# Once a Week (magazine)/Series 1/Volume 2/The great congresses of Europe - Part 1

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THE GREAT CONGRESSES OF EUROPE.
​ Dr. Johnson defines a Congress to be “an appointed meeting for settlement of affairs between different nations;” and this description—like most of those given by our great lexicographer—is no less simple than true. Accordingly, to the superficial observer of human affairs, a Congress must appear the most artless thing in the world. What more natural indeed than that two races of people who quarrel, or are inclined to do so, should try to come to an agreement by naming arbitrators on either side, and leaving to them the settling of their dispute? There is nothing apparently more simple; and yet, unfortunately, history does not inform us of its having been acted on generally. The word Congress does not occur in the annals of Europe till about the beginning of the sixteenth century, when the ambassadors of the Pope, the Kaiser, the kings of France and of Arragonia, and other princes, assembled at Cambray to devise the best scheme for despoiling the flourishing republic of Venice. To make war, therefore, was the first object for which the plenipotentiaries of various States met together in council; and it did not seem to occur till long after to the rulers of Europe, that the same instruments might be employed for making peace. It was left to the most awful war which desolated the modern world to bring in its train this novel method for the settlement of international affairs. That great historical event commonly known as the Thirty Years’ War, may be said to have originated the idea of a Congress in the sense in which the word is now generally used.
The Thirty Years’ war was only eighteen years old, but nearly three millions of lives had already been sacrificed, and the whole of Central Europe, from the Vistula to the Rhine, and from the Alps to the Baltic Sea, was devastated by armies, when the first overtures of peace were made at the same time by three of the belligerent parties, the Pope, the Kaiser, and the King of Spain. The ambassadors of these three powers, for this purpose, assembled at Cologne in 1636, under the presidency of the Papal Nuncio, Monsignor Ginetti, and issued to the other participants in the struggle invitations to meet at the same place. But nobody came; the idea of a peace-congress being entirely new to the political mind of the rulers of Europe, and even suspected by some as a snare to entangle them into fresh aggressive alliances. France, above all, held the proposed Congress at Cologne to be, as her prime minister expressed it, “un piège pour la séparer de ses alliés;” and to prevent any possible evil effects, the same statesman invited Sweden to a counter meeting at Hamburg, where, after some delay, the representatives of those two powers met in 1638. Seeing this, the Kaiser, and King of Spain gave up their meeting at Cologne, and began treating separately with France, Sweden, and the Princes of the Empire; but as this did not lead to any result, fresh negotiations for a general European peace-meeting were attempted through the medium of a small and independent northern power, Denmark. Thus passed on several years, marked, like all the preceding ones, by uninterrupted carnage; and it was owing more to sheer exhaustion than to diplomatic reasoning, that at last nearly all the belligerent sovereigns consented to have their affairs settled by diplomatic interference. To this effect a preliminary treaty was signed at Hamburg, on December 25th, 1641, under the mediation of the King of Denmark, in which it was fixed that the long hoped-for Congress should ​take place at the two towns of Münster and Osnabrück, in Westphalia, both to be declared neutral territory for the time being. It was out of a remnant of mistrust between the opposite parties of the war that two places were chosen instead of one; but to destroy the appearance of this inimical spirit, it was settled at the same time that these dissevered assemblies should unite in their deliberations. The 25th March, 1642, was appointed to be the solemn day of opening for the great international meeting. Thus the curtain appeared at last to unroll before the first real Congress of Modern Europe,—
THE CONGRESS OF MÜNSTER AND OSNABRÜCK.
Difficult as had been the travail hitherto, it was not yet to be finished. The 25th of March, 1642, came, and not a single commissioner made his appearance either at Münster or Osnabrück. The possibility of arranging political and religious dissensions in this novel manner seemed not to be believed as yet at any of the European Courts, and suspicion was still as rife as ever. On the part of the people, however, the cry for peace had by this time become all-powerful; it was twenty-four years now since the most hideous war that the world had seen since Attila’s times had begun to ravage Europe, threatening the destruction of all civilisation. The princes themselves at last dared not to turn a deaf ear to this unanimous cry; and, overcoming their mutual distrust, it was once more settled by another solemn treaty that the Congress should commence at the appointed places on the 11th of July, 1643. This time—to set a good example to their brother plenipotentiaries—the ambassadors of the Kaiser, Count von Nassau-Hadamar and Dr. Volmar, arrived as early as the middle of May, 1643, at Osnabrück; but they had to wait seven months before a commissioner from any of the other belligerent parties appeared on the spot. It was not till the beginning of the month of December that the Swedish envoy, John Oxenstierna, son of the famous Chancellor, took up his quarters at Münster; and not till April of the year following that the French, Spanish, and Papal ambassadors appeared. Suspicion, pride, and continued unbelief in the capabilities of a Congress were the main causes of this renewed delay. The last-named motive became curiously visible on the arrival of the French and Spanish commissioners at Münster. Both were ordered by their respective Courts to make their appearance at the seat of Congress on the same day; and great, therefore, was the perplexity of the two noble gentlemen as to which should take precedence of the other. To solve this difficulty, the French commissioner finally hit on a luminous idea; he engaged twelve horsemen, armed with sharp scimitar-like swords, and gave orders that they should precede his coach, and in case the Spaniard should attempt to “devance” him, cut the ropes of the horses on his carriage. This device, which for some time was kept a strict secret, was eminently successful; for, being informed of it in a semi-official manner on the morning of the eventful day, the Spanish ambassador at once resolved not to ride into town at all, but to walk on foot rather than risk his dignity.
By the end of the year 1644, the different plenipotentiaries at last arrived at the two seats of Congress. Both towns were crowded to suffocation with the numerous followers whom these gentlemen brought in their suite. Never before had Europe seen such a brilliant assembly of statesmen. There were on the part of the Kaiser of Germany Count Nassau-Hadamar and Count Trautmannsdorf, together with the Aulic councillors, John Crane and Dr. Isaac Volmar; on the part of France, Count D’Avaux and Seigneur de la Roche-des-Aubiers, the latter secret agent of Cardinal Mazarin; on the part of the Pope, Fabio Chigi (who became afterwards Pope himself under the name of Alexander VII.); on the part of Spain, Count Guzman de Peneranda and Joseph of Bergaigne, Archbishop of Cambray; on the part of Sweden, John Oxenstierna and Baron d’ Oernholm; on the part of Denmark, Justus Lippius and Dr. Langerman; on the part of Portugal, Louis de Castro and Count Andrada Leitao; on the part of the Netherlands, Willem de Ripperda and Adrian van Stedum; on the part of Venice, Count Aloisio Contareno; on the part of the Duke of Savoy, Claude de Chabot, &c., &c. Besides these representatives of greater States and their assistants, there were some fifty or sixty more envoys from the smaller princes of Germany, among them Adam Adami, the learned historian of the Congress; and even deputies from the thirteen cantons of the Swiss Republic. The whole civilised world soon began gazing with wonder and astonishment at this galaxy of distinguished men, curious beyond expression, whether they would succeed in solving the great and unusual task which they had undertaken.
The commencement was not very promising. First, there arose disputes, extending over months, relative to dignity, rank, and precedence; and when these, at last, had been settled—thanks to the hearty efforts of a few commoners, men like Dr. Volmar, Crane, and Adam Adami—new quarrels began respecting the order in which the successive propositions should follow each other. This, also, at length was satisfactorily arranged, after an interval of another six months, and now, at last, the real work of the Congress was commenced. The manner in which the affairs were treated was as following. The French, in the first instance, remitted their proposals in duplicate copies to the Papal Nuncio and the Commissioner of Venice—the one residing at Münster and the other at Osnabrück; and these commissioners having taken cognisance of the papers made them over to the representatives of the Kaiser and of the Princes of the Empire. Next came the turn of the Swedish ambassador, who followed another mode of procedure by having his proposals (written in Latin, on elegant parchment,) carried direct, by a solemn deputation, to the imperial envoy, and distributing copies afterwards to the commissioners of the various states. Other forms, equally slow and stiffened with etiquette, were adopted by the rest of the envoys of the belligerent powers, all of whom had the right of making proposals; and it, therefore, was by no means astonishing that, under these circumstances, the transactions should have been spun out to an ​inordinate length. To give an example of this extreme caution in deliberating, a few dates may suffice. On June 1, 1645, the first French proposal was sent in to Count Nassau-Hadamar, to which a reply was returned on December 17 of the same year, more than six months after. To this communication an answer was given by Count d’Avaux, March 7, 1646, provoking a fresh reply from the Imperial Commissioner, under date August 31 of the same year, which second message left the two parties further from each other than ever they were before. Mediators, appointed by both of them, now intervened, and sent in a report on September 10, 1646, which concluded that the Kaiser’s envoy should take the initiative in making further proposals. In consequence of this decision, Count Nassau-Hadamar forwarded a project of treaty in June, 1647, and was met by a counter-project of the French, three months after, which again left affairs as they had been at the beginning. In short, the deliberations threatened to be endless; and, worst of all, now, after more than eleven years of parleying, dating from the first proposals at Cologne, the war was raging as fiercely and the future seemed as hopeless as it had been at the day when Wallenstein and Gustavus Adolphus were crossing swords on the field of Lützen. To judge from the beginnings of this great Congress, it did not appear as if meetings of the kind had much chance in substituting for the future the force of reason for the force of arms.
However, to us now, who look through the vista of two centuries at the meeting of Münster and Osnabrück, this delay, long though it was, will not appear surprising, seeing that this first of modern European congresses had to solve problems more gigantic than any which had ever before occupied the attention of statesmen and philosophers. A religious as well as political war of unheard-of duration had shaken the whole of Central Europe to its very base; and to rebuild the tottering edifice of states was clearly a task of Herculean dimensions. That the work was finished successfully in the end, though after long and wearisome toil, is, on the whole, to be reckoned as something marvellous, and as a high proof of what congresses are able to do. And it is most remarkable that, in this instance, as well as in succeeding ones, the ultimate success was owing not so much to the ensemble of the statesmen and diplomatic personages who had met together, as to the energetic perseverance of a few among them who, with a clear and distinct object before their eyes, were determined to carry it through a thousand difficulties. Of the hundred or more commissioners present at the Congress of Münster and Osnabrück, not more than one-tenth seemed to have been really inclined for peace, or to have had bonâ fide instructions to conclude it; and among this minority there were, as it turned out, not more than two persons energetic enough as well as willing to meet the host of silent or open adversaries. But these two men, backed as they were by public opinion, proved, in the end, strong enough for the intrigues and secret influences at the round tables at Münster and Osnabrück, and were enabled to demonstrate, after all, the case of word versus sword. From the first commencement of the Congress, Count Trautmannsdorf, one of the imperial envoys, and Dr. Volmar his colleague, had shown themselves determined—as it afterwards appeared, somewhat against the will of their own master,—to make an end of the sufferings of war at any price and under every circumstance; and, after more than five years of hard labour, they had the satisfaction of gaining their object. A glance at the nature of this labour will show the merit of such work. The Thirty-Years’ War, as is well known, commenced in a struggle between the Protestant and Catholic states of Germany; it was protracted first by the interference of the King of Sweden, who took the part of the Protestants; next by that of the King of Spain, who assisted the Catholics; and, finally, by the intervention of the French, who did not declare strictly for either faction, but had a strong desire of fishing in the troubled waters of European politics. Four points, therefore, had of necessity to be settled at the Congress—namely, first, the relative position of the Catholic and Protestant states of Germany; secondly, the demands of Sweden on the Empire; thirdly, the demands of Spain; and, lastly, the claims of France. Thanks to the unwearied exertions of the two commissioners already named, and in spite of the active resistance of some and the passive objection of other members of the Congress, all these questions came to be finally arranged by the middle of the year 1648, after unbroken deliberations extending over more than three years. The four questions were, leaving out details, to be settled in the following manner. The Protestant and Catholic states of the Empire to be on a footing of perfect equality, and all past offences to be extinguished by a complete amnesty on both sides, extending to princes as well as subjects. Sweden to receive the sum of 5,000,000 of thalers, equal to three-months’ pay of an army of 34,000 infantry and 10,000 cavalry, and to have besides the towns of Bremen and Verden and a part of Pomerania. Spain to remain in statu quo ante bellum; and France to have part of Alsace and the other Austrian dominions on the left bank of the Rhine. Finally, the independence of Switzerland and of the Netherlands to be publicly acknowledged. These stipulations, after having received the consent of the respective governments, were signed and sealed at Münster and Osnabrück on the 24th of October, 1648. On the morning of that day the French and Swedish ministers, accompanied by the commissioners of most of the other states, rode in solemn procession to the palace occupied by the imperial envoys at Osnabrück, and appended their signatures to the instrument of peace; this being accomplished, the ambassadors of the Kaiser, in their turn, proceeded to the residences of the representatives of France and Sweden, and went through the same formality. At noon on the following day, peace was proclaimed by heralds through the streets of Münster, Osnabrück, and Cologne, and for weeks following public rejoicings were held in the principal towns of Germany and Holland in celebration of the happy event. A picture, by Van der Helst, pronounced by Sir Joshua Reynolds to be “the first ​picture of portraits in the world,” and as excelling its companion, the “Night Watch” of Rembrandt, represents the City Guard of Amsterdam feasting in honour of the occasion, and is known as the great attraction of the Amsterdam museum. Down to the present day the Peace of Westphalia—the title under which the work of the Congress of Münster and Osnabrück is generally known—is blessed by countless thousands, as having put an end to the most terrible series of carnage which has ever devastated Modern Europe.
The value of meetings like that of Münster and Osnabrück for the settlement of international affairs now became evident to the whole of the civilised world; and before long congresses were reckoned among the recognised modes of political and diplomatic action. Above all, the northern states eagerly adopted this method of terminating their differences, and in less than thirty years after the conclusion of the Peace of Westphalia five such assemblies came to be held in different towns of Germany, Prussia, and Holland. These, however, were of local rather than European importance; and the second real great Congress of Nations did not take place till 1712, when the important Spanish War of Succession required a solution as imperiously as the Thirty-Years’ War of the century before. The new theory of the Balance of Power, inaugurated at Münster and Osnabrück, seemed likely to be overturned by the protracted struggle between Louis XIV. and the chief of the House of Hapsburg; and in order to readjust the edifice on which all the enlightened statesmen of the day intended to establish the future peace of Europe, another great meeting of politicians had to be assembled—a meeting known to history as
THE CONGRESS OF UTRECHT.
The political aspect of Europe at the period preceding this meeting, may be sketched, in its chief outlines, as follows. King Charles II. of Spain, dying without direct heirs, had left his crown by will to the Duke of Anjou, grandson of Louis XIV., who thereupon assumed at once the government of the vast empire, consisting, at that time, not only of the Iberian peninsula, but of the Netherlands, Sicily, Naples, the Duchy of Milan, and various large and important transatlantic possessions. The young and feeble duke being merely the nominal ruler, and Louis XIV. evidently the real sovereign of this vast empire, such an acquisition naturally could not pass without arousing the jealousy of all the other States of Western Europe, who already were beginning to feel themselves completely overwhelmed by the growing preponderance of warlike France. To remedy this state of things, and to restore the Balance of Power, the Kaiser of Austria, Leopold I., was the first to take up the sword, pleading some anterior rights of his son, the Archduke Charles, to the crown of Spain, and being seconded in this demand by treaties of alliance with England and Holland, the latter of which States was but too willing to throw off the supremacy of the Court of Madrid. So the war began: Austria, England, and Holland, on the one side; France, allied with the Elector of Bavaria, and some minor German princes, on the other. At first Louis XIV. had decidedly the better of the struggle, his army driving that of the Kaiser everywhere before them; but the arrival of two great military chieftains, each of them worth an army in himself, soon changed the fortunes of the French king into a series of disasters. Marlborough and Prince Eugene had no sooner appeared on the field of action, than the fortune of war began to turn, setting in soon with such might against France, that proud Louis XIV. saw himself compelled to sue for peace in the most humiliating manner. Through his foreign minister, the Marquis de Torcy, who himself went to Amsterdam to negotiate, he offered not only to give up the whole of the Spanish monarchy, but even Alsace and other parts of the actual territory of France; and to furnish, besides, secure guarantees for future peace. This was in the spring of 1709, after the War of Succession had been raging for about eight years, extending over the whole of Spain, Italy, Germany, and Holland. France was very much weakened at this time, and the nation grew clamorous for peace; but the allied Powers being far less exhausted, and feeling themselves in the ascendent, believed themselves to be justified in refusing the conditions offered by De Torcy, in consequence of which Louis XIV. most reluctantly had to begin the struggle again. Fortune now favoured him anew, if not on the field, at least in the Cabinet; for the Duke of Marlborough having got into disgrace at home—and, more than that, the crown of Austria falling, by the death of Kaiser Joseph I., suddenly and unexpectedly on the head of Archduke Charles, the Pretender to the Spanish throne—England as well as Holland at once became favourably inclined to France. The whole policy of Europe had, indeed, become changed by the accession of Charles; for, instead of the preponderance of France, it seemed that it was now that of Austria which was chiefly threatening the Balance of Power. Consequently, in less than a month after the death of Kaiser Joseph, overtures for peace were made to Louis XIV., both by Great Britain and Holland; and the preliminary conditions having been accepted by the French monarch, at the beginning of 1711, a general meeting of the belligerent powers was fixed to take place in the course of the same year. Austria, of course, having everything to fear and nothing to gain from a pacific settlement, was strongly against the proposed meeting, but could not well prevent it; even an embassy of the famous Prince Eugene to London having failed to influence the English Cabinet. On the contrary, the harmony between England, France, and Holland seemed to increase by these and other aggressive movements of the Kaiser; and, in spite of the reluctance of the latter, it was finally arranged that the great Congress should open its sittings in the town-hall of the ancient city of Utrecht, in Holland, in the month of January, 1712.
To prevent any recurrence of the scenes witnessed at Münster and Osnabrück, all questions as to precedence, etiquette, and the general mode of transacting business, had been carefully arranged beforehand for this meeting at Utrecht. ​The plenipotentiaries were to sit promiscuously at a round table, without any order of rank, birth, or age; and it was particularly settled that none of them should be allowed to ride in a carriage with more than two horses to the townhall. These points being satisfactorily arranged, the Congress was solemnly opened on January 29th, 1721, by a speech of the Bishop of Bristol, Chief Commissioner of Great Britain, in which the envoys of all the Powers were particularly and earnestly entreated to conduct the negotiations without the least loss of time. This desire was in some measure fulfilled; for, already on the 11th of February following, the French commissioners sent in their propositions, which were at once, however, rejected as unsatisfactory. It was now the turn of the Austrian ambassadors, who had meanwhile arrived at the Congress, to make counter-proposals; which they did, but these also were not accepted by the other Powers. Things were in this state when a curious little affair, as futile as unimportant, but characteristic of early Congress life, threatened for the moment to upset all negotiations for peace. The ambassador of the Netherlands, Count von Rechtern, on the 27th of July, was passing in his carriage the house of the French envoy, M. de Menager, when the servants of the latter, who were standing at the door, uttered some offensive words against the Dutch footmen. This was construed into a personal offence by Count von Rechtern, who thereupon demanded from his colleague the punishment of the offenders. The demanded satisfaction not being given, the quarrel spread among the French and Dutch lackeys; and on one occasion a gentleman in plush, of the latter nation, treated a valet in the establishment of M. de Menager to a box on the ear. The ambassador reported the insult at once to Paris, and Louis XIV., in return, sent orders to his plenipotentiary to break off all negotiations until reparation of the heinous offence had been made by the Government of the States-General. It was intimated at the same time that nothing less would be accepted than the immediate recall of Count von Rechtern. The Dutch Government, naturally unwilling to make such a sacrifice on account of so trifling an affair, at first flatly refused; and it seemed for the moment as if the peace and welfare of the whole of Europe were to be given up to the offended honour of a French valet de chambre. Fortunately, Count von Rechtern, a man of sound good sense, resolved immediately, in order to prevent further difficulties, to ask for permission to retire; and this being given, the affair at last was allowed to drop. Meanwhile, however, the work of the Congress had been stopped for nearly six months, solely on account of this trumpery quarrel.
The British commissioners, who had more pressing instructions for hastening on the desired peace than any of the other envoys, were greatly irritated at this unwarranted delay, and to make up for lost time, they soon after directed a kind of ultimatum to the French, Dutch, and Austrian plenipotentiaries, submitting final propositions. To these the first two powers assented; but the Kaiser being as reluctant as ever to come to terms, it was determined finally to leave him to his fate, and to make peace without him. This was assented to, after renewed debates, by the rest of the commissioners, and the conditions of peace having now been agreed on with comparative ease, the instrument embodying them was ready to be signed on the 11th of April, 1713. On that day all the plenipotentiaries present at the Congress, with the sole exception of those of Austria, assembled at the residence of the British minister; and the parchment containing the Peace of Utrecht was successively signed by the ambassadors of England, France, Savoy, Portugal, Prussia, and the Netherlands. Travellers, curious in these matters, may still see the ancient building—now called the House of Loo—in which this ever-memorable act was accomplished.
The chief stipulations of the Peace of Utrecht were as follows. Spain—the cause of the whole war—was to remain with Philip of Anjou, but completely separated from France; and Naples and Sardinia were to fall to the Kaiser. The Duke of Savoy obtained the Island of Sicily, and several smaller territories in Northern Italy; and Great Britain received Gibraltar, Port Mahon, and sundry more or less important French transatlantic possessions, among others the immense districts of New Caledonia and Newfoundland in North America.
Austria, as was foreseen, did not accept these conditions of peace, and the war between the Kaiser and France therefore continued uninterrupted after the conclusion of the Utrecht negotiations. But it did not continue with the old severity and bitterness. The French and Austrian generals—Marshal Villars and Prince Eugene—contented themselves with watching each other across the Rhine, and were nothing loth when after a twelve months so passed they received orders from their respective sovereigns to meet personally for the purpose of concluding peace. Both of them lost no time in obeying this command; and as if to show the world that military commanders could do, if necessary, the work of peace better than diplomatists, they no sooner met than they agreed. On the 6th of March, 1714, after only a few weeks’ negotiations, all the conditions of peace had been settled, whereupon a couple of soldier-clerks were ordered to copy the rough draught out on legible parchments. This task having been fulfilled under the personal superintendence of the two chieftains, Marshal Villars and Prince Eugene signed the documents between three and four o’clock on the morning of the 7th of March, by the light of a stable-lantern, and then sank into each others arms, full of joyous enthusiasm at having been enabled to crown their victorious career by this work of union. The peace so concluded did not alter anything in the position of the European states as fixed by the Congress of Utrecht, and was, in fact, only the necessary supplement of its labours.
The next important assembly of peace-plenipotentiaries to which we come in the history of Europe, was the meeting which took place from 1797 till 1799, between the commissioners of Republican France and the envoys of the different states of Germany, Sweden, Denmark, and ​other countries of Northern Europe, a meeting known as the
CONGRESS OF RASTADT.
If judged merely by the number of states represented, this Congress cannot take rank with the meetings of Munster, Osnabrück and Utrecht; but, nevertheless, it has become famous in the annals of the world through the importance of the political questions discussed at it, as well as by the tragic end of several of its participators. The Assembly at Rastadt, besides, stands as the first international tribunal between revolutionary France and the rest of continental Europe. The fiery drama of 1789, first sneered at by kings and princes, and then combated in the field, was now allowed to plead its own cause at a solemn meeting of legitimate ministers. England had taken the initiative in this diplomatic intercourse with the French Republic, by sending, towards the end of 1796, a plenipotentiary to Paris, to treat for peace with the Directory.
The mission of Lord Malmesbury, however, came to nothing, chiefly on account of the incompleteness of the instructions received previously from the British government; and the noble envoy had the mortification of seeing his passport returned to him with the notice of leaving France within forty-eight hours—“pour demander les pouvoirs suffisans.” This diplomatic failure of England seemed to serve as an immediate lesson to the other great antagonist of the Republic, the Kaiser of Austria. No sooner had Lord Malmesbury quitted his post than Queen Caroline of Naples, “Prime Minister of the House of Hapsburg,” asked and obtained an interview with a pale little man—the commander-in-chief of the French army in Italy—and in a very few hours settled with him the preliminaries of a definite peace at the Castle of Campo Formio. General Bonaparte had received no particular “pouvoirs” from Paris for such a settlement, nor had Queen Caroline from Naples; yet the two came to very definite arrangements regarding the distribution of large portions of territory with millions of inhabitants.
It was only to save the appearances of any wilful encroachment on the final decision of their respective governments that the two negotiators, in a final paragraph, arranged the holding of a little Congress for the ratification of their arrangements, and fixed it to take place within a month at Rastadt, in the Duchy of Baden. Communications to that effect being made to the different states of Germany, they hastened to send their envoys to the appointed place, and before the month was over, the assembly was complete, with the exception of the French ambassadors. These gentlemen, or rather citizens, Messrs. Treilhard and Bonnier d’Arco, regicides both, and the same who had negotiated in a rather haughty manner with Lord Malmesbury a short time before, arrived only about three weeks later; and, as if to show their contempt for the other princely commissioners, took up their quarters at the château of the Margrave, destined for the representatives of the Kaiser and some German sovereigns who had come in propiâ personâ to the Congress.
This breach of good manners, however, seemed to make no impression on the imperial and other commissioners, who, with great politeness, vacated their own apartments, contenting themselves with some narrow rooms in an upper floor. The plenipotentiaries thus present were,—on the part of Austria, Count Francis George von Metternich (father of the Prince Metternich lately deceased, and grandfather of the present Austrian ambassador at Paris), and Count Louis von Cobenzl; on the part of Bavaria, Baron von Rechberg, and Count Preysing; on the part of Saxony, Count Loeben; on the part of Sweden, Count Fersen; on the part of Prussia, Count Goertz and Herr von Dohm; on the part of Denmark, Baron von Rosenkranz; and various other noble envoys, too numerous to mention, from the rest of the German States. Russia also was invited to send a plenipotentiary; but Czar Paul I. refused, using, it is reported, a strong expression regarding the Gallic members of the Congress. The deliberations were opened on the 9th December, 1797, by a short speech of M. Bonnier d’Arco, who, like the Bishop of Bristol at Utrecht, enjoined the commissioners present to do their duty without loss of time. It was also desired by the same speaker, that sittings should only take place when convoked by the ambassadors of the Republic, whose secretary, Baron de Münch, was to keep the protocol and communicate it, at the end of every debate, to the secretaries of the other ambassadors, who were to wait, in all humility, in an adjoining room. The further modes of transacting the work of the Congress were likewise arranged by the Republican commissioners, and were very different from those employed at the meetings of Utrecht and Osnabrück. Certain propositions had to be made in turn by all the commissioners, but the reply to them by the rest of the plenipotentiaries was not to be waited for, but had to be given during the sitting itself in writing, to be entered textually in the protocol. At the end of every sitting, the votes so given were to be summed up by the French commissioner, and to be formed in the shape of an arrêté, under the assistance of the Imperial envoy. This summing up was next to be submitted to a final vote at the following sitting, and the decision so come to was to be the final resolution. It was hoped that by these means, which were somewhat in imitation of the modus followed in the French government councils, the deliberations of the Congress would be greatly accelerated; but the ultimate success in no wise fulfilled this expectation.
But this perhaps was owing not only to the forms employed, but to the manner of their execution. The French plenipotentiaries, at almost every sitting, made use of the most acrimonious language towards their brother commissioners, and not unfrequently, openly insulted them. This was particularly the case on the occasion of the news of the taking of Rome and the deposition of the Pope, arriving at Rastadt,—an event which was celebrated by the envoys of the Directory in long orations during the sittings, to the great disgust of Count Metternich and other pious representatives of Roman Catholic Powers. Under these circumstances, and with the want of mutual goodwill on both sides, there was not much progress made in the negotiations. Still more were ​these embarrassed by the succeeding news of the victorious march of French armies into Italy and Switzerland, and the rumoured preparations for a descent of the Republican troops on the coast of Great Britain. With every despatch announcing the conquest of a town or a county beyond the Alps, the demands of Messrs. Treilhard and Bonnier d’Arco increased in importance; and they, who would have been content at first to treat on the basis of the Campo Formio preliminaries, and to return part of the left bank of the Rhine to Germany, were ultimately not satisfied with even the river frontier, but required important portions of territory on the eastern side. Their demands at last became so exorbitant, that the Austrian commissioners thought themselves justified in openly complaining to the French government, the result of which was that M. Treilhard was recalled, and M. Jean Debry, an ancient member of the Convention, sent in his stead to Rastadt. The French commission was further increased by M. Robergot, who was to act as assistant to the envoys, and M. Rosenstiel, French consul at Elbing, and formerly an employé in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who was to be the general interpreter. Hitherto their complete ignorance of the German language had exposed the Republican plenipotentiaries to many misunderstandings, which it was thought hereby to prevent. This change seemed to be at first very successful in accelerating the negotiations; and already was the draught of a complete treaty of peace drawn up between the plenipotentiaries, when suddenly the news reached Rastadt that the Czar of Russia had declared war on France, and that a body of 25,000 Russians, commanded by Prince Ferdinand of Wurtemberg, had already crossed the frontier and arrived, November 26, 1798, at Brünn, in Moravia. On this, the French commissioners, in a note dated January 3, 1798, demanded the immediate interference of the German Diet, declaring that if Russia were allowed to occupy the territory of the empire without being seriously opposed by troops, this would be regarded as a breach of neutrality, and, as a first consequence, the Congress would be broken up immediately. The message spread general consternation among the envoys of the smaller German States, all of them sincerely desirous of peace; and they replied that they would remit directly the demand in question to the Diet. The deliberations thus hung for some time, no movement being made on either side until the 7th of April, 1799, when Count Metternich announced to the plenipotentiaries that he had been recalled from the Congress, and that it had been resolved at the same time by the Emperor, his master, to annul everything done and concluded during the meeting. On the following day the same minister forwarded a note to the French ambassadors, advising them to leave the seat of Congress as soon as possible, seeing that actual hostilities had already begun, and that consequently their personal security could not be further guaranteed. To this note the envoys of the Republic paid no attention, but continued treating, in the absence of Prince Metternich, with the representatives of the other German States; and it was not until the 25th of April, after several of their couriers had been seized by Russian troops, that they at last decided on quitting Rastadt. To do so in complete security, it was arranged that they should be accompanied across the Rhine by a troop of horsemen under the command of Colonel Barbaczy, commanding the Austrian depôt at Gernsbach, who was to see them from their own residence into the territory of France, not many miles distant. The 28th of April was fixed for the day of departure, and accordingly, early on the morning of that day, everything was ready for the purpose. However, M. Bonnier d’Arco declared that he was not then prepared to start, but had to arrange a few more private affairs, in the completion of which the whole day was occupied. As late as nine o’clock in the evening the French ambassadors at last departed, alone, and unescorted. They had scarcely proceeded a thousand yards beyond the walls from the town when they saw themselves surrounded by a number of armed men, some of them in the uniform of hussars, others dressed like peasants. The ambassadors were sitting in separate carriages, Jean Debry in the first, Bonnier in the second, Robergot in the third, and Rosenstiel in the fourth. M. Jean Debry’s carriage was a little ahead when they were attacked, and its occupant found time to escape by throwing himself into a ditch, where, owing to the darkness of the night, he remained unperceived. Bonnier d’Arco, however, was killed on the spot, as well as Robergot,—the latter in the arms of his wife. As to Rosenstiel, he was severely wounded, but escaped with his life, by his presence of mind in throwing himself on the ground, simulating a corpse. He and Jean Debry crept back late at night into Rastadt, where the Prussian ambassador took them under his special protection.
The authors of this horrible assassination were never known. The police pretended to make the strictest investigations; but the war which immediately followed, the impotency of the civil authorities, and the general lawlessness of the period, according to official reports, prevented all chance of success. Since then numberless books have been written on the subject, without, however, throwing more light on the whole mysterious affair. The most generally accredited opinion among historians now is, that the real authors were the delegates of some smaller German Powers, who, being drawn into forbidden intercourse with the French envoys at the beginning of the Congress, and dreading the publication of their correspondence, bribed a number of freebooting soldiers and other rabble to steal the papers which Bonnier and Debry were carrying with them into France. No orders were given for their assassination, nor even for violence on the persons of the ambassadors; but the excited bravos, some of them fresh from the late wars, and seeing nothing but hated foes in their victims, overstepped the command, taking life as well as property. This is one probable version: another, mentioned by Schoell, is, that the French Directory itself had a hand in the crime, and committed it for the purpose of getting up a national agitation against ​Germany, Austria, and Russia. Thus much is certain, that the government of France for the time being was the only party that got an advantage from this assassination, for the news of it created a boundless excitement throughout the Republic, so that hundreds of thousands of volunteers kept on rushing to the standards to revenge the foul crime committed on the national representatives of their country.
For fifteen long years the legions of Republican and Imperial France swept, whirlwind-like, from one point of Europe to the other, unchecked by treaties, peace meetings, and diplomatic action of any kind. At the end of this period, however statesmanship got the upper hand again over swordmanship; and as if to revel in its victory, produced the most brilliant meeting of peace negotiators the world had ever seen, namely, The Congress of Vienna.
Frederic Martin.
(To be continued.)