Luxemburg.
As he found Prussia polite yet intractable, and prompt to use plain language, if concessions were demanded, the Emperor Napoleon formed, or was advised to form, an ingenious plan whereby he hoped to secure Luxemburg. He entered into secret negotiations with Holland for the purchase of the Duchy. The Queen of Holland, a Princess of the House of Würtemburg, was a keen partizan of France. She it was, who, in July, 1866, uttered a cry of warning which reached the Tuileries. “It is the dynasty,” she wrote, “which is menaced by a powerful Germany and a powerful Italy, and the dynasty will have to suffer the consequences. When Venetia was ceded, you should have succoured Austria, marched on the Rhine, and imposed your own conditions. To permit the destruction of Austria is more than a crime, it is a blunder.” Perhaps the notion that Luxemburg could be acquired by purchase came from this zealous, clear-sighted, and outspoken lady. Wherever it may have originated, the scheme was hotly pursued, negotiations were opened at the Hague, the usual Napoleonic operations were actually begun to obtain a plébiscite from the Duchy. Count von Bismarck was discreetly sounded by M. Benedetti, with the usual indefinite result, and the consent of the King of Holland was obtained without much difficulty. At the same time there was a strong current of opposition in the Dutch Government, and Prince Henry, the Governor of Luxemburg, made no secret of his hostility. The King himself was subject to recurring tremors caused by his reflections on the possible action of the Prussian Court; and his alarms were only mitigated or allayed from time to time by assurances based, in reality, on M. Benedetti’s “impressions” that the Chancellor was not unfavourable to the plan of cession. The truth is that M. Benedetti did not accurately perceive the position which Bismarck had taken up from the outset. It might be thus expressed: “Luxemburg belongs to the King of Holland. It is his to keep or give away. If you want the Duchy, why don’t you take it, and with it the consequences, which it is for you to forecast.” The French Court and its Ministers still laboured under the belief that they could manage the Berlin Government, and they put their own interpretation on the vague, perhaps tempting language of the Chancellor. At a certain moment, the fear, always lurking in the King of Holland’s breast, gained the mastery, and he caused the secret to be disclosed to the public. “He would do nothing without the consent of the King of Prussia;” and by revealing the negotiations he forced on a decision. The incident which terrified the King of Holland was, no doubt, startling. M. Thiers had made a strong anti-German speech in the Chamber, and M. Rouher had developed his theory of the “trois tronçons,” or triple division of Germany. The Chancellor, who had acquired full knowledge of French pretensions from French Ministers, answered both statesmen by printing, in the foreground of the “Official Gazette,” the treaty which gave King William the control of the Bavarian army, in case of war. That fact also produced a decisive effect upon the Dutch monarch, who saw in this characteristic indirect retort to the French parliamentary display a menace specially directed against himself. Hence the revelation sufficed to thwart the bargain, then so far finished that signatures were alone wanting to render it binding. The German people fired up at the bare mention of such a proposal as the cession of a German province. M. de Moustier, vexed and taken aback, called on Bismarck to restrain the passions of his countrymen, and vainly urged the Dutch monarch to sign the treaties. On the morning of the day when he was to be questioned in the Reichstag, Bismarck asked Benedetti whether he would authorize the Minister to state in the Chamber that the treaties had been signed at the Hague. The Ambassador could not give the required authority, seeing that although the King, under conditions, had pledged his word to the Emperor, the formal act had not been done, because Prussia had not answered the appeal for consent from the Hague. On April 1, 1867, while Napoleon was opening the Exhibition in Paris, Herr von Bennigsen put his famous question respecting the current rumours about a treaty of cession. If the French were not prepared for the fierce outburst of Teutonic fervour, still less could they relish the question put by Herr von Bennigsen and the answer which it drew from the Chancellor. The former described the Duchy as an “ancient province of the collective Fatherland,” and the latter, while “taking into account the French nation’s susceptibilities,” and giving a brief history of the position in which Luxemburg stood towards Germany, made his meaning clear to the French Court. “The confederate Governments,” he said, “are of opinion that no foreign power will interfere with the indisputable rights of German States and German populations. They hope to be able to vindicate and protect those rights by peaceful negotiations, without prejudicing the friendly relations which Germany has hitherto entertained with her neighbours.” Napoleon and his advisers were not likely to misconstrue language which, although it lacked the directness of Von Bennigsen’s sentences, obviously meant that the French scheme could not be worked out. Indeed, a few days earlier, the Chancellor had used a significant phrase. Answering a question in the Chamber, he said:—“If the previous speaker can manage to induce the Grand Duke (of Luxemburg) to come into the North German Federation, he will be able to say that he has called an European question into existence; what more, Time alone can show.” The phrase could hardly have escaped the notice of M. de Moustier, and coupled with the second reply, already quoted, gave rise to indignation not unmixed with alarm. At first the Emperor seemed determined not to recede, and he took counsel with his generals, who could not give him encouragement, because they knew that the Government was absolutely without the means of making even a respectable defence against an invasion. The period of suspense at the Tuileries did not endure long. Shortly after the scene in the Reichstag, the Prussian Minister at the Hague brought the matter to a crisis by a message which he delivered to the Dutch Government. The King of the Netherlands, he is reported to have said, can act as he pleases, but he is responsible for what he may do. If he had believed that the meditated cession was a guarantee of peace, it was the Minister’s duty to destroy the illusion. “My Government,” he added, “advises him in the most formal manner, not to give up Luxemburg to France.” The blow was fatal; the King of course, took the advice to heart, and such a stroke was all the more deeply felt in Paris because there the Emperor, who had considered the end gained, now knew from Marshal Niel that it would be madness to provoke a war. Yet, unless a loophole of escape could be found, war was imminent. M. de Moustier discovered a safe and dignified line of retreat. The Chancellor had referred to the treaty of 1839 which governed the status of Luxemburg; M. de Moustier took him at his word, and virtually brought the dispute within the purview of Europe, by formally demanding that the Prussian garrison should be withdrawn. He held that since the German forces were practically centred in the hands of Prussia, Luxemburg, no longer a mere defensive post, had become a menace to France. In this contention there was much truth, seeing that the new Confederation of the North, and its allies in the South, constituted a political and military entity far more formidable and mobile than the old Bund. When the Chancellor refused a demand, which his adversaries assert he was at one time prepared to grant, the French Government, declaring that they had no wish for other than friendly relations with Berlin, appealed to Europe. The dispute ended in a compromise arranged as usual beforehand, and settled at a conference held in London. The garrison was withdrawn, the fortifications were to be razed, and the Duchy, like Belgium, was thenceforth to be neutral ground, covered by a collective guarantee of the Powers; but it still remained within the German Zollverein.
There were at work several influences which largely operated to determine a peaceful issue. The French possessed no real army, and the Emperor had only just begun to think about the needful military organization on a new model; he had, besides, on hand an international Exhibition, by which he set great store; and in addition a summons to withdraw a garrison did not provide a casus belli certain to secure the support of public opinion. Nor did the Prussian Government consider the moment opportune, or the question raised a suitable ground on which to determine the inveterate cause of quarrel between France and Germany. Upon this subject Dr. Busch has recorded some characteristic observations made by the Chancellor, at Versailles, in 1870. “I remember,” he said, “when I was at the Paris Exhibition of 1867, I thought to myself ‘how would it have been by now, if we had fought out the Luxemburg quarrel? Should I be in Paris, or the French in Berlin?’ We were not nearly as strong then as we are now. The Hanoverians and Hessians of that day could not have supplied us with so many good soldiers as to-day. As for the Schleswig-Holsteiners, who have lately been fighting like lions, they had no army at all. The Saxon army was broken up, and had to be entirely reconstructed. And there was but little to be expected from the South Germans. What splendid fellows the Würtembergers are now, quite magnificent! but in 1866 no soldier could help laughing at them, as they marched into Frankfort like a civic guard. Nor was all well with the Baden forces; the Grand Duke has done a great deal for them since then. Doubtless public opinion throughout Germany was with us, if we had chosen to make war about Luxemburg. But that would not have made up for all those shortcomings.” It is plain, from this retrospective comment, which comes in aid of other evidence, that the great conflict, deferred to 1870, was nearly brought about in 1867, and that France was saved from utter rout, at that early period, by the operation of a set of influences over which neither of the principal actors had full control. The Franco-Dutch negotiation was the last attempt which the Emperor Napoleon made to obtain territory by direct or furtive diplomatic processes. In the early stages of the risky business he had full confidence in his own ascendancy, not to say “preponderance” in European councils. He was rudely undeceived. Herr von Bismarck had tempted him with all kinds of suggestions, but the Emperor himself, his Ministers and Ambassadors had been content to take the “impressions,” which they derived from confidential conversations, for definite, binding promises. One French agent correctly described the fact when he said that “Herr von Bismarck is ready, not to offer us compensations, but to allow us to take them;” he might have added, “if we can and at our own risk.” There is no published evidence that the Prussian statesman ever offered to cede Luxemburg, or sanction the annexation of Belgium, or preclude himself from adopting, at any conjuncture, the line which appeared most accordant with German interests. On the contrary, long after the interviews at Biarritz and in Paris, and the battle of Sadowa, Napoleon III., to use his own terms, wanted, at least, “une certitude relative” that the Prussian Government would not interpose any obstacle in the way of French “aggrandizement” in the North. He asked, not for words, but an act which he could never obtain; and the Luxemburg incident proved to him conclusively that nothing could be gained by making demands on the Court of Prussia. In 1867 and afterwards in November, 1870, according to Dr. Busch, Bismarck described with his usual frankness the hesitation of the Emperor. He had not understood his advantages, in 1866, when he might have done a good business, although not on German soil, was the earlier commentary. The later was more illuminative. “In the summer of 1866,” said Bismarck, “Napoleon had not the pluck to do what was the right thing from his point of view. He ought—well, he ought to have taken possession of the subject of Benedetti’s proposal [Belgium], when we were marching against the Austrians, and have held it in pawn for whatever might happen. At that time we could not stop him and it was not likely that England would attack him—at least he might have waited to see.” On this it may be observed that the influence of Lord Cowley and Lord Clarendon would probably have sufficed to turn him from such a plan had it entered into the Emperor’s mind; and had he delivered the blow, in defiance of their protests, or without consulting them, England, at that time, would have been enraged at the treachery, and would have certainly occupied Antwerp. The Emperor was a man who caressed audacious projects which he had not always the nerve and courage to carry out. What is more astonishing, he did not or could not provide the means essential to the accomplishment of his desires. Thus the precedent afforded by his conduct in 1866 was followed in 1867, and in each case the result was the same—vexatious failure.