The Vampire of the Continent

by Graf E. Reventlow

Down to the time of the Crimean war (1855), the Eastern question remained veiled in considerable obscurity; England, Russia, Turkey, France, and Austria-Hungary played a curious and very complicated game of political and diplomatic chess. This game was still further complicated when Mehmed Ali appeared on the scene, and marched on Constantinople. It is impossible, within the limits of the present work, to dwell on those events. We must content ourselves with describing, in general terms, the part played by England. The latter did not wish to see any of the Continental Powers in possession of Constantinople; and she also wished to prevent by all means an alliance between the Porte and any of the Powers. It was from these two considerations that English policy derived its principle of the “maintenance and independence” of Turkey. That policy, on the other hand, aimed at drawing Turkey as much as possible into the meshes of Great Britain’s net; in this way Turkey could be conveniently played off against France or Russia, as the occasion required it. Being herself an insular Power, England needed the services of a Continental Power in all Eastern matters. According as time or circumstances dictated, Austria-Hungary or France was selected for this honor; but Russia was not disdained either if the occasion required it. During the period of Mehmed All’s insurrection, English policy had three distinct aims in view: firstly, to prevent Mehmed Ali from capturing Constantinople; secondly, to prevent the development—desired by France—of intimate relations between him and the French Government; thirdly, to prevent him concluding an alliance with the Sultan, and thus strengthening the Porte. Great Britain’s anxiety concerning France was not unfounded; for the French had turned their eyes towards Egypt. In all these lengthy quarrels, the decisive word was spoken by the all-powerful British navy. The old English principle, according to which every opportunity should be seized upon in order to destroy all foreign fleets—whether the latter were peaceful or hostile at the moment of destruction did not matter: this principle proved extremely valuable. Its utility (from the English point of view) had been manifested in 1807, at the moment of the theft of the Danish fleet. Thus did it come about that, at the instigation of Great Britain, the Turkish fleet was destroyed “by mistake” at Navarino. An allied Anglo-Franco-Russian fleet sailed in 1824 to Navarino, where the Turkish fleet lay. An agreement had been made whereby negotiations should take place with the Turks, and it had further been resolved by the allied commanders not to open fire unless the Turks did so. Suddenly a shot was fired, and it has never yet been ascertained on which side; but the English declared that it was the Turks who had fired it. The result was the destruction, or rather the massacre, of the wholly unprepared Turkish fleet. The English Admiral had already received his instructions from London, but in the British Parliament all this was, of course, denied. The English Prime Minister even gave utterance to the memorable words: “The destruction of the Turkish fleet was an untoward event.” But “unfortunately” could things not be changed! Mehmed Ali’s future fleet had been partly annihilated, partly captured by the English, whose ships, in turn, occupied with success the ports and harbors of Syria.

Both at that time and also in later years, the limits of sea power have been very clearly demonstrated in the Near East. England was in a position, thanks to her navy, first of all to protect and coddle the new-born Kingdom of Greece, and subsequently to humiliate and bully it. This changeable attitude was kept up until King Otho’s successor, who was related to the English royal family, ascended the Greek throne. It was, again, her navy which permitted England to assume the rôle of “guardian” of growing Italy; and this navy it was, also, which caused the cunning policy of Napoleon III in the Mediterranean to collapse. But the aspect of things changed, as soon as the center of gravity of the Eastern conflict was removed to the Continent. It then became necessary for England to buy a “continental sword”; with the Power employed as such, England co-operated cheerfully until there was no further need of the former’s services. The tool was then cast aside.

Russia was, during the first half of the nineteenth century, fully aware of this fact, and pursued her policy of expansion accordingly. Her object, as usual, was Constantinople and the Dardanelles. Her ambitions led to the Crimean War, in which France and Italy were the auxiliaries of Great Britain. The Crimean War was badly managed, and the English performances at sea were likewise lamentable; especially those of the Baltic squadron, to which was entrusted the task of attacking the Russian coasts and of destroying the Russian fleet. But the consequences of the Treaty of Paris proved that England alone had profited by the war. The antagonism between France and Russia—antagonism which had been increased by the conflict—was destined to cost France dear not long afterwards. On the other hand, England had obtained, in conjunction with France, the neutralisation of the Black Sea and the closure of the Dardanelles and Bosphorus. Nothing shows better who was the real winner in this war, than the fact that the French were particularly anxious to conclude peace rapidly; whereas England, by raising perpetually new questions during the negotiations in Paris, and by seeking up till the last moment to create complications, endeavored to prevent peace being concluded.

Prussia had taken no part in the Crimean War, despite the strongest English pressure, despite threats and insults. Her abstention was one of the first great political acts of Bismarck. The latter recognised that it would have been folly for Prussia to show hostility to Russia in those days.

The Prussian-German Customs’ Union was, from the beginning, a thorn in the side of the English. Its foundation had been combatted by all possible means, and the efforts directed towards the protection of German industry had been denounced as an “unfriendly act” against England. Nothing was left undone, either by the British Government or by its accredited and unaccredited agents, in order to fight and to intrigue against the proposed Union in every German State. There are certainly few things which can be more legitimately included in the category of a country’s “internal affairs,” than the settlement of their mutual economic interests by the German States. But England had, in the most cunning manner, arranged, at the Congress of Vienna, for Germany to become an object of economic exploitation, and had imagined that matters would always remain thus. Knowing its own unassailable position, the British Government overdid things. Especially did the elevated English duties on wood and corn, which were arbitrarily modified in London, place German production and shipping in an ever more untenable situation; on the other hand, British industry continued to throttle German production, and to deprive the latter of its rightful profits. When Lord Palmerston was at last ready to give way, and offered, amongst other things, a reduction of the English duties on wood, it was too late and there remained nothing for the noble lord to do but to submit and accept the fait accompli.

Another event had, during the thirties, spoilt Great Britain’s game: namely, the separation of Holland and Belgium, whose reunion England had been foremost in bringing about at Vienna. Belgium had separated herself from her Northern neighbor, for that which cannot be united cannot be held together. English policy recognised this fact, and quickly decided to “make as good a job of it” as possible. The European neutralisation of Belgium was the consequence. As the historian Louis Blanc wrote: “England kept the diplomatic scepter in her hand, and exploited the Belgian revolution to her own advantage.” Belgium’s neutrality was directed solely against France, because England was convinced that the French would seize the first opportunity of bringing Belgium under their influence. In view of the state of affairs existing at the present moment, it is interesting to observe that the Treaty of Neutrality was concluded exclusively on account of France, whose ambitions it was meant to restrain. England hoped, by inducing the European Powers to participate, under her own leadership, in the guarantee of Belgian neutrality, to reserve for herself the possibility of organising, if need be, another coalition against France. De facto the newly created Kingdom of Belgium was entirely under British influence; it became England’s advanced post on the Continent, the outer line of her fortifications. And no one in Europe could prevent this.

During that period France was the “enemy”; and a remarkable parallel can be traced between the events which then occurred, and those which have taken place within the last quarter of a century—events which we will consider later on. In the fifties Great Britain succeeded in utilising her “enemy” against Russia in the Crimean War; she induced France to sacrifice her troops and warships, and to weaken herself generally, for the sake of British interests. At the same time, both during that war and previously to it, Great Britain was everywhere busy working against France—and especially in Egypt. Shortly after the war she enticed France into the Mexican adventure, and then, as usual, retired from the scene herself, as soon as the stone had been set rolling. Great Britain’s object was to create difficulties between France and the United States, by bringing the former into conflict with the Monroe Doctrine; she further wished to weaken France in Mexico, and to discredit Napoleon in France. The plan succeeded brilliantly. Within recent times it was intended to use the German Empire against Russia in the same way as France was used sixty years ago.

Great Britain found it impossible, during the sixth decade of the last century, to stem the flowing tide of German unity. The reasons for this were, firstly, the superiority of Bismarck’s diplomacy and political genius; secondly, his fearless determination; and, thirdly, the fact that purely Continental interests were at stake. During that curious period of European political development, Bismarck was the only statesman whose will was strong and unbending, and who knew exactly what he wanted.

The far-sightedness of English statesmen had recognised, early already in the sixties, that the power of Napoleon was on the wane. They observed with satisfaction that the Emperor of the French was constantly obliged to seek the creation of new “stage effects,” in order to maintain his prestige, and to consolidate the throne for his successor. At the same time Napoleon’s policy never ceased to be a cause of uneasiness for England; and the Suez Canal enterprise roused John Bull to violent indignation. How could a Continental Power dare to construct a canal joining up two seas, and thereby render a great British ocean highway valueless? We know how Disraeli’s business talents subsequently succeeded in transforming the peril into a profit, after the canal had been built. The spendthrift Khedive, Ismael Pasha, was overburdened with debts; Disraeli purchased all his Suez Canal shares, obtained later on possession of others, and thus placed the canal under the virtual control of England. Ever since the great insurrection of the Seapoys in 1857, the British Government had worked uninterruptedly to bind India to the Empire, and to organise her defence. The Suez Canal was a first-class instrument for this purpose. The Anglo-French rivalry in Egypt continued, but the English influence there increased steadily. In the rest of the world, during the nineteenth century, England did and took what she wanted. If any territory, in any region whatsoever, appealed to the taste of some wandering English merchant or politician, he simply hoisted the British flag, and the matter was settled. The territory was henceforth British.

About the end of the sixties it became perfectly evident to English statesmen, that Germany, under Bismarck’s guidance, was advancing rapidly towards unification. At the eleventh hour British diplomacy tried hard to prevent this unification from taking place. In London the thread was spun of an elaborate intrigue, which aimed at persuading the North German Union and France to come to an understanding regarding a reduction of armaments. The proposal met with considerable approbation in France, whereupon the latter became suddenly England’s “friend.” Weakness, aimlessness, discord, were becoming ever more and more visible in France; and these sorts of things have always been calculated to earn England’s friendship. But the London Cabinet had no success in Berlin with its proposal. Bismarck politely declined, and did not budge an inch. The English took similar steps in South Germany, where they did not content themselves with proposing a reduction of armaments, but also argued most persuasively that the union of the Southern German States with the Northern ones would be a crime against humanity which Europe could not possibly tolerate. The Southern States, further, would be doomed to certain perdition, i. e. be crushed under the Prussian boot.