the story of mankind-第70章

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so　he　said；　‘‘will　be　grateful　and　will　give　me　a　little　bit

of　land　and　a　house　where　I　may　spend　the　last　days　of　my　life

in　peace　and　quiet。''　But　the　English　fleet　was　watching　all

French　harbours。　Caught　between　the　armies　of　the　Allies

and　the　ships　of　the　British；　Napoleon　had　no　choice。　The

Prussians　intended　to　shoot　him。　The　English　might　be　more

generous。　At　Rochefort　he　waited　in　the　hope　that　something

might　turn　up。　One　month　after　Waterloo；　he　received　orders

from　the　new　French　government　to　leave　French　soil　inside

of　twenty…four　hours。　Always　the　tragedian；　he　wrote　a　letter

to　the　Prince　Regent　of　England　（George　IV；　the　king；　was

in　an　insane　asylum）　informing　His　Royal　Highness　of　his

intention　to　‘‘throw　himself　upon　the　mercy　of　his　enemies　and

like　Themistocles；　to　look　for　a　welcome　at　the　fireside　of　his

foes　。　。　。



On　the　15th　of　July　he　went　on　board　the　‘‘Bellerophon；''

and　surrendered　his　sword　to　Admiral　Hotham。　At　Plymouth

he　was　transferred　to　the　‘‘Northumberland''　which　carried　him

to　St。　Helena。　There　he　spent　the　last　seven　years　of　his

life。　He　tried　to　write　his　memoirs；　he　quarrelled　with　his

keepers　and　he　dreamed　of　past　times。　Curiously　enough　he

returned　（at　least　in　his　imagination）　to　his　original　point　of

departure。　He　remembered　the　days　when　he　had　fought　the

battles　of　the　Revolution。　He　tried　to　convince　himself　that

he　had　always　been　the　true　friend　of　those　great　principles　of

‘‘Liberty；　Fraternity　and　Equality''　which　the　ragged　soldiers

of　the　convention　had　carried　to　the　ends　of　the　earth。　He

liked　to　dwell　upon　his　career　as　Commander…in…Chief　and

Consul。　He　rarely　spoke　of　the　Empire。　Sometimes　he

thought　of　his　son；　the　Duke　of　Reichstadt；　the　little　eagle；

who　lived　in　Vienna；　where　he　was　treated　as　a　‘‘poor　relation''

by　his　young　Habsburg　cousins；　whose　fathers　had　trembled　at

the　very　mention　of　the　name　of　Him。　When　the　end　came；

he　was　leading　his　troops　to　victory。　He　ordered　Ney　to　attack

with　the　guards。　Then　he　died。



But　if　you　want　an　explanation　of　this　strange　career；　if

you　really　wish　to　know　how　one　man　could　possibly　rule　so

many　people　for　so　many　years　by　the　sheer　force　of　his　will；

do　not　read　the　books　that　have　been　written　about　him。　Their

authors　either　hated　the　Emperor　or　loved　him。　You　will

learn　many　facts；　but　it　is　more　important　to　‘‘feel　history''

than　to　know　it。　Don't　read；　but　wait　until　you　have　a　chance

to　hear　a　good　artist　sing　the　song　called　‘‘The　Two　Grenadiers。''

The　words　were　written　by　Heine；　the　great　German

poet　who　lived　through　the　Napoleonic　era。　The　music　was

composed　by　Schumann；　a　German　who　saw　the　Emperor；

the　enemy　of　his　country；　whenever　he　came　to　visit　his　imperial

father…in…law。　The　song　therefore　is　the　work　of　two

men　who　had　every　reason　to　hate　the　tyrant。



Go　and　hear　it。　Then　you　will　understand　what　a　thousand

volumes　could　not　possibly　tell　you。







THE　HOLY　ALLIANCE



AS　SOON　AS　NAPOLEON　HAD　BEEN　SENT　TO

ST。　HELENA　THE　RULERS　WHO　SO　OFTEN

HAD　BEEN　DEFEATED　BY　THE　HATED

‘‘CORSICAN''　MET　AT　VIENNA　AND　TRIED

TO　UNDO　THE　MANY　CHANGES　THAT　HAD

BEEN　BROUGHT　ABOUT　BY　THE　FRENCH

REVOLUTION





THE　Imperial　Highnesses；　the　Royal　Highnesses；　their

Graces　the　Dukes；　the　Ministers　Extraordinary　and　Plenipotentiary；

together　with　the　plain　Excellencies　and　their　army

of　secretaries；　servants　and　hangers…on；　whose　labours　had

been　so　rudely　interrupted　by　the　sudden　return　of　the　terrible

Corsican　（now　sweltering　under　the　hot　sun　of　St。　Helena）

went　back　to　their　jobs。　The　victory　was　duly　celebrated　with

dinners；　garden　parties　and　balls　at　which　the　new　and　very

shocking　‘‘waltz''　was　danced　to　the　great　scandal　of　the　ladies

and　gentlemen　who　remembered　the　minuet　of　the　old　Regime。



For　almost　a　generation　they　had　lived　in　retirement。　At

last　the　danger　was　over。　They　were　very　eloquent　upon　the

subject　of　the　terrible　hardships　which　they　had　suffered。

And　they　expected　to　be　recompensed　for　every　penny　they

had　lost　at　the　hands　of　the　unspeakable　Jacobins　who　had

dared　to　kill　their　anointed　king；　who　had　abolished　wigs　and

who　had　discarded　the　short　trousers　of　the　court　of　Versailles

for　the　ragged　pantaloons　of　the　Parisian　slums。



You　may　think　it　absurd　that　I　should　mention　such　a

detail。　But；　if　you　please；　the　Congress　of　Vienna　was　one

long　succession　of　such　absurdities　and　for　many　months　the

question　of　‘‘short　trousers　vs。　long　trousers''　interested　the

delegates　more　than　the　future　settlement　of　the　Saxon　or

Spanish　problems。　His　Majesty　the　King　of　Prussia　went　so

far　as　to　order　a　pair　of　short　ones；　that　he　might　give　public

evidence　of　his　contempt　for　everything　revolutionary。



Another　German　potentate；　not　to　be　outdone　in　this　noble

hatred　for　the　revolution；　decreed　that　all　taxes　which　his　subjects

had　paid　to　the　French　usurper　should　be　paid　a　second

time　to　the　legitimate　ruler　who　had　loved　his　people　from　afar

while　they　were　at　the　mercy　of　the　Corsican　ogre。　And　so　on。

From　one　blunder　to　another；　until　one　gasps　and　exclaims

‘‘but　why　in　the　name　of　High　Heaven　did　not　the　people

object？''　Why　not　indeed？　Because　the　people　were　utterly

exhausted；　were　desperate；　did　not　care　what　happened　or　how

or　where　or　by　whom　they　were　ruled；　provided　there　was

peace。　They　were　sick　and　tired　of　war　and　revolution　and

reform。



In　the　eighties　of　the　previous　century　they　had　all　danced

around　the　tree　of　liberty。　Princes　had　embraced　their　cooks

and　Duchesses　had　danced　the　Carmagnole　with　their　lackeys

in　the　honest　belief　that　the　Millennium　of　Equality　and

Fraternity　had　at　last　dawned　upon　this　wicked　world。　Instead　of

the　Millennium　they　had　been　visited　by　the　Revolutionary

commissary　who　had　lodged　a　dozen　dirty　soldiers　in　their　parlor

and　had　stolen　the　family　plate　when　he　returned　to　Paris　to

report　to　his　government　upon　the　enthusiasm　with　which　the

‘‘liberated　country''　had　received　the　Constitution；　which　the

French　people　had　presented　to　their　good　neighbours。



When　they　had　heard　how　the　last　outbreak　of　revolutionary

disorder　in　Paris　had　been　suppressed　by　a　young　officer；　called

Bonaparte；　or　Buonaparte；　who　had　turned　his　guns　upon　the

mob；　they　gave　a　sigh　of　relief。　A　little　less　liberty；　fraternity

and　equality　seemed　a　very　desirable　thing。　But　ere　long；　the

young　officer　called　Buonaparte　or　Bonaparte　became　one　of

the　three　consuls　of　the　French　Republic；　then　sole　consul　and

finally　Emperor。　As　he　was　much　more　efficient　than　any

ruler　that　had　ever　been　seen　before；　his　hand　pressed　heavily

upon　his　poor　subjects。　He　showed　them　no　mercy。　He　impressed

their　sons　into　his　armies；　he　married　their　daughters

to　his　generals　and　he　took　their　pictures　and　their　statues　to

enrich　his　own　museums。　He　turned　the　whole　of　Europe

into　an　armed　camp　and　killed　almost　an　entire　generation　of

men。



Now　he　was　gone；　and　the　people　（except　a　few　professional

military　men）　had　but　one　wish。　They　wanted　to　be　let　alone。

For　awhile　they　had　been　allowed　to　rule　themselves；　to　vote

for　mayors　and　aldermen　and　judges。　The　system　had　been　a

terrible　failure。　The　new　rulers　had　been　inexperienced　and

extravagant。　From　sheer　despair　the　people　turned　to　the

representative　men　of　the　old　Regime。　‘‘You　rule　us；''　they

said；　‘‘as　you　used　to　do。　Tell　us　what　we　owe　you　for　taxes

and　leave　us　alone。　We　are　busy　repairing　the　damage　of　the

age　of　liberty。''



The　men　who　stage…managed　the　famous　congress　certainly

did　their　best　to　satisfy　this　longing　for　rest　and　quiet。

The　Holy　Alliance；　the　main　result　of　the　Congress；　made　the

policeman　the　most　important　dignitary　of　the　State　and　held

out　the　most　terrible　punishment　to　those　who　dared　criticise　a

single　official　act。



Europe　had　peace；　but　it　was　the　peace　of　the　ceme