d and submission the mark of a
thoughtful mind. Metternich's handsome figure, fine manners, and
interminable _billets-doux_ written between sentences of death, exile,
the solitary dungeon, distinguish his appearance and habits from Philip
II of Spain, but, like him, he governed Europe from his bureau, guiding
the movements of a standing army of 300,000 men, and a police and
espionage department never surpassed and seldom rivalled in the western
world. There was nothing in him that was great. But he was
indisputable master of Europe for thirty-three years. Nesselrode,
Hardenberg, Talleyrand even--whose Memoirs seem the work of genius
beside the beaten level of mediocrity of Metternich's--found their
designs checked whenever they crossed the Austrian's policy. Congress
after Congress--Vienna, Carlsbad, Troppau, Laybach, Verona--exhibited
his triumph to Europe. At Laybach, in 1821, the Emperor's address to
the professors there, and thence to all the professors throughout the
Empire, was dictated by Metternich--"Hold fast by what is old, for that
alone is good. If our forefathers found in this the true path, why
should we seek another? New ideas have arisen amongst you, principles
which I, your Emperor, have not sanctioned, and never will sanction.
Beware of such ideas! It is not scholars I stand in need of, but of
loyal subjects to my Crown, and you, you are here to train up loyal
subjects to me. See that you fulfil this task!" Is there in human
history a document more blasting to the reputation for political wisdom
or foresight of him who penned it? It were an insult to the great
Florentine to style such piteous ineptitudes Machiavellian. Yet they
succeeded. The new evangel had lost its power; the freedom of Humanity
was the dream of a few ideologues; the positive ideals of later times
had not yet arisen. Well might men ask themselves: Has then Voltaire
lived in vain, and the Girondins died in vain? Has all the blood from
Lodi and Arcola to Austerlitz and the Borodino been shed in vain? Hard
on the address to the universities there crept silently across Europe
the message that Napoleon was dead. "It is not an event," said
Talleyrand, "but a piece of news." The remark was just. Europe seemed
now one vast Sainte Helene, and men's hearts a sepulchre in which all
hope or desire for Liberty was vanquished. The solitary grave at
Longwood, the iron railings, the stunted willow, were emblems of a
cause for eve