READING HALL

THE DOORS OF WISDOM

A HISTORY OF MODERN EUROPE FROM 1792 TO 1878

CHAPTER XXI.

THE CRIMEAN WAR.

The year 1851 was memorable in England as that of the Great Exhibition. Thirty-six years of peace, marked by an enormous development of manufacturing industry, by the introduction of railroads, and by the victory of the principle of Free Trade, had culminated in a spectacle so impressive and so novel that to many it seemed the emblem and harbinger of a new epoch in the history of mankind, in which war should cease, and the rivalry of nations should at length find its true scope in the advancement of the arts of peace. The apostles of Free Trade had idealized the cause for which they contended. The unhappiness and the crimes of nations had, as they held, been due principally to the action of governments, which plunged harmless millions into war for dynastic ends, and paralyzed human energy by their own blind and senseless interference with the natural course of exchange. Compassion for the poor and the suffering, a just resentment against laws which in the supposed interest of a minority condemned the mass of the nation to a life of want, gave moral fervour and elevation to the teaching of Cobden and those who shared his spirit. Like others who have been constrained by a noble enthusiasm, they had their visions; and in their sense of the greatness of that new force which was ready to operate upon human life, they both forgot the incompleteness of their own doctrine, and under-estimated the influences which worked, and long must work, upon mankind in an opposite direction. In perfect sincerity the leader of English economical reform at the middle of this century looked forward to a reign of peace as the result of unfettered intercourse between the members of the European family. What the man of genius and conviction had proclaimed the charlatan repeated in his turn. Louis Napoleon appreciated the charm which schemes of commercial development exercised upon the trading classes in France. He was ready to salute the Imperial eagles as objects of worship and to invoke the memories of Napoleon's glory when addressing soldiers; when it concerned him to satisfy the commercial world, he was the very embodiment of peace and of peaceful industry. "Certain persons," he said, in an address at Bordeaux, shortly before assuming the title of Emperor, "say that the Empire is war. I say that the Empire is peace; for France desires peace, and when France is satisfied the world is tranquil. We have waste territories to cultivate, roads to open, harbours to dig a system of railroads to complete; we have to bring all our great western ports into connection with the American continent by a rapidity of communication which we still want. We have ruins to restore, false gods to overthrow, truths to make triumphant. This is the sense that I attach to the Empire; these are the conquests which I contemplate." Never had the ideal of industrious peace been more impressively set before mankind than in the years which succeeded the convulsion of 1848. Yet the epoch on which Europe was then about to enter proved to be pre-eminently an epoch of war. In the next quarter of a century there was not one of the Great Powers which was not engaged in an armed struggle with its rivals. Nor were the wars of this period in any sense the result of accident, or disconnected with the stream of political tendencies which makes the history of the age. With one exception they left in their train great changes for which the time was ripe, changes which for more than a generation had been the recognised objects of national desire, but which persuasion and revolution had equally failed to bring into effect. The Crimean War alone was barren in positive results of a lasting nature, and may seem only to have postponed, at enormous cost of life, the fall of a doomed and outworn Power. But the time has not yet arrived when the real bearing of the overthrow of Russia in 1854 on the destiny of the Christian races of Turkey can be confidently expressed. The victory of the Sultan's protectors delayed the emancipation of these races for twenty years; the victory, or the unchecked aggression, of Russia in 1854 might possibly have closed to them forever the ways to national independence.

The plans formed by the Empress Catherine in the last century for the restoration of the Greek Empire under a prince of the Russian House had long been abandoned at St. Petersburg. The later aim of Russian policy found its clearest expression in the Treaty of Unkiar Skelessi, extorted from Sultan Mahmud in 1833 in the course of the first war against Mehemet Ali. This Treaty, if it had not been set aside by the Western Powers, would have made the Ottoman Empire a vassal State under the Czar's protection. In the concert of Europe which was called into being by the second war of Mehemet Ali against the Sultan in 1840, Nicholas had considered it his interest to act with England and the German Powers in defence of the Porte against its Egyptian rival and his French ally. A policy of moderation had been imposed upon Russia by the increased watchfulness and activity now displayed by the other European States in all that related to the Ottoman Empire. Isolated aggression had become impracticable; it was necessary for Russia to seek the countenance or support of some ally before venturing on the next step in the extension of its power southwards.

In 1844 Nicholas visited England. The object of his journey was to sound the Court and Government, and to lay the foundation for concerted action between Russia and England, to the exclusion of France, when circumstances should bring about the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire, an event which the Czar believed to be not far off. Peel was then Prime Minister; Lord Aberdeen was Foreign Secretary. Aberdeen had begun his political career in a diplomatic mission to the Allied Armies in 1814. His feelings towards Russia were those of a loyal friend towards an old ally; and the remembrance of the epoch of 1814, when the young Nicholas had made acquaintance with Lord Aberdeen in France, appears to have given to the Czar a peculiar sense of confidence in the goodwill of the English Minister towards himself. Nicholas spoke freely with Aberdeen, as well as with Peel and Wellington, on the impending fall of the Ottoman Empire. "We have," he said, "a sick, a dying man on our hands. We must keep him alive so long as it is possible to do so, but we must frankly take into view all contingencies. I wish for no inch of Turkish soil myself, but neither will I permit any other Power to seize an inch of it. France, which has designs upon Africa, upon the Mediterranean, and upon the East, is the only Power to be feared. An understanding between England and Russia will preserve the peace of Europe." If the Czar pursued his speculations further into detail, of which there is no evidence, he elicited no response. He was heard with caution, and his visit appears to have produced nothing more than the formal expression of a desire on the part of the British Government that the existing treaty-rights of Russia should be respected by the Porte, together with an unmeaning promise that, if unexpected events should occur in Turkey, Russia and England should enter into counsel as to the best course of action to be pursued in common.

Nicholas, whether from policy or from a sense of kingly honour which at most times powerfully influenced him, did not avail himself of the prostration of the Continental Powers in 1848 to attack Turkey. He detested revolution, as a crime against the divinely ordered subjection of nations to their rulers, and would probably have felt himself degraded had he, in the spirit of his predecessor Catherine, turned the calamities of his brother-monarchs to his own separate advantage. It accorded better with his proud nature, possibly also with the schemes of a far-reaching policy, for Russia to enter the field as the protector of the Hapsburgs against the rebel Hungarians than for its armies to snatch from the Porte what the lapse of time and the goodwill of European allies would probably give to Russia at no distant date without a struggle. Disturbances at Bucharest and at Jassy led indeed to a Russian intervention in the Danubian Principalities in the interests of a despotic system of government; but Russia possessed by treaty protectorial rights over these Provinces. The military occupation which followed the revolt against the Hospodars was the subject of a convention between Turkey and Russia; it was effected by the armies of the two Powers jointly; and at the expiration of two years the Russian forces were peacefully withdrawn. More serious were the difficulties which arose from the flight of Kossuth and other Hungarian leaders into Turkey after the subjugation of Hungary by the allied Austrian and Russian armies. The Courts of Vienna and St. Petersburg united in demanding from the Porte the surrender of these refugees; the Sultan refused to deliver them up, and he was energetically supported by Great Britain, Kossuth's children on their arrival at Constantinople being received and cared for at the British Embassy. The tyrannous demand of the two Emperors, the courageous resistance of the Sultan, excited the utmost interest in Western Europe. By a strange turn of fortune, the Power which at the end of the last century had demanded from the Court of Vienna the Greek leader Rhegas, and had put him to death as soon as he was handed over by the Austrian police, was now gaining the admiration of all free nations as the last barrier that sheltered the champions of European liberty from the vengeance of despotic might. The Czar and the Emperor of Austria had not reckoned with the forces of public indignation aroused against them in the West by their attempt to wrest their enemies from the Sultan's hand. They withdrew their ambassadors from Constantinople and threatened to resort to force. But the appearance of the British and French fleets at the Dardanelles gave a new aspect to the dispute. The Emperors learnt that if they made war upon Turkey for the question at issue they would have to fight also against the Western Powers. The demand for the surrender of the refugees was withdrawn; and in undertaking to keep the principal of them under surveillance for a reasonable period, the Sultan gave to the two Imperial Courts such satisfaction as they could, without loss of dignity, accept.

The coup d’état of Louis Napoleon at the end of the year 1851 was witnessed by the Czar with sympathy and admiration as a service to the cause of order; but the assumption of the Imperial title by the Prince displeased him exceedingly. While not refusing to recognize Napoleon III, he declined to address him by the term (mon frère) usually employed by monarchs in writing to one another. In addition to the question relating to the Hungarian refugees, a dispute concerning the Holy Places in Palestine threatened to cause strife between France and Russia. The same wave of religious and theological interest which in England produced the Tractarian movement brought into the arena of political life in France an enthusiasm for the Church long strange to the Legislature and the governing circles of Paris. In the Assembly of 1849 Montalembert, the spokesman of this militant Catholicism, was one of the foremost figures. Louis Napoleon, as President, sought the favour of those whom Montalembert led; and the same Government which restored the Pope to Rome demanded from the Porte a stricter enforcement of the rights of the Latin Church in the East. The earliest Christian legends had been localized in various spots around Jerusalem. These had been in the ages of faith the goal of countless pilgrimages, and in more recent centuries they had formed the object of treaties between the Porte and France. Greek monks, however, disputed with Latin monks for the guardianship of the Holy Places; and as the power of Russia grew, the privileges of the Greek monks had increased. The claims of the rival brotherhoods, which related to doors, keys, stars and lamps, might probably have been settled to the satisfaction of all parties within a few hours by an experienced stage-manager; in the hands of diplomatists bent on obtaining triumphs over one another they assumed dimensions that overshadowed the peace of Europe. The French and the Russian Ministers at Constantinople alternately tormented the Sultan in the character of aggrieved sacristans, until, at the beginning of 1852, the Porte compromised itself with both parties by adjudging to each rights which it professed also to secure to the other. A year more, spent in prevarications, in excuses, and in menaces, ended with the triumph of the French, with the evasion of the promises made by the Sultan to Russia, and with the discomfiture of the Greek Church in the person of the monks who officiated at the Holy Sepulchre and the Shrine of the Nativity.

Nicholas treated the conduct of the Porte as an outrage upon himself. A conflict which had broken out between the Sultan and the Montenegrins, and which now threatened to take a deadly form, confirmed the Czar in his belief that the time for resolute action had arrived. At the beginning of the year 1853 he addressed himself to Hamilton Seymour, British ambassador at St. Petersburg, in terms much stronger and clearer than those which he had used towards Lord Aberdeen nine years before. "The Sick Man," he said, "was in extremities; the time had come for a clear understanding between England and Russia. The occupation of Constantinople by Russian troops might be necessary, but the Czar would not hold it permanently. He would not permit any other Power to establish itself at the Bosphorus, neither would he permit the Ottoman Empire to be broken up into Republics to afford a refuge to the Mazzinis and the Kossuths of Europe. The Danubian Principalities were already independent States under Russian protection. The other possessions of the Sultan north of the Balkans might be placed on the same footing. England might annex Egypt and Crete." After making this communication to the British ambassador, and receiving the reply that England declined to enter into any schemes based on the fall of the Turkish Empire and disclaimed all desire for the annexation of any part of the Sultan’s dominions, Nicholas despatched Prince Menschikoff to Constantinople, to demand from the Porte not only an immediate settlement of the questions relating to the Holy Places, but a Treaty guaranteeing to the Greek Church the undisturbed enjoyment of all its ancient rights and the benefit of all privileges that might be accorded by the Porte to any other Christian communities.

The Treaty which Menschikoff was instructed to demand would have placed the Sultan and the Czar in the position of contracting parties with regard to the entire body of rights and privileges enjoyed by the Sultan’s subjects of the Greek confession, and would so have made the violation of these rights in the case of any individual Christian a matter entitling Russia to interfere, or to claim satisfaction as for the breach of a Treaty engagement. By the Treaty of Kainardjie (1774) the Sultan had indeed bound himself “to protect the Christian religion and its Churches”; but this phrase was too indistinct to create specific matter of Treaty-obligation; and if it had given to Russia any general right of interference on behalf of members of the Greek Church, it would have given it the same right in behalf of all the Roman Catholics and all the Protestants in the Sultan's dominions, a right which the Czars had never professed to enjoy. Moreover, the Treaty of Kainardjie itself forbade by implication any such construction, for it mentioned by name one ecclesiastical building for whose priests the Porte did concede to Russia the right of addressing representations to the Sultan. Over the Danubian Principalities Russia possessed by the Treaty of Adrianople undoubted protectorial rights; but these Provinces stood on a footing quite different from that of the remainder of the Empire. That the Greek Church possessed by custom and by enactment privileges which it was the duty of the Sultan to respect, no one contested: the novelty of Menschikoff’s claim was that the observation of these rights should be made matter of Treaty with Russia. The importance of the demand was proved by the fact that Menschikoff strictly forbade the Turkish Ministers to reveal it to the other Powers, and that Nicholas caused the English Government to be informed that the mission of his envoy had no other object than the final adjustment of the difficulties respecting the Holy Places.

When Menschikoff reached Constantinople the British Embassy was in the hands of a subordinate officer. The Ambassador, Sir Stratford Canning, had recently returned to England. Stratford Canning, a cousin of the Premier, had been employed in the East at intervals since 1810. There had been a period in his career when he had desired to see the Turk expelled from Europe as an incurable barbarian; but the reforms of Sultan Mahmud had at a later time excited his warm interest and sympathy, and as Ambassador at Constantinople from 1842 to 1852 he had laboured strenuously for the regeneration of the Turkish Empire, and for the improvement of the condition of the Christian races under the Sultan's rule. His dauntless, sustained energy, his noble presence, the sincerity of his friendship towards the Porte, gave him an influence at Constantinople seldom, if ever, exercised by a foreign statesman. There were moments when he seemed to be achieving results of some value; but the task which he had attempted was one that surpassed human power; and after ten years so spent as to win for him the fame of the greatest ambassador by whom England has been represented in modern times, he declared that the prospects of Turkish reform were hopeless, and left Constantinople, not intending to return. Before his successor had been appointed, the mission of Prince Menschikoff, the violence of his behaviour at Constantinople, and a rumour that he sought far more than his ostensible object, alarmed the British Government. Canning was asked to resume his post. Returning to Constantinople as Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, he communicated on his journey with the Courts of Paris and Vienna, and carried with him authority to order the Admiral of the fleet at Malta to hold his ships in readiness to sail for the East. He arrived at the Bosphorus on April 5th, learnt at once the real situation of affairs, and entered into negotiation with Menschikoff. The Russian, a mere child in diplomacy in comparison with his rival, suffered himself to be persuaded to separate the question of the Holy Places from that of the guarantee of the rights of the Greek Church. In the first matter Russia had a good cause; in the second it was advancing a new claim. The two being dissociated, Stratford had no difficulty in negotiating a compromise on the Holy Places satisfactory to the Czar's representative; and the demand for the Protectorate over the Greek Christians now stood out unobscured by those grievances of detail with which it had been at first interwoven. Stratford encouraged the Turkish Government to reject the Russian proposal. Knowing, nevertheless, that Menschikoff would in the last resort endeavour to intimidate the Sultan personally, he withheld from the Ministers, in view of this last peril, the strongest of all his arguments; and seeking a private audience with the Sultan on the 9th of May, he made known to him with great solemnity the authority which he had received to order the fleet at Malta to be in readiness to sail. The Sultan placed the natural interpretation on this statement, and ordered final rejection of Menschikoff’s demand, though the Russian had consented to a modification of its form, and would now have accepted a note declaratory of the intentions of the Sultan towards the Greek Church instead of a regular Treaty. On the 21st of May Menschikoff quitted Constantinople; and the Czar, declaring that some guarantee must be held by Russia for the maintenance of the rights of the Greek Christians, announced that he should order his army to occupy the Danubian Provinces. After an interval of some weeks the Russian troops crossed the Pruth, and spread themselves over Moldavia and Wallachia. (June 22nd.)

In the ordinary course of affairs the invasion of the territory of one Empire by the troops of another is, and can be nothing else than, an act of war, necessitating hostilities as a measure of defence on the part of the Power invaded. But the Czar protested that in taking the Danubian Principalities in pledge he had no intention of violating the peace; and as yet the common sense of the Turks, as well as the counsels that they received from without, bade them hesitate before issuing a declaration of war. Since December, 1852, Lord Aberdeen had been Prime Minister of England, at the head of a Cabinet formed by a coalition between followers of Sir Robert Peel and the Whig leaders Palmerston and Russell. There was no man in England more pacific in disposition, or more anxious to remain on terms of honourable friendship with Russia, than Lord Aberdeen. The Czar had justly reckoned on the Premier's own forbearance; but he had failed to recognize the strength of those forces which, both within and without the Cabinet, set in the direction of armed resistance to Russia. Palmerston was keen for action. Lord Stratford appears to have taken it for granted from the first that, if a war should arise between the Sultan and the Czar in consequence of the rejection of Menschikoff’s demand, Great Britain would fight in defence of the Ottoman Empire. He had not stated this in express terms, but the communication which he made to the Sultan regarding his own instructions could only have been intended to convey this impression. If the fleet was not to defend the Sultan, it was a mere piece of deceit to inform him that the Ambassador had powers to place it in readiness to sail; and such deceit was as alien to the character of Lord Stratford as the assumption of a virtual engagement towards the Sultan was in keeping with his imperious will and his passionate conviction of the duty of England. From the date of Lord Stratford's visit to the Palace, although no Treaty or agreement was in existence, England stood bound in honour, so long as the Turks should pursue the policy laid down by her envoy, to fulfill the expectations which this envoy had held out.

Had Lord Stratford been at the head of the Government, the policy and intentions of Great Britain would no doubt have been announced with such distinctness that the Czar could have fostered no misapprehension as to the results of his own acts. Palmerston, as Premier, would probably have adopted the same clear course, and war would either have been avoided by this nation or have been made with a distinct purpose and on a definite issue. But the Cabinet of Lord Aberdeen was at variance with itself. Aberdeen was ready to go to all lengths in negotiation, but he was not sufficiently master of his colleagues and of the representatives of England abroad to prevent acts and declarations which in themselves brought war near; above all, he failed to require from Turkey that abstention from hostilities on which, so long as negotiations lasted, England and the other Powers which proposed to make the cause of the Porte their own ought unquestionably to have insisted. On the announcement by the Czar that his army was about to enter the Principalities, the British Government dispatched the fleet to Besika Bay near the entrance to the Dardanelles, and authorized Stratford to call it to the Bosphorus, in case Constantinople should be attacked. The French fleet, which had come into Greek waters on Menschikoff’s appearance at Constantinople, took up the same position. Meanwhile European diplomacy was busily engaged in framing schemes of compromise between the Porte and Russia. The representatives of the four Powers met at Vienna, and agreed upon a note which, as they considered, would satisfy any legitimate claims of Russia on behalf of the Greek Church, and at the same time impose upon the Sultan no further obligations towards Russia than those which already existed. This note, however, was ill drawn, and would have opened the door to new claims on the part of Russia to a general Protectorate not sanctioned by its authors. The draft was sent to St. Petersburg, and was accepted by the Czar. At Constantinople its ambiguities were at once recognised; and though Lord Stratford in his official capacity urged its acceptance under a European guarantee against misconstruction, the Divan, now under the pressure of strong patriotic forces, refused to accept the note unless certain changes were made in its expressions. France, England, and Austria united in recommending to the Court of St. Petersburg the adoption of these amendments. The Czar, however, declined to admit them, and a Russian document, which obtained a publicity for which it was not intended, proved that the construction of the note which the amendments were expressly designed to exclude was precisely that which Russia meant to place upon it. The British Ministry now refused to recommend the note any longer to the Porte. Austria, while it approved of the amendments, did not consider that their rejection by the Czar justified England in abandoning the note as the common award of the European Powers; and thus the concert of Europe was interrupted, England and France combining in a policy which Austria and Prussia were not willing to follow. In proportion as the chances of joint European action diminished, the ardour of the Turks themselves, and of those who were to be their allies, rose higher. Tumults, organized by the heads of the war-party, broke out at Constantinople; and although Stratford scorned the alarms of his French colleagues, who reported that a massacre of the Europeans in the capital was imminent, he thought it necessary to call up two vessels of war in order to provide for the security of the English residents and of the Sultan himself. In England Palmerston and the men of action in the Cabinet dragged Lord Aberdeen with them. The French Government pressed for vigorous measures, and in conformity with its desire instructions were sent from London to Lord Stratford to call the fleet to the Bosphorus, and to employ it in defending the territory of the Sultan against aggression. On the 22nd of October the British and French fleets passed the Dardanelles.

The Turk, sure of the protection of the Western Powers, had for some weeks resolved upon war; and yet the possibilities of a diplomatic settlement were not yet exhausted. Stratford himself had forwarded to Vienna the draft of an independent note which the Sultan was prepared to accept. This had not yet been seen at St. Petersburg. Other projects of conciliation filled the desks of all the leading politicians of Europe. Yet, though the belief generally existed that some scheme could be framed by which the Sultan, without sacrifice of his dignity and interest, might induce the Czar to evacuate the Principalities, no serious attempt was made to prevent the Turks from coming into collision with their enemies both by land and sea. The commander of the Russian troops in the Principalities having, on the 10th of October, rejected an ultimatum requiring him to withdraw within fifteen days, this answer was taken as the signal for the commencement of hostilities. The Czar met the declaration of war with a statement that he would abstain from taking the offensive, and would continue merely to hold the Principalities as a material guarantee. Omar Pasha, the Ottoman commander in Bulgaria, was not permitted to observe the same passive attitude. Crossing the Danube, he attacked and defeated the Russians at Oltenitza. Thus assailed, the Czar considered that his engagement not to act on the offensive was at an end, and the Russian fleet, issuing from Sebastopol, attacked and destroyed a Turkish squadron in the harbour of Sinope on the southern coast of the Black Sea (November 30). The action was a piece of gross folly on the part of the Russian authorities if they still cherished the hopes of pacification which the Czar professed; but others also were at fault. Lord Stratford and the British Admiral, if they could not prevent the Turkish ships from remaining in the Euxine, where they were useless against the superior force of Russia, might at least in exercise of the powers given to them have sent a sufficient escort to prevent an encounter. But the same ill-fortune and incompleteness that had marked all the diplomacy of the previous months attended the counsels of the Admirals at the Bosphorus; and the disaster of Sinope rendered war between the Western Powers and Russia almost inevitable.

The Turks themselves had certainly not understood the declaration of the Emperor Nicholas as assuring their squadron at Sinope against attack; and so far was the Ottoman Admiral from being the victim of a surprise that he had warned his Government some days before of the probability of his own destruction. But to the English people, indignant with Russia since its destruction of Hungarian liberty and its tyrannous demand for the surrender of the Hungarian refugees, all that now passed heaped up the intolerable sum of autocratic violence and deceit. The cannonade which was continued against the Turkish crews at Sinope long after they had become defenceless gave to the battle the aspect of a massacre; the supposed promise of the Czar to act only on the defensive caused it to be denounced as an act of flagrant treachery; the circumstance that the Turkish fleet was lying within one of the Sultan’s harbours, touching as it were the territory which the navy of England had undertaken to protect, imparted to the attack the character of a direct challenge and defiance to England. The cry rose loud for war. Napoleon, eager for the alliance with England, eager in conjunction with England to play a great part before Europe, even at the cost of a war from which France had nothing to gain, proposed that the combined fleets should pass the Bosphorus and require every Russian vessel sailing on the Black Sea to re-enter port. His proposal was adopted by the British Government. Nicholas learnt that the Russian flag was swept from the Euxine. It was in vain that a note upon which the representatives of the Powers at Vienna had once more agreed was accepted by the Porte and forwarded to St. Petersburg (December 31). The pride of the Czar was wounded beyond endurance, and at the beginning of February he recalled his ambassadors from London and Paris. A letter written to him by Napoleon III., demanding in the name of himself and the Queen of England the evacuation of the Principalities, was answered by a reference to the campaign of Moscow, Austria now informed the Western Powers that if they would fix a delay for the evacuation of the Principalities, the expiration of which should be the signal for hostilities, it would support the summons; and without waiting to learn whether Austria would also unite with them in hostilities in the event of the summons being rejected, the British and French Governments despatched their ultimatum to St. Petersburg. Austria and Prussia sought, but in vain, to reconcile the Court of St. Petersburg to the only measure by which peace could now be preserved. The ultimatum remained without an answer, and on the 27th of March England and France declared war.

The Czar had at one time believed that in his Eastern schemes he was sure of the support of Austria; and he had strong reasons for supposing himself entitled to its aid. But his mode of thought was simpler than that of the Court of Vienna. Schwarzenberg, when it was remarked that the intervention of Russia in Hungary would bind the House of Hapsburg too closely to its protector, had made the memorable answer, "We will astonish the world by our ingratitude." It is possible that an instance of Austrian gratitude would have astonished the world most of all; but Schwarzenberg's successors were not the men to sacrifice a sound principle to romance. Two courses of Eastern policy have, under various modifications, had their advocates in rival schools of statesmen at Vienna. The one is that of expansion southward in concert with Russia; the other is that of resistance to the extension of Russian power, and the consequent maintenance of the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. During Metternich's long rule, inspired as this was by a faith in the Treaties and the institutions of 1815, and by the dread of every living, disturbing force, the second of these systems had been consistently followed. In 1854 the determining motive of the Court of Vienna was not a decided political conviction, but the certainty that if it united with Russia it would be brought into war with the Western Powers. Had Russia and Turkey been likely to remain alone in the arena, an arrangement for territorial compensation would possibly, as on some other occasions, have won for the Czar an Austrian alliance. Combination against Turkey was, however, at the present time, too perilous an enterprise for the Austrian monarchy; and, as nothing was to be gained through the war, it remained for the Viennese diplomatists to see that nothing was lost and as little as possible wasted. The presence of Russian troops in the Principalities, where they controlled the Danube in its course between the Hungarian frontier and the Black Sea, was, in default of some definite understanding, a danger to Austria; and Count Buol, the Minister at Vienna, had therefore every reason to thank the Western Powers for insisting on the evacuation of this district. When France and England were burning to take up arms, it would have been a piece of superfluous brutality towards the Czar for Austria to attach to its own demand for the evacuation of the Principalities the threat of war. But this evacuation Austria was determined to enforce. It refused, as did Prussia, to give to the Czar the assurance of its neutrality; and, inasmuch as the free navigation of the Danube as far as the Black Sea had now become recognised as one of the commercial interests of Germany at large, Prussia and the German Federation undertook to protect the territory of Austria, if, in taking the measures necessary to free the Principalities, it should itself be attacked by Russia.

The King of Prussia, clouded as his mind was by political and religious phantasms, had nevertheless at times a larger range of view than his neighbours; and his opinion as to the true solution of the difficulties between Nicholas and the Porte, at the time of Menschikoff’s mission, deserved more attention than it received. Frederick William proposed that the rights of the Christian subjects of the Sultan should be placed by Treaty under the guarantee of all the Great Powers. This project was opposed by Lord Stratford and the Turkish Ministers as an encroachment on the Sultan's sovereignty, and its rejection led the King to write with some asperity to his ambassador in London that he should seek the welfare of Prussia in absolute neutrality. At a later period the King demanded from England, as the condition of any assistance from himself, a guarantee for the maintenance of the frontiers of Germany and Prussia. He regarded Napoleon III as the representative of a revolutionary system, and believed that under him French armies would soon endeavour to overthrow the order of Europe established in 1815. That England should enter into a close alliance with this man excited the King's astonishment and disgust; and unless the Cabinet of London were prepared to give a guarantee against any future attack on Germany by the French Emperor, who was believed to be ready for every political adventure, it was vain for England to seek Prussia's aid. Lord Aberdeen could give no such guarantee; still less could he gratify the King's strangely passionate demand for the restoration of his authority in the Swiss canton of Neuchatel, which before 1848 had belonged in name to the Hohenzollerns. Many influences were brought to bear upon the King from the side both of England and of Russia. The English Court and Ministers, strenuously supported by Bunsen, the Prussian ambassador, strove to enlist the King in an active concert of Europe against Russia by dwelling on the duties of Prussia as a Great Power and the dangers arising to it from isolation. On the other hand, the admiration felt by Frederick William for the Emperor Nicholas, and the old habitual friendship between Prussia and Russia, gave strength to the Czar's advocates at Berlin. Schemes for a reconstruction of Europe, which were devised by Napoleon, and supposed to receive some countenance from Palmerston, reached the King's ear. He heard that Austria was to be offered the Danubian Provinces upon condition of giving up northern Italy; that Piedmont was to receive Lombardy, and in return to surrender Savoy to France; that, if Austria should decline to unite actively with the Western Powers, revolutionary movements were to be stirred up in Italy and in Hungary. Such reports kindled the King's rage. "Be under no illusion," he wrote to his ambassador; "tell the British Ministers in their private ear and on the housetops that I will not suffer Austria to be attacked by the revolution without drawing the sword in its defence. If England and France let loose revolution as their ally, be it where it may, I unite with Russia for life and death." Bunsen advocated the participation of Prussia in the European concert with more earnestness than success. While the King was declaiming against the lawlessness which was supposed to have spread from the Tuileries to Downing Street, Bunsen, on his own authority, sent to Berlin a project for the annexation of Russian territory by Prussia as a reward for its alliance with the Western Courts. This document fell into the hands of the Russian party at Berlin, and it roused the King's own indignation. Bitter reproaches were launched against the authors of so felonious a scheme. Bunsen could no longer retain his office. Other advocates of the Western alliance were dismissed from their places, and the policy of neutrality carried the day at Berlin.

The situation of the European Powers in April, 1854, was thus a very strange one. All the Four Powers were agreed in demanding the evacuation of the Principalities by Russia, and in the resolution to enforce this, if necessary, by arms. Protocols witnessing this agreement were signed on the 9th of April and the 23rd of May, and it was moreover declared that the Four Powers recognised the necessity of maintaining the independence and the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. But France and England, while they made the presence of the Russians in the Principalities the avowed cause of war, had in reality other intentions than the mere expulsion of the intruder and the restoration of the state of things previously existing. It was their desire so to cripple Russia that it should not again be in a condition to menace the Ottoman Empire. This intention made it impossible for the British Cabinet to name, as the basis of a European league, that single definite object for which, and for which alone, all the Powers were in May, 1854, ready to unite in arms. England, the nation and the Government alike, chose rather to devote itself, in company with France, to the task of indefinitely weakening Russia than, in company with all Europe, to force Russia to one humiliating but inevitable act of submission. Whether in the prosecution of their ulterior objects the Western Courts might or might not receive some armed assistance from Austria and Prussia no man could yet predict with confidence. That Austria would to some extent make common cause with the Allies seemed not unlikely; that Prussia would do so there was no real ground to believe; on the contrary, fair warning had been given that there were contingencies in which Prussia might ultimately be found on the side of the Czar. Striving to the utmost to discover some principle, some object, or even some formula which might expand the purely defensive basis accepted by Austria and Prussia into a common policy of reconstructive action, the Western Powers could obtain nothing more definite from the Conference at Vienna than the following shadowy engagement:-"The Four Governments engage to endeavour in common to discover the guarantees most likely to attach the existence of the Ottoman Empire to the general equilibrium of Europe. They are ready to deliberate as to the employment of means calculated to accomplish the object of their agreement." This readiness to deliberate, so cautiously professed, was a quality in which during the two succeeding years the Courts of Vienna and Berlin were not found wanting; but the war in which England and France now engaged was one which they had undertaken at their own risk, and they discovered little anxiety on any side to share their labour.

During the winter of 1853 and the first weeks of the following year hostilities of an indecisive character continued between the Turks and the Russians on the Danube. At the outbreak of the war Nicholas had consulted the veteran Paskiewitsch as to the best road by which to march on Constantinople. Paskiewitsch, as a strategist, knew the danger to which a Russian force crossing the Danube would be exposed from the presence of Austrian armies on its flank; as commander in the invasion of Hungary in 1849 he had encountered, as he believed, ill faith and base dealing on the part of his ally, and had repaid it with insult and scorn; he had learnt better than any other man the military and the moral weakness of the Austrian Empire in its eastern part. His answer to the Czar's inquiries was, “The road to Constantinople lies through Vienna”. But whatever bitterness the Czar might have felt at the ingratitude of Francis Joseph, he was not ready for a war with Austria, in which he could hardly have avoided the assistance of revolutionary allies; moreover, if the road to Constantinople lay through Vienna, it might be urged that the road to Vienna lay through Berlin. The simpler plan was adopted of a march on the Balkans by way of Shumla, to which the capture of Silistria was to be the prelude. At the end of March the Russian vanguard passed the Danube at the lowest point where a crossing could be made, and advanced into the Dobrudscha. In May the siege of Silistria was undertaken by Paskiewitsch himself. But the enterprise began too late, and the strength employed both in the siege and in the field operations farther east was insufficient. The Turkish garrison, schooled by a German engineer and animated by two young English officers, maintained a stubborn and effective resistance. French and English troops had already landed at Gallipoli for the defence of Constantinople, and finding no enemy within range had taken ship for Varna on the north of the Balkans. Austria, on the 3rd of June, delivered its summons requiring the evacuation of the Principalities. Almost at the same time Paskiewitsch received a wound that disabled him, and was forced to surrender his command into other hands. During the succeeding fortnight the besiegers of Silistria were repeatedly driven back, and on the 22nd they were compelled to raise the siege. The Russians, now hard pressed by an enemy whom they had despised, withdrew to the north of the Danube. The retreating movement was continued during the succeeding weeks, until the evacuation of the Principalities was complete, and the last Russian soldier had recrossed the Pruth. As the invader retired, Austria sent its troops into these provinces, pledging itself by a convention with the Porte to protect them until peace should be concluded, and then to restore them to the Sultan.

With the liberation of the Principalities the avowed ground of war passed away; but the Western Powers had no intention of making peace without further concessions on the part of Russia. As soon as the siege of Silistria was raised instructions were sent to the commanders of the allied armies at Varna, pressing, if not absolutely commanding, them to attack Sebastopol, the headquarters of Russian maritime power in the Euxine. The capture of Sebastopol had been indicated some months before by Napoleon III as the most effective blow that could be dealt to Russia. It was from Sebastopol that the fleet had issued which destroyed the Turks at Sinope: until this arsenal had fallen, the growing naval might which pressed even more directly upon Constantinople than the neighbourhood of the Czar's armies by land could not be permanently laid low. The objects sought by England and France were now gradually brought into sufficient clearness to be communicated to the other Powers, though the more precise interpretation of the conditions laid down remained open for future discussion. It was announced that the Protectorate of Russia over the Danubian Principalities and Servia must be abolished; that the navigation of the Danube at its mouths must be freed from all obstacles; that the Treaty of July, 1841, relating to the Black Sea and the Dardanelles, must be revised in the interest of the balance of power in Europe; and that the claim to any official Protectorate over Christian subjects of the Porte, of whatever rite, must be abandoned by the Czar. Though these conditions, known as the Four Points, were not approved by Prussia, they were accepted by Austria in August, 1854, and were laid before Russia as the basis of any negotiation for peace. The Czar declared in answer that Russia would only negotiate on such a basis when at the last extremity. The Allied Governments, measuring their enemy's weakness by his failure before Silistria, were determined to accept nothing less; and the attack upon Sebastopol, ordered before the evacuation of the Principalities, was consequently allowed to take its course.

The Roadstead, or Great Harbour, of Sebastopol runs due eastwards inland from a point not far from the south-western extremity of the Crimea. One mile from the open sea its waters divide, the larger arm still running eastwards till it meets the River Tchernaya, the smaller arm, known as the Man-of-War Harbour, bending sharply to the south. On both sides of this smaller harbour Sebastopol is built. To the seaward, that is from the smaller harbour westwards, Sebastopol and its approaches were thoroughly fortified. On its landward, southern, side the town had been open till 1853, and it was still but imperfectly protected, most weakly on the south-eastern side. On the north of the Great Harbour Fort Constantine at the head of a line of strong defences guarded the entrance from the sea; while on the high ground immediately opposite Sebastopol and commanding the town there stood the Star Fort with other military constructions. The general features of Sebastopol were known to the Allied commanders; they had, however, no precise information as to the force by which it was held, nor as to the armament of its fortifications. It was determined that the landing should be made in the Bay of Eupatoria, thirty miles north of the fortress. Here, on the 14th of September, the Allied forces, numbering about thirty thousand French, twenty-seven thousand English, and seven thousand Turks, effected their disembarkation without meeting any resistance. The Russians, commanded by Prince Menschikoff, lately envoy at Constantinople, had taken post ten miles further south on high ground behind the River Alma. On the 20th of September they were attacked in front by the English, while the French attempted a turning movement from the sea. The battle was a scene of confusion, and for a moment the assault of the English seemed to be rolled back. But it was renewed with ever increasing vigour, and before the French had made any impression on the Russian left Lord Raglan's troops had driven the enemy from their positions. Struck on the flank when their front was already broken, outnumbered and badly led, the Russians gave up all for lost. The form of an orderly retreat was maintained only long enough to disguise from the conquerors the completeness of their victory. When night fell the Russian army abandoned itself to total disorder, and had the pursuit been made at once it could scarcely have escaped destruction. But St. Arnaud, who was in the last stage of mortal illness, refused, in spite of the appeal of Lord Raglan, to press on his wearied troops. Menschikoff, abandoning the hope of checking the advance of the Allies in a second battle, and anxious only to prevent the capture of Sebastopol by an enemy supposed to be following at his heels, retired into the fortress, and there sank seven of his war-ships as a barrier across the mouth of the Great Harbour, mooring the rest within. The crews were brought on shore to serve in the defence by land; the guns were dragged from the ships to the bastions and redoubts. Then, when it appeared that the Allies lingered, the Russian commander altered his plan. Leaving Korniloff, the Vice-Admiral, and Todleben, an officer of engineers, to man the existing works and to throw up new ones where the town was undefended, Menschikoff determined to lead off the bulk of his army into the interior of the Crimea, in order to keep open his communications with Russia, to await in freedom the arrival of reinforcements, and, if Sebastopol should not at once fall, to attack the Allies at his own time and opportunity. (September 24th.)

The English had lost in the battle of the Alma about two thousand men, the French probably less than half that number. On the morning after the engagement Lord Raglan proposed that the two armies should march straight against the fortifications lying on the north of the Great Harbour, and carry these by storm, so winning a position where their guns would command Sebastopol itself. The French, supported by Burgoyne, the chief of the English engineers, shrank from the risk of a front attack on works supposed to be more formidable than they really were, and induced Lord Raglan to consent to a long circuitous march which would bring the armies right round Sebastopol to its more open southern side, from which, it was thought, an assault might be successfully made. This flank-march, which was one of extreme risk, was carried out safely, Menschikoff himself having left Sebastopol, and having passed along the same road in his retreat into the interior a little before the appearance of the Allies. Pushing southward, the English reached the sea at Balaclava, and took possession of the harbour there, accepting the exposed eastward line between the fortress and the Russia is outside; the French, now commanded by Canrobert, continued their march westwards round the back of Sebastopol, and touched the sea at Kasatch Bay. The two armies were thus masters of the broken plateau which, rising westwards from the plain of Balaclava and the valley of the Tchernaya, overlooks Sebastopol on its southern side. That the garrison, which now consisted chiefly of sailors, could at this moment have resisted the onslaught of the fifty thousand troops who had won the battle of the Alma, the Russians themselves did not believe; but once more the French staff, with Burgoyne, urged caution, and it was determined to wait for the siege­guns, which were still at sea. The decision was a fatal one. While the Allies chose positions for their heavy artillery and slowly landed and placed their guns, Korniloff and Todleben made the fortifications on the southern side of Sebastopol an effective barrier before an enemy. The sacrifice of the Russian fleet had not been in vain. The sailors were learning all the duties of a garrison: the cannon from the ships proved far more valuable on land. Three weeks of priceless time were given to leaders who knew how to turn every moment to account. When, on the 17th of October, the bombardment which was to precede the assault on Sebastopol began, the French artillery, operating on the south-west, was overpowered by that of the defenders. The fleets in vain thundered against the solid sea-front of the fortress. At the end of eight days' cannonade, during which the besiegers’ batteries poured such a storm of shot and shell upon Sebastopol as no fortress had yet withstood, the defences were still unbroken.

Menschikoff in the meantime had received the reinforcements which he expected, and was now ready to fall upon the besiegers from the east. His point of attack was the English port of Balaclava and the fortified road lying somewhat east of this, which formed the outer line held by the English and their Turkish supports. The plain of Balaclava is divided by a low ridge into a northern and a southern valley. Along this ridge runs the causeway, which had been protected by redoubts committed to a weak Turkish guard. On the morning of the 25th the Russians appeared in the northern valley. They occupied the heights rising from it on the north and east, attacked the causeway, captured three of the redoubts, and drove off the Turks, left to meet their onset alone. Lord Raglan, who watched these operations from the edge of the western plateau, ordered up infantry from a distance, but the only English troops on the spot were a light and a heavy brigade of cavalry, each numbering about six hundred men. The Heavy Brigade, under General Scarlett, was directed to move towards Balaclava itself, which was now threatened. While they were on the march, a dense column of Russian cavalry, about three thousand strong, appeared above the crest of the low ridge, ready, as it seemed, to overwhelm the weak troops before them. But in their descent from the ridge the Russians halted, and Scarlett with admirable courage and judgment formed his men for attack, and charged full into the enemy with the handful who were nearest to him. They cut their way into the very heart of the column; and before the Russians could crush them with mere weight the other regiments of the same brigade hurled themselves on the right and on the left against the huge inert mass. The Russians broke and retreated in disorder before a quarter of their number, leaving to Scarlett and his men the glory of an action which ranks with the Prussian attack at Mars-la-Tour in 1870 as the most brilliant cavalry operation in modern warfare. The squadrons of the Light Brigade, during the peril and the victory of their comrades, stood motionless, paralysed by the same defect of temper or intelligence in command which was soon to devote them to a fruitless but ever-memorable act of self-sacrifice. Russian infantry were carrying off the cannon from the conquered redoubts on the causeway, when an aide- de-camp from the general-in-chief brought to the Earl of Lucan, commander of the cavalry, an order to advance rapidly to the front, and save these guns. Lucan, who from his position could see neither the enemy nor the guns, believed himself ordered to attack the Russian artillery at the extremity of the northern valley, and he directed the Light Brigade to charge in this direction. It was in vain that the leader of the Light Brigade, Lord Cardigan, warned his chief, in words which were indeed but too weak, that there was a battery in front, a battery on each flank, and that the ground was covered with Russian riflemen. The order was repeated as that of the head of the army, and it was obeyed. Thus

“Into the valley of Death

Rode the Six Hundred”.

How they died there, the remnant not turning till they had hewn their way past the guns and routed the enemy's cavalry behind them, the English people will never forget.

The day of Balaclava brought to each side something of victory and something of failure. The Russians remained masters of the road that they had captured, and carried off seven English guns; the English, where they had met the enemy, proved that they could defeat overwhelming numbers. Not many days passed before our infantry were put to the test which the cavalry had so victoriously undergone. The siege-approaches of the French had been rapidly advanced, and it was determined that on the 5th of November the long-deferred assault on Sebastopol should be made. On that very morning, under cover of a thick mist, the English right was assailed by massive columns of the enemy. Menschikoff’s army had now risen to a hundred thousand men; he had thrown troops into Sebastopol, and had planned the capture of the English positions by a combined attack from Sebastopol itself, and by troops advancing from the lower valley of the Tchernaya across the bridge of Inkermann. The battle of the 5th of November, on the part of the English, was a soldier's battle, without generalship, without order, without design. The men, standing to their ground whatever their own number and whatever that of the foe, fought, after their ammunition was exhausted, with bayonets, with the butt ends of their muskets, with their fists and with stones. For hours the ever-surging Russian mass rolled in upon them; but they maintained the unequal struggle until the arrival of French regiments saved them from their deadly peril and the enemy were driven in confusion from the field. The Russian columns, marching right up to the guns, had been torn in pieces by artillery-fire. Their loss in killed and wounded was enormous, their defeat one which no ingenuity could disguise. Yet the battle of Inkermann had made the capture of Sebastopol, as it had been planned by the Allies, impossible. Their own loss was too great, the force which the enemy had displayed was too vast, to leave any hope that the fortress could be mastered by a sudden assault. The terrible truth soon became plain that the enterprise on which the armies had been sent had in fact failed, and that another enterprise of a quite different character, a winter siege in the presence of a superior enemy, a campaign for which no preparations had been made, and for which all that was most necessary was wanting, formed the only alternative to an evacuation of the Crimea.

On the 14th of November the Euxine winter began with a storm which swept away the tents on the exposed plateau, and wrecked twenty-one vessels bearing stores of ammunition and clothing. From this time rain and snow turned the tract between the camp and Balaclava into a morass. The loss of the paved road which had been captured by the Russians three weeks before now told with fatal effect on the British army. The only communication with the port of Balaclava was by a hillside track, which soon became impassable by carts. It was necessary to bring up supplies on the backs of horses; but the horses perished from famine and from excessive labour. The men were too few, too weak, too destitute of the helpful ways of English sailors, to assist in providing for themselves. Thus penned up on the bleak promontory, cholera-stricken, mocked rather than sustained during their benumbing toil with rations of uncooked meat and green coffee-berries, the British soldiery wasted away. Their effective force sank at midwinter to eleven thousand men. In the hospitals, which even at Scutari were more deadly to those who passed within them than the fiercest fire of the enemy, nine thousand men perished before the end of February. The time indeed came when the very Spirit of Mercy seemed to enter these abodes of woe, and in the presence of Florence Nightingale nature at last regained its healing power, pestilence no longer hung in the atmosphere which the sufferers breathed, and death itself grew mild. But before this new influence had vanquished routine the grave had closed over whole regiments of men whom it had no right to claim. The sufferings of other armies have been on a greater scale, but seldom has any body of troops furnished a heavier tale of loss and death in proportion to its numbers than the British army during the winter of the Crimean War. The unsparing exposure in the Press of the mismanagement under which our soldiers were perishing excited an outburst of indignation which overthrew Lord Aberdeen's Ministry and placed Palmerston in power. It also gave to Europe at large an impression that Great Britain no longer knew how to conduct a war, and unduly raised the reputation of the French military administration, whose shortcomings, great as they were, no French journalist dared to describe. In spite of Alma and Inkermann, the military prestige of England was injured, not raised, by the Crimean campaign; nor was it until the suppression of the Indian Mutiny that the true capacity of the nation in war was again vindicated before the world.

“I have two generals who will not fail me”, the Czar is reported to have said when he heard of Menschikoff’s last defeat, “Generals January and February”. General February fulfilled his task, but he smote the Czar too. In the first days of March a new monarch inherited the Russian crown. Alexander II. ascended the throne, announcing that he would adhere to the policy of Peter the Great, of Catherine, and of Nicholas. But the proud tone was meant rather for the ear of Russia than of Europe, since Nicholas had already expressed his willingness to treat for peace on the basis laid down by the Western Powers in August, 1854. This change was not produced wholly by the battles of Alma and Inkermann. Prussia, finding itself isolated in Germany, had after some months of hesitation given a diplomatic sanction to the Four Points approved by Austria as indispensable conditions of peace. Russia thus stood forsaken, as it seemed, by its only friend, and Nicholas could no longer hope to escape with the mere abandonment of those claims which had been the occasion of the war. He consented to treat with his enemies on their own terms. Austria now approached still more closely to the Western Powers, and bound itself by treaty, in the event of peace not being concluded by the end of the year on the stated basis, to deliberate with France and England upon effectual means for obtaining the object of the Alliance. Preparations were made for a Conference at Vienna, from which Prussia, still declining to pledge itself to warlike action in case of the failure of the negotiations, was excluded. The sittings of the Conference began a few days after the accession of Alexander II. Russia was represented by its ambassador, Prince Alexander Gortschakoff, who, as Minister of later years, was to play so conspicuous a part in undoing the work of the Crimean epoch. On the first two Articles forming the subject of negotiation, namely the abolition of the Russian Protectorate over Servia and the Principalities, and the removal of all impediments to the free navigation of the Danube, agreement was reached. On the third Article, the revision of the Treaty of July, 1841, relating to the Black Sea and the Dardanelles, the Russian envoy and the representatives of the Western Powers found themselves completely at variance. Gortschakoff had admitted that the Treaty of 1841 must be so revised as to put an end to the preponderance of Russia in the Black Sea; but while the Western Governments insisted upon the exclusion of Russian war-vessels from these waters, Gortschakoff would consent only to the abolition of Russia's preponderance by the free admission of the war-vessels of all nations, or by some similar method of counterpoise. The negotiations accordingly came to an end, but not before Austria, disputing the contention of the Allies that the object of the third Article could be attained only by the specific means proposed by them, had brought forward a third scheme based partly upon the limitation of the Russian navy in the Euxine, partly upon the admission of war-ships of other nations. This scheme was rejected by the Western Powers, whereupon Austria declared that its obligations under the Treaty of December 2nd, 1854, had now been fulfilled, and that it returned in consequence to the position of a neutral.

Great indignation was felt and was expressed at London and Paris at this so-called act of desertion, and at the subsequent withdrawal of Austrian regiments from the positions which they had occupied in anticipation of war. It was alleged that in the first two conditions of peace Austria had seen its own special interests effectually secured; and that as soon as the Court of St. Petersburg had given the necessary assurances on these heads the Cabinet of Vienna was willing to sacrifice the other objects of the Alliance and to abandon the cause of the Maritime Powers, in order to regain, with whatever loss of honour, the friendship of the Czar. Though it was answered with perfect truth that Austria had never accepted the principle of the exclusion of Russia from the Black Sea, and was still ready to take up arms in defence of that system by which it considered that Russia's preponderance in the Black Sea might be most suitably prevented, this argument sounded hollow to combatants convinced of the futility of all methods for holding Russia in check except their own. Austria had grievously injured its own position and credit with the Western Powers. On the other hand it had wounded Russia too deeply to win from the Czar the forgiveness which it expected. Its policy of balance, whether best described as too subtle or as too impartial, had miscarried. It had forfeited its old, without acquiring new friendships. It remained isolated in Europe, and destined to meet without support and without an ally the blows which were soon to fall upon it.

The prospects of the besieging armies before Sebastopol were in some respects better towards the close of January, 1855, than they were when the Conference of Vienna commenced its sittings six weeks later. Sardinia, under the guidance of Cavour, had joined the Western Alliance, and was about to send fifteen thousand soldiers to the Crimea. A new plan of operations, which promised excellent results, had been adopted at headquarters. Up to the end of 1854 the French had directed their main attack against the Flagstaff bastion, a little to the west of the head of the Man-of-War Harbour. They were now, however, convinced by Lord Raglan that the true keystone to the defences of Sebastopol was the Malakoff, on the eastern side, and they undertook the reduction of this formidable work, while the British directed their efforts against the neighbouring Redan. The heaviest fire of the besiegers being thus concentrated on a narrow line, it seemed as if Sebastopol must soon fall. But at the beginning of February a sinister change came over the French camp. General Niel arrived from Paris vested with powers which really placed him in control of the general-in-chief; and though Canrobert was but partially made acquainted with the Emperor's designs, he was forced to sacrifice to them much of his own honour and that of the army. Napoleon had determined to come to the Crimea himself, and at the fitting moment to end by one grand stroke the war which had dragged so heavily in the hands of others. He believed that Sebastopol could only be taken by a complete investment; and it was his design to land with a fresh army on the south-eastern coast of the Crimea, to march across the interior of the peninsula, to sweep Menschikoff's forces from their position above the Tchernaya, and to complete the investment of Sebastopol from the north. With this scheme of operations in view, all labour expended in the attack on Sebastopol from the south was effort thrown away. Canrobert, who had promised his most vigorous co-operation to Lord Raglan, was fettered and paralysed by the Emperor's emissary at headquarters. For three successive months the Russians not only held their own, but by means of counter-approaches won back from the French some of the ground that they had taken. The very existence of the Alliance was threatened when, after Canrobert and Lord Raglan had despatched a force to seize the Russian posts on the Sea of Azof, the French portion of this force was peremptorily recalled by the Emperor, in order that it might be employed in the march northwards across the Crimea. At length, unable to endure the miseries of the position, Canrobert asked to be relieved of his command. He was succeeded by General Pelissier. Pelissier, a resolute, energetic soldier, one moreover who did not owe his promotion to complicity in the coup d’état, flatly refused to obey the Emperor's orders. Sweeping aside the flimsy schemes evolved at the Tuileries, he returned with all his heart to the plan agreed upon by the Allied commanders at the beginning of the year; and from this time, though disasters were still in store, they were not the result of faltering or disloyalty at the headquarters of the French army. The general assault on the Malakoff and the Redan was fixed for the 18th of June. It was bravely met by the Russians; the Allies were driven back with heavy loss, and three months more were added to the duration of the siege. Lord Raglan did not live to witness the last stage of the war. Exhausted by his labours, heartsick at the failure of the great attack, he died on the 28th of June, leaving the command to General Simpson, an officer far his inferior. As the lines of the besiegers approached nearer and nearer to the Russian fortifications, the army which had been defeated at Inkermann advanced for one last effort. Crossing the Tchernaya, it gave battle on the 16th of August. The French and the Sardinians, with little assistance from the British army, won a decisive victory. Sebastopol could hope no longer for assistance from without, and on the 8th of September the blow which had failed in June was dealt once more. The French, throwing themselves in great strength upon the Malakoff, carried this fortress by storm, and frustrated every effort made for its recovery; the British, attacking the Redan with a miserably weak force, were beaten and overpowered. But the fall of the Malakoff was in itself equivalent to the capture of Sebastopol. A few more hours passed, and a series of tremendous explosions made known to the Allies that the Russian commander was blowing up his magazines and withdrawing to the north of the Great Harbour. The prize was at length won, and at the end of a siege of three hundred and fifty days what remained of the Czar's great fortress passed into the hands of his enemies.

The Allies had lost since their landing in the Crimea not less than a hundred thousand men. An enterprise undertaken in the belief that it would be accomplished in the course of a few weeks, and with no greater sacrifice of life than attends every attack upon a fortified place, had proved arduous and terrible almost beyond example. Yet if the Crimean campaign was the result of error and blindness on the part of the invaders, it was perhaps even more disastrous to Russia than any warfare in which an enemy would have been likely to engage with fuller knowledge of the conditions to be met. The vast distances that separated Sebastopol from the military depots in the interior of Russia made its defence a drain of the most fearful character on the levies and the resources of the country. What tens of thousands sank in the endless, unsheltered march without ever nearing the sea, what provinces were swept of their beasts of burden, when every larger shell fired against the enemy had to be borne hundreds of miles by oxen, the records of the war but vaguely make known. The total loss of the Russians should perhaps be reckoned at three times that of the Allies. Yet the fall of Sebastopol was not immediately followed by peace. The hesitation of the Allies in cutting off the retreat of the Russian army had enabled its commander to retain his hold upon the Crimea; in Asia, the delays of a Turkish relieving army gave to the Czar one last gleam of success in the capture of Kars, which, after a strenuous resistance, succumbed to famine on the 28th of November. But before Kars had fallen negotiations for peace had commenced. France was weary of the war. Napoleon, himself unwilling to continue it except at the price of French aggrandisement on the Continent, was surrounded by a band of palace stock-jobbers who had staked everything on the rise of the funds that would result from peace. It was known at every Court of Europe that the Allies were completely at variance with one another; that while the English nation, stung by the failure of its military administration during the winter, by the nullity of its naval operations in the Baltic, and by the final disaster at the Redan, was eager to prove its real power in a new campaign, the ruler of France, satisfied with the crowning glory of the Malakoff, was anxious to conclude peace on any tolerable terms. Secret communications from St. Petersburg were made at Paris by Baron Seebach, envoy of Saxony, a son-in-law of the Russian Chancellor: the Austrian Cabinet, still bent on acting the part of arbiter, but hopeless of the results of a new Conference, addressed itself to the Emperor Napoleon singly, and persuaded him to enter into a negotiation which was concealed for a while from Great Britain. The two intrigues were simultaneously pursued by our ally, but Seebach’s proposals were such that even the warmest friends of Russia at the Tuileries could scarcely support them, and the Viennese diplomatists won the day. It was agreed that a note containing Preliminaries of Peace should be presented by Austria at St. Petersburg as its own ultimatum, after the Emperor Napoleon should have won from the British Government its assent to these terms without any alteration. The Austrian project embodied indeed the Four Points which Britain had in previous months fixed as the conditions of peace, and in substance it differed little from what, even after the fall of Sebastopol, British statesmen were still prepared to accept; but it was impossible that a scheme completed without the participation of Britain and laid down for its passive acceptance should be thus uncomplainingly adopted by its Government. Lord Palmerston required that the Four Articles enumerated should be understood to cover points not immediately apparent on their surface, and that a fifth Article should be added reserving to the Powers the right of demanding certain further special conditions, it being understood that Great Britain would require under this clause only that Russia should bind itself to leave the Aland Islands in the Baltic Sea unfortified. Modified in accordance with the demand of the British Government, the Austrian draft was presented to the Czar at the end of December, with the notification that if it as not accepted by the 16th of January the Austrian ambassador would quit St. Petersburg. On the 15th a Council was held in the presence of the Czar. Nesselrode, who first gave his opinion, urged that the continuance of the war would plunge Russia into hostilities with all Europe, and advised submission to a compact which would last only until Russia had recovered its strength or new relations had arisen among the Powers. One Minister after another declared that Poland, Finland, the Crimea, and the Caucasus would be endangered if peace were not now made; the Chief of the Finances stated that Russia could not go through another campaign without bankruptcy. At the end of the discussion the Council declared unanimously in favour of accepting the Austrian propositions; and although the national feeling was still in favour of resistance, there appears to have been one Russian statesman alone, Prince Gortschakoff, ambassador at Vienna, who sought to dissuade the Czar from making peace. His advice was not taken. The vote of the Council was followed by the despatch of plenipotentiaries to Paris, and here, on the 25th of February, 1856, the envoys of all the Powers, with the exception of Prussia, assembled in Conference, in order to frame the definitive Treaty of Peace.

In the debates which now followed, and which occupied more than a month, Lord Clarendon, who represented Great Britain, discovered that in each contested point he had to fight against the Russian and the French envoys combined, so completely was the Court of the Tuileries now identified with a policy of conciliation and friendliness towards Russia. Great firmness, great plainness of speech was needed on the part of the British Government, in order to prevent the recognised objects of the war from being surrendered by its ally, not from a conviction that they were visionary or unattainable, but from unsteadiness of purpose and from the desire to convert a defeated enemy into a friend. The end, however, was at length reached, and on the 30th of March the Treaty of Paris was signed. The Black Sea was neutralised; its waters and ports, thrown open to the mercantile marine of every nation, were formally and in perpetuity interdicted to the war-ships both of the Powers possessing its coasts and of all other Powers. The Czar and the Sultan undertook not to establish or maintain upon its coasts any military or maritime arsenal. Russia ceded a portion of Bessarabia, accepting a frontier which excluded it from the Danube. The free navigation of this river, henceforth to be effectively maintained by an international Commission, was declared part of the public law of Europe. The Powers declared the Sublime Porte admitted to participate in the advantages of the public law and concert of Europe, each engaging to respect the independence and integrity of the Ottoman Empire, and all guaranteeing in common the strict observance of this engagement, and promising to consider any act tending to its violation as a question of general interest. The Sultan “having, in his constant solicitude for the welfare of his subjects, issued a firman recording his generous intentions towards the Christian population of his empire, and having communicated it to the Powers”, the Powers “recognised the high value of this communication,” declaring at the same time “that it could not, in any case, give to them the right to interfere, either collectively or separately, in the relations of the Sultan to his subjects, or in the internal administration of his empire”. The Danubian Principalities, augmented by the strip of Bessarabia taken from Russia, were to continue to enjoy, under the suzerainty of the Porte and under the guarantee of the Powers, all the privileges and immunities of which they were in possession, no exclusive protection being exercised by any of the guaranteeing Powers

Passing beyond the immediate subjects of negotiation, the Conference availed itself of its international character to gain the consent of Great Britain to a change in the laws of maritime war. England had always claimed, and had always exercised, the right to seize an enemy's goods on the high sea though conveyed in a neutral vessel, and to search the merchant-ships of neutrals for this purpose. The exercise of this right had stirred up against England the Maritime League of 1800, and was condemned by nearly the whole civilised world. Nothing short of an absolute command of the seas made it safe or possible for a single Power to maintain a practice which threatened at moments of danger to turn the whole body of neutral States into its enemies. Moreover, if the seizure of belligerents' goods in neutral ships profited England when it was itself at war, it injured England at all times when it remained at peace during the struggles of other States. Similarly by the issue of privateers England inflicted great injury on its enemies; but its own commerce, exceeding that of every other State, offered to the privateers of its foes a still richer booty. The advantages of the existing laws of maritime war were not altogether on the side of England, though mistress of the seas; and in return for the abolition of privateering, the British Government consented to surrender its sharpest, but most dangerous, weapon of offence, and to permit the products of a hostile State to find a market in time of war. The rule was laid down that the goods of an enemy other than contraband of war should henceforth be safe under a neutral flag. Neutrals' goods discovered on an enemy's ship were similarly made exempt from capture.

The enactments of the Conference of Paris relating to commerce in time of hostilities have not yet been subjected to the strain of a war between England and any European State; its conclusions on all other subjects were but too soon put to the test, and have one after another been found wanting. If the Power which calls man into his moment of life could smile at the efforts and the assumptions of its creature, such smile might have been moved by the assembly of statesmen who, at the close of the Crimean War, affected to shape the future of Eastern Europe. They persuaded themselves that by dint of the iteration of certain phrases they could convert the Sultan and his hungry troop of Pashas into the chiefs of a European State. They imagined that the House of Osman, which in the stages of a continuous decline had successively lost its sway over Hungary, over Servia, over Southern Greece and the Danubian Provinces, and which would twice within the last twenty-five years have seen its Empire dashed to pieces by an Egyptian vassal but for the intervention of Europe, might be arrested in its decadence by an incantation, and be made strong enough and enlightened enough to govern to all time the Slavic and Greek populations which had still the misfortune to be included within its dominions. Recognising--so ran the words which read like bitter irony, but which were meant for nothing of the kind--the value of the Sultan’s promises of reform, the authors of the Treaty of Paris proceeded, as if of set purpose, to extinguish any vestige of responsibility which might have been felt at Constantinople, and any spark of confidence that might still linger among the Christian populations, by declaring that, whether the Sultan observed or broke his promises, in no case could any right of intervention by Europe arise. The helmsman was given his course; the hatches were battened down. If words bore any meaning, if the Treaty of Paris was not an elaborate piece of imposture, the Christian subjects of the Sultan had for the future, whatever might be their wrongs, no redress to look for but in the exertion of their own power. The terms of the Treaty were in fact such as might have been imposed if the Western Powers had gone to war with Russia for some object of their own, and had been rescued, when defeated and overthrown, by the victorious interposition of the Porte. All was hollow, all based on fiction and convention. The illusions of nations in time of revolutionary excitement, the shallow, sentimental commonplaces of liberty and fraternity have afforded just matter for satire; but no democratic platitudes were ever more palpably devoid of connection with fact, more flagrantly in contradiction to the experience of the past, or more ignominiously to be refuted by each succeeding act of history, than the deliberate consecration of the idol of an Ottoman Empire as the crowning act of European wisdom in 1856.

Among the devotees of the Turk the English Ministers were the most impassioned, having indeed in the possession of India some excuse for their fervour on behalf of any imaginable obstacle that would keep the Russians out of Constantinople. The Emperor of the French had during the Conferences at Paris revived his project of incorporating the Danubian Principalities with Austria in return for the cession of Lombardy, but the Viennese Government had declined to enter into any such arrangement. Napoleon consequently entered upon a new Eastern policy. Appreciating the growing force of nationality in European affairs, and imagining that in the championship of the principle of nationality against the Treaties of 1815 he would sooner or later find means for the aggrandisement of himself and France, he proposed that the Provinces of Moldavia and Wallachia, while remaining in dependence upon the Sultan, should be united into a single State under a prince chosen by themselves. The English Ministry would not hear of this union. In their view the creation of a Roumanian Principality under a chief not appointed by the Porte was simply the abstraction from the Sultan of six million persons who at present acknowledged his suzerainty, and whose tribute to Constantinople ought, according to Lord Clarendon, to be increased. Austria, fearing the effect of a Roumanian national movement upon its own Roumanian subjects in Transylvania, joined in resistance to Napoleon's scheme, and the political organisation of the Principalities was in consequence reserved by the Conference of Paris for future settlement. Elections were held in the spring of 1857 under a decree from the Porte, with the result that Moldavia, as it seemed, pronounced against union with the sister province. But the complaint at once arose that the Porte had falsified the popular vote. France and Russia had now established relations of such amity that their ambassadors jointly threatened to quit Constantinople if the elections were not annulled. A visit paid by the French Emperor to Queen Victoria, with the object of smoothing over the difficulties which had begun to threaten the Western alliance, resulted rather in increased misunderstandings between the two Governments as to the future of the Principalities than in any real agreement. The elections were annulled. New representative bodies met at Bucharest and Jassy, and pronounced almost unanimously for union (October, 1857). In the spring of 1858 the Conference of Paris reassembled in order to frame a final settlement of the affairs of the Principalities. It determined that in each Province there should be a Hospodar elected for life, a separate judicature, and a separate legislative Assembly, while a central Commission, formed by representatives of both Provinces, should lay before the Assemblies projects of law on matters of joint interest. In accordance with these provisions, Assemblies were elected in each Principality at the beginning of 1859. Their first duty was to choose the two Hospodars, but in both Provinces a unanimous vote fell upon the same person, Prince Alexander Cuza. The efforts of England and Austria to prevent union were thus baffled by the Roumanian people itself, and after three years the elaborate arrangements made by the Conference were similarly swept away, and a single Ministry and Assembly took the place of the dual Government. It now remained only to substitute a hereditary Prince for a Hospodar elected for life; and in 1866, on the expulsion of Alexander Cuza by his subjects, Prince Charles of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen, a distant kinsman of the reigning Prussian sovereign, was recognised by all Europe as Hereditary Prince of Roumania. The suzerainty of the Porte, now reduced to the bare right to receive a fixed tribute, was fated to last but for a few years longer.

Europe had not to wait for the establishment of Roumanian independence in order to judge of the foresight and the statesmanship of the authors of the Treaty of Paris. Scarcely a year passed without the occurrence of some event that cast ridicule upon the fiction of a self-regenerated Turkey, and upon the profession of the Powers that the epoch of external interference in its affairs was at an end. The active misgovernment of the Turkish authorities themselves, their powerlessness or want of will to prevent flagrant outrage and wrong among those whom they professed to rule, continued after the Treaty of Paris to be exactly what they had been before it. In 1860 massacres and civil war in Mount Lebanon led to the occupation of Syria by French troops. In 1861 Bosnia and Herzegovina took up arms. In 1863 Servia expelled its Turkish garrisons. Crete, rising in the following year, fought long for its independence, and seemed for a moment likely to be united with Greece under the auspices of the Powers, but it was finally abandoned to its Ottoman masters. At the end of fourteen years from the signature of the Peace of Paris, the downfall of the French Empire enabled Russia to declare that it would no longer recognise the provisions of the Treaty which excluded its war-ships and its arsenals from the Black Sea. It was for this, and for this almost alone, that England had gone through the Crimean War. But for the determination of Lord Palmerston to exclude Russia from the Black Sea, peace might have been made while the Allied armies were still at Varna. This exclusion was alleged to be necessary in the interests of Europe at large; that it was really enforced not in the interest of Europe but in the interest of England was made sufficiently clear by the action of Austria and Prussia, whose statesmen, in spite of the discourses so freely addressed to them from London, were at least as much alive to the interests of their respective countries as Lord Palmerston could be on their behalf. Nor had France in 1854 any interest in crippling the power of Russia, or in Eastern affairs generally, which could be remotely compared with those of the possessors of India. The personal needs of Napoleon III made him, while he seemed to lead, the instrument of the British Government for enforcing British aims, and so gave to Palmerston the momentary shaping of a new and superficial concert of the Powers. Masters of Sebastopol, the Allies had experienced little difficulty in investing their own conclusions with the seeming authority of Europe at large; but to bring the representatives of Austria and Prussia to a Council-table, to hand them the pen to sign a Treaty dictated by France and England, was not to bind them to a policy which was not their own, or to make those things interests of Austria and Prussia which were not their interests before. Thus when in 1870 the French Empire fell, England stood alone as the Power concerned in maintaining the exclusion of Russia from the Euxine, and this exclusion it could enforce no longer. It was well that Palmerston had made the Treaty of Paris the act of Europe, but not for the reasons which Palmerston had imagined. The fiction had engendered no new relation in fact; it did not prolong for one hour the submission of Russia after it had ceased to be confronted in the West by a superior force; but it enabled Great Britain to retire without official humiliation from a position which it had conquered only through the help of an accidental Alliance, and which it was unable to maintain alone. The ghost of the Conference of 1856 was, as it were, conjured up in the changed world of 1871. The same forms which had once stamped with the seal of Europe the instrument of restraint upon Russia now as decorously executed its release. Britain accepted what Europe would not resist; and below the slopes where lay the countless dead of three nations Sebastopol rose from its ruins, and the ensign of Russia floated once more over its ships of war.

CHAPTER XXII

THE CREATION OF THE ITALIAN KINGDOM