The Story of Mankind [138]
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