to aggrandize herself. Had the question been
left for British statesmen alone to settle,—had
the British premier been as free to act for England
as the Czar was for Russia,—poor, sick
Turkey would have been cut and carved most expeditiously
and artistically; she would have been partitioned as
perfectly as Poland, and Abdul Medjid would have experienced
the fate of Stanislaus Poniatowski. But English
ministers hold power only on condition of doing the
will of the English nation, and that nation had contracted
an aversion to Russia that was uncontrollable, and
before its hostility its ministers had to give way,
slowly and reluctantly; and the half-measures they
adopted, like the half-measures of our own government
toward the secessionists, explain the disasters of
the war. The English people were determined that
there should be an end, for the time at least, to
the Russian hegemony, and threw themselves into the
arms of France with a vivacity that would have astonished
any other French ruler but Napoleon III., who had
lived among them, and who knew them well. The
war was waged, and, when over, what had England gained?
Nothing solid, it must be admitted. The territory
of Russia remained unimpaired, and there is not the
slightest evidence that her influence in the East was
lessened by the partial destruction of Sebastopol.
The Russian navy of the Euxine had ceased to exist;
but as it consisted principally of vessels that were
not adapted to the purposes of modern warfare, the
loss of the Russians in that respect was not of a very
serious character. Russia’s European leadership
was suspended; but her power and her resources, which,
if properly employed, must soon reinstate her, were
not damaged. England
had fought for an
idea, and had fought in vain.
France had as little interest in the Russian war as
England, and the French people had no wish to fight
the Czar. They would have preferred fighting
the English, in connection with the Czar,—an
arrangement that would have been more profitable to
their country. But the emperor had a quarrel
with his arrogant brother at St. Petersburgh, and he
availed himself of the opportunity afforded by that
brother’s obstinacy to teach him a lesson from
which he did not live to profit. Nicholas had
cut the new emperor, and had caused him to be taboo’d
by most of the sovereigns of Europe; and the Frenchman
determined to cut his way to consideration. This
he was enabled to do, with the aid of the English;
and ever since the war’s close he has held the
place which became vacant on the death of Nicholas—that
of Europe’s arbiter. The French fought well,
as they always do, but their heart was not in the
war. The emperor had the war party pretty much
to himself. Exactly the opposite state of things
existed in France to that which existed in England.
In the former country, the government was for war,
and the people were for peace; in the latter, the
government was for peace, and the people were for war.