THE TREATY OF VILLAFRANCA.

THE events of the past month have enabled us to appreciate Louis Napoleon under a new light. Hitherto he has been regarded as the triumphant Masaniello of monarchy, owing his success to the popular afflatus he had produced, and gradually strengthening his authority, till he became emperor by the force of the bayonet, instead of by the "will of the people." The peace of Villafranca, however, has shown him to us under a new phase, and we feel convinced that, had the present Emperor of the French turned his attention to literature, he would have become one of the most successful novelists of the present prolific age. A great authority tells us that surprise is the first element of tragic success, and of a verity Louis Napoleon has not neglected the opportunity. The bloody three-act melodrama of Magenta, Montebello, and Solferino, terminated in a tableau representing the blessings of peace, which the audience had far from anticipated, and the consequence was, that the curtain fell amid mingled applause and hisses. We sincerely trust, however, that the piece may not be announced for repetition-say in Prussia, It is a most difficult task for a purveyor of monthly speculations like ourselves to be forced to supply the motives which have produced certain facts, especially with a public so peculiarly constituted as the English. In their arrogance, Britons regard themselves as the appointed arbiters of the destinies of the world, and live in the idea that their imperial "sic volo, sic jubeo" will ever be the "pro ratione voluntas." They deride any notion of that supremacy being snatched from them, and are in so far right, because no single nation dare to try and wrest it from them. But they blindly close their eyes to the consequences resulting from certain facts, and they will not study the analogies history offers to their notice. The regular recurrence of storms is now accepted as a reality, but it is as true with reference to political as to natural effects. Be it our task, then, in the present paper, to study the possible results to Europe from the hastily patched-up treaty.

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In the first place, there is a startling similitude in the motives alleged for friendship by both potentates. Louis Napoleon, with that peculiar frankness of his, beneath which he ever hides the most ambitious designs, tells us that, in commencing the long and sterile war of sieges, he found presence of him Europe in arms, ready either to dispute the success of France or to aggravate her reverses. On the other hand, Francis Joseph says, with a candour highly to be approved, that his sole reason for concluding peace was the standing out of those natural allies whose assistance he felt a right, fairly enough, to anticipate. In other words, England did it all, and, by her neutrality, has gained the ill-will of both contending powers.

The circumstances were, certainly, exceptional enough. In two months France had driven back that army on which Austria's strength was based, and proved that the most perfect precision in manoeuvring was of no avail in the presence of such troops as those who fought by our side in the Crimea. At the same time, even her greatest foes could not but admire the dogged resistance her armies offered to the foe; "devictus sed non

defatigatus" ought henceforth to be inscribed as the motto on the Austrian banner. Louis Napoleon, on the other hand, had reached the utmost limit even his daring could attain. He had flattered the vanity of the French by winning two battles, which the Parisians were only too happy to regard as splendid, and had reasonable fear of arousing dissatisfaction by sitting down before the fortresses of the Quadrilatère. There is no doubt now that the French nation was beginning to perceive the futility of the war, and those who most faithfully supported the imperial policy naturally suspected the result when such discordant elements as a Kossuth and a Garibaldi were enlisted on the side of imperialism. Louis Napoleon started back in horror when the Frankenstein he had evoked met his astonished gaze, and his only chance of emerging safely was a peace, which, while endorsing the truth of his first programme, enabled him to play the same part towards Austria as he had before done to Russia. Fifty thousand men were a cheap sacrifice, if ensuring him the sincere support of Austria in his further aggressive policy.

To Austria a peace on such conditions as those presented for acceptance by France was of vital importance. The huge state fabric which it had taken so many years and such sacrifices to establish was shaken to the base the evil results of 1848 were beginning once more to exert their influence. The army was dispirited by the consequences of bad generalship, and could not forget that vital error which converted Magenta from a decisive victory into a defeat; and even the faithful Tyrolese, the very spine of the Austrian empire, were beginning to make stipulations in return for their assistance. False, fleeting Prussia was doing all in her power to enlarge the wound Napoleon had inflicted, and all seemed to predict defeat without and anarchy within. The present government of England also appear to have played a considerable part in urging Francis Joseph to patch up peace, for it seems, from his manifesto, as if the terms the allies suggested were far less satisfactory than those which a magnanimous ally offered. It is easy, then, to understand how a young and chivalrous prince, eager to stop effusion of blood, and bitterly undeceived as to the assistance his natural allies were prepared to afford him, hastily clutched at terms which did not imperil the national honour. Lombardy was notoriously a burden on the Austrian empire, for, although the richest portion of the state territory, its revenue was devoured by the country, as the emperor would never consent to divert it to the fiscal purposes of the rest of the empire, however sorely he might be tempted, and for several years, owing to climacteric mishaps, the Milanese had drawn on the capital for assistance. Under such circumstances, the emperor was not sorry at heart to resign this portion of Italy, while maintaining his authority and right of interference in the domestic regulations of that country. In short, Austria has gained a loss by the surrender of Lombardy; she is now enabled to dictate to all the smaller princes without any fear of protest, and she has, in fact, obtained in exchange for Lombardy the satrapy of the rest of Italy. At the same time, everything tends to the belief that constitutionalism, which has been for some time on its trial in Piedmont, is now convicted, and that country, ever vacillating between France and Austria, must end by seeing its last rag of independence blown away. Such are the lame and impotent conclusions of a war which was pompously announced as designed to drive the Aug.-VOL. CXVI. NO. CCCCLXIV.

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Austrians into the Adriatic, and has given both belligerents a blow from which they will not so easily recover. The revelations made by an eminent French writer, in the Revue Indépendante, as to the French State Loan, amply prove what difficulties France experiences in raising the funds for an aggressive war.*

For our own part, we confess, with sorrow, that we pin no faith to Louis Napoleon's reply to the Legislative Body. The Emperor of the French has ever been eminent for length of sight, and he must have known, before entering on the campaign, exactly the terms on which he stood to the rest of Europe. Some Englishmen actually gave him credit for disinterestedness in the Italian campaign, and even now place belief in his explanation, but we think the great body of the nation agrees with ourselves in regarding the peace with considerable suspicion. One thing is certain, it took all England by surprise; and the only man who ventured to predict it was Lord John Russell, in his Prussian despatch, lately published. It is, therefore, probable that the illustrious guest at Compiègne had already received a hint from his imperial friend, which he hastily imparted to his colleagues, and which the secretary for foreign affairs, with his curiosa infelicitas, allowed to become public. But any student of history is inclined to draw a very different conclusion from the treaty of Villafranca than that which the House of Commons would try to force on us, in the hope that we might thus forget the wise predictions of the other House.

We have ample facts, unfortunately, to show us the tendency of Louis Napoleon's wishes. Take up what volume you will of the Idées Napoléoniennes, and you find the one object serving as a substratum— the necessity of humiliating England and avenging Waterloo. It is idle to say that these are mere crudities, written in Louis Napoleon's hot youth, and now tempered down by success; and Mr. Bright acts an unEnglish part in trying to make his countrymen believe in the sincerity of France. The warnings of the Italian campaign are too fresh in our minds to allow us to believe in the Emperor of the French. Possibly the Gallic nation may have learned the advantages of peace, and are really anxious to maintain the good understanding with England; but the last war amply proves how impotent the nation is to withstand the warlike ebullitions of the carriers of six hundred thousand bayonets. But, were a war declared against England to-morrow, all such prudent considerations would be cast to the winds, and a Frenchman would gladly surrender his last franc would it ensure a French marshal dictating a victorious bulletin from St. James's. We learn on good authority that the dockyards of France were never in such an active condition as at present; and against whom can this martial panoply be directed, save against the maritime power par excellence? The Crimean campaign went a long way in avenging Waterloo, the invasion of England must efface Trafalgar.

*We gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity to call our readers' attention to this new periodical, so spiritedly started by Mr. Jeffs, of the Burlington Arcade. If it be carried on with the same integrity that marks the first number, it cannot fail to become the only Englishman's authority for the real state of affairs in bayonet-ridden France.

Taking a common-sense view of the campaign, then, we arrive at a very different conclusion from that of Mr. Bright, which we deeply regret that Mr. Disraeli, thereby stultifying the traditional policy of the Tories, endorsed by his splendid eloquence. We see in it a measure fraught with evil consequences for England, and a maintenance of those principles which the first Napoleon obeyed. Parallels have been drawn between Villafranca and Tilsit, and it may be that the same glittering bait was held out in both cases. The three great continental empires have each an object of ambition, for which they have been striving for years: Russia wishes Constantinople; Austria, the Principalities; and France, Egypt. Be it ours to prevent a partition as iniquitous as that of Poland. three powers, France alone proceeds to underhanded action, and the support given to M. de Lesseps's idealities is merely political. Once permission were conceded to commence the canal, it would be an easy task to employ thirty thousand soldiers as artisans, and we might awake one morning to find a coup d'état carried out in Egypt, rivalling in its consequences that of the Deux Décembre.

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Still, we cannot refrain from evincing our admiration at the masterly way in which Louis Napoleon has succeeded in converting Russia and Austria into fast friends, instead of distrustful foes. By the Crimean campaign he managed to kindle an ill feeling between ourselves and Russia; and by graceful concessions at the right moment he gained the friendship of Alexander, and made him our undying foe. With Austria he has displayed the same crafty tactics; he went just far enough, without insulting her pride, to prove how dangerous he was as an enemy, how valuable as a friend, and showed her that the allies, on whom she had relied, were the first to leave her in the lurch when the hour of trial drew on. How well can we understand that the Emperor of Austria allowed himself to be deluded, and a careless hint as to the Danubian Principalities probably opened a vista before him, which would cause him to despise all other considerations. From the morning that the two emperors met in friendly colloquy at Villafranca, England counted one enemy more, and one friend less. Surely, we possessed so few of the latter that we might have made an effort to retain so solid and hearty an alliance as that which honoured both countries during the wars against the first Napoleon?

We have now one friend left in Germany; Prussia, who seems to have followed passively in our footsteps during the war, apparently desires to be identified with us in defending the independence of Germany. She is, in all probability, the next victim marked out by the imperial bird of prey, and the Rhenish provinces afford even a better excuse than the liberation of Italy. If such a war were to break out, we may be quite assured that Austria would remember Prussia's conduct during the past war, and not stir a finger to defend her from dismemberment, and most righteously will she deserve it. Had Prussia acted in accordance with the true interests of Germany, and forgotten that insane jealousy of Austria which has ever been her curse, France would have been so paralysed, that the peace of Europe must have been secured; as it is, she leaves herself open to attack, and none will fly to her assistance in the hour of need. She has gained the object of her ambition: she has

virtually broken up the Germanic Confederation, and enjoys the hollow glory of standing alone as a European great power. Be it hers, then, to defend her position, and if in the hour of peril a cry of distress comes soughing across the Channel, it is doubtful whether England would step forth as her champion. Prussia has remained true to her traditional policy, and the result will be seen in another Jena. Such a consummation must lead to another alliance with France, and Louis Napoleon will then feel himself strong enough to throw down the glove to England. We shall once again see the Continent in arms against us, and we sincerely hope that the same result will attend our efforts.

Such, then, we consider, must be regarded as the practical bearing of the treaty of Villafranca, and it certainly opens up a prospect far from consolatory for ourselves. The confidence which so many of us placed in Louis Napoleon has been most rudely shaken, and we learn that he has no hesitation to break his word if he can serve his own interests by doing so. When we remember that England has been left for so many years, as it were, at his mercy, we have reason to feel thankful that he has refrained from clutching at the glorious prey. To us it is quite evident that prudence restrained him; he was anxious to draw to his side those powers which might have created a diversion in his favour, and meet us single-handed in the field. Fortunately the eyes of Englishmen are now open to the peril they have incurred so long, and the whole nation, with the exception of the Manchester section, urgently demand an alteration in our relations with France. Lord Lyndhurst struck the key-note in his magnificent speech, and a portion of the press has kept the subject prominently before the public, thereby increasing Mr. Bright's objurgations. Mr. Cobden's sensible remarks on the subject of an invasion go far to correct the absurdities of which he was guilty on that subject a few years back.

Granted, then, the fact that an attempted invasion of England by the French is on the cards, let us now see what we have done to prevent it. We have hitherto too much neglected the fact that the French and Russian fleets, if combined, would outnumber ours, and that there is posi tively nothing to prevent an army of one hundred and fifty thousand men being landed on our shores within twenty-four hours. We have our entire eastern coast left open for an invader, and this was a favourite idea of the Grand-Duke Constantine during the last war; our Channel fleet could be held in check while the transports put across, and though it has been argued, by some ridiculers of an invasion, that our swift frigates could cut them to pieces ere a man could land, the French will have frigates too. But, supposing that only one hundred thousand men were landed, what have we to oppose to them. At the utmost, forty thousand trained men, scattered over the kingdom, and not a single strong place to hold the invaders in check. Our dockyards, our arsenals, our most populous and flourishing cities, would be at their mercy; and in the event of the first army we collected being defeated, there is not a single place where a second could be formed.

We are fully aware of the old argument that, in the case of an invasion, every man would stand forth in defence of his fatherland, and every hedge be converted into a line of fire. The idea is utterly fallacious: it