that Europe should, henceforth, be governed in accordance with the principles of the Christian religion; that governments in their relations with one another should be guided by the precepts of that holy religion, the precepts of justice, charity and peace." Although it may have been prompted by the sincerest of motives, and, out of respect for the Tsar, it was signed by nearly all the powers of Europe, no one seemed to have any faith in its real efficacy except the Tsar himself. To practical diplomatists it seemed a mere expression of religious emotionalism. To Castlereagh, the British minister, it seemed "a piece of sublime mysticism"; to Metternich, the Austrian chancellor, “an overflow of pietistic feeling"; to Gentz, the Prussian publicist, "a bit of stage decoration.”

But the more important and less famous of these two agreements was that signed (November 20, 1815) between Russia, Austria, Prussia and England, the four leading powers at the Congress of Vienna, and called the "Quadruple Alliance." This alliance, in fact, formed the real basis of the new Concert of Europe. It was directed to specific and practical ends-chiefly, to secure the maintenance of the European system as provided for by the late Congress; and incidentally, to prevent the spread of the so-called "French ideas," involving the suppression of the liberalizing and supposed dangerous tendencies which followed the French Revolution and the career of Napoleon. By a strange irony of history these two agreements have become confused and the new Concert has become generally known under the name of the Holy Alliance. (W. A. Phillips, The Confederation of Europe, IV, iii, "The Holy Alliance.")

Under the dominating influence and adroit diplo

macy of Metternich, a general policy of intervention was adopted by the Allies for the purpose of interfering in the internal affairs of any country in which there might appear revolutionary tendencies in the direction of liberalism and constitutional government. One of the first applications of this policy was seen in the case of the so-called "Carlsbad Decrees," which were inspired by Metternich, and intended to repress the liberal movement showing itself in the universities of Germany. To further this policy a series of "congresses" was planned at which the Powers were expected to meet and confer on matters of common interest. At the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, (1818), France, which was evidently reconciled to the new system, was admitted as a member of the new "Concert." At the Congress of Troppau (1820), where the question of interfering in a popular revolution in the kingdom of Naples was discussed, Austria, Prussia and Russia acceded to the policy of intervention laid down by Metternich, while England refused to take an active part, and France remained passive. At the Congress of Laibach (1821) it was decided to repress the Neapolitan revolution with the aid of an Austrian army. Finally, at the Congress of Verona (1822) it was determined, after much discussion (with the concurrence of France and the opposition of England) to intervene in a popular revolt in Spain, and a French army was commissioned to carry out the policy of the Allies. (W. A. Phillips, "The Congresses," in Cambridge Modern History, Vol. X, ch. i.)

The disaffection of England tended to weaken the concerted action of the Allied powers. From this time we begin to see, on the part of the different members of the Concert, a disposition to assume diverging lines

of policy, namely: (1) the reactionary policy of Austria, Prussia and Russia, with the accession of France, under the leadership of Metternich; and (2) the liberal policy of England under the leadership of Canning, the new British minister. Metternich, by his skillful manipulations, had succeeded in putting down the popular insurrections in Naples, Piedmont and Spain, with the aid of the Austrian, Russian and French armies. It was suggested that similar policy of intervention should be adopted to subdue the revolution of the Spanish colonies in America. Under the influence of Canning, however, England assumed the position that "each nation is free to determine its own form of government," and the United States was encouraged to put a stop to the proposed intervention of the allied powers in the matter of the SpanishAmerican colonies, by the announcement of the Monroe Doctrine. W. A. Phillips, The Confederation of Europe, IV, vi; "The Genesis of the Monroe Doctrine"; F. A. Kirkpatrick, "The Establishment of Independence in Spanish America," in Cambridge Modern History, Vol. X. ch. 9.)

§ 3. THE EASTERN QUESTION AND THE PROBLEM OF INTERVENTION

The most important event which now began to distract the attention of Europe and to divert the policy of intervention as advocated by Metternich into a new channel, was the abrupt intrusion of the Eastern Question, brought into prominence by the Greek Revolution. There is a certain broad and perhaps philosophical sense in which the Eastern Question may be said to be one of the perennial problems of human history-a question extending from the Trojan war

to the recent Conference at Lausanne-a question which marks the irrepressible conflict between Orientalism and Occidentalism. The scholar from his high vantage ground may see in this question the perpetual ebbing and flowing of the tides of conquest between the East and the West, the action and reaction of Asiatic and European influences. However fascinating such a view may be to the philosophical student of history, it is in no such sense as this that the Eastern Question was now presented as a specific problem to the concerted powers of Europe.

This question, in fact, involved the very principle and purpose of the policy of intervention, as conceived by Metternich and his followers. The idea of the Austrian chancellor was that intervention should be used only for the purpose of quelling popular uprisings against monarchical power. The question was now forced upon Europe whether the policy of intervention might not be adopted to free a struggling people from the despotism of an Oriental sovereign. The Christian people of Greece were now in revolt against the oppression of the Turkish Sultan. Before this time there had been no concerted policy as to what should be done with the Turk in Europe. Back in the fourteenth century he had gained his first foothold upon European soil. In the fifteenth century he had captured Constantinople, and converted that city into the seat of his imperial government. In the sixteenth century he had conquered the whole of southeastern Europe, and extended his oppressive sway to the walls of Vienna. In the eighteenth century Austria and Russia, his nearest neighbors, had begun to pare off the outlying provinces of his empire and to lay plans for dividing between them his entire estate.

To Russia, locked up in her landed confines, the prospect of an egress to the Mediterranean sea was especially attractive. Since the days of Peter the Great and Catherine II, the goal of Russia's ambition had been to plant the Greek cross on the dome of Saint Sophia at Constantinople. But it was not until the beginning of the last century that the far reaching purpose of Russia was revealed. Then it was that Europe began to be interested in the serious problem which of two evils was the greater the aggrandizement of Russia, or the continued presence of the Turk in Europe. Russia by her continued aggressions presented to the rest of Europe an avalanche of threatened dangers. Turkey by her cruel and oppressive government had become a scandal to the whole of Christendom.

Nearly all the complications connected with the Eastern Question during the nineteenth century may be referred to two simply but conflicting sentiments -the fear of Russia on the one hand, and a sympathy for the Christian subjects of Turkey on the other hand. Policy and humanity were thus the rival motives which tended to complicate the Eastern Question, and to distract the policy of the European Concert. To be politic and resist the aggressions of Russia would seem to require the maintenance of the Turkish empire as a European bulwark, which would evidently involve the continuance of Turkish oppression—and this would be inhuman. To be human and enfranchise the subjects of the Sultan by driving the Turk from Europe would open the way for Russia's aggrandizement and this would be impolitic. One might insist on humanity at the expense of policy. Another might insist on policy at the expense of hu