By this means Alexander was “grouped” with his three allies in the support of a kind of coöperation which was not what he had hitherto insisted upon. It is probable that he did not realize how completely he was outplayed, when he was forced by the logic of events to set his hand to a treaty that provided for the Concert of Europe, and not for the league to which he had long looked forward. At any rate, he did not give up his ideals and he seems to have thought that in the hour of victory he could do what he had not been able to do in the hour of necessity.
The Treaty of Chaumont was followed by the battle of Leipzig, and that was followed by several smaller battles in which the allies fought their way through French territory until they stood before the gates of Paris in the autumn of 1814. Napoleon fled the Nemesis that had overtaken him, the city was opened to his enemies, and Alexander I, at the head of his splendid guard, led the conquering army down the broad avenue of Champs Elysée, the inhabitants of the city cheering the radiant pageant. Men reflected that two years earlier a great French army had penetrated to the Russian city of Moscow and found it smoking ruins; and they could but observe the contrast. It was worthy of the greatness of the tsar of the Russias to show a generous face to a beaten foe; and the Frenchmen were gallant enough to receive the friendship of the tsar in the spirit in which it was given. A lenient treaty by which France was saved from humiliation and Napoleon was given Elba, was also due chiefly to the good will of Alexander. An Englishman on the spot, who did not see things with the broad vision of the prime minister, wrote that the tsar “by a series of firm and glorious conduct has richly deserved the appellation of the liberator of mankind.” But as Alexander continued to “play the part of Providence in France” the same writer became alarmed and five days later wrote to London urging that Castlereagh come to the French capital. The hint was taken, and soon the manly stride of the handsome tsar was intercepted by the deftly woven webs of the skilled diplomat. Erelong France was handed over to the Bourbons, who came back to show that they had learned nothing and forgotten nothing.
The center of interest now shifted to the Congress of Vienna, whose sessions lasted from September 10, 1814, to June 9, 1815. Europe had looked forward to it for many years as the means of effecting a wise and just reform in all the evils that afflicted the continent. “Men had promised themselves,” said Gentz, “an all-embracing reform of the political system of Europe, guarantees for universal peace, in one word, the return of the golden age.” Thus Alexander was not entirely ahead of his time. There were enlightened men then, as now, who hoped for a spirit that would rise above mere diplomatic self-interest; and we may look upon the tsar as their exponent. But they were to be disappointed. Spoils were to be divided and in the disputes that the expected division engendered, the spirit of reform was dissipated. Alexander spent his energy in trying to reëstablish the kingdom of Poland with liberal institutions, but his desire that it should be under his protection aroused the keenest opposition from the neighboring nations. If a victorious Russia stood as protector of a reëstablished France and a renewed Poland, who could foretell her power in future dealings among nations? Considering the extent to which jealousy carried the contentions of the states at Vienna, it is enough that the congress did not break up in an appeal to arms.
Gentz, whom we recall as the secretary of the congress, was one of the men who had entertained hopes that it would give a new and better form to the political structure of Europe. He avowed his disappointment at the results in saying:
“The Congress has resulted in nothing but restorations, which had already been effected by arms, agreements between the Great Powers of little value for the future balance and preservation of the peace of Europe, quite arbitrary alterations in the possessions of the smaller states; but no act of a higher nature, no great measure for public order or for the general good, which might compensate humanity for its long sufferings or pacify it for the future.... But to be just, the treaty, such as it is, has the undeniable merit of having prepared the world for a more complete political structure. If ever the Powers should meet again to establish a political system by which wars of conquest would be rendered impossible, and the rights of all guaranteed, the Congress of Vienna, as a preparatory assembly, will not have been without use. A number of vexatious details have been settled, and the ground has been prepared for building up a better social structure.”[6]
[6] See Phillips, loc. cit., 118.
Looking back over the past century it is hard to find justification for Gentz’s optimism. The respite that Europe had for a generation from war was due in a sense to the lesson learned in the Napoleonic struggle; but it was not a permanent lesson. We shall proceed to examine the expedients that came to be used for the end specified; but it is certain that they did not achieve permanently the end desired. Had the Congress of Vienna done all that was expected of it, the world might today be at peace. If not at peace, we might at least say that the men of the Congress did all they could to secure peace.
If we ask for the fundamental cause of the failure of the Congress of Vienna to satisfy the hopes of liberal men in constructing what Gentz called “a more complete political structure,” the answer must lie in the illiberal views of the ruling classes in the European states. Self-government was less developed than in the most conservative state of today. Had the people of these states been in power, and had they been to a fair degree trained in the principles of good government, the result could hardly have been as it was. But the ignorant bureaucrats and arbitrary rulers were in power, men who in their own lives never knew the burdens of war, and to whom national egotism appeared a high virtue; and they thought only of gaining territory for their states. They placed such things above the high opportunity to reform the political structure of Europe. They turned to the future with the old principles still dominant, hoping that by a system of concert among the great states they could stave off war for an indefinitely long period. They could place self-interest against self-interest, forgetting that a time was likely to come when self-interest might lead the strongest to dare the rest of the world, hoping to move quickly in a moment of temporary advantage and thus gain ends that only the most severe sacrifices could take away. But that is a story reserved for another chapter.
Before we take up the Concert of Europe we must deal with the Holy Alliance, which, though but an interlude in the play, is so frequently mentioned in the books that it cannot be omitted from this discussion. It was signed at Paris, November 20, 1815, and may be considered only one of the forms in which the tsar’s ideal was embodied. Its religious character made it the butt of ridicule for the “practical” statesmen of the day, and the historian has been prone to look at it from their standpoint. But it was then popular to express political principles in religious phrases, and the alliance is to be interpreted by the purpose that lay underneath, rather than by the mere form in which it was set forth.
As we have seen, Alexander I had formulated his plan for a league of states long before the end of the war. He had relaxed his intentions in no sense when he met Baroness Krüdener in June, 1815. This remarkable woman, though nobly born, was a religious enthusiast who to the faculty of intense conviction added the gift of preaching. Wherever she went she found followers who hung on her words and yielded themselves to her impassioned appeals for religious devotion. In the height of her enthusiasm she came to think that she had revelations from God. Many a popular revivalist of recent times could be compared with her; and if we are tolerant of their undoubtedly well-meant efforts to stir humanity to righteousness, we may allow her also a fair share of our esteem as a would-be agent of good through the employment of human means to attain human ends.