Puslapio vaizdai

to one who crosses a country inhabited by savages than the few marks of their presence which strike the eye, or at least an unpractised eye. The little plot of ground the Kafirs have cultivated is in a few years scarcely distinguishable from the untouched surface of the surrounding land, while the mud-built hut quickly disappears under the summer rains and the scarcely less destructive efforts of the white ants. Here in South Africa the native races seem to have made no progress for centuries, if indeed they have not actually gone backward-a question to which I shall presently return; and the feebleness of savage man intensifies one's sense of the overmastering strength of nature. The elephant and the rhinoceros and the giraffe are as much the masters of the soil as is the Kafir, and man has no more right to claim that the land was made for him than have the wild beasts of the forest who roar after their prey and seek their meat from God.

Before I turn from the physical conditions of South Africa and the aspects of its nature to speak of the races that inhabit it, a few sentences may be devoted to summarizing the main features already mentioned-features which need to be kept in view when we come to consider the lines on which industrial and political development have moved and are likely to move in future. These features are briefly the following: a hot and moist climate along the east coast, making the flat strip which extends northward from 30° south latitude unhealthy for Europeans; a parched and arid coast on the west northward from 32° south latitude, making the whole of this side of South Africa unattractive and of little value save for its minerals; a high mountainrange running parallel to the southern and eastern coast, cutting off a great part of the rains which come up from the Indian Ocean; a wide desert in the western half of the interior, interposing a sparsely peopled tract between the agricultural districts about Cape Town and the pastoral and mining country of the Orange Free State, the Transvaal, and southern Bechuanaland; a climate so dry in the mountains and in the eastern half of the interior that tillage is in most places possible only by the help of irrigation; a high and healthy table-land stretching northward from the eastern parts of Cape Colony nearly all the way to the Zambesi; great mineral wealth in some, possibly in many, parts of this tableland; and finally, a sun everywhere so powerful that although white men can live, and their children can growupin perfect health, open-air labor and hard physical work of every kind is now done, and is likely to continue to be done, by natives, and not by whites. We shall presently see how these conditions, and especially the last one, are likely to tell upon the future growth of the country, and to determine the type of its civilization. James Bryce. (To be continued.)

These features of South African nature, its silence, its loneliness, its drear solemnity, have not been without their influence upon the mind and temper of the European settler. The most peculiar and characteristic type that the country has produced is the Dutch Boer of the eastern plateau, the offspring of those Dutch Africans who some sixty years ago wandered away from British rule into the wilderness. These men had, and their sons and grandsons have to some extent retained, a passion for solitude that still makes them desire to live many miles from any neighbor, a sturdy self-reliance, a grim courage in the face of danger, a sternness from which the native races have often had to suffer. The majesty of nature has not, however, made them a poetical people, although the fact that they read nothing whatever but the Bible might be expected to have stimulated their imagination and purified their taste.



SANG of love to many a string,

With many a sweet conceit and rhyme,

And everywhere and every time—

Of love, and love, I could but sing,

Until my own heart felt the spell.
Ah, then, how soon my lips were mute!
How silent lay my untouched lute,
Since what Love was I knew-too well!

Mary Ainge De Vere.






HE news of Europe which seems to have reached Napoleon in Spain was of a most alarming character, and made certain considerations so emphatic that all others became insignificant. It mattered not that he must leave behind him a halfaccomplished task; that, while his strategy had been successful, he had lost the opportunity to annihilate the English, which, though he did not know it at the time, he had really had in the tardy arrival of their transports at Corunna; that the national uprising was not suppressed by his carefully devised measures; that the oaths of allegiance sworn to Joseph and the constitution had been sworn under compulsion by a minority, who, pious as the people were, did not, for that reason, consider even themselves as bound, much less the nation as a whole. All this was serious enough, but it was paltry when compared with what had taken place in central Europe during his absence.

During the campaign of Marengo there had been a knot of active, self-seeking, and traitorous men who, having risen by Bonaparte's help, schemed how best to sustain themselves in case of his death. During his absence in Spain this same group, under the leadership of Talleyrand and Fouché, had been again arranging plans for their guidance should misfortune overwhelm him in Spain. Such was their activity that even Metternich had been deceived into the belief that they had a large party of French patriots behind them, who, weary of the Emperor's incessant calls on France for aid in enterprises foreign to her welfare, would gladly be rid of him. So grave did he consider the crisis that late in November he left his post and set out for Vienna. St. Vincent's reports about the friction of Erfurt had already found credence in the war party, and

the belief was spreading that the FrancoRussian alliance was hollow.

Stein's absence from his native land had only intensified sympathy with his policy to its very borders, even at Königsberg, the seat of government; and Prussia was not only strong once more, but was ardent to redeem its disgrace. The reflex influence of the two popular movements in Prussia and Austria upon each other had intensified both, until the more advanced leaders cared little whether the process of German regeneration was begun under Hohenzollern or Hapsburg leadership. Into this surcharged atmosphere came Metternich with his exaggerated statements about the great reactionary party in France. The effect was to raise the elements. He declared, besides, that the Spanish war had absorbed so much of Napoleon's effective military strength that not more than 200,000 men were available for use in central Europe, and that Austria alone, with her new armaments, would be a match for any army the French emperor could lead against her, at least in the first stages of a war. Austria had been negotiating for an English subsidy, without which her troops, fine as they were, could not be maintained; but Great Britain refused a grant until they should actually take the field. This fact was an inducement so strong as to put a climax on the already hostile inclinations of the Emperor Francis; and as his minister Stadion had long felt that Napoleon's power must not be allowed time for further consolidation, the government concluded to strike while his difficulties in Spain were at their height.

Although the Czar had left Erfurt in an anxious mood, he was nevertheless clear in his mind that through Napoleon alone could his ambitions be gratified. He was equally determined that, while the European system should be no further disturbed, it must for a time be maintained as it now was. On his homeward journey he had time to reflect on the situation, and as he passed through Kö

nigsberg the warlike temper of Prussia was so manifest that he thought Frederick William, for a time at least, should be removed from its influence. Accordingly he pressed the King to pay a visit to St. Petersburg. The invitation was accepted, and the Czar's efforts were so successful that when his visitor left for home his feeling was as unwarlike as it had ever been. He informed Austria that his interests were those of Russia, that there should be no offensive warfare, and that any conflict must be confined to repelling an attack. To an inquiry from Vienna, the Czar himself replied, on March 2, that if Austria should declare war he would fulfil his obligations to Napoleon; but six weeks later, seeing how determined was the war sentiment of Francis, and how complete were his preparations, it seemed best to throw an anchor to windward, and he so far modified his attitude as to explain that in the event of war he would not put his strength into any blow he should aim at Austria.

The cabinet of Vienna was perfectly aware that neither Alexander nor Frederick William represented the national feeling of their respective peoples; that Austria's opportunity to lead a great revolt against Napoleon might be found in the support of the powerful conservatives of Russia, in the enthusiasm of all Prussia, where Arndt was already crying, «Freedom and Austria!» and in the passionate loyalty of her own peoples, not excepting the sturdy Tyrolese, who, chafing under Napoleon's yoke, were not only restless, but even turbulent and ready for insurrection. On March 18, 1809, the French minister at Vienna wrote to Paris that in 1805 the government, but neither army nor nation, had desired war; that now the government, the army, and the people all desired it. In requesting a subsidy from England the Austrian plenipotentiary was ordered to state that in the event of victory his government hoped to secure such internal vigor as Austria had enjoyed before the treaty of Presburg. As to the neighboring states, she desired some minor rectifications of her own frontier, with an indemnification to the younger branches of her dynasty for their lost states. These might be found either in Germany or in Italy, and if she should succeed in destroying Napoleon's system of tributary states she meant to restore all those territories to their rightful owners, not excepting those of the German princes who had been hostile.

The credulity of Napoleon's critics often overleaps that of his eulogists. To suppose, as many do, that no inkling of all these stu

pendous schemes reached him in Spain is preposterous. Bavaria was his faithful subordinate, and Poland still hoped everything from his successes. Both were in the heart of Germany, and through a carefully organized and well-administered system of spies he regularly received information of the most reliable nature. The same historians who assert that after Marengo Bonaparte left Italy for Paris to cloak his defeat, and that he fled to Malmaison to conceal his direct connection with Enghien's death, expect us to believe that Napoleon fled from Spain merely to throw the responsibility of failure on Joseph. Most men in any crisis act from mixed motives. Such a charge displays skill in combining facts, but Marengo, whether a defeat or a victory, secured France to the general; the retreat to Malmaison did not induce the Consul to deny his responsibility for the execution at Vincennes; and it would be simply an intervention of the supernatural if Napoleon, for purely subjective reasons, should have left Spain to return to Paris just at the very instant when his presence was absolutely essential there in order to check those who, although ostensibly his supporters, were in reality his deadly foes, and for the warlike preparations to meet the storm which was about to burst. His secretary has asserted that the letters which reached him at Astorga contained all this disquieting news, and there is absolutely no proof that they did not. The probability is all on the side of the account which was universally accepted until attacked by the group of over-credulous French historians whose zeal for the Revolution is such that they feel bound to attack every statement of the equally biased school of Napoleonic advocates.

It was from Spain that the Emperor warned the princes composing the Confederation of the Rhine to have their contingents ready. His language is guarded-whether the cabinet of Vienna had drunk from the waters of Lethe or from those of the Danube, he would be ready. But his actions could have but one meaning. The moment he reached Paris, significant looks and conduct warned Talleyrand to beware. «Is Joseph,» the Emperor said, in an interview with Roederer, «to talk like an Englishman or behave like Talleyrand? I have covered this man with honors, riches, and diamonds; he has used them all against me. At the first opportunity he had, he has betrayed me as much as he could. He has declared during my absence that he kneeled in supplication to prevent my enterprise in Spain: for two years he tormented me to un

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dertake it. . . . It was the same with regard to Enghien. I did not even know him; it was Talleyrand who brought him to my notice. I did not know where he was; it was Talleyrand who told me the spot, and after having advised his death he has groaned over it with every acquaintance.>>

At the same time the columns of the «Moniteur » were filled with half-true accounts of the Emperor's success in Spain. As after Marengo, the French people knew everything that was favorable; but there was a complete suppression of all the rest. As Austria desired war to secure her subsidies from England, so France was again in need of funds which her own resources could not provide. Because of the failure to paralyze Spain by a single blow, Napoleon had, for the first time in his history, returned after a «successful >>

VOL. LII.-8.

campaign without an enormous war indemnity. As before, after temporary patching French finances were again in disorder, and there was urgent need to repair them. The people needed peace for their enterprises, but the Continental blockade so hampered commerce that any peace which did not include a pacification of the seas would avail them little. It was a customary formality of Napoleon's to put the entire responsibility of war on the enemy, and it was announced in February that negotiations with Austria had failed. This was in a large sense true, although the particular effort referred to was perfunctory, and was intended technically to secure the help of Russia, who was to fight only in case Austria should be the aggressor.

Gradually, therefore, the war spirit revived


in France. No one remonstrated when once more recourse was had to the fatal policy of anticipating the annual conscription. Not only were the conscripts for 1810 called out, but the number was stretched to the utmost, and those who from immaturity or other causes had been unavailable in 1806, 1807, 1808, and 1809, were now collected. The total of the youths thus swept together was not less than 160,000. To render available their slender efficiency, they were divided among the various regiments already in the field, in each of which these raw and boyish recruits constituted a fifth battalion.

Since the Archduke Charles had been again at the helm of military affairs in Austria, not only had a transformation been wrought in the army as a fighting instrument, but the general staff had likewise been completely reorganized. For two years, therefore, Austria's occupation was not only forging a sword, but learning, as well, how to wield it. The lessons taught her by previous experience in Napoleonic warfare were thoroughly learned. It was consequently a very different strategic problem which the Emperor of the French had to solve in this campaign. For two years the Archduke had been studying his task, and that in the light of his ample experience. The conclusion he reached was that he would attack and overpower Davout in Saxony; then, by an appeal to their German patriotism, raise and use the peoples of northern and central Germany for an overwhelming assault on Napoleon.

But as the time for action drew near, the moral influence of those terrific annihilating blows which the French armies had struck once and again began to assert itself and to create hesitancy. Count Stadion, the minister of state, knew that diplomacy had reached the limit of its powers and could gain at most only a few weeks. These he felt sure the enemy would use to better advantage in strengthening himself than Austria in her poverty could do. He was therefore urgent for prompt action. Charles, on the other hand, hesitated to face the miraculous resources of Napoleon without a finishing touch to some preparations still incomplete. He therefore began in January to procrastinate, and consequently it was not until February that Francis ordered the attack. In this interval the whole plan of campaign was changed. The main army, under Charles, was to be collected in Bohemia, ready for action in any direction, so as to thwart whatever course Napoleon might adopt. Hiller was to guard the line of the Inn, Ferdinand was to march

against Warsaw, while John was to enter the Tyrol from Italy and excite the people to revolt. On April 9 the Archduke Charles declared war; all these movements were well under way, and Hiller had reached the Inn.

Ostensibly this war was to be unlike any other so far waged. The secret instructions given to the imperial Austrian envoy in London clearly indicate that the Hapsburgs hoped by victory to restore their influence both in Italy and Germany; for that was the meaning of «restitution to rightful owners » and the slight rectification of their frontiers,» or, in other words, the restoration of European conditions to what they had been before Napoleon's advent. This was the dynastic side; the national side was also to be used for its purposes. «The liberties of Europe have taken refuge under your banner,» ran Charles's proclamation to the army; "your victories will break their bonds, and your German brethren still in the enemy's ranks await their redemption.» To the German world he said, «Austria fights not only for her own autonomy, but takes the sword for the independence and national honor of Germany.» Another manifesto, written by Gentz, the ablest statesman in Vienna, declared that the war was to be waged not against France, but against the system of persistent extension which had produced such universal disorder in Europe.

The tone and language of these papers have an audible Napoleonic echo in them: if an upstart house, represented by a single life and without direct descendants, could win success by appeals to the people, and gain the support of their enthusiasm by identifying its interests with theirs, why might not an ancient dynasty, with vigorous stock and numerous shoots, do likewise? Moreover, Napoleon no longer respected the limits of natural, physical boundaries, or the restrictions of birth, speech, religion, and custom, which inclosed a nation: his empire was to disdain such influences, to found itself on the universal brotherhood of man, and to secure the regeneration of mankind by liberal ideas of universal validity. Austria would offset this alluring summons by a trumpet-call to the brotherhood of Germans, to the strong forces of national feeling, to the respect for tradition and history which would animate her soldiers and justify her course.

If she needed a concrete illustration she could point to the Tyrolese. Since the treaty of Presburg their chains had chafed their limbs to the raw; at this very moment they were again in open rebellion. The adminis

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