Alexander I

Forced to accept liberal constitutions modeled on that of revolutionary France some thirty years earlier, the kings of both [Spain and Naples] had reason to fear that they also faced the same fate as the French king [..] beheaded in 1793. Meanwhile the leaders of Europe’s great powers–England, Austria, and Prussia–quaked at the thought of unrest and radicalism spreading across their borders, which had only recently been stabilized by the defeat of Napoleon. They all wanted to protect themselves and halt the tide of revolution.

In the midst of this general unease, Czar Alexander I of Russia (1777-1825) suddenly proposed a plan that to many seemed a cure more dangerous than the disease. The Russian army was the largest and most feared in Europe; Alexander wanted to send it to both Spain and Naples, crushing the two rebellions. In exchange he would insist that the kings of both realms enact liberal reforms that would grant their citizens greater freedoms, making them more content and diluting their desire for revolution.

Alexander saw his proposal as more than a practical program to safeguard Europe’s monarchies; it was part of a great crusade, a dream he had nurtured since the earliest days of his reign. A deeply religious man who saw everything in terms of good and evil, he wanted the monarchies of Europe to reform themselves and create a kind of Christian brotherhood of wise, gentle rulers with himself, the czar, at their helm. Although the powerful considered Alexander a kind of Russian madman, many liberals and even revolutionaries throughout Europe saw him as their friend and protector, the rare leader sympathetic to their cause. It was even rumored that he had made contacts with various men of the left and had intrigued with them [..]

The czar went further with his idea: now he wanted a conference of the major powers to discuss the future of Spain, Naples, and Europe itself. The English foreign minister, Lord Castlereagh, wrote letter after letter trying to dissuade him of the need for the meeting. It was never wise to meddle in the affairs of other countries, Castlereagh said; Alexander should leave England to help stop the unrest in Spain, its close ally, while Austria did the same for Naples. Other ministers and rulers wrote to Alexander as well, using similar arguments. It was critical to show a united front against his plan. Yet one man–the Austrian foreign minister, Prince Klemens von Metternich–responded to the czar in a much different fashion, and it was shocking to say the least.

Metternich was the most powerful and respected minister in Europe [..] But Metternich was also something of an enigma–an elegant courtier, he spoke little yet always seemed to get his way. Now not only was he supporting Alexander’s call for a conference, but he also seemed open to the czar’s other ideas. Perhaps he had undergone a change of heart and was moving to the left in his later years? In any event, he personally organized the conference for October of that year in the Austrian-held city of Troppau, in the modern-day Czech Republic.

Alexander was delighted: with Metternich on his side, he could realize his ambitions and then some. When he arrived in Troppau [..] Metternich proposed they hold private meetings to discuss the czar’s ideas. For several days, and for hours on end, they holed themselves up together in a room. The czar did most of the talking; Metternich listened with his usual attentive air, agreeing and nodding [..]

Several days into these discussions, Metternich finally confessed to the czar that he, too, saw a moral danger brewing in Europe. Godless revolution was the scourge of the time; giving in to the radical spirit, showing any sign of compromise, would eventually lead to destruction at the hands of these satanic forces. During the Troppau conference, a mutiny had broken out in a regiment of Russian guards; Metternich warned Alexander that this was the first symptom of a revolutionary infection attacking Russia itself. Thank God the czar, a pillar of moral strength, would not give in. Alexander would have to serve as the leader of this counterrevolutionary crusade. This was why Metternich had become so excited by the czar’s ideas about Naples and Spain and how he had interpreted them.

The czar was swept up in Metternich’s enthusiasm: together they would stand firm against the radicals. Somehow, though, the result of their conversation was not a plan for Russia to invade Naples and Spain; indeed, Alexander speculated instead that it might not be the time to press the kings of those countries to reform their governments–that would just weaken both monarchs. For the time being, the leaders’ energy should go into halting the revolutionary tide. In fact, the czar began to repent of some of his more liberal ideas, and he confessed as much to Metternich. The conference ended with a statement of grand common purpose among the powers–much of its language the czar’s–and an agreement that Austrian troops, not Russian ones, would return the king of Naples to full power, then leave him to pursue the policies of his choice [..].

In early 1821 another revolution broke out, this time in Piedmont, the one Italian state outside Austrian control. The king was forced to abdicate. In this instance Metternich welcomed Russian intervention, and 90,000 Russian troops became reserves in an Austrian army heading for Piedmont. A Russian military presence so close to their borders greatly dampened the spirits of the rebels and of their sympathizers throughout Italy–all those leftists who had seen the czar as their friend and protector. They thought that no more.

The Austrian army crushed the revolution within a few weeks. At Metternich’s request, the Russians politely withdrew their forces. The czar was proud of his growing influence in Europe, but somehow he had embarked on the very opposite of his original plans for a crusade: instead of being in the forefront of the fight for progress and reform, he had become a guardian of the status quo, a conservative in the mold of Metternich himself. Those around him could not understand how this had happened [..].

Metternich managed to lure [Alexandar] into sending troops against the rebellion in Piedmont. That action both committed Alexander indeed to the conservative cause and alienated him from the liberals of Europe. No longer could he spout vague, ambiguous pronouncements on the left; he had finally taken action, and it was in the opposite direction.

[Kissenger says] “This was the real achievement of Metternich’s policy, that it had killed Russian liberalism and achieved a measure of domination over Austria’s most dangerous rival in the guise of submitting to him.”

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The moral of the story is: Dear Russians, so basically your boy was had. That fool was played like an old bonjo. How stupid do you have to be to be convinved of the exact opposite of your initial idea man? What kind of dumb-ass idioacy is this? This guy not only manages to kill liberalism in Russia, but also set it back in other parts of Europe as well.

Russian people have many accomplishments, generated good literature and great science. However it seems there is a peculiar way they (s)elect their leaders. Just take a look at some of the more recent ones: a mass murderer, a wide-eyed idealist -who cannot execute-, a bumbling drunk, and now, a thug. And believe me, I was happy for Russians when the thug came in. Such seems to be the dynamics of political life in Russia.