THE CZAR IN BERLIN. T HE extent of the power still
confided to some Sovereigns in Europe is hardly more wonderful than the limita- tions within which they are compelled to exercise it. The two gentlemen, both still young, who on Friday week clinked their glasses in the dining-hall of the Berlin Schloss, possess a legal authority which the philosophers of a century ago were firmly persuaded would never again be committed to individuals. Neither of them would claim to be a man of genius ; neither of them has yet done anything to deserve popular confidence ; and of neither of them is it as yet certain that he is either a great soldier or a competent statesman. The general verdict, indeed—no doubt a little premature—would be that both fall a little short of the qualities necessary to great success in the grand position they occupy,—the Emperor of Russia being too impulsive and ill-informed, the Emperor of Germany being too restless and too desirous to do and be everything for himself. Want of breadth and want of calm are the probable, though not proved, defects of the two minds. Nevertheless, as they sat there eating their dinners, we doubt not as attentively as any two officers at mess, they were absolute arbiters of Europe on the vital question of peace or war. The Czar is legally autocrat, and can set a million of men in motion, as his predecessor said, by ringing a hand-bell on his table ; and though the Emperor of Germany is nominally more "responsible" to others, there is no one to enforce the responsibility, and if he decided on war, war there would be in a month. Similarly, though neither of the two separately could ensure pease, the two together could secure to Europe five years of an armed quiescence. They have only to agree not to fight, and to guarantee the Balkan States from invasion, and there could. be no war. France will not move alone, and without the consent of one of the two Sovereigns, no other Power possibly could. None of them has the force, even if any one of them has the inclination ; and as matters stand, the inclination must be of the feeblest kind. Conscript armies are not so fond of being massacred as outsiders are apt to think, and their rulers are well aware that, for the moment, there is no such thing as war with limited liability. If Clic two Sovereigns gave the word, and publicly pledged them- selves to enforce it, not a shot would be fired in Europe except in a civil war strictly confined within the territories of the State in which it broke out. The Servians might rage at each other, and the Macedonians revolt against Turkey, but neither could produce the conflict of which the world stands in dread.
It is a marvellous power that these two men possess, and one which will one day compel the historian to reconsider popular theories as to the decline of the individual ; and it may be profitable to reflect for a moment why it is not exercised. That they should not declare war is intelligible, if only because the responsibility is so overwhelming ; but why should they not declare peace for a fixed term ? Neither of them, we may be well assured, wants war for its own sake. The Emperor of Germany is young, and ambitious of distinction, and being a Hohenzollern, pro- bably either has, or believes he has, a special capacity for the direction of great warlike operations ; but he stands pledged against a war of ambition, he has nothing to gain by one, and he knows well that if defeated, the mighty structure of which he is the apex would rock to its very base. Prussia would survive years of defeat, but Germany might perish in one lost campaign. The Czar, again, besides baying all his cousin's motives for caution, has this addi- tional one, that war would throw on him personally an insupportable burden, that weight of individual responsi- bility which at last crushed the Emperor Nicholas, and brought him either to a suicide's death or a death from nervous exhaustion. He is known to detest the idea of the war against which he nevertheless incessantly pre- pares. Nor can we believe in personal dislike between the Emperors as any obstacle to such an agreement. Kings do not hate individuals, much less each other, without the gravest cause, the very greatness of their position making all things seem small save the permanent mterests of their countries and their own thrones. The real obstacle to peace, as it has often been to war, is the potency of opinion. Neither Emperor can bear to look in the eyes of his people and his Army as he fancies he would look if he gave up his freedom to pursue his own policy unfettered by fear of consequences. This fear on the part even of the Emperor of Germany is not altogether unreal. The Army would not quite like what it would deem an un- reasonable concession, and the people, though much relieved, would look on their Emperor as a man of much less stateliness than they imagined. German feeling would probably be reconciled in time, for the German people, though hard when roused, are essentially pease- lovers; but in Russia the discontent would be most serious. It is very doubtful if the Russian Army wishes peace, and quite certain that its most influential officers do not. They think the Czar has conceded too much of Russia's freedom already ; and if peace were assured for five years on the basis of keeping things as they are, they would regard their master with eyes which in Russia are apt to grow threatening. Power like that of the Autocrat is held on the tenure of daring to do, as well as daring to decide ; and to refuse to act for five years, whatever the provocation, .would seem to Russian Generals little less than dis- graceful. The Russian people would in one way share the officers' sentiments. They like peace under the present system, but only on condition that their country shall always expand, always lead all Slays, always remember its right to Constantinople ; and a sworn peace made before a war violates all the conditions. With Servia boiling, with Bul- garia defiant, with Turks crushing Christians at will, and with Austria intriguing in full freedom, they would not bear what they would think an imprisonment of five years. The telegram about Staff discontent, though probably false in every detail, expresses roughly the truth of the general feeling that Russia desires to stand alone, able to act when her duty calls or her opportunity seems to serve. Opinion, in fact, is against an avowed pacification, and opinion, when it enlists their sense of honour and their fear of their soldiers, governs even the seemingly irresponsible masters of mankind.
One can hardly help wondering for a moment-what the two men to whom such tremendous powers are entrusted thought as they clinked their glasses. Probably they had no great thoughts at all, but felt exactly as two diplo- matists would have felt under similar circumstances, full of anxiety to be courteous, but fuller of fear lest they should commit themselves, or say aught that the millions of their subjects, as well as each other, could in any way misjudge. The Emperor of Germany, better trained than his rival, surrounded by his own people, and, as you may see in every speech he makes, confident in his own capacity for expressing himself—the confidence is well founded, too —was equal to the occasion, spoke loudly, and by refer- ring to the past affiance of the Houses, contrived to be admirably courteous in a sentence which has only historic meaning. The Emperor of Russia, less ready of speech —he is very like Trollope's Lord Chiltern—and perhaps a trifle too honest for a great ceremonial, grew embarrassed, spoke in French—surely a mistake, though French is still the language of general diplomacy—and though the words were afterwards improved for the official report, uttered, almost inaudibly, only a conventional phrase equivalent to "You are very good." The impression at the time and on the spot was one of stately coldness all round ; and certainly the visit, if it brought war no nearer, brought us no nearer that publicly proclaimed peace for which, and not for guesses that peace may be kept after all, the industry of Europe begins to long.
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