Читать книгу England and the Orleans Monarchy - Sir John Richard Hall - Страница 9

In 1830 England was still suffering acutely from the financial crisis of five years before. The losses of the capitalists entailed distress upon the working classes in the shape of unemployment and diminished wages. The misery of the people led to the commission of acts of violence and incendiarism upon a scale unparalleled in the recent history of England. The advocates of parliamentary reform drew their best arguments, in support of their cause, from the wretched condition of the country. The elections, rendered necessary by the death of George IV., began in the very week which saw France in the throes of her revolution. By the Opposition the victory of the Parisians was acclaimed enthusiastically as the triumph of a neighbouring people over despotism and aristocratic privilege. The downfall of Polignac was celebrated as a crushing blow to Wellington. The belief that the Duke had connived at, if not directly inspired, the French King’s attempted coup d’état, was not confined to ignorant people, but was professed by the leaders of the Whig party.[12] Whilst this supposed connection of Wellington with Polignac increased the voting power of the Opposition, Tory patrons of rotten boroughs, incensed at his Catholic policy, withheld from him their support. The Duke returned from the elections with a diminished majority, and one, moreover, which, such as it was, in no way represented the real opinion of the country.

Wellington had been chiefly instrumental in effecting the restoration of the Bourbons after Waterloo. The news of their expulsion could not, under these circumstances, fail to cause him some personal regret. But, in addition, he was too well acquainted with French affairs not to be aware that the triumph of the democratic party was a grave menace to the peace of Europe. On the other hand, however, far from being, as was supposed, upon confidential terms with Polignac, the French expedition to Algiers had strained seriously the official relations which alone subsisted between them. But any reluctance, which he and his colleagues might have entertained, to recognizing the new régime in France, had to give way before the popular enthusiasm which the revolution called forth throughout England. The Duke, accordingly, lost no time in advising the King to acknowledge Louis Philippe. It was a policy, he maintained, which not only offered the best prospect of preserving peace, but which would meet with the approval of all the great Powers.[13] Consequently, when on August 22 General Baudrand arrived in London, bringing with him a letter from Louis Philippe to William IV., he was accorded a good reception in ministerial circles. Although he fancied he could detect a little coldness in Wellington’s manner, his mission achieved a complete success. After a stay of about a week in London he returned to Paris, taking back with him King William’s answer together with a box ornamented with a portrait of that monarch set in diamonds.[14] Meanwhile, on August 18, Charles X. and the members of his family had arrived at Spithead on board The Great Britain, the American vessel chartered by the French government to convey them to England. The state of public feeling made it inadvisable that they should proceed to London or even land at Portsmouth, and they were, in consequence, taken, a few days later, by steamer to Lulworth Castle, in Dorsetshire, which had been prepared for their reception. The mob which had cheered exultingly as Castlereagh’s body was borne through the streets to its last resting-place at Westminster Abbey, which, two years later, was to threaten Wellington with violence on the anniversary of Waterloo, would have shown scant respect for the misfortunes of the fallen King.

Ever since the days of her crowning disaster at Wagram, Metternich had directed the foreign policy of Austria. Clement Wenceslas von Metternich, Chancellor of the Court and of the State, was descended from a family of counts of the empire and was born at Coblentz in 1773. His predecessors in office, old Kaunitz, the minister of Maria Theresa, Thugut, Cobenyl, and Stadion, had in vain attempted to cope with republican and imperial France. Without doubt, Metternich in the final struggle with Bonaparte was assisted by circumstances not of his own creation, nevertheless he unquestionably proved himself, on many occasions, a crafty, wary adversary, who could await his opportunity patiently. The flattery which was lavished upon him at the peace and the prominent part which he was enabled to play in the great territorial settlement at Vienna stimulated greatly his natural vanity and presumption. In addition, as he grew older, he began to indulge more and more in long philosophical disquisitions upon every kind of political subject. But under his pedantic manner, he retained always his alert resourcefulness and shrewd common sense. In the words of Sir Frederick Lamb, who had transacted much business with him, “he was far too practical a man to regulate his conduct by his doctrines, and far too ingenious a one to be at a loss for a doctrine to cover his conduct.”[15]

Without doubt, Metternich was a man of aristocratic and conservative instincts, but, had he been differently disposed, the conditions of the Empire must have rendered very difficult the adoption of a Liberal policy. At the Congress of Vienna Austria had renounced all claim to her former possessions in the Low Countries and in Western Germany, and had withdrawn to the south and south-east to exercise an uneasy dominion over Slavs and Italians. Progress on national lines was hardly possible in an empire thus constituted, and circumstances contributed to facilitate the imposition of a strictly conservative system. The Liberal impulse, to which the War of Liberation had given birth in Prussia, had no counterpart in Austria, nor had Francis II., like Frederick William III., even in his darkest days, promised constitutional reforms. At the peace, accordingly, Austria reverted uncomplainingly to her old absolutist traditions.

In Italy Bonaparte had encouraged deliberately a spirit of nationality. But the patriotic hopes, which he had raised, were extinguished at the Congress of Vienna. Italy, Metternich decreed, was to be henceforward merely “a geographical expression.” By the settlement of 1815 Austria acquired actually the provinces of Lombardy and Venetia, but her influence extended far beyond these districts. Austrian princes ruled over the Duchies of Tuscany, Modena and Parma. Treaties which provided that Piacenza, Commachio and Ferrara should be garrisoned by Austrian troops gave her military control of the valley of the Po. Tuscany was forbidden to make either peace or war without her consent, and the King of Naples was pledged to introduce no constitutional changes, other than those sanctioned in the Austrian dominions.

In the Lombardo-Venetian Kingdom, as it was termed, it was Metternich’s policy to make the Lombards “forget that they were Italians.” The Austrian code of laws was introduced without regard to native customs and prejudices. The civil service was composed almost exclusively of Germans, and the most trifling administrative questions had to be referred to Vienna.[16] The stagnation engendered by this system could not fail to have a demoralizing effect. At Venice two-fifths of the population were in receipt of charitable relief, the middle classes were without enterprise, the aristocracy fawned upon the Austrians. On the other hand, in Lombardy and Venetia there were few monks and a comparatively good system of popular education existed. The people, moreover, enjoyed equality before the law which, except in political cases, was justly administered. But as in all Italian States, the police were arbitrary and interfering and the censorship of the press was enforced rigidly.

The heterogeneous composition of the Austrian Empire, which demanded a strictly conservative policy at home, prescribed no less urgently the preservation of peaceful relations abroad. Since the conclusion of the great war Metternich’s foreign policy had had no other object than the maintenance of the status quo, by the strict observation of existing treaties. The revolutionary spirit was the most serious danger to the settlement of 1815. Bonaparte might be dead or a prisoner at St. Helena, but Metternich was under no illusion that the peril had passed away for ever. The revolutionary monster still survived and required ceaseless watching. Only, he conceived, by a European Confederation, ruled over by a council of the Great Powers, could complete security be obtained against the common enemy of all established governments. Metternich’s combination of the Powers “for the maintenance of everything lawfully existing,”[17] which has been held up to execration under the name of the Holy Alliance, was an adaptation to practical politics of the fantastic scheme, which Alexander had propounded, on September 26, 1815, after a review of his army on the plain of Vertus. According to the Tsar’s manifesto the relations of all European sovereigns were in the future to be guided by the teachings of Christ. They were to regard each other in the light of brothers and to look upon their subjects as their children. The policy of Metternich’s Holy Alliance was set forth in the famous preliminary protocol of the conference of Troppau, signed, on November 19, 1820, by the plenipotentiaries of Austria, Russia, and Prussia. “States,” it was laid down, “which have undergone a change of government due to a revolution, the results of which affect other States, shall cease to be members of the European Alliance. If owing to these alterations immediate danger threaten neighbouring States, the Powers bind themselves to bring back by force of arms the erring State into the folds of the Alliance.”

Acting upon this principle, Austria, in 1821, invaded the Kingdom of Naples and abolished the constitution which the Carbonari had compelled Ferdinand to accept, whilst Bubna, the Austrian general commanding at Milan, entered Piedmont and suppressed the revolution which had broken out at Turin. The Tsar, Alexander, during these operations, held an army upon the Galician frontier ready to march into Italy, should his assistance be invoked. The same policy, in 1823, dictated the French armed intervention in Spain, when the constitution, which the Liberals had proclaimed three years before, was abolished and the absolute rule of King Ferdinand VII. was restored. But the determination of England “to abstain rigidly from interference in the affairs of other States” deprived the alliance of that appearance of complete unanimity which Metternich hoped would convince the peoples of the futility of attempting revolutions. The Greek insurrection, the quarrel between Russia and the Porte and the conflict of national interests to which the Eastern question gave rise, completed the work of disruption which Castlereagh and Canning had begun.

Metternich received the news of the revolution in Paris and of the downfall of Charles X. at Koenigswart, his country seat in Bohemia. Ever since the termination of the Russo-Turkish war he had been striving to re-establish the concert of the Powers and, more especially, to place the relations of Austria and Russia upon their former friendly footing. Deeply as Austria was interested in all developments affecting the integrity of Turkey, greatly as Metternich mistrusted Nicholas’ designs upon the Porte, the spread of Liberalism constituted in his eyes an even graver danger. The Russian government was intensely conservative and the people were little likely to be affected by the revolutionary spirit of Western Europe. Were a serious crisis to arise it was essential that Austria should be in a position to look to St. Petersburg for support. A visit which Nesselrode, the Russian Chancellor, paid to Carlsbad, in the summer of 1830, afforded Metternich an opportunity of sounding him as to the views of his Court, and it was upon his return from a satisfactory interview with his old friend that he found awaiting him at Koenigswart the first intelligence of Charles X.’s violation of the constitution. On August 6, when the complete triumph of the revolutionists in Paris was known to him, Metternich determined to return at once to Vienna, making another short stay at Carlsbad upon the way. At this, their second meeting, both statesmen affixed their signatures to a short document, which was to acquire a certain celebrity in the chanceries of Europe under the name of the chiffon de Carlsbad. By this agreement the basis was established of the policy which the absolute Powers were to adopt towards France. No attempt would be made to interfere with her, provided that she should abstain from seeking to infringe existing treaties and from disturbing the internal peace of neighbouring States.[18]

Soon after Metternich’s return to Vienna, on August 26, General Belliard arrived, bringing with him a letter from Louis Philippe to the Emperor Francis. Some days were allowed to elapse before he was admitted to an audience, but in the interval he had two interviews with Metternich. The Chancellor accepted his assurances that the King of the French would do all in his power to maintain peace at home and abroad. At the same time, however, he gave him plainly to understand that he had no confidence in Louis Philippe’s ability to carry out his intentions. Both the private and the official answers of the Emperor were coldly expressed, but they contained the definite assurance that he had no wish to interfere with the domestic affairs of France, in which country he sincerely desired to see tranquillity restored. He was determined to abide by treaties, and was gratified to learn that His Majesty, the King of the French, was animated by the same resolution. As Metternich, on September 8, placed these documents in Belliard’s hands he took the opportunity of impressing upon him solemnly that his Imperial master, although he had decided to acknowledge the sovereignty of Louis Philippe, viewed the events which had taken place in France with the utmost abhorrence and was convinced that the new régime could have only a brief existence. In truth Metternich was full of apprehensions, and, in a private letter to Nesselrode, unburdened himself of the conviction that “the end of old Europe was fast approaching.”[19]

The Germanic Confederation had been formed with the object of protecting Germany from external and internal dangers. The thirty-eight States and the four free cities of which it was composed were debarred from entering into any alliance with foreign governments against another member of the Confederation and, in case of need, were pledged to furnish contingents to the federal army. Austria and Prussia, however, in order to preserve the independence of their foreign policy, brought portions only of their territories into the Confederation, which, in consequence, was not committed to the defence of Hungary, Gallicia, Lombardy and Venetia, on behalf of Austria, or to the protection of the Polish provinces of Prussia. Each State was represented at the federal Diet at Frankfort, which assembly was in no sense a federal parliament, but resembled rather a conference of diplomatists, the ministers attending it being strictly bound by the instructions furnished them by their respective Courts. Austria and Prussia had only one vote apiece, Austria, however, held the perpetual presidency.

Prussia in 1815 had been regarded as the champion of Liberalism. The Constitutionalists, however, soon discovered that the hopes which they placed in her were not destined to be realized. In the counsels of Frederick William, the influence of Wittgenstein, the leader of the reactionary party, and the friend of Metternich, soon superseded that of Stein, Hardenburg and the heroes of the War of Liberation. The conditions of the country, it must be admitted, were hardly suitable to the immediate establishment of representative institutions. The inhabitants of the nine provinces which, it had been decreed at the Congress of Vienna, were to constitute the Kingdom of Prussia, were not agreed as to the form of government under which they desired to live. Until they had become Prussians, the Poles of the Duchy of Posen, the Westphaliand, the Saxons, and the Rhinelanders had existed under different codes of law and of administration. The imposition of a uniform system upon the kingdom was a matter of urgent necessity, and it was to administrative measures that the Prussian government devoted its attention exclusively in the years which followed Waterloo. It is clear that there was no strong demand for a constitution among the mass of the people, and Frederick William III. could listen, in consequence, without much danger, to Metternich’s warning that representative institutions must prove incompatible with military strength.

Successful as he had been in persuading Frederick William to withhold a constitution from Prussia, Metternich could not prevent certain rulers of the minor States from complying with Article XIII. of the Federal Act, and from establishing representative government within their dominions. In 1816, the Liberal Duke of Saxe-Weimar granted a constitution, and his example was followed by the Kings of Bavaria and of Wurtemburg and the Duke of Baden. A wave of Liberalism swept over Northern Germany. The universities were affected profoundly by the new ideas. In their lecture-rooms, professors denounced existing governments and harangued their pupils in the language of demagogues. The agitation culminated, on March 23, 1819, in the murder of the dramatist and publicist Kotzebue, who was said to be in the pay of Russia, by Karl Sand, a student of Jena University and a lecturer to the Burschenschaft. This crime and an attempt to assassinate Ibell, the minister of Nassau, gave Metternich the opportunity for which he had been waiting. In the month of July of this same year he had an interview with Frederick William at Teplitz, in the course of which the King promised never to give Prussia a constitution, to place his confidence only in ministers of the type of Bernstorff and Wittgenstein, and to sanction such repressive measures as the Austrian Chancellor might see fit to suggest. After a conference of the ministers of the different States at Carlsbad, Metternich’s decrees were submitted to the Frankfort Diet, on September 20, 1819, and adopted forthwith.

Under the provisions of the celebrated Carlsbad decrees, the ruler of every German State was bound to appoint commissioners to regulate the universities and to impose a censorship upon all newspapers and matter printed within his dominions. Furthermore, a central tribunal was established at Mainz to inquire into the doings of the secret societies, and upon the members of this court was conferred the power of arresting the subjects of any German sovereign, and of demanding from any law court the production of documents. These decrees, however, did not constitute the sum total of Metternich’s measures of precaution. In November, 1819, he convened a council of German ministers at Vienna, when, under the pretext of defining the functions of the Diet, sixty-five new articles of a repressive character were introduced into the Federal Act. The general effect of the Vienna resolutions, as these measures were termed, was to impose upon the Federation the duty of defending absolutism by force of arms in small States in which the sovereigns might prove incapable themselves of maintaining a despotic form of government.

Metternich’s manipulation of the Diet was the great triumph of his home policy. By converting the Federation from a combination of States into a league of sovereigns against their own subjects, he averted the danger that it might promote the cause of Liberalism or of national unity. From this time forward Metternich, to all appearance, dominated the Court and the Cabinet of Berlin, and held in leading strings the minor princes of the Confederation. Nevertheless, the position of Austria as a German Power was weakening steadily. At the Congress of Vienna he had craftily withdrawn the empire from the post of danger, and had thrust upon Prussia the task of protecting the western flank of Germany. To his secret satisfaction, he saw her pour out her treasure to defend the frontier from which Austria had recoiled. He believed that by his Carlsbad decrees and his Vienna resolutions he had rendered national unity impossible, and had condemned Northern Germany to the political stagnation in which the empire appeared contented to repose. But the enlightened bureaucratic system of Prussia was incomparably superior to that of Austria. In educational matters she was the foremost State in Europe, and already she was drawing the minor States into her system of internal free trade—the famous Zollverein which was to prove so important a factor in the struggle for Prussian hegemony and national unity. Even in 1830, acute observers could perceive that the people were stifling within the narrow confines of their duchies, and that, when the day of Germany’s awakening should come, it would be to the Power standing on guard upon the Rhine that they would look for leadership.[20] But that hour had not yet struck, and, in the question of the attitude to be observed towards France, after the Revolution of July, Prussia, as was her wont, shaped her policy upon that of Austria. The Emperor’s acknowledgment of Louis Philippe carried with it, accordingly, Frederick William’s recognition of the King of the French.

At St. Petersburg it was not until August 19 that any mention of the Revolution of July was allowed to appear in the newspapers. Two days earlier a new levy of two men in five hundred had been called up for service in the army, all Russians had been ordered to leave France, Frenchmen had been refused admission to Russia, and any display of the tricolour had been forbidden. But Lord Heytesbury,[21] the British ambassador, was informed that this increase of military strength had no reference to French affairs, and that the recall of Russian subjects from France was a simple measure of precaution.[22] In the eyes of Nicholas any rising of the people against their lawful sovereign was necessarily a highly offensive proceeding, and in this instance it had the additional disadvantage of disturbing a condition of affairs, the continued duration of which was very favourable to the national policy of Russia. Under the different governments of the Restoration an excellent understanding had been established between the Courts of the Tuileries and of St. Petersburg. The Eastern question, which had brought Russia to the verge of war with England and which had interrupted the smooth course of her relations with Vienna, had, on the contrary, drawn France towards her. When, in the campaign of the previous year, Constantinople had appeared to lie at the mercy of General Diebitsch, politicians as opposed as Chateaubriand and Polignac had been disposed to look upon the situation complacently, in the hope that the disruption of the Turkish Empire might lead to a readjustment of the map of Europe, which might enable France to rectify in her favour the treaties of 1815. Furthermore, since the intervention in Spain, in 1823, there had been little cordiality between the Cabinets of London and Paris. This estrangement had been intensified by the French occupation of Algiers, the one important measure of foreign policy of the last government of the Restoration. These circumstances rendered it very improbable that Russia in the near future would have to confront a coalition of the maritime Powers. But now that a new régime had been set up in France, the possibility of that dreaded contingency would have to be seriously considered.

In spite of the Tsar’s military preparations, Lord Heytesbury had no fears that he proposed to attack France. Nicholas informed him that he had directed his ambassador “to remain in Paris, but to remove immediately from the house furnished to the Russian embassy by the government of France.” He was constantly to hold himself in readiness to quit Paris at an hour’s notice, and to leave at once, should the English, the Prussian, the Austrian or the Dutch ambassadors be compelled to depart. “En âme et en conscience he never would consider the Duc d’Orléans in any light except that of a usurper.” Nevertheless he had no intention of intervening, unless France were to attempt to disseminate revolutionary doctrines in other countries or to carry her arms beyond her frontiers.[23] In due course Baron Atthalin arrived at St. Petersburg, bringing with him a letter from Louis Philippe to the Tsar, and, on September 8, was received in private audience by Nicholas. On this occasion the question of the acknowledgment of the King of the French was avoided, the Emperor being resolved to reserve the matter for further consideration. But at Tsarskoye Selo, a week later, Nicholas, whilst regretting that the British government should have so hastily decided to recognize Louis Philippe, gave Lord Heytesbury to understand that his own acknowledgment of the King of the French would not be deferred much longer.[24]

In the meantime, an event had occurred which threatened seriously to aggravate the embarrassments of the situation. The creation of the Kingdom of the Netherlands occupied a most important place in the territorial settlement following the overthrow of Bonaparte. British statesmanship had been largely responsible for the union of Belgium with Holland, and for the formation of a strong State of secondary rank which was to act as a barrier against France. Under Wellington’s advice the great Powers, at their own expense, erected a line of fortresses, connected with Prussian territory upon the left bank of the Rhine, to protect the southern frontier of the new kingdom. From a purely military point of view the plan may have been sound, but to propose to mould the Belgians and the Dutch into a nation was to treat as of no account the differences of race and of religion which divided the two peoples. The Belgians soon began to complain that they were very inadequately represented in all branches of the public service. Questions relating to education, taxation, and the freedom of the press increased their discontent. The Dutch, who could look back proudly upon two centuries of independence, despised them as having been constantly under the dominion of a foreign Power. In 1830 it was generally recognized that the attempt to fuse the two peoples into one nationality had failed. The Belgians, however, still remained loyal to the House of Nassau and desired only administrative separation under the reigning dynasty.

The Revolution of July in Paris created an immense excitement at Brussels. The town was the favourite place of refuge for the political offenders of all countries. Yet in spite of the prevailing unrest the authorities neglected to take the most ordinary precautions against a popular rising. A performance of Scribe’s opera, La Muette de Portici, which treats of the insurrection of the Neapolitans against the Spaniards, furnished the spark which was to cause the explosion. Serious rioting began on the night of August 25, and continued throughout the following day. The military commander appears to have acted with a strange irresolution, and on the 28th, the insurgents being complete masters of the town, a deputation of notables carried a respectful address to the Hague praying for the redress of their grievances. The next three weeks were spent in fruitless attempts to arrange a compromise. The Prince of Orange, who was personally popular, visited Brussels, but his efforts to solve the question met with no success. After the failure of his eldest son’s mission the King consented to dismiss van Maanen, the unpopular governor of Brussels. But this concession was made too late. Encouraged by emissaries of the revolutionary clubs in Paris, and emboldened by the weakness of the government, the advocates of complete separation pressed their demands with increasing violence. At last the King ordered Prince Frederick of Orange to advance from the camp of Vilvorde against the town. On September 23 the attack began. The troops penetrated into the park, but failed to carry the barricades which obstructed the streets beyond. After three days’ fighting the Prince abandoned the struggle and withdrew from the neighbourhood of Brussels. The discomfiture of his army left King William no alternative but to appeal for assistance to the Powers, whilst at Brussels a provisional government declared Belgium independent, and convened a national congress.

This attempt on the part of a neighbouring people to imitate “the glorious days of July” was exceedingly gratifying to the republicans and the military democratic party in Paris. Their orators and journalists loudly declared that the revolt of the Belgians was an opportunity both for extending the French frontiers, and for effecting a breach in the treaties of 1815. Louis Philippe, however, was resolved not to be drawn into an adventure of this kind. He knew that the powers would never tolerate an invasion of the Low Countries, and he realized that the French army was in no condition to oppose a European coalition. Accordingly, as it was not in his power to silence the cries for intervention or to repress the noisy sympathy for the Belgians indulged in by a large section of the press, he determined to give to foreign governments a practical proof of his pacific intentions by despatching to London, as his ambassador, the aged statesman who, sixteen years before, had figured so conspicuously at the Congress of Vienna.

The Prince de Talleyrand was in his seventy-third year. Notwithstanding the great services which, in 1814, he had rendered to the cause of Legitimate Sovereignty, the Bourbons of the elder branch had never been able to forget his conduct under the Republic and the Empire. At the second Restoration he had been appointed President of the Council, but had retired before the Chambre introuvable and the Royalist reaction, and neither Louis XVIII. nor Charles X. had given him a second opportunity of returning to office. Upon the triumph of the popular party in July, he had promptly placed his services at the disposal of Louis Philippe. But, in spite of his Liberal opinions, Talleyrand retained the language, the habits, and the appearance of a noble of the old régime. It might have been expected that all the King’s ingenuity would have been required to impose so fine a gentleman upon a Cabinet, which counted among its members the democratic M. Dupont and the elder M. Dupin, famous for his hobnailed boots and his affectations of middle-class simplicity. Louis Philippe’s ministers, however, were agreed upon the necessity of preserving the peace, and, when it was proposed at the Council table that Talleyrand should be sent to London, no opposition was made to the suggestion. Guizot, who was Minister of the Interior at the time, supposes that those who disliked the appointment must have stated their objections to the King in private.[25]

But if Louis Philippe and his ministers were determined to abstain from any intervention in Belgium, they were bound to insist that other Powers should adopt the same attitude. It was, therefore, notified to foreign governments that French policy, in the future, would be based strictly upon the principle of non-interference in the domestic affairs of other nations. It was a system to which both the great parties in England had declared their adherence, and its adoption by France might, in consequence, be expected to facilitate the establishment of cordial relations between the two countries. But the declaration of such a principle could not fail to be highly displeasing to the absolute Courts. Already movements of troops were in progress in the Rhine provinces which suggested an intention on the part of Frederick William of rendering military assistance to his brother-in-law, the King of the Netherlands. Baron Werther, the Prussian ambassador, although still without official credentials, had been instructed to remain in Paris. Molé, Louis Philippe’s first Minister for Foreign Affairs, accordingly arranged to meet him at a private house, where he gave him clearly to understand that the entry of a Prussian army into the Low Countries would be regarded as an act of war directed against France. This threat, which evoked much indignation in Berlin and at Vienna, was effectual in inducing King Frederick William III. to renounce any thoughts, which he may have entertained, of reducing the Belgians to submission by force of arms.[26]

Talleyrand arrived in London on September 24, and in a despatch, sent off the next day, expressed his satisfaction at the reception accorded him.[27] He was accompanied by the Duchesse de Dino, who officiated as hostess at his table, and presided over his household. In 1807, at the conclusion of the campaign in Poland, Talleyrand, then Napoleon’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, had obtained for his nephew, Edmond de Périgord, the hand of Dorothée, the daughter of the last reigning Duke of Courland. After a few years of married life, however, husband and wife agreed to live apart, and Madame Edmond from that time forward took up her residence with Talleyrand. She accompanied him to Vienna, in 1814, and brought back from the Congress the title of Duchesse de Dino. In return for the services he had rendered him, the King of Naples had conferred this dukedom upon Talleyrand, who had asked that the title might be assumed by his nephew. The duchess’ position in Talleyrand’s household was so generally recognized that, upon their arrival in London, King William IV., at Wellington’s request, allowed her to take rank as an ambassadress.[28] The Comte Casimir de Montrond, another frequent guest at Valençay, and at the house in the Rue Saint-Florentin, followed the ambassador to London. Talleyrand’s friendship with this curious individual appears to have begun under the Directory. In the terrible days which preceded the downfall of Robespierre, Montrond had been an inmate of the prison of Saint-Lazare. The fortunate possession of some ready money, a rare commodity at the time, had, however, enabled him to effect his escape, and that of the citizeness Franquetot, the heretofore Aimée de Coigny, Duchesse de Fleury, the heroine of André Chénier’s poem.[29] After this miraculous deliverance, Aimée de Coigny, who under the emigration laws had divorced the Duc de Fleury, married the man to whom she owed her life. But, after a brief and most unsatisfactory experience of matrimony with the gay incroyable, she again contrived to obtain her freedom. Montrond’s introduction to London society appears to date from the year 1812, when, having incurred the grave displeasure of Bonaparte, he succeeded in eluding the French police and in reaching England. He seems to have become very rapidly a well-known and popular member of the fashionable world in London. During all this period of his life he is believed to have been totally without regular means of subsistence, and to have existed solely by play, assisted by an occasional windfall in the shape of employment upon any secret political work which Talleyrand, when in favour, was enabled to procure for him. But from the earliest days of the Monarchy of July his circumstances began to improve. From this time forward he appears to have drawn a pension of about £1000 per annum from the secret service funds of the French Foreign Office.[30] This allowance is said to have been granted him in order that “he should speak well of Louis Philippe in the London clubs.” It was, moreover, strongly suspected that he had obtained knowledge of certain of the King’s proceedings during the emigration which His Majesty had good reasons for wishing to keep secret.[31]

The uneasiness aroused in London by the first news of the insurrection in Brussels developed into serious alarm, when the triumph of the revolutionists over the Royal troops became known. Wellington openly declared that it was a “devilish bad business,”and many people began to fear that a great European war was inevitable.[32] The British government, whilst prepared to accept as an accomplished fact the complete separation of Belgium from the Kingdom of the Netherlands, held that no changes must take place of a nature to interfere with the efficiency of the barrier fortresses, these defences “being necessary for the security of other States.” After drawing up instructions to this effect for Lord Stuart de Rothesay, Aberdeen intimated that the government was desirous of conferring upon the situation “in friendly concert with France and the other Powers.”[33] Talleyrand was of opinion that it was a matter for congratulation that the first offer of co-operation should have come from England, and strongly recommended that the proposal should be responded to cordially. An entirely passive attitude, he wrote, must deprive France “of that influence which they are disposed to ascribe to her over here.”[34]

Meanwhile, in Paris, notices were appearing in the papers calling upon men to enroll themselves to assist their Belgian brothers. The Society of the Friends of the People equipped a battalion which actually set out for the northern frontier. La Fayette was still the recognized leader of the ultra-Liberals, and his house was a meeting-place for the Carbonari and the revolutionists of every country. But he was occupied chiefly in encouraging insurrectionary movements in Spain and Italy. The union of Belgium with France was advocated mainly in the ranks of the Bonapartist or military democratic section of the party. The protestations of Louis Philippe and Comte Molé were probably true that the government in no way favoured their designs, and that strict orders had been given to the prefects to prevent the passage of arms into Belgium. On the other hand, however, their assertions to Lord Stuart were untrue that they were innocent of conniving at the proceedings of the Spanish revolutionists. Broglie and Guizot, both members of the Cabinet, admit that in order to compel the King of Spain to acknowledge Louis Philippe, facilities for assembling their followers upon French territory were accorded to the Spanish insurrectionary leaders. This rather disingenuous policy appears, without question, to have contributed materially to the establishment of diplomatic relations between Paris and Madrid at the end of the month of October.[35]

None of the Powers evinced any intention of responding to the King of Holland’s request for military assistance to subdue the revolted Belgians. The English proposal that a conference should be held to consider the situation was generally regarded as the best solution of the question. “Austria and Prussia,” wrote Talleyrand on October 11, “intend to follow the lead of England with respect to Belgium, and there can be little doubt that Russia will adopt the same course.”[36] The French government at this time was greatly incensed at the conduct of the Cabinet of the Hague. No official appeal for help had been sent to Paris, but in a letter to Louis Philippe the Prince of Orange openly accused the French authorities of encouraging the disturbances in Belgium, and suggested that the King should make a public declaration of his intention not to meddle with the affairs of the Low Countries. In return, the Prince undertook to use all his influence with the Tsar in favour of the acknowledgment of the sovereignty of the King of the French. At a Council of Ministers it was resolved that Talleyrand should be instructed to bring the affair to the notice of the British Cabinet, and that Molé should draw up a note for presentation at the Hague, expressing surprise at the continued silence observed towards the French government. Two days later, however, the news was telegraphed from Strasburg that General Atthalin had passed through the town, bringing with him the Tsar’s recognition of Louis Philippe. But, upon the general’s arrival, the satisfaction caused by this intelligence was diminished by the cold and formal language of Nicholas’s letter, and by his pointed omission to address the King as “his brother,” the designation generally employed by sovereigns in their communications with each other.[37]

The proposal of the English government that a conference should be held upon Belgian affairs having been accepted by the Powers, it remained only to decide upon the town in which the deliberations should take place. London, where for some time past the representatives of Russia, France, and Great Britain had been engaged in settling the frontiers and discussing the future of Greece, appeared to be the capital in which, by reason of its proximity to Brussels, the plenipotentiaries could assemble with the least inconvenience. France alone dissented from this view, and urgently demanded that the conference should be held in Paris. Aberdeen, when Talleyrand communicated to him his instructions upon the subject, would appear to have seen little to object to in the French proposal. Wellington, however, refused to entertain the suggestion, for a moment. It was highly important, the Duke contended, that matters should be settled promptly, and he was confident that he could induce the ministers attending the conference to agree to the French and English proposals, provided they were to meet in London. On the other hand, were Paris to be the scene of their deliberations, they would insist upon referring every question to their respective Courts. Talleyrand, who considered that there was much sound reason in the Duke’s contention, was nevertheless directed to reiterate his demand. But his further representations only evoked the reply that the English Cabinet regarded Paris as un terrain trop agité, and at a subsequent interview, on October 25, in the presence of the ambassadors of Austria and Prussia, the Duke assured him that the Powers were unanimous in opposing the notion of discussing the affairs of the Low Countries amidst the tourbillon révolutionaire of the French capital.[38]

In his conversations with Lord Stuart de Rothesay in Paris, Molé, in order to gain his ends, had recourse to a singular argument. Talleyrand himself, he explained, constituted the true reason why the government was desirous that the Belgian conference should not take place in London. He never would have been accredited to the Court of St. James’ had ministers foreseen how greatly the public would resent his appointment. To allow him to represent France at a very important conference would expose the Cabinet to attacks which must prove fatal to its existence. “This extraordinary reason for objecting to our proposition,”wrote Aberdeen, “does not appear to His Majesty’s government to be entitled to serious consideration.” Molé nevertheless continued to press his point with much warmth, and it was only after several more interviews with Lord Stuart that he began to talk of sending a second plenipotentiary to the London conference to be associated with Talleyrand.[39] This plan, which was probably not put forward seriously, was certainly never carried into execution. At the end of October, the Cabinet was reconstructed, and Molé resigned the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. After his retirement no further allusion appears to have been made to the alleged inconvenience of Talleyrand’s presence at the London conference. Molé was perhaps jealous of allowing him to conduct these important negotiations, in which he probably desired himself to play the chief part. He was a highly cultivated man, with much charm of manner, and of an ancient family, and in Imperial days had enjoyed the favour of the Emperor, and had held important positions. Under the Restoration he had been Minister of Marine in Richelieu’s first administration, and in this capacity had incurred Louis XVIII.’s displeasure by intriguing against his favourite the Duc Décazes.

The Cabinet, known as that of August 11th, had never been a united body. Guizot, Broglie, Molé and Casimir Périer constituted the Conservative element, whilst Laffitte and Dupont were opposed to all measures which savoured of resistance to progress upon democratic lines. The riots of October 17 and 18, in Paris, the mob’s protest against the apparent intention of the government to abolish the death penalty in political cases, in order to save the lives of the imprisoned ex-ministers of Charles X., brought matters to a crisis. Seeing that the King decidedly inclined to the views of Laffitte and the so-called party of laissez-aller the Conservatives, advising him to give the policy of their dissenting colleagues a fair trial, tendered their resignations. Laffitte was accordingly charged with the task of reconstructing the Cabinet.[40]

On November 2, the day on which the composition of the new French ministry was published in the Moniteur, King William IV. formally opened the British Parliament. In the Speech from the Throne, the Belgians were described as “revolted subjects” and the intention was expressed of repressing sternly disturbances at home. In the House of Lords, Grey deprecated the employment of such language, and, in reply, Wellington made his declaration against Reform. A fortnight later, upon a motion of Sir Henry Parnell for referring the Civil List to a select committee, the government was placed in a minority. The Duke thereupon resigned and advised the King to send for Grey. Lord Grey undertook to form a ministry upon the understanding that he was to bring forward a measure of Reform.