take a brief glance at the salient features of the
European history of Turkey. After capturing Constantinople, the capital of
the old Eastern Empire, in the year 1453, the Turks for a time rapidly
extended their power over the neighbouring Christian States, Bulgaria,
Servia, and Hungary. In the year 1683 they laid siege to Vienna; but after

being beaten back from that city by the valiant Sobieski, King of Poland,
they gradually lost ground. Little by little Hungary, Transylvania, the
Crimea, and parts of the Ukraine (South Russia) were wrenched from their
grasp; and the close of the eighteenth century saw their frontiers limited to
the River Dniester and the Carpathians[87]. Further losses were staved off
only by the jealousies of the Great Powers. Joseph II. of Austria came near
to effecting further conquests, but his schemes of partition fell through
amidst the wholesale collapse of his too ambitious policy. Napoleon
Bonaparte seized Egypt in 1798, but was forced by Great Britain to give it
back to Turkey (1801-2). In 1807-12 Alexander I. of Russia resumed the
conquering march of the Czars southward, captured Bessarabia, and forced
the Sultan to grant certain privileges to the Principalities of Moldavia and
Wallachia. In 1815 the Servians revolted against Turkish rule: they had
always remembered the days of their early fame, and in 1817 wrested from
the Porte large rights of local self-government.
Ten years later the intervention of England and France in favour of the
Greek patriots led to the battle of Navarino, which destroyed the Turco-
Egyptian fleet and practically secured the independence of Greece. An even
worse blow was dealt by the Czar Nicholas I. of Russia. In 1829, at the
close of a war in which his troops drove the Turks over the Balkans and
away from Adrianople, he compelled the Porte to sign a peace at that city,
whereby they acknowledged the almost complete independence of
Moldavia and Wallachia. These Danubian Principalities owned the
suzerainty of the Sultan and paid him a yearly tribute, but in other respects
were practically free from his control, while the Czar gained for the time
the right of protecting the Christians of the Eastern, or Greek, Church in the
Ottoman Empire. The Sultan also recognised the independence of Greece.
Further troubles ensued which laid Turkey for a time at the feet of Russia.
England and France, however, intervened to raise her up; and they also
thwarted the efforts of Mehemet Ali, the rebellious Pacha of Egypt, to seize
Syria from his nominal lord, the Sultan.
Even this bare summary will serve to illustrate three important facts: first,
that Turkey never consolidated her triumph over the neighbouring
Christians, simply because she could not assimilate them, alien as they
were, in race, and in the enjoyment of a higher creed and civilisation;
second, that the Christians gained more and more support from kindred

peoples (especially the Russians) as these last developed their energies;
third, that the liberating process was generally (though not in 1827) delayed
by the action of the Western Powers (England and France), which, on
grounds of policy, sought to stop the aggrandisement of Austria, or Russia,
by supporting the Sultan's authority.
The policy of supporting the Sultan against the aggression of Russia
reached its climax in the Crimean War (1854-55), which was due mainly to
the efforts of the Czar Nicholas to extend his protection over the Greek
Christians in Turkey. France, England, and later on the Kingdom of
Sardinia made war on Russia--France, chiefly because her new ruler,
Napoleon III., wished to play a great part in the world, and avenge the
disasters of the Moscow campaign of 1812; England, because her
Government and people resented the encroachments of Russia in the East,
and sincerely believed that Turkey was about to become a civilised State;
and Sardinia, because her statesman Cavour saw in this action a means of
securing the alliance of the two western States in his projected campaign
against Austria. The war closed with the Treaty of Paris, of 1856, whereby
the signatory Powers formally admitted Turkey "to participate in the
advantages of the public law and system of Europe."
This, however, merely signified that the signatory Powers would resist
encroachments on the territorial integrity of Turkey. It did not limit the
rights of the Powers, as specified in various "Capitulations," to safeguard
their own subjects residing in Turkey against Turkish misrule. The Sultan
raised great hopes by issuing a firman granting religious liberty to his
Christian subjects; this was inserted in the Treaty of Paris, and thereby
became part of the public law of Europe. The Powers also became
collectively the guarantors of the local privileges of the Danubian
Principalities. Another article of the Treaty provided for the exclusion of
war-ships from the Black Sea. This of course applied specially to Russia
and Turkey[88].
The chief diplomatic result of the Crimean War, then, was to substitute a
European recognition of religious toleration in Turkey for the control over
her subjects of the Greek Church which Russia had claimed. The Sublime
Porte was now placed in a stronger position than it had held since the year
1770; and the due performance of its promises would probably have led to

the building up of a strong State. But the promises proved to be mere waste-
paper. The Sultan, believing that England and France would always take his
part, let matters go on in the old bad way. The natural results came to pass.
The Christians showed increasing restiveness under Turkish rule. In 1860
numbers of them were massacred in the Lebanon, and Napoleon III.
occupied part of Syria with French troops. The vassal States in Europe also
displayed increasing vitality, while that of Turkey waned. In 1861, largely
owing to the diplomatic help of Napoleon III., Moldavia and Wallachia
united and formed the Principality of Roumania. In 1862, after a short but
terrible struggle, the Servians rid themselves of the Turkish garrisons and
framed a constitution of the Western type. But the worst blow came in 1870.
During the course of the Franco-German War the Czar's Government (with
the good-will and perhaps the active connivance of the Court of Berlin)
announced that it would no longer be bound by the article of the Treaty of
Paris excluding Russian war-ships from the Black Sea. The Gladstone
Ministry sent a protest against this act, but took no steps to enforce its
protest. Our young diplomatist, Sir Horace Rumbold, then at St. Petersburg,
believed that she would have drawn back at a threat of war[89]. Finally, the
Russian declaration was agreed to by the Powers in a Treaty signed at
London on March 31, 1871.
These warnings were all thrown away on the Porte. Its promises of
toleration to Christians were ignored; the wheels of government clanked on
in the traditional rusty way; governors of provinces and districts continued,
as of yore, to pocket the grants that were made for local improvements; in
defiance of the promises given in 1856, taxes continued to be "farmed" out
to contractors; the evidence of Christians against Moslems was persistently
refused a hearing in courts of justice[90]; and the collectors of taxes gave
further turns of the financial screw in order to wring from the cultivators,
especially from the Christians, the means of satisfying the needs of the State
and the ever-increasing extravagance of the Sultan. Incidents which were
observed in Bosnia by an Oxford scholar of high repute, in the summer of
1875, will be found quoted in an Appendix at the end of this volume.
Matters came to a climax in the autumn of 1875 in Herzegovina, the
southern part of Bosnia. There after a bad harvest the farmers of taxes and
the Mohammedan landlords insisted on having their full quota; for many
years the peasants had suffered under agrarian wrongs, which cannot be

described here; and now this long-suffering peasantry, mostly Christians,
fled to the mountains, or into Montenegro, whose sturdy mountaineers had
never bent beneath the Turkish yoke[91]. Thence they made forays against
their oppressors until the whole of that part of the Balkans was aflame with
the old religious and racial feuds. The Slavs of Servia, Bulgaria, and of
Austrian Dalmatia also gave secret aid to their kith and kin in the struggle
against their Moslem overlords. These peoples had been aroused by the
sight of the triumph of the national cause in Italy, and felt that the time had
come to strike for freedom in the Balkans. Turkey therefore failed to stamp
out the revolt in Herzegovina, fed as it was by the neighbouring Slav
peoples; and it was clear to all the politicians of Europe that the Eastern
Question was entering once more on an acute phase.
These events aroused varied feelings in the European States. The Russian
people, being in the main of Slavonic descent, sympathised deeply with the
struggles of their kith and kin, who were rendered doubly dear by their
membership in the Greek Church. The Panslavonic Movement, for bringing
the scattered branches of the Slav race into some form of political union,
was already gaining ground in Russia; but it found little favour with the St.
Petersburg Government owing to the revolutionary aims of its partisans.
Sympathy with the revolt in the Balkans was therefore confined to
nationalist enthusiasts in the towns of Russia. Austria was still more
anxious to prevent the spread of the Balkan rising to the millions of her own
Slavs. Accordingly, the Austrian Chancellor, Count Andrassy, in concert
with Prince Bismarck and the Russian statesman, Prince Gortchakoff, began
to prepare a scheme of reforms which was to be pressed on the Sultan as a
means of conciliating the insurgents of Herzegovina. They comprised (1)
the improvement of the lot of the peasantry; (2) complete religious liberty;
(3) the abolition of the farming of taxes; (4) the application of the local
taxation to local needs; (5) the appointment of a Commission, half of
Moslems, half of Christians, to supervise the execution of these reforms and
of others recently promised by the Porte[92].
These proposals would probably have been sent to the Porte before the
close of 1875 but for the diplomatic intervention of the British Cabinet.
Affairs at London were then in the hands of that skilful and determined
statesman, Disraeli, soon to become Lord Beaconsfield. It is impossible to
discuss fully the causes of that bias in his nature which prejudiced him

against supporting the Christians of Turkey. Those causes were due in part
to the Semitic instincts of his Jewish ancestry,--the Jews having consistently
received better treatment from the Turks than from the Russians,--and in
part to his staunch Imperialism, which saw in Muscovite expansion the
chief danger to British communications with India. Mr. Bryce has recently
pointed out in a suggestive survey of Disraeli's character that tradition had
great weight with him[93]. It is known to have been a potent influence on
the mind of Queen Victoria; and, as the traditional policy at Whitehall was
to support Turkey against Russia, all the personal leanings, which count for
so much, told in favour of a continuance in the old lines, even though the
circumstances had utterly changed since the time of the Crimean War.
When, therefore, Disraeli became aware that pressure was about to be
applied to the Porte by the three Powers above named, he warned them that
he considered any such action to be inopportune, seeing that Turkey ought
to be allowed time to carry out a programme of reforms of recent date. By
an iradé of October 2, 1875, the Sultan had promised to all his Christian
subjects a remission of taxation and the right of choosing not only the
controllers of taxes, but also delegates to supervise their rights at
Constantinople.
In taking these promises seriously, Disraeli stood almost alone. But his
speech of November 9, 1875, at the Lord Mayor's banquet, showed that he
viewed the Eastern Question solely from the standpoint of British interests.
His acts spoke even more forcibly than his words. That was the time when
the dawn of Imperialism flushed all the eastern sky. H.R.H. the Prince of
Wales had just begun his Indian tour amidst splendid festivities at Bombay;
and the repetition of these in the native States undoubtedly did much to
awaken interest in our Eastern Empire and cement the loyalty of its Princes
and peoples. Next, at the close of the month of November, came the news
that the British Government had bought the shares in the Suez Canal,
previously owned by the Khedive of Egypt, for the sum of £4,500,000[94].
The transaction is now acknowledged by every thinking man to have been a
master-stroke of policy, justified on all grounds, financial and Imperial. In
those days it met with sharp censure from Disraeli's opponents. In a sense
this was natural; for it seemed to be part of a scheme for securing British
influence in the Levant and riding roughshod over the susceptibilities of the
French (the constructors of the canal) and the plans of Russia. Everything

pointed to the beginning of a period of spirited foreign policy which would
lead to war with Russia.
Meanwhile the three Empires delayed the presentation of their scheme of
reforms for Turkey, and, as it would seem, out of deference to British
representations. The troubles in Herzegovina therefore went on unchecked
through the winter, the insurgents refusing to pay any heed to the Sultan's
promises, even though these were extended by the iradé of December 12,
offering religious liberty and the institution of electoral bodies throughout
the whole of European Turkey. The statesmen of the Continent were equally
sceptical as to the bona fides of these offers, and on January 31, 1876,
presented to the Porte their scheme of reforms already described. Disraeli
and our Foreign Minister, Lord Derby, gave a cold and guarded assent to the
"Andrassy Note," though they were known to regard it as "inopportune." To
the surprise of the world, the Porte accepted the Note on February 11, with
one reservation.
This act of acceptance, however, failed to satisfy the insurgents. They
decided to continue the struggle. Their irreconcilable attitude doubtless
arose from their knowledge of the worthlessness of Turkish promises when
not backed by pressure from the Powers; and it should be observed that the
"Note" gave no hint of any such pressure[95]. But it was also prompted by
the hope that Servia and Montenegro would soon draw the sword on their
behalf--as indeed happened later on. Those warlike peoples longed to join
in the struggle against their ancestral foes; and their rulers were nothing loth
to do so. Servia was then ruled by Prince Milan (1868-89), of that House of
Obrenovitch which has been extinguished by the cowardly murders of June
1903 at Belgrade. He had recently married Nathalie Kechko, a noble
Russian lady, whose connections strengthened the hopes that he naturally
entertained of armed Muscovite help in case of a war with Turkey. Prince
Nikita of Montenegro had married his second daughter to a Russian Grand
Duke, cousin of the Czar Alexander II., and therefore cherished the same
hopes. It was clear that unless energetic steps were taken by the Powers to
stop the spread of the conflagration it would soon wrap the whole of the
Balkan Peninsula in flames. An outbreak of Moslem fanaticism at Salonica
(May 6), which led to the murder of the French and German Consuls at that
port, shed a lurid light on the whole situation and convinced the Continental
Powers that sterner measures must be adopted towards the Porte.

Such was the position, and such the considerations, that led the three
Empires to adopt more drastic proposals. Having found, meanwhile, by
informal conferences with the Herzegovinian leaders, what were the
essentials to a lasting settlement, they prepared to embody them in a second
Note, the Berlin Memorandum, issued on May 13. It was drawn up by the
three Imperial Chancellors at Berlin, but Andrassy is known to have given a
somewhat doubtful consent. T his "Berlin Memorandum" demanded the
adoption of an armistice for two months; the repatriation of the Bosnian
exiles and fugitives; the establishment of a mixed Commission for that
purpose; the removal of Turkish troops from the rural districts of Bosnia;
the right of the Consuls of the European Powers to see to the carrying out of
all the promised reforms. Lastly, the Memorandum stated that if within two
months the three Imperial Courts did not attain the end they had in view
(viz. the carrying out of the needed reforms), it would become necessary to
take "efficacious measures" for that purpose[96]. Bismarck is known to
have favoured the policy of Gortchakoff in this affair.
The proposals of the Memorandum were at once sent to the British, French,
and Italian Governments for their assent. The two last immediately gave it.
After a brief delay the Disraeli Ministry sent a decisive refusal and made no
alternative proposal, though one of its members, Sir Stafford Northcote, is
known to have formulated a scheme[97]. The Cabinet took a still more
serious step: on May 24, it ordered the British fleet in the Mediterranean to
steam to Besika Bay, near the entrance to the Dardanelles--the very position
it had taken before the Crimean War[98]. It is needless to say that this act
not only broke up the "European Concert," but ended all hopes of
compelling Turkey at once to grant the much-needed reforms. That
compulsion would have been irresistible had the British fleet joined the
Powers in preventing the landing of troops from Asia Minor in the Balkan
Peninsula. As it was, the Turks could draw those reinforcements without
hindrance.
The Berlin Memorandum was, of course, not presented to Turkey, and
partly owing to the rapid changes which then took place at Constantinople.
To these we must now advert.
The Sultan, Abdul Aziz, during his fifteen years of rule had increasingly
shown himself to be apathetic, wasteful, and indifferent to the claims of

duty. In the month of April, when the State repudiated its debts, and
officials and soldiers were left unpaid, his life of luxurious retirement went
on unchanged. It has been reckoned that of the total Turkish debt of
£T200,000,000, as much as £T53,000,000 was due to his private
extravagance[99]. Discontent therefore became rife, especially among the
fanatical bands of theological students at Constantinople. These Softas, as
they are termed, numbering some 20,000 or more, determined to breathe
new life into the Porte--an aim which the patriotic "Young Turkey" party
already had in view. On May 11 large bands of Softas surrounded the
buildings of the Grand Vizier and the Sheik-ul-Islam, and with wild cries
compelled them to give up their powers in favour of more determined men.
On the night of May 29-30 they struck at the Sultan himself. The new
Ministers were on their side: the Sheik-ul-Islam, the chief of the Ulemas,
who interpret Mohammedan theology and law, now gave sentence that the
Sultan might be dethroned for mis-government; and this was done without
the least show of resistance. His nephew, Murad Effendi, was at once
proclaimed Sultan as Murad V.; a few days later the dethroned Sultan was
secretly murdered, though possibly his death may have been due to
suicide[100].
We may add here that Murad soon showed himself to be a friend to reform;
and this, rather than any incapacity for ruling, was probably the cause of the
second palace revolution, which led to his deposition on August 31.
Thereupon his brother, the present ruler, Abdul Hamid, ascended the throne.
His appearance was thus described by one who saw him at his first State
progress through his capital: "A somewhat heavy and stern countenance . . .
narrow at the temples, with a long gloomy cast of features, large ears, and
dingy complexion. . . . It seemed to me the countenance of a ruler capable
of good or evil, but knowing his own mind and determined to have his own
way[101]." This forecast has been fulfilled in the most sinister manner.
If any persons believed in the official promise of June 1, that there should
be "liberty for all" in the Turkish dominions, they might have been
undeceived by the events that had just transpired to the south of the Balkan
Mountains. The outbreak of Moslem fanaticism, which at Constantinople
led to the dethronement of two Sultans in order to place on the throne a
stern devotee, had already deluged with blood the Bulgarian districts near
Philippopolis. In the first days of May, the Christians of those parts, angered

by the increase of misrule and fired with hope by the example of the
Herzegovinians, had been guilty of acts of insubordination; and at Tatar
Bazardjik a few Turkish officials were killed. The movement was of no
importance, as the Christians were nearly all unarmed. Nevertheless, the
authorities poured into the disaffected districts some 18,000 regulars, along
with hordes of irregulars, or Bashi-Bazouks; and these, especially the last,
proceeded to glut their hatred and lust in a wild orgy which desolated the
whole region with a thoroughness that the Huns of Attila could scarcely
have excelled (May 9-16). In the upper valley of the Maritza out of eighty
villages, all but fifteen were practically wiped out. Batak, a flourishing
town of some 7000 inhabitants, underwent a systematic massacre,
culminating in the butchery of all who had taken refuge in the largest
church; of the whole population only 2000 managed to escape[102].
It is painful to have to add that the British Government was indirectly
responsible for these events. Not only had it let the Turks know that it
deprecated the intervention of the European Powers in Turkey (which was
equivalent to giving the Turks carte blanche in dealing with their Christian
subjects), but on hearing of the Herzegovina revolt, it pressed on the Porte
the need of taking speedy measures to suppress them. The despatches of Sir
Henry Elliott, our ambassador at Constantinople, also show that he had
favoured the use of active measures towards the disaffected districts north
of Philippopolis[103].
Of course, neither the British Government nor its ambassador foresaw the
awful results of this advice; but their knowledge of Turkish methods should
have warned them against giving it without adding the cautions so
obviously needed. Sir Henry Elliott speedily protested against the measures
adopted by the Turks, but then it was too late[104]. Furthermore, the
contemptuous way in which Disraeli dismissed the first reports of the
Bulgarian massacres as "coffee-house babble" revealed his whole attitude
of mind on Turkish affairs; and the painful impression aroused by this
utterance was increased by his declaration of July 30 that the British fleet
then at Besika Bay was kept there solely in defence of British interests. He
made a similar but more general statement in the House of Commons on
August 11. On the next morning the world heard that Queen Victoria had
been pleased to confer on him the title of Earl of Beaconsfield. It is well
known, on his own admission, that he could no longer endure the strain of

the late sittings in the House of Commons and had besought Her Majesty
for leave to retire. She, however, suggested the gracious alternative that he
should continue in office with a seat in the House of Lords. None the less,
the conferring of this honour was felt by very many to be singularly
inopportune.
For at this time tidings of the massacres at Batak and elsewhere began to be
fully known. Despite the efforts of Ministers to discredit them, they aroused
growing excitement; and when the whole truth was known, a storm of
indignation swept over the country as over the whole of Europe. Efforts
were made by the Turcophil Press to represent the new trend of popular
feeling as a mere party move and an insidious attempt of the Liberal
Opposition to exploit humanitarian sentiment; but this charge will not bear
examination. Mr. Gladstone had retired from the Liberal Leadership early in
1875 and was deeply occupied in literary work; and Lords Granville and
Hartington, on whom devolved the duty of leading the Opposition, had been
very sparing of criticisms on the foreign policy of the Cabinet. They, as well
as Mr. Gladstone, had merely stated that the Government, on refusing to
join in the Berlin Memorandum, ought to have formulated an alternative
policy. We now know that Mr. Gladstone left his literary work doubtfully
and reluctantly[105].
Now, however, the events in Bulgaria shed a ghastly light on the whole
situation, and showed the consequences of giving the "moral support" of
Britain to the Turks. The whole question ceased to rest on the high and dry
levels of diplomacy, and became one of life or death for many thousands of
men and women. The conscience of the country was touched to the quick
by the thought that the presence of the British Mediterranean fleet at Besika
Bay was giving the same encouragement to the Turks as it had done before
the Crimean War, and that, too, when they had belied the promises so
solemnly given in 1856, and were now proved to be guilty of unspeakable
barbarities. In such a case, the British nation would have been disgraced
had it not demanded that no further alliance should be formed. It was
equally the duty of the leaders of the Opposition to voice what was
undoubtedly the national sentiment. To have kept silence would have been
to stultify our Parliamentary institutions. The parrot cry that British interests
were endangered by Russia's supposed designs on Turkey, was met by the
unanswerable reply that, if those designs existed, the best way to check

them was to maintain the European Concert, and especially to keep in close
touch with Austria, seeing that that Power had as much cause as England to
dread any southward extension of the Czar's power. Russia might
conceivably fight Turkey and Great Britain; but she would not wage war
against Austria as well. Therefore, the dictates of humanity as well as those
of common sense alike condemned the British policy, which from the outset
had encouraged the Turks to resist European intervention, had made us in
some measure responsible for the Bulgarian massacres, and, finally, had
broken up the Concert of the Powers, from which alone a peaceful solution
of the Eastern Question could be expected.
The union of the Powers having been dissolved by British action, it was but
natural that Russia and Austria should come to a private understanding. This
came about at Reichstadt in Bohemia on July 8. No definitive treaty was
signed, but the two Emperors and their Chancellors framed an agreement
defining their spheres of influence in the Balkans in case war should break
out between Russia and Turkey. Francis Joseph of Austria covenanted to
observe a neutrality friendly to the Czar under certain conditions that will
be noticed later on. Some of those conditions were distasteful to the Russian
Government, which sounded Bismarck as to his attitude in case war broke
out between the Czar and the Hapsburg ruler. Apparently the reply of the
German Chancellor was unfavourable to Russia[106], for it thereafter
renewed the negotiations with the Court of Vienna. On the whole, the
ensuing agreement was a great diplomatic triumph; for the Czar thereby
secured the neutrality of Austria--a Power that might readily have remained
in close touch with Great Britain had British diplomacy displayed more
foresight.
The prospects of a great war, meanwhile, had increased owing to the action
of Servia and Montenegro. The rulers of those States, unable any longer to
hold in their peoples, and hoping for support from their Muscovite kinsfolk,
declared war on Turkey at the end of June. Russian volunteers thronged to
the Servian forces by thousands; but, despite the leadership of the Russian
General, Tchernayeff, they were soon overborne by the numbers and
fanatical valour of the Turks. Early in September, Servia appealed to the
Powers for their mediation; and, owing chiefly to the efforts of Great
Britain, terms for an armistice were proposed by the new Sultan, Abdul
Hamid, but of so hard a nature that the Servians rejected them.

On the fortune of war still inclining against the Slavonic cause, the Russian
people became intensely excited; and it was clear that they would speedily
join in the war unless the Turks moderated their claims. There is reason to
believe that the Czar Alexander II. dreaded the outbreak of hostilities with
Turkey in which he might become embroiled with Great Britain. The
Panslavonic party in Russia was then permeated by revolutionary elements
that might threaten the stability of the dynasty at the end of a long and
exhausting struggle. But, feeling himself in honour bound to rescue Servia
and Montenegro from the results of their ill-judged enterprise, he assembled
large forces in South Russia and sent General Ignatieff to Constantinople
with the demand, urged in the most imperious manner (Oct. 30), that the
Porte should immediately grant an armistice to those States. At once Abdul
Hamid gave way.
Even so, Alexander II. showed every desire of averting the horrors of war.
Speaking to the British ambassador at St. Petersburg on November 2, he
said that the present state of affairs in Turkey "was intolerable, and unless
Europe was prepared to act with firmness and energy, he should be obliged
to act alone." But he pledged his word that he desired no aggrandisement,
and that "he had not the smallest wish or intention to be possessed of
Constantinople[107]." At this time proposals for a Conference of the
Powers at Constantinople were being mooted: they had been put forth by
the British Government on October 5. There seemed, therefore, to be some
hope of a compromise if the Powers reunited so as to bring pressure to bear
on Turkey; for, a week later, the Sultan announced his intention of granting
a constitution, with an elected Assembly to supervise the administration.
But hopes of peace as well as of effective reform in Turkey were damped by
the warlike speech of Lord Beaconsfield at the Lord Mayor's banquet on
November 9. He then used these words. If Britain draws the sword "in a
righteous cause; if the contest is one which concerns her liberty, her
independence, or her Empire, her resources, I feel, are inexhaustible. She is
not a country that, when she enters into a campaign, has to ask herself
whether she can support a second or a third campaign." On the next day the
Czar replied in a speech at Moscow to the effect that if the forthcoming
Conference at Constantinople did not lead to practical results, Russia would
be forced to take up arms; and he counted on the support of his people. A
week later 160,000 Russian troops were mobilised.

The issue was thus clear as far as concerned Russia. It was not so clear for
Great Britain. Even now, we are in ignorance as to the real intent of Lord
Beaconsfield's speech at the Guildhall. It seems probable that, as there were
divisions in his Cabinet, he may have wished to bring about such a
demonstration of public feeling as would strengthen his hands in proposing
naval and military preparations. The duties of a Prime Minister are so
complex that his words may be viewed either in an international sense, or as
prompted by administrative needs, or by his relations to his colleagues, or,
again, they may be due merely to electioneering considerations. Whatever
their real intent on this occasion, they were interpreted by Russia as a
defiance and by Turkey as a promise of armed help.
On the other hand, if Lord Beaconsfield hoped to strengthen the pro-
Turkish feeling in the Cabinet and the country, he failed. The resentment
aroused by Turkish methods of rule and repression was too deep to be
eradicated even by his skilful appeals to Imperialist sentiment. The
Bulgarian atrocities had at least brought this much of good: they rendered a
Turco-British alliance absolutely impossible.
Lord Derby had written to this effect on August 29 to Sir Henry Elliott:
"The impression produced here by events in Bulgaria has completely
destroyed sympathy with Turkey. The feeling is universal and so strong that
even if Russia were to declare war against the Porte, Her Majesty's
Government would find it practically impossible to interfere[108]."
The assembly of a Conference of the envoys of the Powers at
Constantinople was claimed to be a decisive triumph for British diplomacy.
There were indeed some grounds for hoping that Turkey would give way
before a reunited Europe. The pressure brought to bear on the British
Cabinet by public opinion resulted in instructions being given to Lord
Salisbury (our representative, along with Sir H. Elliott, at the Conference)
which did not differ much from the avowed aims of Russia and of the other
Powers. Those instructions stated that the Powers could not accept mere
promises of reform, for "the whole history of the Ottoman Empire, since it
was admitted into the European Concert under the engagements of the
Treaty of Paris [1856], has proved that the Porte is unable to guarantee the
execution of reforms in the provinces by Turkish officials, who accept them
with reluctance and neglect them with impunity." The Cabinet, therefore,

insisted that there must be "external guarantees," but stipulated that no
foreign armies must be introduced into Turkey[109]. Here alone British
Ministers were at variance with the other Powers; and when, in the
preliminary meetings of the Conference, a proposal was made to bring
Belgian troops in order to guarantee the thorough execution of the proposed
reforms, Lord Salisbury did not oppose it. In pursuance of instructions from
London, he even warned the Porte that Britain would not give any help in
case war resulted from its refusal of the European proposals.
It is well known that Lord Salisbury was far less pro-Turkish than the Prime
Minister or the members of the British embassy at Constantinople. During a
diplomatic tour that he had made to the chief capitals he convinced himself
"that no Power was disposed to shield Turkey--not even Austria--if blood
had to be shed for the status quo." (The words are those used by his
assistant, Mr., afterwards Sir, William White.) He had had little or no
difficulty in coming to an understanding with the Russian plenipotentiary,
General Ignatieff, despite the intrigues of Sir Henry Elliott and his Staff to
hinder it[110]. Indeed, the situation shows what might have been effected in
May 1876, had not the Turks then received the support of the British
Government.
Now, however, there were signs that the Turks declined to take the good
advice of the Powers seriously; and on December 23, when the "full"
meetings of the Conference began, the Sultan and his Ministers treated the
plenipotentiaries to a display of injured virtue and reforming zeal that raised
the situation to the level of the choicest comedy. In the midst of the
proceedings, after the Turkish Foreign Minister, Safvet Pacha, had
explained away the Bulgarian massacres as a myth woven by the Western
imagination, salvoes of cannon were heard, that proclaimed the birth of a
new and most democratic constitution for the whole of the Turkish Empire.
Safvet did justice to the solemnity of the occasion; the envoys of the Powers
suppressed their laughter; and before long, Lord Salisbury showed his
resentment at this display of oriental irony and stubbornness by ordering the
British Fleet to withdraw from Besika Bay[111].
But deeds and words were alike wasted on the Sultan and his Ministers. To
all the proposals and warnings of the Powers they replied by pointing to the
superior benefits about to be conferred by the new constitution. The

Conference therefore speedily came to an end (Jan. 20). It had served its
purpose. It had fooled Europe[112].
The responsibility for this act of cynical defiance must be assigned to one
man. The Sultan had never before manifested a desire for any reform
whatsoever; and it was not until December 19, 1876, that he named as
Grand Vizier Midhat Pasha, who was known to have long been weaving
constitutional schemes. This Turkish Siéyès was thrust to the front in time
to promulgate that fundamental reform. His tenure of power, like that of the
French constitution-monger in 1799, ended when the scheme had served the
purpose of the real controller of events. Midhat obviously did not see
whither things were tending. On January 24, 1877, he wrote to Saïd Pasha,
stating that, according to the Turkish ambassador at London (Musurus
Pasha), Lord Derby congratulated the Sublime Porte on the dissolution of
the Conference, "which he considers a success for Turkey[113]."
It therefore only remained to set the constitution in motion. After six days,
when no sign of action was forthcoming, Midhat wrote to the Sultan in
urgent terms, reminding him that their object in promulgating the
constitution "was certainly not merely to find a solution of the so-called
Eastern Question, nor to seek thereby to make a demonstration that should
conciliate the sympathies of Europe, which had been estranged from us."
This Note seems to have irritated the Sultan. Abdul Hamid, with his small,
nervous, exacting nature, has always valued Ministers in proportion to their
obedience, not to their power of giving timely advice. In every independent
suggestion he sees the germ of opposition, and perhaps of a palace plot. He
did so now. By way of reply, he bade Midhat come to the Palace. Midhat,
fearing a trap, deferred his visit, until he received the assurance that the
order for the reforms had been issued. Then he obeyed the summons; at
once he was apprehended, and was hurried to the Sultan's yacht, which
forthwith steamed away for the Aegean (Feb. 5). The fact that he remained
above its waters, and was allowed to proceed to Italy, may be taken as proof
that his zeal for reform had been not without its uses in the game which the
Sultan had played against the Powers. The Turkish Parliament, which
assembled on March 1, acted with the subservience that might have been
expected after this lesson. The Sultan dissolved it on the outbreak of war,
and thereafter gave up all pretence of constitutional forms. As for Midhat,
he was finally lured back to Turkey and done to death. Such was the end of

the Turkish constitution, of the Turkish Parliament, and of their
contriver[114].
Even the dissolution of the Conference of the Powers did not bring about
war at once. It seems probable that the Czar hoped much from the
statesmanlike conduct of Lord Salisbury at Constantinople, or perhaps he
expected to secure the carrying out of the needed reforms by means of
pressure from the Three Emperors' League (see Chapter XII.). But, unless
the Russians gave up all interest in the fate of her kinsmen and co-
religionists in Turkey, war was now the more probable outcome of events.
Alexander had already applied to Germany for help, either diplomatic or
military; but these overtures, of whatever kind, were declined by Bismarck-
-so he declared in his great speech of February 6, 1888. Accordingly, the
Czar drew closer to Austria, with the result that the Reichstadt agreement of
July 8, 1876, now assumed the form of a definitive treaty signed at Vienna
between the two Powers on January 15, 1877.
The full truth on this subject is not known. M. Élie de Cyon, who claims to
have seen the document, states that Austria undertook to remain neutral
during the Russo-Turkish War, that she stipulated for a large addition of
territory if the Turks were forced to quit Europe; also that a great Bulgaria
should be formed, and that Servia and Montenegro should be extended so as
to become conterminous. To the present writer this account appears suspect.
It is inconceivable that Austria should have assented to an expansion of
these principalities which would bar her road southward to Salonica[115].
Another and more probable version was given by the Hungarian Minister,
M. Tisza, during the course of debates in the Hungarian Delegations in the
spring of 1887, to this effect:--(1) No Power should claim an exclusive right
of protecting the Christians of Turkey, and the Great Powers should
pronounce on the results of the war; (2) Russia would annex no land on the
right (south) bank of the Danube, would respect the integrity of Roumania,
and refrain from touching Constantinople; (3) if Russia formed a new
Slavonic State in the Balkans, it should not be at the expense of non-
Slavonic peoples; and she would not claim special rights over Bulgaria,
which was to be governed by a prince who was neither Russian nor
Austrian; (4) Russia would not extend her military operations to the districts
west of Bulgaria. These were the terms on which Austria agreed to remain

neutral; and in certain cases she claimed to occupy Bosnia and
Herzegovina[116].
Doubtless these, or indeed any, concessions to Austria were repugnant to
Alexander II. and Prince Gortchakoff; but her neutrality was essential to
Russia's success in case war broke out; and the Czar's Government certainly
acted with much skill in securing the friendly neutrality of the Power which
in 1854 had exerted so paralysing a pressure on the Russian operations on
the Lower Danube.
Nevertheless, Alexander II. still sought to maintain the European Concert
with a view to the exerting of pacific pressure upon Turkey. Early in March
he despatched General Ignatieff on a mission to the capitals of the Great
Powers; except at Westminster, that envoy found opinion favourable to the
adoption of some form of coercion against Turkey, in case the Sultan still
hardened his heart against good advice. Even the Beaconsfield Ministry
finally agreed to sign a Protocol, that of March 31, 1877, which recounted
the efforts of the six Great Powers for the improvement of the lot of the
Christians in Turkey, and expressed their approval of the promises of
reform made by that State on February 13, 1876. Passing over without
notice the new Turkish Constitution, the Powers declared that they would
carefully watch the carrying out of the promised reforms, and that, if no
improvement in the lot of the Christians should take place, "they [the
Powers] reserve to themselves to consider in common as to the means
which they may deem best fitted to secure the wellbeing of the Christian
populations, and the interests of the general peace[117]." This final clause
contained a suggestion scarcely less threatening than that with which the
Berlin Memorandum had closed; and it is difficult to see why the British
Cabinet, which now signed the London Protocol, should have wrecked that
earlier effort of the Powers. In this as in other matters it is clear that the
Cabinet was swayed by a "dual control."
But now it was all one whether the British Government signed the Protocol
or not. Turkey would have none of it. Despite Lord Derby's warning that
"the Sultan would be very unwise if he would not endeavour to avail
himself of the opportunity afforded him to arrange a mutual disarmament,"
that potentate refused to move a hair's-breadth from his former position. On
the 12th of April the Turkish ambassador announced to Lord Derby the final

decision of his Government: "Turkey, as an independent State, cannot
submit to be placed under any surveillance, whether collective or not. . . .
No consideration can arrest the Imperial Government in their determination
to protest against the Protocol of the 31st March, and to consider it, as
regards Turkey, as devoid of all equity, and consequently of all binding
character." Lord Derby thereupon expressed his deep regret at this decision,
and declared that he "did not see what further steps Her Majesty's
Government could take to avert a war which appeared to have become
inevitable[118]."
The Russian Government took the same view of the case, and on April 7-
19, 1877, stated in a despatch that, as a pacific solution of the Eastern
Question was now impossible, the Czar had ordered his armies to cross the
frontiers of Turkey. The official declaration of war followed on April 12-24.
From the point of view of Lord Derby this seemed "inevitable."
Nevertheless, on May 1 he put his name to an official document which
reveals the curious dualism which then prevailed in the Beaconsfield
Cabinet. This reply to the Russian despatch contained the assertion that the
last answer of the Porte did not remove all hope of deference on its part to
the wishes and advice of Europe, and "that the decision of the Russian
Government is not one which can have their concurrence or approval." We
shall not be far wrong in assuming that, while the hand that signed this
document was the hand of Derby, the spirit behind it was that of
Beaconsfield.
In many quarters the action of Russia was stigmatised as the outcome of
ambition and greed, rendered all the more odious by the cloak of
philanthropy which she had hitherto worn. The time has not come when an
exhaustive and decisive verdict can be given on this charge. Few
movements have been free from all taint of meanness; but it is clearly
unjust to rail against a great Power, because, at the end of a war which
entailed frightful losses and a serious though temporary loss of prestige, it
determined to exact from the enemy the only form of indemnity which was
forthcoming, namely, a territorial indemnity. Russia's final claims, as will
be seen, were open to criticism at several points; but the censure just
referred to is puerile. It accords, however, with most of the criticisms passed
in London "club-land," which were remarkable for their purblind cynicism.

No one who has studied the mass of correspondence contained in the Blue-
books relating to Turkey in 1875-77 can doubt that the Emperor Alexander
II. displayed marvellous patience in face of a series of brutal provocations
by Moslem fanatics and the clamour of his own people for a liberating
crusade. Bismarck, who did not like the Czar, stated that he did not want
war, but waged it "under stress of Panslavist influence[119]." That some of
his Ministers and Generals had less lofty aims is doubtless true; but
practically all authorities are now agreed that the maintenance of the
European Concert would have been the best means of curbing those aims.
Yet, despite the irritating conduct of the Beaconsfield Cabinet, the Emperor
Alexander sought to re-unite Europe with a view to the execution of the
needed reforms in Turkey. Even after the successive rebuffs of the rejection
of the Berlin Memorandum by Great Britain and of the suggestions of the
Powers at Constantinople by Turkey, he succeeded in restoring the
semblance of accord between the Powers, and of leaving to Turkey the
responsibility of finally and insolently defying their recommendations. A
more complete diplomatic triumph has rarely been won. It was the reward
of consistency and patience, qualities in which the Beaconsfield Cabinet
was signally lacking.
We may notice one other criticism: that Russia's agreement with Austria
implied the pre-existence of aggressive designs. This is by no means
conclusive. That the Czar should have taken the precaution of coming to the
arrangement of January 1877 with Austria does not prove that he was
desirous of war. The attitude of Turkey during the Conference at
Constantinople left but the slightest hope of peace. To prepare for war in
such a case is not a proof of a desire for war, but only of common prudence.
Certain writers in France and Germany have declared that Bismarck was the
real author of the Russo-Turkish War. The dogmatism of their assertions is
in signal contrast with the thinness of their evidence[120]. It rests mainly on
the statement that the Three Emperors' League (see Chapter XII.) was still
in force; that Bismarck had come to some arrangement for securing gains to
Austria in the south-east as a set-off to her losses in 1859 and 1866; that
Austrian agents in Dalmatia had stirred up the Herzegovina revolt of 1875;
and that Bismarck and Andrassy did nothing to avert the war of 1877.
Possibly he had a hand in these events--he had in most events of the time;
and there is a suspicious passage in his Memoirs as to the overtures made to

Berlin in the autumn of 1876. The Czar's Ministers wished to know
whether, in the event of a war with Austria, they would have the support of
Germany. To this the Chancellor replied, that Germany could not allow the
present equilibrium of the monarchical Powers to be disturbed: "The result .
. . was that the Russian storm passed from Eastern Galicia to the
Balkans[121]." Thereafter Russia came to terms with Austria as described
above.
But the passage just cited only proves that Russia might have gone to war
with Austria over the Eastern Question. In point of fact, she went to war
with Turkey, after coming to a friendly arrangement with Austria. Bismarck
therefore acted as "honest-broker" between his two allies; and it has yet to
be proved that Bismarck did not sincerely work with the two other Empires
to make the coercion of Turkey by the civilised Powers irresistibly strong.
In his speech of December 6, 1876, to the Reichstag, the Chancellor made a
plain and straightforward declaration of his policy, namely, that of
neutrality, but inclining towards friendship with Austria. That, surely, did
not drive Russia into war with Turkey, still less entice her into it. As for the
statement that Austrian intrigues were the sole cause of the Bosnian revolt,
it must appear childish to all who bear in mind the exceptional hardships
and grievances of the peasants of that province. Finally, the assertion of a
newspaper, the Czas, that Queen Victoria wrote to Bismarck in April 1877
urging him to protest against an attack by Russia on Turkey, may be
dismissed as an impudent fabrication[122]. It was altogether opposed to the
habits of her late Majesty to write letters of that kind to the Foreign
Ministers of other Powers.
Until documents of a contrary tenor come to light, we may say with some
approach to certainty that the responsibility for the war of 1877-78 rests
with the Sultan of Turkey and with those who indirectly encouraged him to
set at naught the counsels of the Powers. Lord Derby and Lord Salisbury
had of late plainly warned him of the consequences of his stubbornness; but
the influence of the British embassy at Constantinople and of the Turkish
ambassador in London seems greatly to have weakened the force of those
warnings.
It must always be remembered that the Turk will concede religious freedom
and civic equality to the "Giaours" only under overwhelming pressure. In

such a case he mutters "Kismet" ("It is fate"), and gives way; but the least
sign of weakness or wavering on the part of the Powers awakens his
fanatical scruples. Then his devotion to the Koran forbids any surrender.
History has afforded several proofs of this, from the time of the Battle of
Navarino (1827) to that of the intervention of the Western Powers on behalf
of the slaughtered and harried Christians of the Lebanon (1860).
Unfortunately Abdul Hamid had now come to regard the Concert of the
Powers as a "loud-sounding nothing." With the usual bent of a mean and
narrow nature he detected nothing but hypocrisy in its lofty professions, and
self-seeking in its philanthropic aims, together with a treacherous desire
among influential persons to make the whole scheme miscarry. Accordingly
he fell back on the boundless fund of inertia, with which a devout Moslem
ruler blocks the way to western reforms. A competent observer has finely
remarked that the Turk never changes; his neighbours, his frontiers, his
statute-books may change, but his ideas and his practice remain always the
same. He will not be interfered with; he will not improve[123]. To this
statement we must add that only under dire necessity will he allow his
Christian subjects to improve. The history of the Eastern Question may be
summed up in these assertions.
Abdul Hamid II. is the incarnation of the reactionary forces which have
brought ruin to Turkey and misery to her Christian subjects. He owed his
crown to a recrudescence of Moslem fanaticism; and his reign has
illustrated the unsuspected strength and ferocity of his race and creed in
face of the uncertain tones in which Christendom has spoken since the
spring of the year 1876. The reasons which prompted his defiance a year
later were revealed by his former Grand Vizier, Midhat Pasha, in an article
in the Nineteenth Century for June 1877. The following passage is
especially illuminating:--

Turkey was not unaware of the attitude of the
English Government towards her; the British Cabinet
had declared in clear terms that it would not interfere
in our dispute. This decision of the English Cabinet
was perfectly well known to us, but we knew still
better that the general interests of Europe and the
particular interests of England were so bound up in
our dispute with Russia that, in spite of all the

Declarations of the English Cabinet, it appeared to us
to be absolutely impossible for her to avoid
interfering sooner or later in this Eastern dispute.
This profound belief, added to the reasons we have
mentioned, was one of the principal factors of our
contest with Russia[124].

It appears, then, that the action of the British Government in the spring and
summer of 1876, and the well-known desire of the Prime Minister to
intervene in favour of Turkey, must have contributed to the Sultan's
decision to court the risks of war rather than allow any intervention of the
Powers on behalf of his Christian subjects.
The information that has come to light from various quarters serves to
strengthen the case against Lord Beaconsfield's policy in the years 1875-77.
The letter written by Mr. White to Sir Robert Morier on January 16, 1877,
and referred to above, shows that his diplomatic experience had convinced
him of the futility of supporting Turkey against the Powers. In that letter he
made use of these significant words:--"You know me well enough. I did not
come here (Constantinople) to deceive Lord Salisbury or to defend an
untenable Russophobe or pro-Turkish policy. There will probably be a
difference of opinion in the Cabinet as to our future line of policy, and I
shall not wonder if Lord Salisbury should upset Dizzy and take his place or
leave the Government on this question. If he does the latter, the coach is
indeed upset." Mr. White also referred to the personnel of the British
Embassy at Constantinople in terms which show how mischievous must
have been its influence on the counsels of the Porte.
A letter from Sir Robert Morier of about the same date proves that that
experienced diplomatist also saw the evil results certain to accrue from the
Beaconsfield policy:--"I have not ceased to din that into the ears of the F.O.
(Foreign Office), to make ourselves the point d'appui of the Christians in
the Turkish Empire, and thus take all the wind out of the sails of Russia;
and after the population had seen the difference between an English and a
Russian occupation [of the disturbed parts of Turkey] it would jump to the
eyes even of the blind, and we should débuter into a new policy at
Constantinople with an immense advantage[125]." This advice was surely
statesmanlike. To support the young and growing nationalities in Turkey

would serve, not only to checkmate the supposed aggressive designs of
Russia, but also to array on the side of Britain the progressive forces of the
East. To rely on the Turk was to rely on a moribund creature. It was even
worse. It implied an indirect encouragement to the "sick man" to enter on a
strife for which he was manifestly unequal, and in which we did not mean
to help him. But these considerations failed to move Lord Beaconsfield and
the Foreign Office from the paths of tradition and routine[126].
Finally, in looking at the events of 1875-76 in their broad outlines, we may
note the verdict of a veteran diplomatist, whose conduct before the Crimean
War proved him to be as friendly to the interests of Turkey as he was hostile
to those of Russia, but who now saw that the situation differed utterly from
that which was brought about by the aggressive action of Czar Nicholas I.
in 1854. In a series of letters to the Times he pointed out the supreme need
of joint action by all the Powers who signed the Treaty of Paris; that that
treaty by no means prohibited their intervention in the affairs of Turkey;
that wise and timely intervention would be to the advantage of that State;
that the Turks had always yielded to coercion if it were of overwhelming
strength, but only on those terms; and that therefore the severance of
England from the European Concert was greatly to be deplored[127]. In
private this former champion of Turkey went even farther, and declared on
Sept. 10, 1876, that the crisis in the East would not have become acute had
Great Britain acted conjointly with the Powers[128]. There is every reason
to believe that posterity will endorse this judgment of Lord Stratford de
Redcliffe.

FOOTNOTES:
[86] "Islam continues to be, as it has been for twelve centuries, the most
inflexible adversary to the Western spirit" (History of Serbia and the Slav
Provinces of Turkey, by L. von Ranke, Eng. edit. p. 296).
[87] The story that Peter the Great of Russia left a clause in his will, bidding
Russia to go on with her southern conquests until she gained
Constantinople, is an impudent fiction of French publicists in the year 1812,
when Napoleon wished to keep Russia and Turkey at war. Of course, Peter
the Great gave a mighty impulse to Russian movements towards
Constantinople.
[88] For the treaty and the firman of 1856, see The European Concert in the
Eastern Question, by T. E. Holland; also Débidour, Histoire diplomatique
de l'Europe (1814-1878), vol. ii. pp. 150-152; The Eastern Question, by the
late Duke of Argyll, vol. i. chap. i.
[89] Sir Horace Rumbold, Recollections of a Diplomatist (First Series), vol.
ii. p. 295.
[90] As to this, see Reports: Condition of Christians in Turkey (1860).
Presented to Parliament in 1861. Also Parliamentary Papers, Turkey, No. 16
(1877).
[91] Efforts were made by the British Consul, Holmes, and other pro-Turks,
to assign this revolt to Panslavonic intrigues. That there were some Slavonic
emissaries at work is undeniable; but it is equally certain that their efforts
would have had no result but for the existence of unbearable ills. It is time,
surely, to give up the notion that peoples rise in revolt merely owing to
outside agitators. To revolt against the warlike Turks has never been child's
play.
[92] For the full text, see Hertslet, The Map of Europe by Treaty, iv. pp.
2418-2429.
[93] Bryce, Studies in Contemporary Biography (1904).
[94] For details of this affair, see Chapter XV. of this work.

[95] See Parliamentary Papers, Turkey, No. 5 (1877), for Consul Freeman's
report of March 17, 1877, of the outrages by the Turks in Bosnia. The
refugees declared they would "sooner drown themselves in the Unna than
again subject themselves to Turkish oppression." The Porte denied all the
outrages.
[96] Hertslet, iv. pp. 2459-2463.
[97] Sir Stafford Northcote, Earl of Iddesleigh, by Andrew Lang, vol. ii. p.
181.
[98] Our ambassador at Constantinople, Sir Henry Elliott, asked (May 9)
that a squadron should be sent there to reassure the British subjects in
Turkey; but as the fleet was not ordered to proceed thither until after a long
interval, and was kept there in great strength and for many months, it is fair
to assume that the aim of our Government was to encourage Turkey.
[99] Gallenga, The Eastern Question, vol. ii. p. 99.
[100] For the aims of the Young Turkey party, see the Life of Midhat Pasha,
by his son; also an article by Midhat in the Nineteenth Century for June
1878.
[101] Gallenga, The Eastern Question, vol. ii. p. 126. Murad died in the
year 1904.
[102] Mr. Baring, a secretary of the British Legation at Constantinople,
after a careful examination of the evidence, gave the number of Bulgarians
slain as "not fewer than 12,000"; he opined that 163 Mussulmans were
perhaps killed early in May. He admitted the Batak horrors. Achmet Agha,
their chief perpetrator, was at first condemned to death by a Turkish
commission of inquiry, but he was finally pardoned. Shefket Pasha, whose
punishment was also promised, was afterwards promoted to a high
command. Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 2 (1877), pp. 248-249; ibid. No. 15
(1877), No. 77, p. 58. Mr. Layard, successor to Sir Henry Elliott at
Constantinople, afterwards sought to reduce the numbers slain to 3500.
Turkey, No. 26 (1877), p. 54.
[103] Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 3 (1876), pp. 144, 173, 198-199.

[104] See, inter alia, his letter of May 26, 1876, quoted in Life and
Correspondence of William White (1902), pp. 99-100.
[105] J. Morley, Life of Gladstone, vol. ii. pp. 548-549.
[106] Bismarck, Reflections and Reminiscences vol. ii. chap, xxviii.
[107] Hertslet, iv. p. 2508.
[108] Parliamentary Papers, Turkey, No. 6 (1877).
[109] Parliamentary Papers, Turkey, ii. (1877), No. 1; also, in part, in
Hertslet, iv. p. 2517.
[110] Sir William White: Life and Correspondence, p. 117.
[111] See Gallenga (The Eastern Question, vol. ii. pp. 255-258) as to the
scepticism regarding the new constitution, felt alike by foreigners and
natives at Constantinople.
[112] See Parl. Papers (1878), Turkey, No. 2, p. 114, for the constitution;
and p. 302 for Lord Salisbury's criticisms on it; also ibid, pp. 344-345, for
Turkey's final rejection of the proposals of the Powers.
[113] Life of Midhat Pasha, by Midhat Ali (1903), p. 142. Musurus must
have deliberately misrepresented Lord Derby.
[114] Life of Midhat Pasha, chaps. v.-vii. For the Sultan's character and
habits, see an article in the Contemporary Review for December 1896, by
D. Kelekian.
[115] Élie de Cyon, Histoire de l'Entente franco-russe, chap, i.; and in
Nouvelle Revue for June 1, 1887. His account bears obvious signs of malice
against Germany and Austria.
[116] Débidour, Hist. diplomatique de l'Europe (1814-1878), vol. ii. p. 502.
[117] Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 9 (1877), p. 2.
[118] Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 15 (1877), pp. 354-355.

[119] Bismarck: his Reflections and Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 259 (Eng.
ed.).
[120] Élie de Cyon, op. cit. chap. i.; also in Nouvelle Revue for 1880.
[121] Bismarck, Recollections and Reminiscences, vol. ii. p. 231 (Eng. ed.).
[122] Busch, Our Chancellor, vol. ii. p. 126.
[123] Turkey in Europe, by Odysseus, p. 139.
[124] See, too, the official report of our pro-Turkish Ambassador at
Constantinople, Mr. Layard (May 30, 1877), as to the difficulty of our
keeping out of the war in its final stages (Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 26
(1877), p. 52).
[125] Sir William White: Life and Correspondence, pp. 115-117.
[126] For the power of tradition in the Foreign Office, see Sir William
White: Life and Correspondence, p. 119.
[127] Letters of Dec. 31, 1875, May 16, 1876, and Sept. 9, 1876,
republished with others in The Eastern Question, by Lord Stratford de
Redcliffe (1881).
[128] J. Morley, Life of Gladstone, vol. ii. p. 555.

CHAPTER VIII
THE RUSSO-TURKISH WAR

"Knowledge of the great operations of war can be
acquired only by experience and by the applied study
of the campaigns of all the great captains. Gustavus,
Turenne, and Frederick, as well as Alexander,
Hannibal, and Cæsar, have all acted on the same
principles. To keep one's forces together, to bear
speedily on any point, to be nowhere vulnerable,--
such are the principles that assure victory."--
NAPOLEON.

Despite the menace to Russia contained in the British Note of May 1, 1877,
there was at present little risk of a collision between the two Powers for the
causes already stated. The Government of the Czar showed that it desired to
keep on friendly terms with the Cabinet of St. James, for, in reply to a
statement of Lord Derby that the security of Constantinople, Egypt, and the
Suez Canal was a matter of vital concern for Great Britain, the Russian
Chancellor, Prince Gortchakoff, on May 30 sent the satisfactory assurance
that the two latter would remain outside the sphere of military operations;
that the acquisition of the Turkish capital was "excluded from the views of
His Majesty the Emperor," and that its future was a question of common
interest which could be settled only by a general understanding among the
Powers[129]. As long as Russia adhered to these promises there could
scarcely be any question of Great Britain intervening on behalf of Turkey.
Thus the general situation in the spring of 1877 scarcely seemed to warrant
the hopes with which the Turks entered on the war. They stood alone
confronting a Power which had vastly greater resources in men and
treasure. Seeing that the Sultan had recently repudiated a large part of the
State debt, and could borrow only at exorbitant rates of interest, it is even

now mysterious how his Ministers managed to equip very considerable
forces, and to arm them with quick-firing rifles and excellent cannon. The
Turk is a born soldier, and will fight for nothing and live on next to nothing
when his creed is in question; but that does not solve the problem how the
Porte could buy huge stores of arms and ammunition. It had procured
300,000 American rifles, and bought 200,000 more early in the war. On this
topic we must take refuge in the domain of legend, and say that the life of
Turkey is the life of a phoenix: it now and again rises up fresh and defiant
among the flames.
As regards the Ottoman army, an English officer in its service, Lieutenant
W.V. Herbert, states that the artillery was very good, despite the poor supply
of horses; that the infantry was very good; the regular cavalry mediocre, the
irregular cavalry useless. He estimates the total forces in Europe and Asia at
700,000; but, as he admits that the battalions of 800 men rarely averaged
more than 600, that total is clearly fallacious. An American authority
believes that Turkey had not more than 250,000 men ready in Europe and
that of these not more than 165,000 were north of the Balkans when the
Russians advanced towards the Danube[130]. Von Lignitz credits the Turks
with only 215,000 regular troops and 100,000 irregulars (Bashi Bazouks
and Circassians) in the whole Empire; of these he assigns two-thirds to
European Turkey[131].
It seemed, then, that Russia had no very formidable task before her. Early in
May seven army corps began to move towards that great river. They
included 180 battalions of infantry, 200 squadrons of cavalry, and 800 guns-
-in all about 200,000 men. Their cannon were inferior to those of the Turks,
but this seemed a small matter in view of the superior numbers which
Russia seemed about to place in the field. The mobilisation of her huge
army, however, went on slowly, and produced by no means the numbers
that were officially reported. Our military attaché at the Russian
headquarters, Colonel Wellesley, reported this fact to the British
Government; and, on this being found out, incurred disagreeable slights
from the Russian authorities[132].
Meanwhile Russia had secured the co-operation of Roumania by a
convention signed on April 16, whereby the latter State granted a free
passage through that Principality, and promised friendly treatment to the

Muscovite troops. The Czar in return pledged himself to "maintain and
defend the actual integrity of Roumania[133]." The sequel will show how
this promise was fulfilled. For the present it seemed that the interests of the
Principality were fully secured. Accordingly Prince Charles (elder brother
of the Prince Leopold of Hohenzollern, whose candidature for the Crown of
Spain made so much stir in 1870) took the further step of abrogating the
suzerainty of the Sultan over Roumania (June 3).
Even before the declaration of independence Roumania had ventured on a
few acts of war against Turkey; but the co-operation of her army,
comprising 50,000 regulars and 70,000 National Guards, with that of Russia
proved to be a knotty question. The Emperor Alexander II., on reaching the
Russian headquarters at Plojeschti, to the north of Bukharest, expressed his
wish to help the Roumanian army, but insisted that it must be placed under
the commander-in-chief of the Russian forces, the Grand Duke Nicholas. To
this Prince Charles demurred, and the Roumanian troops at first took no
active part in the campaign. Undoubtedly their non-arrival served to mar the
plans of the Russian Staff[134].
Delays multiplied from the outset. The Russians, not having naval
superiority in the Black Sea which helped to gain them their speedy triumph
in the campaign of 1828, could only strike through Roumania and across
the Danube and the difficult passes of the middle Balkans. Further, as the
Roumanian railways had but single lines, the movement of men and stores
to the Danube was very slow. Numbers of the troops, after camping on its
marshy banks (for the river was then in flood), fell ill of malarial fever;
above all, the carelessness of the Russian Staff and the unblushing
peculation of its subordinates and contractors clogged the wheels of the
military machine. One result of it was seen in the bad bread supplied to the
troops. A Roumanian officer, when dining with the Grand Duke Nicholas,
ventured to compare the ration bread of the Russians with the far better
bread supplied to his own men at cheaper rates. The Grand Duke looked at
the two specimens and then--talked of something else[135]. Nothing could
be done until the flood subsided and large bodies of troops were ready to
threaten the Turkish line of defence at several points[136]. The Ottoman
position by no means lacked elements of strength. The first of these was the
Danube itself. The task of crossing a great river in front of an active foe is
one of the most dangerous of all military operations. Any serious

miscalculation of the strength, the position, or the mobility of the enemy's
forces may lead to an irreparable disaster; and until the bridges used for the
crossing are defended by têtes de pont the position of the column that has
passed over is precarious.
The Danube is especially hard to cross, because its northern bank is for the
most part marshy, and is dominated by the southern bank. The German
strategist, von Moltke, who knew Turkey well, and had written the best
history of the Russo-Turkish War of 1828, maintained that the passage of
the Danube must cost the invaders upwards of 50,000 men. Thereafter, they
would be threatened by the Quadrilateral of fortresses--Rustchuk, Shumla,
Varna, and Silistria. Three of these were connected by railway, which
enabled the Turks to send troops quickly from the port of Varna to any
position between the mountain stronghold of Shumla and the riverine
fortress, Rustchuk.
Even the non-military reader will see by a glance at the map that this
Quadrilateral, if strongly held, practically barred the roads leading to the
Balkans on their eastern side. It also endangered the march of an invading
army through the middle of Bulgaria to the central passes of that chain.
Moreover, there are in that part only two or three passes that can be
attempted by an army with artillery. The fortress of Widdin, where Osman
Pasha was known to have an army of about 40,000 seasoned troops,
dominated the west of Bulgaria and the roads leading to the easier passes of
the Balkans near Sofia.
These being the difficulties that confronted the invaders in Europe, it is not
surprising that the first important battles took place in Asia. On the
Armenian frontier the Russians, under Loris Melikoff, soon gained decided
advantages, driving back the Turks with considerable losses on Kars and
Erzeroum. The tide of war soon turned in that quarter, but, for the present,
the Muscovite triumphs sent a thrill of fear through Turkey, and probably
strengthened the determination of Abdul-Kerim, the Turkish commander-in-
chief in Europe, to maintain a cautious defensive.
Much could be said in favour of a "Fabian" policy of delay. Large Turkish
forces were in the western provinces warring against Montenegro, or
watching Austria, Servia, and Greece. It is even said that Abdul-Kerim had

not at first more than about 120,000 men in the whole of Bulgaria, inclusive
of the army at Widdin. But obviously, if the invaders so far counted on his
weakness as to thrust their columns across the Danube in front of forces that
could be secretly and swiftly strengthened by drafts from the south and
west, they would expose themselves

Map of Bulgaria.
to the gravest risks. The apologists of Abdul-Kerim claim that such was his
design, and that the signs of sluggishness which he at first displayed formed
a necessary part of a deep-laid scheme for luring the Russians to their
doom. Let the invaders enter Central Bulgaria in force, and expose their
flanks to Abdul-Kerim in the Quadrilateral, and to Osman Pasha at Widdin;
then the Turks, by well-concerted moves against those flanks, would drive
the enemy back on the Danube, and perhaps compel a large part of his
forces to lay down their arms. Such is their explanation of the conduct of
Abdul-Kerim.
As the Turkish Government is wholly indifferent to the advance of
historical knowledge, it is impossible even now to say whether this idea was
definitely agreed on as the basis of the plan of campaign. There are signs
that Abdul-Kerim and Osman Pasha adopted it, but whether it was ever
approved by the War Council at Constantinople is a different question. Such
a plan obviously implied the possession of great powers of self-control by

the Sultan and his advisers, in face of the initial success of the Russians;
and unless that self-control was proof against panic, the design could not
but break down at the crucial point. Signs are not wanting that in the
suggestions here tentatively offered, we find a key that unlocks the riddle of
the Danubian campaign of 1877.
At first Abdul-Kerim in the Quadrilateral, and Osman at Widdin,
maintained a strict defensive. The former posted small bodies of troops,
probably not more than 20,000 in all, at Sistova, Nicopolis, and other
neighbouring points. But, apart from a heavy bombardment of Russian and
Roumanian posts on the northern bank, neither commander did much to
mar the hostile preparations. This want of initiative, which contrasted with
the enterprise displayed by the Turks in 1854, enabled the invaders to
mature their designs with little or no interruption.
The Russian plan of campaign was to destroy or cripple the four small
Turkish ironclads that patrolled the lower reaches of the river, to make
feints at several points, and to force a passage at two places--first near Ibrail
into the Dobrudscha, and thereafter, under cover of that diversion, from
Simnitza to Sistova. The latter place of crossing combined all the possible
advantages. It was far enough away from the Turkish Quadrilateral to afford
the first essentials of safety; it was known to be but weakly held; its
position on the shortest line of road between the Danube and a practicable
pass of the Balkans--the Shipka Pass--formed a strong recommendation;
while the presence of an island helped on the first preparations.
The flood of the Danube having at last subsided, all was ready by
midsummer. Russian batteries and torpedo-boats had destroyed two Turkish
armoured gunboats in the lower reaches of the river, and on June 22 a
Russian force crossed in boats from a point near Galatz to Matchin, and
made good their hold on the Dobrudscha.
Preparations were also ripe at Simnitza. In the narrow northern arm of the
river the boats and pontoons collected by the Russians were launched with
no difficulty, the island was occupied, and on the night of June 26-27, a
Volhynian regiment, along with Cossacks, crossed in boats over the broad
arm of the river, there some 1000 yards wide, and gained a foothold on the
bank. Already their numbers were thinned by a dropping fire from a Turkish

detachment; but the Turks made the mistake of trusting to the bullet instead
of plying the bayonet. Before dawn broke, the first-comers had been able to
ensconce themselves under a bank until other boats came up. Then with
rousing cheers they charged the Turks and pressed them back.
This was the scene which greeted the eyes of General Dragomiroff as his
boat drew near to the shore at 5 A.M. Half hidden by the morning mist, the
issue seemed doubtful. But at his side stood a general, fresh from triumphs
in Turkestan, who had begged to be allowed to come as volunteer or aide-
de-camp. When Dragomiroff, in an agony of suspense, lowered his glass,
the other continued to gaze, and at last exclaimed: "I congratulate you on
your victory." "Where do you see that?" asked Dragomiroff "Where? on the
faces of the soldiers. Look at them. Watch them as they charge the enemy. It
is a pleasure to see them." The verdict was true. It was the verdict of
Skobeleff[137].
Such was the first appearance in European warfare of the greatest leader of
men that Russia has produced since the days of Suvoroff. The younger man
resembled that sturdy veteran in his passion for war, his ambition, and that
frank, bluff bearing which always wins the hearts of the soldiery. The
grandson of a peasant, whose bravery had won him promotion in the great
year, 1812; the son of a general whose prowess was renowned--Skobeleff
was at once a commander and a soldier. "Ah! he knew the soul of a soldier
as if he were himself a private." These were the words often uttered by the
Russians about Skobeleff; similar things had been said of Suvoroff in his
day. For champions such as these the emotional Slavs will always pour out
their blood like water. But, like the captor of Warsaw, Skobeleff knew when
to put aside the bayonet and win the day by skill. Both were hard hitters, but
they had a hold on the principles of the art of war. The combination of these
qualities was formidable; and many Russians believe that, had the younger
man, with his magnificent physique and magnetic personality, enjoyed the
length of days vouchsafed to the diminutive Suvoroff, he would have
changed the face of two continents.
The United States attaché to the Russian army in the Russo-Turkish War
afterwards spoke of his military genius as "stupendous," and prophesied
that, should he live twenty years longer, and lead the Russian armies in the
next Turkish war, he would win a place side by side with "Napoleon,

Wellington, Grant, and Moltke." To equate these four names is a mark of
transatlantic enthusiasm rather than of balanced judgment; but the estimate,
so far as it concerns Skobeleff, reflects the opinion of nearly all who knew
him[138].
Encouraged by the advent of Skobeleff and Dragomiroff, the Russians
assumed the offensive with full effect, and by the afternoon of that eventful
day, had mastered the rising ground behind Sistova. Here again the Turkish
defence was tame. The town was unfortified, but its outskirts presented
facilities for defence. Nevertheless, under the pressure of the Russian attack
and of artillery fire from the north bank, the small Turkish garrison gave up
the town and retreated towards Rustchuk. At many points on that day the
Russians treated their foes to a heavy bombardment or feints of crossing,
especially at Nicopolis and Rustchuk; and this accounts for the failure of
the defenders to help the weak garrison on which fell the brunt of the attack.
All things considered, the crossing of the Danube must rank as a highly
creditable achievement, skilfully planned and stoutly carried out; it cost the
invaders scarcely 700 men[139].
They now threw a pontoon-bridge across the Danube between Simnitza and
Sistova; and by July 2 had 65,000 men and 244 cannon in and near the
latter town. Meanwhile, their 14th corps held the central position of
Babadagh in the Dobrudscha, thereby preventing any attack from the north-
east side of the Quadrilateral against their communications with the south of
Russia.
It may be questioned, however, whether the invaders did well to keep so
large a force in the Dobrudscha, seeing that a smaller body of light troops
patrolling the left bank of the lower Danube or at the tête de pont at
Matchin would have answered the same purpose. The chief use of the
crossing at Matchin was to distract the attention of the enemy, an advance
through the unhealthy district of the Dobrudscha against the Turkish
Quadrilateral being in every way risky; above all, the retention of a whole
corps on that side weakened the main line of advance, that from Sistova;
and here it was soon clear that the Russians had too few men for the
enterprise in hand. The pontoon-bridge over the Danube was completed by
July 2--a fact which enabled those troops which were in Roumania to be
hurried forward to the front.

Obviously it was unsafe to march towards the Balkans until both flanks
were secured against onsets from the Quadrilateral on the east, and from
Nicopolis and Widdin on the west. At Nicopolis, twenty-five miles away,
there were about 10,000 Turks; and around Widdin, about 100 miles farther
up the stream, Osman mustered 40,000 more. To him Abdul-Kerim now
sent an order to march against the flank of the invaders.
Nor were the Balkan passes open to the Russians; for, after the crossing of
the Danube, Reuf Pasha had orders to collect all available troops for their
defence, from the Shipka Pass to the Slievno Pass farther east; 7000 men
now held the Shipka; about 10,000 acted as a general reserve at Slievno;
3000 were thrown forward to Tirnova, where the mountainous country
begins, and detachments held the more difficult tracks over the mountains.
An urgent message was also sent to Suleiman Pasha to disengage the largest
possible force from the Montenegrin war; and, had he received this message
in time, or had he acted with the needful speed and skill, events might have
gone very differently.
For some time the Turks seemed to be paralysed at all points by the vigour
of the Muscovite movements. Two corps, the 13th and 14th, marched south-
east from Sistova to the torrent of the Jantra, or Yantra, and seized Biela, an
important centre of roads in that district. This secured them against any
immediate attack from the Quadrilateral. The Grand Duke Nicholas also
ordered the 9th corps, under the command of General Krüdener, to advance
from Sistova and attack the weakly fortified town of Nicopolis. Aided by
the Roumanian guns on the north bank of the Danube, this corps succeeded
in overpowering the defence and capturing the town, along with 7000
troops and 110 guns (July 16).
Thus the invaders seemed to have gained a secure base on the Danube, from
Sistova to Nicopolis, whence they could safely push forward their vanguard
to the Balkans. In point of fact their light troops had already seized one of
its more difficult passes--an exploit that will always recall the name of that
dashing leader, General Gurko. The plan now to be described was his
conception; it was approved by the Grand Duke Nicholas. Setting out from
Sistova and drawing part of his column from the forces at Biela, Gurko first
occupied the important town of Tirnova, the small Turkish garrison making
a very poor attempt to defend the old Bulgarian capital (July 7). The

liberators there received an overwhelming ovation, and gained many
recruits for the "Bulgarian Legion." Pushing ahead, the Cossacks and
Dragoons seized large supplies of provisions stored by the Turks, and
gained valuable news respecting the defences of the passes.
The Shipka Pass, due south of Tirnova, was now strongly held, and Turkish
troops were hurrying towards the two passes north of Slievno, some fifty
miles farther east. Even so they had not enough men at hand to defend all
the passes of the mountain chain that formed their chief line of defence.
They left one of them practically undefended; this was the Khainkoi Pass,
having an elevation of 3700 feet above the sea.
A Russian diplomatist, Prince Tserteleff, who was charged to collect
information about the passes, found that the Khainkoi enjoyed an evil
reputation. "Ill luck awaits him who crosses the Khainkoi Pass," so ran the
local proverb. He therefore determined to try it; by dint of questioning the
friendly Bulgarian peasantry he found one man who had been through it
once, and that was two years before with an ox-cart. Where an ox-cart could
go, a light mountain gun could go. Accordingly, the Prince and General
Rauch went with 200 Cossacks to explore the pass, set the men to work at
the worst places, and, thanks to the secrecy observed by the peasantry, soon
made the path to the summit practicable for cavalry and light guns. The
Prince disguised himself as a Bulgarian shepherd to examine the southern
outlet; and, on his bringing a favourable report, 11,000 men of Gurko's
command began to thread the intricacies of the defile.
Thanks to good food, stout hearts, jokes, and songs, they managed to get the
guns up the worst places. Then began the perils of the descent. But the
Turks knew nothing of their effort, else it might have ended far otherwise.
At the southern end 300 Turkish regulars were peacefully smoking their
pipes and cooking their food when the Cossack and Rifles in the vanguard
burst upon them, drove them headlong, and seized the village of Khainkoi.
A pass over the Balkans had been secured at the cost of two men killed and
three wounded. Gurko was almost justified in sending to the Grand Duke
Nicholas the proud vaunt that none but Russian soldiers could have brought
field artillery over such a pass, and in the short space of three days (July 11-
14)[140].

After bringing his column of 11,000 men through the pass, Gurko drove off
four Turkish battalions sent against him from the Shipka Pass and Kazanlik.
Next he sent out bands of Cossacks to spread terror southwards, and delude
the Turks into the belief that he meant to strike at the important towns, Jeni
Zagra and Eski Zagra, on the road to Adrianople. Having thus caused them
to loosen their grip on Kazanlik and the Shipka, he wheeled his main force
to the westward (leaving 3500 men to hold the exit of the Khainkoi), and
drove the Turks successively from positions in front of the town, from the
town itself, and then from the village of Shipka. Above that place towered
the mighty wall of the Balkans, lessened somewhat at the pass itself, but
presenting even there a seemingly impregnable position.
Gurko, however, relied on the discouragement of the Turkish garrison after
the defeats of their comrades, and at seeing their positions turned on the
south while they were also threatened on the north. For another Russian
column had advanced from Tirnova up the more gradual northern slopes of
the Balkans, and now began to hammer at the defences of the pass on that
side. The garrison consisted of six and a half battalions under Khulussi
Pasha, and the wreckage of five battalions already badly beaten by Gurko's
column. These, with one battery of artillery, held the pass and the
neighbouring peaks, which they had in part fortified.
In pursuance of a pre-arranged plan for a joint attack on July 17 of both
Russian forces, the northern body advanced up the slopes; but, as Gurko's
men were unable to make their diversion in time, the attack failed. An
isolated attempt by Gurko's force on the next day also failed, the defenders
disgracing themselves by tricking the Russians with the white flag and
firing upon them. But the Turks were now in difficulties for want of food
and water; or possibly they were seized with panic. At any rate, while
amusing the Russians with proposals of surrender, they stole off in small
bodies, early on July 19. The truth was, ere long, found out by outposts of
the north Russian forces; Skobeleff and his men were soon at the summit,
and there Gurko's vanguard speedily joined them with shouts of joy.
Thus, within twenty-three days from the crossing of the Danube Gurko
seized two passes of the Balkans, besides capturing 800 prisoners and 13
guns. It is not surprising that a Turkish official despatch of July 21 to
Suleiman summed up the position: "The existence of the Empire hangs on a

hair." And when Gurko's light troops proceeded to raid the valley of the
Maritsa, it seemed that the Turkish defence would collapse as helplessly as
in the memorable campaign of 1828. We must add here that the Bulgarians
now began to revenge themselves for the outrages of May 1876; and the
struggle was sullied by horrible acts on both sides.
The impression produced by these dramatic strokes was profound and
widespread. The British fleet was sent to Besika Bay, a step preparatory, as
it seemed, to steaming up the Dardanelles to the Sea of Marmora. At
Adrianople crowds of Moslems fled away in wild confusion towards
Constantinople. There the frequent meetings of ministers at the Sultan's
palace testified to the extent of the alarm; and that nervous despot wavered
between the design of transferring the seat of government to Brussa in Asia
Minor, and that of unfurling the standard of the Prophet and summoning all
the faithful to rally to its defence against the infidels. Finally he took
courage from despair, and adopted the more manly course. But first he
disgraced his ministers. The War Minister and Abdul-Kerim were
summarily deposed, the latter being sent off as prisoner to the island of
Lemnos.
All witnesses agree that the War Minister, Redif Pasha, was incapable and
corrupt. The age and weakness of Abdul-Kerim might have excused his
comparative inaction in the Quadrilateral in the first half of July. It is
probable that his plan of campaign, described above, was sound; but he
lacked the vigour, and the authorities at Constantinople lacked the courage,
to carry it out thoroughly and consistently.
Mehemet Ali Pasha, a renegade German, who had been warring with some
success in Montenegro, assumed the supreme command on July 22; and
Suleiman Pasha, who, with most of his forces had been brought by sea from
Antivari to the mouth of the River Maritsa, now gathered together all the
available troops for the defence of Roumelia.
The Czar, on his side, cherished hopes of ending the war while Fortune
smiled on his standards. There are good grounds for thinking that he had
entered on it with great reluctance. In its early stages he let the British
Government know of his desire to come to terms with Turkey; and now his
War Minister, General Milutin, hinted to Colonel F.A. Wellesley, British

attaché at headquarters, that the mediation of Great Britain would be
welcomed by Russia. That officer on July 30 had an interview with the
Emperor, who set forth the conditions on which he would be prepared to
accept peace with Turkey. They were--the recovery of the strip of
Bessarabia lost in 1856, and the acquisition of Batoum in Asia Minor.
Alexander II. also stated that he would not occupy Constantinople unless
that step were necessitated by the course of events; that the Powers would
be invited to a conference for the settlement of Turkish affairs; and that he
had no wish to interfere with the British spheres of interest already referred
to. Colonel Wellesley at once left headquarters for London, but on the
following day the aspect of the campaign underwent a complete change,
which, in the opinion of the British Government, rendered futile all hope of
a settlement on the conditions laid down by the Czar.[141]
For now, when the Turkish cause seemed irrevocably lost, the work of a
single brave man to the north of the Balkans dried up, as if by magic, the
flood of invasion, brought back victory to the standards of Islam, and bade
fair to overwhelm the presumptuous Muscovites in the waters of the
Danube. Moltke in his account of the war of 1828, had noted a peculiarity
of the Ottomans in warfare (a characteristic which they share with the
glorious defenders of Saragossa in 1808) of beginning the real defence
when others would abandon it as hopeless. This remark, if not true of the
Turkish army as a whole, certainly applies to that part of it which was
thrilled to deeds of daring by Osman Pasha.
More fighting had fallen to him perhaps than to any Turk of his time. He
was now forty years of age; his frame, slight and of middle height, gave no
promise of strength or capacity; neither did his face, until the observer
noted the power of his eyes to take in the whole situation "with one slow
comprehensive look[142]." This gave him a magnetic faculty, the effect of
which was not wholly marred by his disdainful manners, curt speech, and
contemptuous treatment of foreigners. Clearly here was a cold, sternly
objective nature like that of Bonaparte. He was a good representative of the
stolid Turk of the provinces, who, far from the debasing influence of the
Court, retains the fanaticism and love of war on behalf of his creed that
make his people terrible even in the days of decline[143].

In accordance with the original design of Abdul-Kerim, Osman had for
some time remained passive at Widdin. On receiving orders from the
commander-in-chief, he moved eastwards on July 13, with 40,000 men, to
save Nicopolis. Finding himself too late to save that place he then laid his
plans for the seizure of Plevna. The importance of that town, as a great
centre of roads, and as possessing many advantages for defence on the hills
around, had been previously pointed out to the Russian Staff by Prince
Charles of Roumania, as indeed, earlier still, by Moltke. Accordingly, the
Grand Duke Nicholas had directed a small force of cavalry towards that
town. General Krüdener made the mistake of recalling it in order to assist in
the attack on Nicopolis on July 14-16, an unlucky move, which enabled
Osman to occupy Plevna without resistance on July 19[144]. On the 18th
the Grand Duke Nicholas ordered General Krüdener to occupy Plevna.
Knowing nothing of Osman's whereabouts, his vanguard advanced
heedlessly on the town, only to meet with a very decided repulse, which
cost the Russians 3000 men (July 20).
Osman now entrenched himself on the open downs that stretch eastwards
from Plevna. As will be seen by reference to the map on page 213, his
position, roughly speaking, formed an ellipse pointing towards the village
of Grivitza. Above that village his engineers threw up two great redoubts
which dominated the neighbourhood. Other redoubts and trenches screened
Plevna on the north-east and south. Finally, the crowns of three main slopes
lying to the east of Plevna bristled with defensive works. West of the town
lay the deep vale of the little River Wid, itself the chief defence on that side.
We may state here that during the long operations against Plevna the
Russians had to content themselves with watching this western road to
Orkanye and Sofia by means of cavalry; but the reinforcements from Sofia
generally made their way in. From that same quarter the Turks were also
able to despatch forces to occupy the town of Lovtcha, between Plevna and
the Shipka Pass.
The Russian Staff, realising its error in not securing this important centre of
roads, and dimly surmising the strength of the entrenchments which Osman
was throwing up near to the base of their operations, determined to attack
Plevna at once. Their task proved to be one of unexpected magnitude.
Already the long curve of the outer Turkish lines spread along slopes which
formed natural glacis, while the ground farther afield was so cut up by

hollows as to render one combined assault very difficult. The strength, and
even the existence, of some of Osman's works were unknown. Finally, the
Russians are said to have had only 32,000 infantry men at hand with two
brigades of cavalry.
Nevertheless, Generals Krüdener and Schahofski received orders to attack
forthwith. They did so on July 31. The latter, with 12,000 men took two of
the outer redoubts on the south side, but had to fall back before the deadly
fire that poured on him from the inner works. Krüdener operated against the
still stronger positions on the north; but, owing to difficulties that beset his
advance, he was too late to make any diversion in favour of his colleague.
In a word, the attack was ill planned and still worse combined. Five hours
of desperate fighting yielded the assailants not a single substantial gain;
their losses were stated officially to be 7336 killed and wounded; but this is
certainly below the truth. Turkish irregulars followed the retreating columns
at nightfall, and butchered the wounded, including all whom they found in a
field-hospital.
This second reverse at Plevna was a disaster of the first magnitude. The
prolongation of the Russian line beyond the Balkans had left their base and
flanks too weak to stand against the terrible blows that Osman seemed
about to deal from his point of vantage. Plevna was to their right flank what
Biela was to their left. Troops could not be withdrawn from the latter point
lest the Turks from Shumla and Rustchuk should break through and cut
their way to the bridge at Sistova; and now Osman's force threatened that
spinal cord of the Russian communications. If he struck how could the blow
be warded off? For bad news poured in from all quarters. From Armenia
came the tidings that Mukhtar Pasha, after a skilful retreat and
concentration of force, had turned on the Russians and driven them back in
utter confusion.
From beyond the Balkans Gurko sent news that Suleiman's army was
working round by way of Adrianople, and threatened to pin him to the
mountain chain. In fact, part of Gurko's corps sustained a serious reverse at
Eski Zagra, and had to retreat in haste through the Khainkoi Pass; while its
other sections made their way back to the Shipka Pass, leaving a rearguard
to hold that important position (July 30-August 8). Thus, on all sides, proofs
accumulated that the invaders had attempted far too much for their strength,

and that their whole plan of campaign was more brilliant than sound.
Possibly, had not the 14th corps been thrown away on the unhealthy
Dobrudscha, enough men would have been at hand to save the situation.
But now everything was at stake.
The whole of the month of August was a time of grave crisis for the
Russians, and it is the opinion of the best military critics that the Turks,
with a little more initiative and power of combination, might have thrown
the Russians back on the Danube in utter disarray. From this extremity the
invaders were saved by the lack among the Turks of the above-named gifts,
on which, rather than on mere bravery, the issue of campaigns and the fate
of nations now ultimately depend. True to their old renown, the Turks
showed signal prowess on the field of battle, but they lacked the higher
intellectual qualities that garner the full harvest of results.
Osman, either because he knew not that the Russians had used up their last
reserves at Plevna, or because he mistrusted the manoeuvring powers of his
men, allowed Krüdener quietly to draw off his shattered forces towards
Sistova, and made only one rather half-hearted move against that all-
important point. The new Turkish commander-in-chief, Mehemet Ali,
gathered a formidable array in front of Shumla and drove the Russian army
now led by the Cesarewich back on Biela, but failed to pierce their lines.
Finally, Suleiman Pasha, in his pride at driving Gurko through the Khainkoi
Pass, wasted time on the southern side, first by harrying the wretched
Bulgarians, and then by hurling his brave troops repeatedly against the now
almost impregnable position on the Shipka Pass.
It is believed that jealousy of the neighbouring Turkish generals kept
Suleiman from adopting less wasteful and more effective tactics. If he had
made merely a feint of attacking that post, and had hurried with his main
body through the Slievno Pass on the east to the aid of Mehemet, or through
the western defiles of the Balkans to the help of the brave Osman in his
Plevna-Lovtcha positions, probably the gain of force to one or other of them
might have led to really great results. As it was, these generals dealt heavy
losses to the invaders, but failed to drive them back on the Danube.
Moreover, Russian reinforcements began to arrive by the middle of August,
the Emperor having already, on July 22, called out the first ban of the

militia and three divisions of the reserve of the line, in all some 224,000
men[145].
The bulk of these men did not arrive until September; and meanwhile the
strain was terrible. The war correspondence of Mr. Archibald Forbes reveals
the state of nervous anxiety in which Alexander II. was plunged at this time.
Forbes had been a witness of the savage tenacity of the Turkish attack and
the Russian defence on the hills commanding the Shipka Pass. Finally, he
had shared in the joy of the hard-pressed defenders at the timely advent of a
rifle battalion hastily sent up on Cossack ponies, and the decisive charge of
General Radetzky at the head of two companies of reserves at a Turkish
breastwork in the very crisis of the fight (Aug. 24). Then, after riding post-
haste northwards to the Russian headquarters at Gornisstuden, he was at
once taken to the Czar's tent, and noted the look of eager suspense on his
face until he heard the reassuring news that Radetzky kept his seat firm on
the pass.
The worst was now over. The Russian Guards, 50,000 strong, were near at
hand, along with the other reinforcements above named. The urgency of the
crisis also led the Grand Duke Nicholas to waive his claim that the
Roumanian troops should be placed under his immediate command.
Accordingly, early in August, Prince Charles led some 35,000 Roumanians
across the Danube, and was charged with the command of all the troops
around Plevna[146]. The hopes of the invaders were raised by Skobeleff's
capture, on September 3, of Lovtcha, a place half-way between Plevna and
the Balkans, which had ensured Osman's communications with Suleiman
Pasha. The Turkish losses at Lovtcha are estimated at nearly 15,000
men[147].
This success having facilitated the attack on Plevna from the south, a
general assault was ordered for September 11. In the meantime Osman also
had received large reinforcements from Sofia, and had greatly strengthened
his defences. So skilfully had outworks been thrown up on the north-east of
Plevna that what looked like an unimportant trench was found to be a new
and formidable redoubt, which foiled the utmost efforts of the 3rd
Roumanian division to struggle up the steep slopes on that side. To their 4th
division and to a Russian brigade fell an equally hard task, that of
advancing from the east against the two Grivitza redoubts which had defied

all assaults. The Turks showed their usual constancy, despite the heavy and
prolonged bombardment which preluded the attack here and all along the
lines. But the weight and vigour of the onset told by degrees; and the
Russian and Roumanian supports finally carried by storm the more
southerly of the two redoubts. The Turks made desperate efforts to retrieve
this loss. From the northern redoubt and the rear entrenchments somewhat
to the south there came a galling fire which decimated the victors; for a
time the Turks succeeded in recovering the work, but at nightfall the
advance of other Russian and Roumanian troops ousted the Moslems.
Thenceforth the redoubt was held by the allies.
Meanwhile, to the south of the village of Grivitza the 4th and 9th Russian
Corps had advanced in dense masses against the cluster of redoubts that
crowned the heights south-east of Plevna; but their utmost efforts were
futile; under the fearful fire of the Turks the most solid lines melted away,
and the corps fell back at nightfall, with the loss of 110 officers and 5200
men.
Only on the south and south-west did the assailants seriously imperil
Osman's defence at a vital point; and here again Fortune bestowed her
favours on a man who knew how to wrest the utmost from her, Michael
Dimitrievitch Skobeleff. Few men or women could look on his stalwart
figure, frank, bold features, and keen, kindling eyes without a thrill of
admiration. Tales were told by the camp-fires of the daring of his early
exploits in Central Asia; how, after the capture of Khiva in 1874, he dressed
himself in Turkoman garb, and alone explored the route from that city to
Igdy, as well as the old bed of the River Oxus; or again how, at the capture
of Khokand in the following year, his skill and daring led to the overthrow
of a superior force and the seizure of fifty-eight guns. Thus, at thirty-two
years of age he was the darling of the troops; for his prowess in the field
was not more marked than his care and foresight in the camp. While other
generals took little heed of their men, he saw to their comforts and cheered
them by his jokes. They felt that he was the embodiment of the patriotism,
love of romantic exploit, and soaring ambition of the Great Russians.
They were right. Already, as will appear in a later chapter, he was dreaming
of the conquest of India; and, like Napoleon, he could not only see visions
but also master details, from the principles of strategy to the routine of

camp life, which made those visions realisable. If ambition spurred him on
towards Delhi, hatred of things Teutonic pointed him to Berlin. Ill would it
have fared with the peace of the world had this champion of the Slavonic
race lived out his life. But his fiery nature wore out its tenement, the baser
passions, so it is said, contributing to hasten the end of one who lived his
true life only amidst the smoke of battle. In war he was sublime. Having
recently came from Central Asia, he was at first unattached to any corps,
and roved about in search of the fiercest fighting. His insight and skill had
warded off a deadly flank attack on Schahofski's shattered corps at Plevna
on July 30, and his prowess had contributed largely to the capture of
Lovtcha on September 3. War correspondents, who knew their craft, turned
to follow Skobeleff, wherever official reports might otherwise direct them;
and the lust of fighting laid hold of the grey columns when they saw the
"white general" approach.
On September 11 Prince Imeritinski and Skobeleff (the order should be
inverted) commanded the extreme left of the Russian line, attacking Plevna
from the south. Having four regiments of the line and four battalions of
sharpshooters--about 12,000 men in all--he ranged them at the foot of the
hill, whose summit was crowned by an all-important redoubt-the
"Kavanlik." There were four others that flanked the approach. When the
Russian guns had thoroughly cleared the way for an assault, he ordered the
bands to play and the two leading regiments to charge up the slope. Keeping
his hand firmly on the pulse of the battle, he saw them begin to waver under
the deadly fire of the Turks; at once he sent up a rival regiment; the new
mass carried on the charge until it too threatened to die away. The fourth
regiment struggled up into that wreath of death, and with the like result.
Then Skobeleff called on his sharpshooters to drive home

Plan of Plevna.
the onset. Riding on horseback before the invigorating lines, he swept on
the stragglers and waverers until all of them came under the full blast of the
Turkish flames vomited from the redoubt. There his sword fell, shivered in
his hand, and his horse rolled over at the very verge of the fosse. Fierce as
ever, the leader sprang to his feet, waved the stump in air, and uttered a
shout which put fresh heart into his men. With him they swarmed into the
fosse, up the bank, and fell on the defenders. The bayonet did the rest,
taking deadly revenge for the murderous volleys.
But Osman's engineers had provided against such an event. The redoubt
was dominated from the left and could be swept by cross fire from the rear
and right. On the morrow the Turks drew in large forces from the north side
and pressed the victors hard. In vain did Skobeleff send urgent messages for
reinforcements to make good the gaps in his ranks. None were sent, or
indeed could be sent. Five times his men beat off the foe. The sixth charge
hurled them first from the Kavanlik redoubt, and thereafter from the
flanking works and trenches out on to that fatal slope. A war correspondent
saw Skobeleff after this heart-breaking loss, "his face black with powder

and smoke, his eyes haggard and bloodshot, and his voice quite gone. I
never before saw such a picture of battle[148]."
Thus all the efforts of the Russians and Roumanians had failed to wrest
more than a single redoubt from the Moslems; and at that point they were
unable to make any advance against the inner works. The fighting of
September 11-12 is believed to have cost the allies 18,000 men killed and
wounded out of the 75,000 infantrymen engaged. The mistakes of July 31
had been again repeated. The number of assailants was too small for an
attack on so great an extent of fortified positions defended with quick-firing
rifles. Had the Russians, while making feints at other points to hold the
Turks there, concentrated their efforts either on the two Grivitza redoubts,
or on those about the Kavanlik work, they would almost certainly have
succeeded. As it was, they hurled troops in close order against lines, the
strength of which was not well known; and none of their commanders but
Skobeleff employed tactics that made the most of their forces[149]. The
depression at the Russian headquarters was now extreme[150]. On
September 13 the Emperor held a council of war at which the Prince of
Roumania, the Grand Duke Nicholas, General Milutin (Minister of War),
and three other generals were present. The Grand Duke declared that the
only prudent course was to retire to the Danube, construct a tête de pont
guarding the southern end of their bridge and, after receiving
reinforcements, again begin the conquest of Bulgaria. General Milutin,
however, demurred to this, seeing that Osman's army was not mobile
enough to press them hard; he therefore proposed to await the
reinforcements in the positions around Plevna. The Grand Duke thereupon
testily exclaimed that Milutin had better be placed in command, to which
the Emperor replied: "No; you shall retain the command; but the plan
suggested by the Minister of War shall be carried out[151]."
The Emperor's decision saved the situation. The Turks made no combined
effort to advance towards Plevna in force; and Osman felt too little trust in
the new levies that reached him from Sofia to move into the open and attack
Sistova. Indeed, Turkish strategy over the whole field of war is open to
grave censure. On their side there was a manifest lack of combination.
Mehemet Ali pounded away for a month at the army of the Czarewitch on
the River Lom, and then drew back his forces (September 24). He allowed
Suleiman Pasha to fling his troops in vain against the natural stronghold of

the Russians at the Shipka Pass, and had made no dispositions for
succouring Lovtcha. Obviously he should have concentrated the Turkish
forces so as to deal a timely and decisive blow either on the Lom or on the
Sofia-Plevna road. When he proved his incapacity both as commander-in-
chief and as commander of his own force, Turkish jealousy against the
quondam German flared forth; and early in October he was replaced by
Suleiman. The change was greatly for the worse. Suleiman's pride and
obstinacy closed the door against larger ideas, and it has been confidently
stated that at the end of the campaign he was bribed by the Russians to
betray his cause. However that may be, it is certain that the Turkish generals
continued to fight, each for his own hand, and thus lost the campaign.
It was now clear that Osman must be starved out from the position which
the skill of his engineers and the steadiness of his riflemen had so speedily
transformed into an impregnable stronghold. Todleben, the Russian
engineer, who had strengthened the outworks of Sevastopol, had been
called up to oppose trench to trench, redoubt to redoubt. Yet so extensive
were the Turkish works, and so active was Shevket Pasha's force at Sofia in
sending help and provisions, that not until October 24 was the line of
investment completed, and by an army which now numbered fully 120,000
men. By December 10 Osman came to the end of his resources and strove
to break out on the west over the River Wid towards Sofia. Masking the
movement with great skill, he inflicted heavy losses on the besiegers.
Slowly, however, they closed around him, and a last scene of slaughter
ended in the surrender of the 43,000 half-starved survivors, with the 77
guns that had wrought such havoc among the invaders. Osman's defence is
open to criticism at some points, but it had cost Russia more than 50,000
lives, and paralysed her efforts in Europe during five months.
The operations around Plevna are among the most instructive in modern
warfare, as illustrating the immense power that quick-firing rifles confer
upon the defence. Given a nucleus of well-trained troops, with skilled
engineers, any position of ordinary strength can quickly be turned into a
stronghold that will foil the efforts of a far greater number of assailants.
Experience at Plevna showed that four or five times as many men were
needed to attack redoubts and trenches as in the days of muzzle-loading
muskets. It also proved that infantry fire is far more deadly in such cases
than the best served artillery. And yet a large part of Osman's troops--

perhaps the majority after August--were not regulars. Doubtless that
explains why (with the exception of an obstinate but unskilful effort to
break out on August 31) he did not attack the Russians in the open after his
great victories of July 31 and September 11-12. On both occasions the
Russians were so badly shaken that, in the opinion of competent judges,
they could easily have been driven in on Nicopolis or Sistova, in which case
the bridges at those places might have been seized. But Osman did not do
so, doubtless because he knew that his force, weak in cavalry and unused to
manoeuvring, would be at a disadvantage in the open. Todleben, however,
was informed on good authority that, when the Turkish commander heard
of the likelihood of the investment of Plevna, he begged the Porte to allow
him to retire; but the assurance of Shevket Pasha, the commander of the
Turkish force at Sofia, that he could keep open communications between
that place and Plevna, decided the authorities at Constantinople to order the
continuance of defensive tactics[152].
Whatever may have been the cause of this decision it ruined the Turkish
campaign. Adherence to the defensive spells defeat now, as it has always
done. Defeat comes more slowly now that quick-firing rifles quadruple the
power of the defence; but all the same it must come if the assailant has
enough men to throw on that point and then at other points. Or, to use
technical terms, while modern inventions alter tactics, that is, the
dispositions of troops on the field of battle--a fact which the Russians
seemed to ignore at Plevna--they do not change the fundamental principles
of strategy. These are practically immutable, and they doom to failure the
side that, at the critical points, persists in standing on the defensive. A study
of the events around Plevna shows clearly what a brave but ill-trained army
can do and what it cannot do under modern conditions.
From the point of view of strategy--that is, the conduct of the great
operations of a campaign--Osman's defence of Plevna yields lessons of
equal interest. It affords the most brilliant example in modern warfare of the
power of a force strongly intrenched in a favourable position to "contain,"
that is, to hold or hold back, a greater force of the enemy. Other examples
are the Austrian defence of Mantua in 1796-97, which hindered the young
Bonaparte's invasion of the Hapsburg States; Bazaine's defence of Metz in
1870; and Sir George White's defence of Ladysmith against the Boers. We
have no space in which to compare these cases, in which the conditions

varied so greatly. Suffice it to say that Mantua and Plevna were the most
effective instances, largely because those strongholds lay near the most
natural and easy line of advance for the invaders. Metz and Ladysmith
possessed fewer advantages in this respect; and, considering the strength of
the fortress and the size and quality of his army, Bazaine's conduct at Metz
must rank as the weakest on record; for his 180,000 troops "contained"
scarcely more than their own numbers of Germans.
On the other hand, Osman's force brought three times its number of
Russians to a halt for five months before hastily constructed lines. In the
opinion of many authorities the Russians did wrong in making the whole
campaign depend on Plevna. When it was clear that Osman would cling to
the defensive, they might with safety have secretly detached part of the
besieging force to help the army of the Czarewitch to drive back the Turks
on Shumla. This would have involved no great risk; for the Russians
occupied the inner lines of what was, roughly speaking, a triangle, resting
on the Shipka Pass, the River Lom, and Plevna as its extreme points.
Having the advantage of the inner position, they could quickly have moved
part of their force at Plevna, battered in the Turkish defence on the Lom,
and probably captured the Slievno passes. In that case they would have
cleared a new line of advance to Constantinople farther to the east, and
made the possession of Plevna of little worth. Its value always lay in its
nearness to their main line of advance, but they were not tied to that line. It
is safe to say that, if Moltke had directed their operations, he would have
devised some better plan than that of hammering away at the redoubts of
Plevna.
In fact, the Russians made three great blunders: first, in neglecting to
occupy Plevna betimes; second, in underrating Osman's powers of defence;
third, in concentrating all their might on what was a very strong, but not an
essential, point of the campaign.
The closing scenes of the war are of little interest except in the domain of
diplomacy. Servia having declared war against Turkey immediately after
the fall of Plevna, the Turks were now hopelessly outnumbered. Gurko
forced his way over one of the western passes of the Balkans, seized Sofia
(January 4, 1878), and advancing quickly towards Philippopolis, utterly
routed Suleiman's main force near that town (January 17). The Turkish

commander-in-chief thus paid for his mistake in seeking to defend a
mountain chain with several passes by distributing his army among those
passes. Experience has proved that this invites disaster at the hands of an
enterprising foe, and that the true policy is to keep light troops or scouts at
all points, and the main forces at a chief central pass and at a convenient
place in the rear, whence the invaders may be readily assailed before they
complete the crossing. As it was, Suleiman saw his main force, still nearly
50,000 strong, scatter over the Rhodope mountains; many of them reached
the Aegean Sea at Enos, whence they were conveyed by ship to the
Dardanelles. He himself was tried by court-martial and imprisoned for
fifteen years[153].
A still worse fate befell those of his troops which hung about Radetzky's
front below the Shipka Pass. The Russians devised skilful moves for
capturing this force. On January 5-8 Prince Mirsky threaded his way with a
strong column through the deep snows of the Travna Pass, about twenty-
five miles east of the Shipka, which he then approached; while Skobeleff
struggled through a still more difficult defile west of the central position.
The total strength of the Russians was 56,000 men. On the 8th, when their
cannon were heard thundering in the rear of the Turkish earthworks at the
foot of the Shipka Pass, Radetzky charged down on the Turkish positions in
front, while Mirsky assailed them from the east. Skobeleff meanwhile had
been detained by the difficulties of the path and the opposition of the Turks
on the west. But on the morrow his onset on the main Turkish positions
carried all before it. On all sides the Turks were worsted and laid down their
arms; 36,000 prisoners and 93 guns (so the Russians claim) were the prize
of this brilliant feat (January 9, 1878)[154].
In Roumelia, as in Armenia, there now remained comparatively few Turkish
troops to withstand the Russian advance, and the capture of Constantinople
seemed to be a matter of a few weeks. There are grounds for thinking that
the British Ministry, or certainly its chief, longed to send troops from Malta
to help in its defence. Colonel Wellesley, British attaché at the Russian
headquarters, returned to London at the time when the news of the crossing
of the Balkans reached the Foreign Office. At once he was summoned to see
the Prime Minister, who inquired eagerly as to the length of time which
would elapse before the Russians occupied Adrianople. The officer thought
that that event might occur within a month--an estimate which proved to be

above the mark. Lord Beaconsfield was deeply concerned to hear this and
added, "If you can only guarantee me six weeks, I see my way." He did not
further explain his meaning; but Colonel Wellesley felt sure that he wished
to move British troops from Malta to Constantinople[155]. Fortunately the
Russian advance to Adrianople was so speedy--their vanguard entered that
city on January 20--as to dispose of any such project. But it would seem
that only the utter collapse of the Turkish defence put an end to the plans of
part at least of the British Cabinet for an armed intervention on behalf of
Turkey.
Here, then, as at so many points of their history, the Turks lost their
opportunity, and that, too, through the incapacity and corruption of their
governing class. The war of 1877 ended as so many of their wars had
ended. Thanks to the bravery of their rank and file and the mistakes of the
invaders, they gained tactical successes at some points; but they failed to
win the campaign owing to the inability of their Government to organise
soundly on a great scale, and the intellectual mediocrity of their
commanders in the sphere of strategy. Mr. Layard, who succeeded Sir
Henry Elliot at Constantinople early in 1878, had good reason for writing,
"The utter rottenness of the present system has been fully revealed by the
present war[156]." Whether Suleiman was guilty of perverse obstinacy, or,
as has often been asserted, of taking bribes from the Russians, cannot be
decided. What is certain is that he was largely responsible for the final
débacle.
But in a wider and deeper sense the Turks owed their misfortunes to
themselves--to their customs and their creed. Success in war depends
ultimately on the brain-power of the chief leaders and organisers; and that
source of strength has long ago been dried up in Turkey by adhesion to a
sterilising creed and cramping traditions. The wars of the latter half of the
nineteenth century are of unique interest, not only because they have built
up the great national fabrics of to-day, but also because they illustrate the
truth of that suggestive remark of the great Napoleon, "The general who
does great things is he who also possesses qualities adapted for civil life."

FOOTNOTES:

[129] Hertslet, vol. iv. p. 2625.
[130] The Campaign in Bulgaria, by F.V. Greene, pt. ii. ch. i.; W.V. Herbert,
The Defence of Plevna, chaps, i.-ii.
[131] Aus drei Kriegen, by Gen. von Lignitz, p. 99.
[132] With the Russians in War and Peace, by Colonel F.A. Wellesley
(1905), ch. xvii.
[133] Hertslet, vol. iv. p. 2577.
[134] Reminiscences of the King of Roumania, edited by S. Whitman
(1899), pp. 269, 274.
[135] Farcy, La Guerre sur le Danube, p. 73. For other malpractices see
Colonel F.A. Wellesley's With the Russians in Peace and War, chs. xi. xii.
[136] Punch hit off the situation by thus parodying the well-known line of
Horace: "Russicus expectat dum defluat amnis."
[137] Quoted from a report by an eye-witness, by "O.K." (Madame
Novikoff), Skobeleff and the Slavonic Cause, p. 38. The crossing was
planned by the Grand Duke Nicholas; see von Lignitz, Aus drei Kriegen, p.
149.
[138] F.V. Green, Sketches of Army Life in Russia, p. 142.
[139] Farcy, La Guerre sur le Danube, ch. viii.; Daily News
Correspondence of the War of 1877-78, ch. viii.
[140] General Gurko's Advance Guard In 1877, by Colonel Epauchin,
translated by H. Havelock (The Wolseley Series, 1900), ch. ii.; The Daily
News War Correspondence (1877), pp. 263-270.
[141] Parl. Papers, Turkey, No. 9 (1878), Nos. 2, 3. With the Russians in
Peace and War, by Colonel the Hon. F.A. Wellesley, ch. xx.
[142] W.W. Herbert, The Defence of Plevna, p. 81.
[143] For these qualities, see Turkey in Europe, by "Odysseus," p. 97.

[144] Herbert, The Defence of Plevna, p. 129.
[145] F.V. Greene, The Campaign in Bulgaria, p. 225.
[146] Reminiscences of the King of Roumania, p. 275.
[147] F.V. Greene, op. cit. p. 232.
[148] War Correspondence of the "Daily News," pp. 479-483. For another
character-sketch of Skobeleff see the Fortnightly Review of Oct. 1882, by
W.K. Rose.
[149] For an account of the battle, see Greene, op. cit. pt. ii. chap. v.
[150] Gen. von. Lignitz, Aus drei Kriegen, p. 167.
[151] Col. F.A. Wellesley, op. cit. p. 281.
[152] A. Forbes, Czar and Sultan, p. 291. On the other hand, W.V. Herbert
(op. cit. p. 456) states that it was Osman's wish to retire to Orkanye, on the
road to Sofia, and that this was forbidden. For remarks on this see Greene,
op. cit. chap. viii.
[153] Sir N. Layard attributed to him the overthrow of Turkey. See his letter
of February 1, 1878, in Sir W. White: Life and Correspondence, p. 127.
[154] Greene, op. cit. chap. xi. I have been assured by an Englishman
serving with the Turks that these numbers were greatly exaggerated.
[155] With the Russians in Peace and War, by Colonel F.A. Wellesley, p.
272.
[156] Sir William White: Life and Correspondence, p. 128.

CHAPTER IX
THE BALKAN SETTLEMENT

New hopes should animate the world; new light
Should dawn from new revealings to a race
Weighed down so long, forgotten so long.

ROBERT BROWNING, Paracelsus.

The collapse of the Turkish defence in Roumelia inaugurated a time of great
strain and stress in Anglo-Russian relations. On December 13, 1877, that is,
three days after the fall of Plevna, Lord Derby reminded the Russian
Government of its promise of May 30, 1876, that the acquisition of
Constantinople was excluded from the wishes and intentions of the
Emperor Alexander II., and expressed the earnest hope that the Turkish
capital would not be occupied, even for military purposes. The reply of the
Russian Chancellor (December 16) was reserved. It claimed that Russia
must have full right of action, which is the right of every belligerent, and
closed with a request for a clearer definition of the British interests which
would be endangered by such a step. In his answer of January 13, 1878, the
British Foreign Minister specified the occupation of the Dardanelles as an
event that would endanger the good relations between England and Russia;
whereupon Prince Gortchakoff, on January 16, 1878, gave the assurance
that this step would not be taken unless British forces were landed at
Gallipoli, or Turkish troops were concentrated there.
So far this was satisfactory; but other signs seemed to betoken a resolve on
the part of Russia to gain time while her troops pressed on towards
Constantinople. The return of the Czar to St. Petersburg after the fall of
Plevna had left more power in the hands of the Grand Duke Nicholas and of
the many generals who longed to revenge themselves for the disasters in
Bulgaria by seizing Constantinople.

In face of the probability of this event, public opinion in England underwent
a complete change. Russia appeared no longer as the champion of
oppressed Christians, but as an ambitious and grasping Power. Mr.
Gladstone's impassioned appeals for non-intervention lost their effect, and a
warlike feeling began to prevail. The change of feeling was perfectly
natural. Even those who claimed that the war might have been averted by
the adoption of a different policy by the Beaconsfield Cabinet, had to face
the facts of the situation; and these were extremely grave.
The alarm increased when it was known that Turkey, on January 3, 1878,
had appealed to the Powers for their mediation, and that Germany had
ostentatiously refused. It seemed probable that Russia, relying on the
support of Germany, would endeavour to force her own terms on the Porte.
Lord Loftus, British Ambassador at St. Petersburg, was therefore charged to
warn the Ministers of the Czar (January 16) that any treaty made separately
between Russia and Turkey, which affected the international treaties of
1856 and 1871, would not be valid without the consent of all the signatory
Powers. Four days later the Muscovite vanguard entered Adrianople, and it
appeared likely that peace would soon be dictated at Constantinople without
regard to the interests of Great Britain and Austria.
Such was the general position when Parliament met at Westminster on
January 17. The Queen's Speech contained the significant phrase that,
should hostilities be unfortunately prolonged, some unexpected occurrence
might render it incumbent to adopt measures of precaution. Five days later
it transpired that the Sultan had sent an appeal to Queen Victoria for her
mediation with a view to arranging an armistice and the discussion of the
preliminaries of peace. In accordance with this appeal, the Queen
telegraphed to the Emperor of Russia in these terms:--

I have received a direct appeal from the Sultan which
I cannot
leave without an answer. Knowing that you are
sincerely desirous
of peace, I do not hesitate to communicate this fact
to you, in hope
that you may accelerate the negotiations for the

conclusion of an
armistice which may lead to an honourable peace.

This communication was sent with the approval of the Cabinet. The nature
of the reply is not known. Probably it was not encouraging; for on the next
day (January 23) the British Admiralty ordered Admiral Hornby with the
Mediterranean fleet to steam up the Dardanelles to Constantinople. On the
following day this was annulled, and the Admiral was directed not to
proceed beyond Besika Bay[157]. The original order was the cause of the
resignation of Lord Carnarvon. The retirement of Lord Derby was also
announced, but he afterwards withdrew it, probably on condition that the
fleet did not enter the Sea of Marmora.
Light was thus thrown on the dissensions in the Cabinet, and the
vacillations in British policy. Disraeli once said in his whimsical way that
there were six parties in the Ministry. The first party wanted immediate war
with Russia; the second was for war in order to save Constantinople; the
third was for peace at any price; the fourth would let the Russians take
Constantinople and then turn them out; the fifth wanted to plant the cross on
the dome of St. Sofia; "and then there are the Prime Minister and the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, who desire to see something done, but don't
know exactly what[158]." The coupling of himself with the amiable Sir
Stafford Northcote is a good instance of Disraelian irony. It is fairly certain
that he was for war with Russia; that Lord Carnarvon constituted the third
party, and Lord Derby the fourth.
On the day after the resignation of Lord Carnarvon, the British Cabinet
heard for the first time what were the demands of Russia. They included the
formation of a Greater Bulgaria, "within the limits of the Bulgarian
nationality," practically independent of the Sultan's direct control; the entire
independence of Roumania, Servia, and Montenegro; a territorial and
pecuniary indemnity to Russia for the expenses of the war; and "an ulterior
understanding for safeguarding the rights and interests of Russia in the
Straits."
The extension of Bulgaria to the shores of the Aegean seemed at that time a
mighty triumph for Russian influence; but it was the last item, vaguely
foreshadowing the extension of Russian influence to the Dardanelles, that

most aroused the alarm of the British Cabinet. Russian control of those
straits would certainly have endangered Britain's connections with India by
way of the Suez Canal, seeing that we then had no foothold in Egypt.
Accordingly, on January 28, the Ministry proposed to Parliament the voting
of an additional sum of £6,000,000 towards increasing the armaments of the
country. At once there arose strong protests against this proposal, especially
from the districts then suffering from the prolonged depression of trade. The
outcry was very natural; but none the less it can scarcely be justified in
view of the magnitude of the British interests then at stake. Granted that the
views of the Czar were pacific, those of his generals at the seat of war were
very much open to question[159]. The long coveted prize of
Constantinople, or the Dardanelles, was likely to tempt them to disregard
official orders from St. Petersburg, unless they knew that any imprudent
step would bring on a European war. In any case, the vote of £6,000,000
was a precautionary measure; and it probably had the effect of giving pause
to the enthusiasts at the Russian headquarters.
The preliminary bases of peace between Russia and Turkey were signed at
Adrianople (Jan. 31) on the terms summarised above, except that the Czar's
Ministers now withdrew the obnoxious clause about the Straits. A line of
demarcation was also agreed on between the hostile forces; it passed from
Derkos, a lake near the Black Sea, to the north of Constantinople, in a
southerly direction by the banks of the Karasou stream as far as the Sea of
Marmora. This gave to the Russians the lines of Tchekmedje, the chief
natural defence of Constantinople, and they occupied this position on
February 6. This fact was reported by Mr. Layard, Sir Henry Elliot's
successor at Constantinople, in alarmist terms, and it had the effect of
stilling the opposition at Westminster to the vote of credit. Though official
assurances of a reassuring kind came from Prince Gortchakoff at St.
Petersburg, the British Ministry on February 7 ordered a part of the
Mediterranean fleet to enter the Sea of Marmora for the defence of British
interests and the protection of British subjects at Constantinople. The Czar's
Government thereupon declared that if the British fleet steamed up the
Bosporus, Russian troops would enter Constantinople for the protection of
the Christian population.
This rivalry in philanthropic zeal was not pushed to its logical issue, war.
The British fleet stopped short of the Bosporus, but within sight of the

Russian lines. True, these were pushed eastwards slightly beyond the limits
agreed on with the Turks; but an arrangement was arrived at between Lord
Derby and Prince Gortchakoff (Feb. 19) that the Russians would not occupy
the lines of Bulair close to Constantinople, or the Peninsula of Gallipoli
commanding the Dardanelles, provided that British forces were not landed
in that important strait[160]. So matters rested, both sides regarding each
other with the sullenness of impotent wrath. As Bismarck said, a war would
have been a fight between an elephant and a whale.
The situation was further complicated by an invasion of Thessaly by the
Greeks (Feb. 3); but they were withdrawn at once on the urgent
remonstrance of the Powers, coupled with a promise that the claims of
Greece would be favourably considered at the general peace[161].
In truth, all the racial hatreds, aspirations, and ambitions that had so long
been pent up in the south-east of Europe now seemed on the point of
bursting forth and overwhelming civilisation in a common ruin. Just as the
earth's volcanic forces now and again threaten to tear their way through the
crust, so now the immemorial feuds of Moslems and Christians, of Greeks,
Servians, Bulgars, Wallachs, and Turks, promised to desolate the slopes of
the Balkans, of Rhodope and the Pindus, and to spread the lava tide of war
over the half of the Continent. The Russians and Bulgars, swarming over
Roumelia, glutted their revenge for past defeats and massacres by outrages
well-nigh as horrible as that of Batak. At once the fierce Moslems of the
Rhodope Mountains rose in self-defence or for vengeance. And while the
Russian eagles perforce checked their flight within sight of Stamboul, the
Greeks and Armenians of that capital--nay, the very occupants of the
foreign embassies--trembled at sight of the lust of blood that seized on the
vengeful Ottomans.
Nor was this all. Far away beyond the northern horizon the war cloud hung
heavily over the Carpathians. The statesmen of Vienna, fearing that the
terms of their bargain with Russia were now forgotten in the intoxication of
her triumph, determined to compel the victors to lay their spoils before the
Great Powers. In haste the Austrian and Hungarian troops took station on
the great bastion of the Carpathians, and began to exert on the military
situation the pressure which had been so fatal to Russia in her Turkish
campaign of 1854.

But though everything betokened war, there were forces that worked slowly
but surely for a pacific settlement. However threatening was the attitude of
Russia, her rulers really desired peace. The war had shown once again the
weakness of that Power for offence. Her strength lies in her boundless
plains, in the devotion of her millions of peasants to the Czar, and in the
patient, stubborn strength which is the outcome of long centuries of struggle
with the yearly tyrant, winter. Her weakness lies in the selfishness, frivolity,
corruption, and narrowness of outlook of her governing class--in short, in
their incapacity for organisation. Against the steady resisting power of her
peasants the great Napoleon had hurled his legions in vain. That campaign
of 1812 exhibited the strength of Russia for defence. But when, in
fallacious trust in that precedent, she has undertaken great wars far from her
base, failure has nearly always been the result. The pathetic devotion of her
peasantry has not made up for the mental and moral defects of her
governing classes. This fact had fixed itself on every competent observer in
1877. The Emperor Alexander knew it only too well. Now, early in 1878, it
was fairly certain that his army would succumb under the frontal attacks of
Turks and British, and the onset of the Austrians on their rear.
Therefore when, on Feb. 4, the Hapsburg State proposed to refer the terms
of peace to a Conference of the Powers at Vienna, the consent of Russia
was almost certain, provided that the prestige of the Czar remained
unimpaired. Three days later the place of meeting was changed to Berlin,
the Conference also becoming a Congress, that is, a meeting where the
chief Ministers of the Powers, not merely their Ambassadors, would take
part. The United Kingdom, France, and Italy at once signified their assent to
this proposal. As for Bismarck, he promised in a speech to the Reichstag
(Feb. 19) that he would act as an "honest broker" between the parties most
nearly concerned. There is little doubt that Russia took this in a sense
favourable to her claims, and she, too, consented.
Nevertheless, she sought to tie the hands of the Congress by binding Turkey
to a preliminary treaty signed on March 3 at San Stefano, a village near to
Constantinople. The terms comprised those stated above (p. 225), but they
also stipulated the cession of frontier districts to Servia and Montenegro,
while Russia was to acquire the Roumanian districts east of the River Pruth,
Roumania receiving the Dobrudscha as an equivalent. Most serious of all
was the erection of Bulgaria into an almost independent Principality,

extending nearly as far south as Midia (on the Black Sea), Adrianople,
Salonica, and beyond Ochrida in Albania. As will be seen by reference to
the map (p. 239), this Principality would then have comprised more than
half of the Balkan Peninsula, besides including districts on the Ægean Sea
and around the town of Monastir, for which the Greeks have never ceased
to cherish hopes. A Russian Commissioner was to supervise the formation
of the government for two years; all the fortresses on the Danube were to be
razed, and none others constructed; Turkish forces were required entirely to
evacuate the Principality, which was to be occupied by Russian troops for a
space of time not exceeding two years.
On her side, Turkey undertook to grant reforms to the Armenians, and
protect them from Kurds and Circassians, Russia further claimed
1,410,000,000 roubles as war indemnity, but consented to take the
Dobrudscha district (offered to Roumania, as stated above), and in Asia the
territories of Batoum, Kars, Ardahan, and Bayazid, in lieu of 1,100,000,000
roubles. The Porte afterwards declared that it signed this treaty under
persistent pressure from the Grand Duke Nicholas and General Ignatieff,
who again and again declared that otherwise the Russians would advance
on the capital[162].
At once, from all parts of the Balkan Peninsula, there arose a chorus of
protests against the Treaty of San Stefano. The Mohammedans of the
proposed State of Bulgaria protested against subjection to their former
helots. The Greeks saw in the treaty the death-blow to their hopes of
gaining the northern coasts of the Aegean and a large part of Central
Macedonia. They fulminated against the Bulgarians as ignorant peasants,
whose cause had been taken up recently by Russia for her own
aggrandisement[163]. The Servians were equally indignant. They claimed,
and with justice, that their efforts against the Turks should be rewarded by
an increase of territory which would unite to them their kinsfolk in
Macedonia and part of Bosnia, and place them on an equality with the
upstart State of Bulgaria. Whereas the treaty assigned to these protégés of
Russia districts inhabited solely by Servians, thereby barring the way to any
extension of that Principality.
Still more urgent was the protest of the Roumanian Government. In return
for the priceless services rendered by his troops at Plevna, Prince Charles

and his Ministers were kept in the dark as to the terms arranged between
Russia and Turkey. The Czar sent General Ignatieff to prepare the Prince for
the news, and sought to mollify him by the hint that he might become also
Prince of Bulgaria--a suggestion which was scornfully waved aside. The
Government at Bukharest first learnt the full truth as to the Bessarabia-
Dobrudscha exchange from the columns of the Journal du St. Pétersbourg,
which proved that the much-prized Bessarabian territory was to be
bargained away by the Power which had solemnly undertaken to uphold the
integrity of the Principality. The Prince, the Cabinet, and the people
unanimously inveighed against this proposal. On Feb. 4 the Roumanian
Chamber of Deputies declared that Roumania would defend its territory to
the last, by armed force if necessary; but it soon appeared that none of the
Powers took any interest in the matter, and, thanks to the prudence of Prince
Charles, the proud little nation gradually schooled itself to accept the
inevitable[164].
The peace of Europe now turned on the question whether the Treaty of San
Stefano would be submitted as a whole to the Congress of the Powers at
Berlin; England claimed that it must be so submitted. This contention, in its
extreme form, found no support from any of the Powers, not even from
Austria, and it met with firm opposition from Russia. She, however, assured
the Viennese Court that the Congress would decide which of the San
Stefano terms affected the interests of Europe and would pronounce on
them. The Beaconsfield Cabinet later on affirmed that "every article in the
treaty between Russia and Turkey will be placed before the Congress--not
necessarily for acceptance, but in order that it may be considered what
articles require acceptance or concurrence by the several Powers and what
do not[165]."
When this much was conceded, there remained no irreconcilable difference,
unless the treaty contained secret articles which Russia claimed to keep
back from the Congress. As far as we know, there were none. But the fact is
that the dispute, small as it now appears to us, was intensified by the
suspicions and resentment prevalent on both sides. The final decision of the
St. Petersburg Government was couched in somewhat curt and threatening
terms: "It leaves to the other Powers the liberty of raising such questions at
the Congress as they may think it fit to discuss, and reserves to itself the

liberty of accepting, or not accepting, the discussion of these
questions[166]."
This haughty reply, received at Downing Street on March 27, again brought
the two States to the verge of war. Lord Beaconsfield, and all his colleagues
but one, determined to make immediate preparations for the outbreak of
hostilities; while Lord Derby, clinging to the belief that peace would best be
preserved by ordinary negotiations, resigned the portfolio for foreign affairs
(March 28); two days later he was succeeded by the Marquis of
Salisbury[167]. On April 1 the Prime Minister gave notice of motion that
the reserves of the army and militia should be called out; and on the
morrow Lord Salisbury published a note for despatch to foreign courts
summarising the grounds of British opposition to the Treaty of San Stefano,
and to Russia's contentions respecting the Congress.
Events took a still more threatening turn fifteen days later, when the
Government ordered eight Indian regiments, along with two batteries of
artillery, to proceed at once to Malta. The measure aroused strong
differences of opinion, some seeing in it a masterly stroke which revealed
the greatness of Britain's resources, while the more nervous of the Liberal
watch-dogs bayed forth their fears that it was the beginning of a Strafford-
like plot for undermining the liberties of England.
So sharp were the differences of opinion in England, that Russia would
perhaps have disregarded the threats of the Beaconsfield Ministry had she
not been face to face with a hostile Austria. The great aim of the Czar's
government was to win over the Dual Monarchy by offering a share of the
spoils of Turkey. Accordingly, General Ignatieff went on a mission to the
continental courts, especially to that of Vienna, and there is little doubt that
he offered Bosnia to the Hapsburg Power. That was the least which Francis
Joseph and Count Andrassy had the right to expect, for the secret compact
made before the war promised them as much. In view of the enormous
strides contemplated by Russia, they now asked for certain rights in
connection with Servia and Montenegro, and commercial privileges that
would open a way to Salonica[168]. But Russia's aims, as expressed at San
Stefano, clearly were to dominate the Greater Bulgaria there foreshadowed,
which would probably shut out Austria from political and commercial
influence over the regions north of Salonica. Ignatieff's effort to gain over

Austria therefore failed; and it was doubtless Lord Beaconsfield's
confidence in the certainty of Hapsburg support in case of war that
prompted his defiance alike of Russia and of the Liberal party at home.
The Czar's Government also was well aware of the peril of arousing a
European war. Nihilism lifted its head threateningly at home; and the
Russian troops before Constantinople were dying like flies in autumn. The
outrages committed by them and the Bulgarians on the Moslems of
Roumelia had, as we have seen, led to a revolt in the district of Mount
Rhodope; and there was talk in some quarters of making a desperate effort
to cut off the invaders from the Danube[169]. The discontent of the
Roumanians might have been worked upon so as still further to endanger
the Russian communications. Probably the knowledge of these plans and of
the warlike preparations of Great Britain induced the Russian Government
to moderate its tone. On April 9 it expressed a wish that Lord Salisbury
would formulate a definite policy.
The new Foreign Minister speedily availed himself of this offer; and the
cause of peace was greatly furthered by secret negotiations which he carried
on with Count Shuvaloff. The Russian ambassador in London had
throughout bent his great abilities to a pacific solution of the dispute, and,
on finding out the real nature of the British objections to the San Stefano
Treaty, he proceeded to St. Petersburg to persuade the Emperor to accept
certain changes. In this he succeeded, and on his return to London was able
to come to an agreement with Lord Salisbury (May 30), the chief terms of
which clearly foreshadowed those finally adopted at Berlin.
In effect they were as follows: The Beaconsfield Cabinet strongly objected
to the proposed wide extension of Bulgaria at the expense of other
nationalities, and suggested that the districts south of the Balkans, which
were peopled almost wholly by Bulgarians, should not be wholly
withdrawn from Turkish control, but "should receive a large measure of
administrative self-government . . . with a Christian governor." To these
proposals the Russian Government gave a conditional assent. Lord
Salisbury further claimed that the Sultan should have the right "to canton
troops on the frontiers of southern Bulgaria"; and that the militia of that
province should be commanded by officers appointed by the Sultan with the
consent of Europe. England also undertook to see that the cause of the

Greeks in Thessaly and Epirus received the attention of all the Powers, in
place of the intervention of Russia alone on their behalf, as specified in the
San Stefano Treaty.
Respecting the cession of Roumanian Bessarabia to Russia, on which the
Emperor Alexander had throughout insisted (see page 205), England
expressed "profound regret" at that demand, but undertook not to dispute it
at the Congress. On his side the Emperor Alexander consented to restore
Bayazid in Asia Minor to the Turks, but insisted on the retention of Batoum,
Kars, and Ardahan. Great Britain acceded to this, but hinted that the defence
of Turkey in Asia would thenceforth rest especially upon her--a hint to
prepare Russia for the Cyprus Convention.
For at this same time the Beaconsfield Cabinet had been treating secretly
with the Sublime Porte. When Lord Salisbury found out that Russia would
not abate her demands for Batoum, Ardahan, and Kars, he sought to
safeguard British interests in the Levant by acquiring complete control over
the island of Cyprus. His final instructions to Mr. Layard to that effect were
telegraphed on May 30, that is, on the very day on which peace with Russia
was practically assured[170]. The Porte, unaware of the fact that there was
little fear of the renewal of hostilities, agreed to the secret Cyprus
Convention on June 4; while Russia, knowing little or nothing as to
Britain's arrangement with the Porte, acceded to the final arrangements for
the discussion of Turkish affairs at Berlin. It is not surprising that this
manner of doing business aroused great irritation both at St. Petersburg and
Constantinople. Count Shuvaloff's behaviour at the Berlin Congress when
the news came out proclaimed to the world that he considered himself
tricked by Lord Beaconsfield; while that statesman disdainfully sipped
nectar of delight that rarely comes to the lips even of the gods of diplomacy.
The terms of the Cyprus Convention were to the effect that, if Russia
retained the three districts in Asia Minor named above, or any of them (as it
was perfectly certain that she would); or if she sought to take possession of
any further Turkish territory in Asia Minor, Great Britain would help the
Sultan by force of arms. He, on his side assigned to Great Britain the island
of Cyprus, to be occupied and administered by her. He further promised "to
introduce necessary reforms, to be agreed upon later between the two
Powers, into the government, and for the protection of the Christian and

other subjects of the Porte in these territories." On July I Britain also
covenanted to pay to the Porte the surplus of revenue over expenditure in
Cyprus, calculated upon the average of the last five years, and to restore
Cyprus to Turkey if Russia gave up Kars and her other acquisitions[171].
Fortified by the secret understanding with Russia, and by the equally secret
compact with Turkey, the British Government could enter the Congress of
the Powers at Berlin with complete equanimity. It is true that news as to the
agreement with Russia came out in a London newspaper which at once
published a general description of the Anglo-Russian agreement of May 30;
and when the correctness of the news was stoutly denied by Ministers, the
original deed was given to the world by the same newspaper on June 14;
but again vigorous disclaimers and denials were given from the ministerial
bench in Parliament[172]. Thus, when Lords Beaconsfield and Salisbury
proceeded to Berlin for the opening of the Congress (June 13), they were
believed to hold the destinies of the British Empire in their hands, and the
world waited with bated breath for the scraps of news that came from that
centre of diplomacy.
On various details there arose sharp differences which the tactful humour of
the German Chancellor could scarcely set at rest. The fate of nations
seemed to waver in the balance when Prince Gortchakoff gathered up his
maps and threatened to hurry from the room, or when Lord Beaconsfield
gave pressing orders for a special train to take him back to Calais; but there
seemed good grounds for regarding these incidents rather as illustrative of
character, or of the electioneering needs of a sensational age, than as throes
in the birth of nationalities. The "Peace with honour," which the Prime
Minister on his return announced at Charing Cross to an admiring crowd,
had virtually been secured at Downing Street before the end of May
respecting all the great points in dispute between England and Russia.
We know little about the inner history of the Congress of Berlin, which is
very different from the official Protocols that half reveal and half conceal its
debates. One fact and one incident claim attention as serving to throw
curious sidelights on policy and character respectively. The Emperor
William had been shot at and severely wounded by a socialist fanatic, Dr.
Nobiling, on June 2, 1878, and during the whole time of the Congress the
Crown Prince Frederick acted as regent of the Empire. Limited as his

powers were by law, etiquette, and Bismarck, he is said to have used them
on behalf of Austria and England. The old Emperor thought so; for in a
moment of confiding indiscretion he hinted to the Princess Radziwill (a
Russian by birth) that Russian interests would have fared better at Berlin
had he then been steering the ship of State[173]. Possibly this explains why
Bismarck always maintained that he had done what he could for his Eastern
neighbour, and that he really deserved a Russian decoration for his services
during the Congress.
The incident, which flashes a search-light into character and discloses the
recherché joys of statecraft, is also described in the sprightly Memoirs of
Princess Radziwill. She was present at a brilliant reception held on the
evening of the day when the Cyprus Convention had come to light.
Diplomatists and generals were buzzing eagerly and angrily when the Earl
of Beaconsfield appeared. A slight hush came over the wasp-like clusters as
he made his way among them, noting everything with his restless,
inscrutable eyes. At last he came near the Princess, once a bitter enemy, but
now captivated and captured by his powers of polite irony. "What are you
thinking of," she asked. "I am not thinking at all," he replied, "I am
enjoying myself[174]." After that one can understand why Jew-baiting
became a favourite sport in Russia throughout the next two decades.
We turn now to note the terms of the Treaty of Berlin (July 13, 1878)[175].
The importance of this compact will be seen if its provisions are compared
with those of the Treaty of San Stefano, which it replaced. Instead of the
greater Bulgaria subjected for two years to Russian control, the Congress
ordained that Bulgaria proper should not extend beyond the main chain of
the Balkans, thus reducing its extent from 163,000 square kilometres to
64,000, and its population from four millions to a million and a half. The
period of military occupation and supervision of the new administration by
Russia was reduced to nine months. At the end of that time, and on the
completion of the "organic law," a Prince was to be elected "freely" by the
population of the Principality. The new State remained under the suzerainty
of Turkey, the Sultan confirming the election of the new Prince of Bulgaria,
"with the assent of the Powers."
Another important departure from the San Stefano terms was the creation of
the Province of Eastern Roumelia, with boundaries shown in the

accompanying map. While having a Christian governor, and enjoying the
rights of local self-government, it was to remain under "the direct political
and military authority of the Sultan, under conditions of administrative
autonomy." The Sultan retained the right of keeping garrisons there, though
a local militia was to preserve internal order. As will be shown in the next
chapter, this anomalous state of things passed away in 1885, when the
province threw off Turkish control and joined Bulgaria.
The other Christian States of the Balkans underwent changes of the highest
importance. Montenegro lost half of her expected gains, but secured access
to the sea at Antivari. The acquisitions of Servia were now effected at the
expense of Bulgaria. These decisions were greatly in favour of Austria. To
that Power the occupation of Bosnia and Herzegovina was now entrusted
for an indefinite period in the interest of the peace of Europe, and she
proceeded forthwith to drive a wedge between the Serbs of Servia and
Montenegro. It is needless to say that, in spite of the armed opposition of
the Mohammedan people of those provinces--which led to severe fighting
in July to September of that year--Austria's occupation has been permanent,
though nominally they still form part of the Turkish Empire.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE TREATIES OF BERLIN AND SAN
STEFANO.]
Roumania and Servia gained complete independence and ceased to pay
tribute to the Sultan, but both States complained of the lack of support
accorded to them by Russia, considering the magnitude of their efforts for
the Slavonic cause. Roumania certainly fared very badly at the hands of the
Power for which it had done yeoman service in the

Map of the Treaties of Berlin and San Stefano.
war. The pride of the Roumanian people brooked no thought of accepting
the Dobrudscha, a district in great part marshy and thinly populated, as an
exchange for a fertile district peopled by their kith and kin. They let the
world know that Russia appropriated their Bessarabian district by force, and
that they accepted the Dobrudscha as a war indemnity. By dint of pressure
exerted at the Congress their envoys secured a southern extension of its
borders at the expense of Bulgaria, a proceeding which aroused the
resentment of Russia.
The conduct of the Czar's Government in this whole matter was most
impolitic. It embittered the relations between the two States and drove the
Government of Prince Charles to rely on Austria and the Triple Alliance.
That is to say, Russia herself closed the door which had been so readily
opened for her into the heart of the Sultan's dominions in 1828, 1854, and
1877[176]. We may here remark that, on the motion of the French
plenipotentiaries at the Congress, that body insisted that Jews must be
admitted to the franchise in Roumania. This behest of the Powers aroused
violent opposition in that State, but was finally, though by no means fully,
carried out.
Another Christian State of the Peninsula received scant consideration at the
Congress. Greece, as we have seen, had recalled her troops from Thessaly

on the understanding that her claims should be duly considered at the
general peace. She now pressed those claims; but, apart from initial
encouragement given by Lord Salisbury, she received little or no support.
On the motion of the French plenipotentiary, M. Waddington, her desire to
control the northern shores of the Aegean and the island of Crete was
speedily set aside; but he sought to win for her practically the whole of
Thessaly and Epirus. This, however, was firmly opposed by Lord
Beaconsfield, who objected to the cession to her of the southern and purely
Greek districts of Thessaly and Epirus. He protested against the notion that
the plenipotentiaries had come to Berlin in order to partition "a worn-out
State" (Turkey). They were there to "strengthen an ancient Empire--
essential to the maintenance of peace."
"As for Greece," he said, "States, like individuals, which have a future are
in a position to be able to wait." True, he ended by expressing "the hope and
even the conviction" that the Sultan would accept an equitable solution of
the question of the Thessalian frontier; but the Congress acted on the other
sage dictum and proceeded to subject the Hellenes to the educative
influences of hope deferred. Protocol 13 had recorded the opinion of the
Powers that the northern frontier of Greece should follow the courses of the
Rivers Salammaria and Kalamas; but they finally decided to offer their
mediation to the disputants only in case no agreement could be framed. The
Sublime Porte, as we shall see, improved on the procrastinating methods of
the Nestors of European diplomacy[177].
As regards matters that directly concerned Turkey and Russia, we may note
that the latter finally agreed to forego the acquisition of the Bayazid district
and the lands adjoining the caravan route from the Shah's dominions to
Erzeroum. The Czar's Government also promised that Batoum should be a
free port, and left unchanged the regulations respecting the navigation of
the Dardanelles and Bosporus. By a subsequent treaty with Turkey of
February 1879 the Porte agreed to pay to Russia a war indemnity of about
£32,000,000.
More important from our standpoint are the clauses relating to the good
government of the Christians of Turkey. By article 61 of the Treaty of
Berlin the Porte bound itself to carry out "the improvements and reforms
demanded by local requirements in the provinces inhabited by the

Armenians, and to guarantee their security against the Circassians and
Kurds." It even added the promise "periodically" to "make known the steps
taken to this effect to the Powers who will superintend their application." In
the next article Turkey promised to "maintain" the principle of religious
liberty and to give it the widest application. Differences of religion were to
be no bar to employment in any public capacity, and all persons were to "be
admitted, without distinction of religion, to give evidence before the
tribunals."
Such was the Treaty of Berlin (July 13, 1878). Viewed in its broad outlines,
it aimed at piecing together again the Turkish districts which had been
severed at San Stefano; the Bulgars and Serbs who there gained the hope of
effecting a real union of those races were now sundered once more, the
former in three divisions; while the Serbs of Servia, Bosnia, and
Montenegro were wedged apart by the intrusion of the Hapsburg Power.
Yet, imperfect though it was in several points, that treaty promised
substantial gains for the Christians of Turkey. The collapse of the Sultan's
power had been so complete, so notorious, that few persons believed he
would ever dare to disregard the mandate of the Great Powers and his own
solemn promises stated above. But no one could then foresee the exhibition
of weakness and cynicism in the policy of those Powers towards Turkey,
which disgraced the polity of Europe in the last decades of the century. The
causes that brought about that state of mental torpor in the face of hideous
massacres, and of moral weakness displayed by sovereigns and statesmen in
the midst of their millions of armed men, will be to some extent set forth in
the following chapters.
As regards the welfare of the Christians in Asia Minor, the Treaty of Berlin
assigned equal responsibilities to all the signatory Powers. But the British
Government had already laid itself under a special charge on their behalf by
the terms of the Cyprus Convention quoted above. Five days before that
treaty was signed the world heard with a gasp of surprise that England had
become practically mistress of Cyprus and assumed some measure of
responsibility for the good government of the Christians of Asiatic Turkey.
No limit of time was assigned for the duration of the Convention, and
apparently it still holds good so far as relates to the material advantages
accruing from the possession of that island.

It is needless to say that the Cypriotes have benefited greatly by the British
administration; the value of the imports and exports nearly doubled between
1878 and 1888. But this fact does not and cannot dispose of the larger
questions opened up as to the methods of acquisition and of the moral
responsibilities which it entailed. These at once aroused sharp differences of
opinion. Admiration at the skill and daring which had gained for Britain a
point of vantage in the Levant and set back Russia's prestige in that quarter
was chequered by protests against the methods of secrecy, sensationalism,
and self-seeking that latterly had characterised British diplomacy.
One more surprise was still forthcoming. Lord Derby, speaking in the
House of Lords on July 18, gave point to these protests by divulging a State
secret of no small importance, namely, that one of the causes of his
retirement at the end of March was a secret proposal of the Ministry to send
an expedition from India to seize Cyprus and one of the Syrian ports with a
view to operations against Russia, and that, too, with or without the consent
of the Sultan. Whether the Cabinet arrived at anything like a decision in this
question is very doubtful. Lord Salisbury stoutly denied the correctness of
his predecessor's statement. The papers of Sir Stafford Northcote also show
that the scheme at that time came up for discussion, but was "laid
aside[178]." Lord Derby, however, stated that he had kept private notes of
the discussion; and it is improbable that he would have resigned on a
question that was merely mooted and entirely dismissed. The mystery in
which the deliberations of the Cabinet are involved, and very rightly
involved, broods over this as over so many topics in which Lord
Beaconsfield was concerned.
On another and far weightier point no difference of opinion is possible.
Viewed by the light of the Cyprus Convention, Britain's responsibility for
assuring a minimum of good government for the Christians of Asiatic
Turkey is undeniable. Unfortunately it admits of no denial that the duties
which that responsibility involves have not been discharged. The story of
the misgovernment and massacre of the Armenian Christians is one that will
ever redound to the disgrace of all the signatories of the Treaty of Berlin; it
is doubly disgraceful to the Power which framed the Cyprus Convention.
A praiseworthy effort was made by the Beaconsfield Government to
strengthen British influence and the cause of reform by sending a

considerable number of well-educated men as Consuls to Asia Minor, under
the supervision of the Consul-General, Sir Charles Wilson. In the first two
years they effected much good, securing the dismissal of several of the
worst Turkish officials, and implanting hope in the oppressed Greeks and
Armenians. Had they been well supported from London, they might have
wrought a permanent change. Such, at least, is the belief of Professor
Ramsay after several years' experience in Asia Minor.
Unfortunately, the Gladstone Government, which came into power in the
spring of 1880, desired to limit its responsibilities on all sides, especially in
the Levant. The British Consuls ceased to be supported, and after the arrival
of Mr. (now Lord) Goschen at Constantinople in May 1880, as Ambassador
Extraordinary, British influence began to suffer a decline everywhere
through Turkey, partly owing to the events soon to be described. The
outbreak of war in Egypt in 1882 was made a pretext by the British
Government for the transference of the Consuls to Egypt; and thereafter
matters in Asia Minor slid back into the old ruts. The progress of the Greeks
and Armenians, the traders of that land, suffered a check; and the
remarkable Moslem revival which the Sultan inaugurated in that year (the
year 1300 of the Mohammedan calendar) gradually led up to the troubles
and massacres which culminated in the years 1896 and 1897. We may
finally note that when the Gladstone Ministry left the field open in Asia
Minor, the German Government promptly took possession; and since 1883
the influence of Berlin has more and more penetrated into the Sultan's lands
in Europe and Asia[179].
The collapse of British influence at Constantinople was hastened on by the
efforts made by the Cabinet of London, after Mr. Gladstone's accession to
office, on behalf of Greece. It soon appeared that Abdul Hamid and his
Ministers would pay no heed to the recommendations of the Great Powers
on this head, for on July 20, 1878, they informed Sir Henry Layard of their
"final" decision that no Thessalian districts would be given up to Greece.
Owing to pressure exerted by the Dufaure-Waddington Ministry in France,
the Powers decided that a European Commission should be appointed to
consider the whole question. To this the Beaconsfield Government gave a
not very willing assent.

The Porte bettered the example. It took care to name as the first place of
meeting of the Commissioners a village to the north of the Gulf of Arta
which was not discoverable on any map. When at last this mistake was
rectified, and the Greek envoys on two occasions sought to steam into the
gulf, they were fired on from the Turkish forts. After these amenities, the
Commission finally met at Prevesa, only to have its report shelved by the
Porte (January-March 1879). Next, in answer to a French demand for
European intervention, the Turks opposed various devices taken from the
inexhaustible stock of oriental subterfuges. So the time wore on until, in the
spring of 1880, the fall of the Beaconsfield Ministry brought about a new
political situation.
The new Prime Minister, Mr. Gladstone, was known as the statesman who
had given the Ionian Isles to Greece, and who advocated the expulsion of
the Turks, "bag and baggage," from Europe. At once the despatches from
Downing Street took on a different complexion, and the substitution of Mr.
Goschen for Sir Henry Layard at Constantinople enabled the Porte to hear
the voice of the British people, undimmed by official checks. A Conference
of the Powers met at Berlin to discuss the carrying out of their
recommendations on the Greek Question, and of the terms of the late treaty
respecting Montenegro.
On this latter affair the Powers finally found it needful to make a joint naval
demonstration against the troops of the Albanian League who sought to
prevent the handing over of the seaport of Dulcigno to Montenegro, as
prescribed by the Treaty of Berlin. But, as happened during the Concert of
the Powers in the spring of 1876, a single discordant note sufficed to impair
the effect of the collective voice. Then it was England which refused to
employ any coercive measures; now it was Austria and Germany, and
finally (after the resignation of the Waddington Ministry) France. When the
Sultan heard of this discord in the European Concert, his Moslem scruples
resumed their wonted sway, and the Albanians persisted in defying Europe.
The warships of the Powers might have continued to threaten the Albanian
coast with unshotted cannon to this day, had not the Gladstone Cabinet
proposed drastic means for bringing the Sultan to reason. The plan was that
the united fleet should steam straightway to Smyrna and land marines for
the sequestration of the customs' dues of that important trading centre. Here