“England,” wrote Talleyrand in a despatch in which he reviewed the situation created by the change of government, “is the country with which France should cultivate the most friendly relations. Her colonial losses have removed a source of rivalry between them. The Powers still believe in the divine right of kings; France and England alone no longer subscribe to that doctrine. Both governments have adopted the principle of non-intervention. Let both declare loudly that they are resolved to maintain peace, and their voices will not be raised in vain.”[41]
Lord Palmerston, the Secretary for Foreign Affairs, was in his forty-sixth year. From 1811 he had continuously held the post of Secretary-at-War in succeeding Tory administrations until the year 1828, when, with other Canningites, he had seceded from the Duke of Wellington. He was an excellent linguist; indeed, in the opinion of so competent a critic as Victor Cousin, there were not twenty Frenchmen who could lay claim to his knowledge of their language.[42] In the course of a visit which he had paid to Paris, in the year 1829, Palmerston had made the acquaintance of most of the prominent members of the Liberal party under the Restoration. From his conversations with these men, who were now the masters of France, he had carried away the conviction that they chafed bitterly at the treaties of 1815 and were determined, at the first opportunity, to extend the French frontiers to the Rhine. General Sébastiani, who, on November 15, had succeeded Marshal Maison as Minister for Foreign Affairs, had, whilst in opposition, been one of the loudest advocates of a policy of expansion.[43] The recollection of his boastful language and of the aggressive schemes which he had heard him propound was always present in Palmerston’s memory, and was sensibly to influence his conduct of his first negotiations with the French government.
The general outlook in Europe in the autumn of 1830 augured ill for the continued maintenance of peace. Great military preparations were reported to be in progress in Russia. Marshal Diebitsch, the hero of the recent war with Turkey, was at Berlin upon a mission which, although it was described, as “wholly extra official,”[44] excited considerable apprehension in Paris. Insurrectionary movements, the repercussion of the Revolution of July, had taken place in Saxony and other States of Northern Germany. Metternich was said “to have proposed certain armaments to the Diet, wholly out of proportion to the necessities of the situation.” The King of Prussia, although he was universally credited with a sincere desire for peace, was suspected, nevertheless, “of preparing quietly for war.” The alarm was not dispelled by the assurances which, in London, Prince Lieven gave to both Palmerston and Talleyrand that the Russian armament was merely a measure of precaution necessitated by treaty obligations with the King of the Netherlands, and that, under no circumstances, would his Imperial master take action except in combination with the Powers.[45] On December 1 the French Chamber voted supplies for a considerable increase of the army.
The suspicion that the three Northern Courts were meditating an unprovoked attack upon France was unfounded. As Lord Heytesbury pointed out, the cholera, which had made its appearance in the Tsar’s dominions, threw an insuperable obstacle in the way of recruiting upon a large scale. Russia indeed, he considered, might almost be looked upon as hors de combat.[46] Nor was Metternich proposing to begin hostilities against France. “Austria’s task,” he instructed Esterhazy, the ambassador in London, “consists in suppressing any insurrectionary movement in Italy.” But should the French interpose in favour of the revolutionists, their action must be resisted vigorously. It was expedient, therefore, for the three great continental Powers to hold their armies in readiness. “The British government must be brought to understand that Austria cannot accept the principle of non-intervention. England, as an insular State, can adhere to it without danger, but when adopted by France it imperils the existence of neighbouring Powers. The proclamation of such a doctrine can be compared only to the complaints of thieves about the interference of the police.”[47] But, although the absolute Courts were certainly innocent of any desire to provoke a war deliberately, there were serious elements of danger in the situation. The King of the Netherlands, without doubt, looked upon the outbreak of a great European war as the only chance of regaining his Belgian provinces. Charles X. was once more installed quietly in his old quarters at Holyrood, but his adherents, the Legitimists, or Carlists, as they were more usually termed, were convinced that a war must prove fatal to the new régime in France. Talleyrand suspected that they were in league with the military party in Paris, and suggested that an agent should be sent over to London to watch them. He had no complaints to make about the assistance afforded him by the Home Secretary, who placed all the information he could obtain about them at his disposal, but, “in a country in which the police system was so bad, such reports had little value.”[48]
At the Congress of Vienna nearly the whole of those territories, known as the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, had been constituted into the Kingdom of Poland and assigned to the Tsar. Under the terms of the treaty, which was guaranteed by the Five Powers, the crown of the Kingdom was to be hereditary in the Imperial family of Russia. The Poles, however, were to be granted a constitution, and were to be allowed to maintain a national army. These stipulations were duly carried out by Alexander. But, as the Tsar’s Liberalism waned, the first conditions were considerably modified, and, after the accession of Nicholas, the Poles appear to have suspected, with perhaps good reason, that the Imperial Cabinet purposed to abolish gradually all their special privileges. Suddenly, on November 28, 1830, an insurrection broke out at Warsaw. The Viceroy, the Grand Duke Constantine, was driven from the town and several of his generals were murdered. The revolution spread rapidly through the country, and, after some vain attempts to negotiate a compromise, the Grand Duke retreated across the frontier with his Russian troops. On December 5, Chlopicki, a popular Polish general, who had served with distinction under Bonaparte, was proclaimed Dictator. Nicholas, whilst collecting his troops to reconquer his revolted kingdom, declared that the French revolutionary propaganda and the creation of Lancastrian schools[49] were responsible for the insurrection.[50]
The rebellion evoked the utmost enthusiasm in Paris. The designation of “the Frenchmen of the North,” which it became the fashion to apply to the Poles, tickled the national vanity. It was remembered that they had remained true to Bonaparte in his misfortunes, and that the unsympathetic treatment which they had experienced at the hands of the sovereigns at Vienna had been the penalty of their fidelity. Moreover, it was a natural consequence of their hatred of the treaties of 1815 that Frenchmen should feel drawn towards those countries which, like Poland or Italy, had cause for dissatisfaction with the conditions settled at the Congress of Vienna. Unquestionably this was the secret of much of that sympathy for “oppressed nationalities” which, from 1830 onwards, manifested itself so keenly in France. The war party and other factions hostile to the monarchy encouraged the popular ferment. Lord Stuart de Rothesay was disposed to think that Louis Philippe and his ministers regarded the excitement with secret approval, in the hope that it would distract public attention from the impending trial of the ex-ministers of Charles X.[51] In addition to Polignac himself three members of the Cabinet, who had signed the ordinances of July, had failed to escape abroad. The King, however, notwithstanding that the populace called furiously for their heads, was determined to save their lives. This merciful intention he was enabled to carry out successfully. On December 21 the peers adjudged them guilty of high treason but, in deference to Louis Philippe’s wishes, sentenced them only to perpetual confinement. Meanwhile Montalivet, the Minister of the Interior, had personally conducted the prisoners back to Vincennes, where they were lodged in safety before the mob, which thronged all the approaches to the Luxembourg, realized that it had been baulked of its prey. The satisfactory conclusion of this momentous trial was followed by an event of no less happy augury for the future. Nettled by a resolution of the Chamber affecting his position, La Fayette retired from the command of the national guard. The government accepted his resignation with grave misgivings, but, to the general surprise, the fickle multitude saw their hero replaced by Mouton de Lobau with comparative indifference.
But of all the questions which threatened to disturb