The Story of Mankind [140]
men at Vienna were the Emperor
Alexander of Russia, Metternich, who represented the
interests of the Austrian house of Habsburg, and Talleyrand,
the erstwhile bishop of Autun, who had managed to live
through the different changes in the French government by
the sheer force of his cunning and his intelligence and who
now travelled to the Austrian capital to save for his country
whatever could be saved from the Napoleonic ruin. Like the
gay young man of the limerick, who never knew when he was
slighted, this unbidden guest came to the party and ate just as
heartily as if he had been really invited. Indeed, before long,
he was sitting at the head of the table entertaining everybody
with his amusing stories and gaining the company's good will
by the charm of his manner.
Before he had been in Vienna twenty-four hours he knew
that the allies were divided into two hostile camps. On the
one side were Russia, who wanted to take Poland, and Prussia,
who wanted to annex Saxony; and on the other side were
Austria and England, who were trying to prevent this grab
because it was against their own interest that either Prussia or
Russia should be able to dominate Europe. Talleyrand played
the two sides against each other with great skill and it was due
to his efforts that the French people were not made to suffer
for the ten years of oppression which Europe had endured at
the hands of the Imperial officials. He argued that the French
people had been given no choice in the matter. Napoleon had
forced them to act at his bidding. But Napoleon was gone and
Louis XVIII was on the throne. ``Give him a chance,'' Talleyrand
pleaded. And the Allies, glad to see a legitimate king
upon the throne of a revolutionary country, obligingly yielded
and the Bourbons were given their chance, of which they
made such use that they were driven out after fifteen years.
The second man of the triumvirate of Vienna was Metternich,
the Austrian prime minister, the leader of the foreign
policy of the house of Habsburg. Wenzel Lothar, Prince of
Metternich-Winneburg, was exactly what the name suggests.
He was a Grand Seigneur, a very handsome gentleman with
very fine manners, immensely rich, and very able, but the
product of a society which lived a thousand miles away from
the sweating multitudes who worked and slaved in the cities
and on the farms. As a young man, Metternich had been
studying at the University of Strassburg when the French
Revolution broke out. Strassburg, the city which gave birth
to the Marseillaise, had been a centre of Jacobin activities.
Metternich remembered that his pleasant social life had been
sadly interrupted, that a lot of incompetent citizens had suddenly
been called forth to perform tasks for which they were
not fit, that the mob had celebrated the dawn of the new liberty
by the murder of perfectly innocent persons. He had failed to
see the honest enthusiasm of the masses, the ray of hope in the
eyes of women and children who carried bread and water to
the ragged troops of the Convention, marching through the
city on their way to the front and a glorious death for the
French Fatherland.
The whole thing had filled the young Austrian with disgust.
It was uncivilised. If there were any fighting to be done it
must be done by dashing young men in lovely uniforms, charging
across the green fields on well-groomed horses. But to
turn an entire country into an evil-smelling armed camp where
tramps were overnight promoted to be generals, that was both
wicked and senseless. ``See what came of all your fine ideas,''
he would say to the French diplomats whom he met at a quiet
little dinner given by one of the innumerable Austrian grand-
dukes. ``You wanted liberty, equality and fraternity and you
got Napoleon. How much better it would have been if you
had been contented with the existing order of things.'' And
he would explain his system of
Alexander of Russia, Metternich, who represented the
interests of the Austrian house of Habsburg, and Talleyrand,
the erstwhile bishop of Autun, who had managed to live
through the different changes in the French government by
the sheer force of his cunning and his intelligence and who
now travelled to the Austrian capital to save for his country
whatever could be saved from the Napoleonic ruin. Like the
gay young man of the limerick, who never knew when he was
slighted, this unbidden guest came to the party and ate just as
heartily as if he had been really invited. Indeed, before long,
he was sitting at the head of the table entertaining everybody
with his amusing stories and gaining the company's good will
by the charm of his manner.
Before he had been in Vienna twenty-four hours he knew
that the allies were divided into two hostile camps. On the
one side were Russia, who wanted to take Poland, and Prussia,
who wanted to annex Saxony; and on the other side were
Austria and England, who were trying to prevent this grab
because it was against their own interest that either Prussia or
Russia should be able to dominate Europe. Talleyrand played
the two sides against each other with great skill and it was due
to his efforts that the French people were not made to suffer
for the ten years of oppression which Europe had endured at
the hands of the Imperial officials. He argued that the French
people had been given no choice in the matter. Napoleon had
forced them to act at his bidding. But Napoleon was gone and
Louis XVIII was on the throne. ``Give him a chance,'' Talleyrand
pleaded. And the Allies, glad to see a legitimate king
upon the throne of a revolutionary country, obligingly yielded
and the Bourbons were given their chance, of which they
made such use that they were driven out after fifteen years.
The second man of the triumvirate of Vienna was Metternich,
the Austrian prime minister, the leader of the foreign
policy of the house of Habsburg. Wenzel Lothar, Prince of
Metternich-Winneburg, was exactly what the name suggests.
He was a Grand Seigneur, a very handsome gentleman with
very fine manners, immensely rich, and very able, but the
product of a society which lived a thousand miles away from
the sweating multitudes who worked and slaved in the cities
and on the farms. As a young man, Metternich had been
studying at the University of Strassburg when the French
Revolution broke out. Strassburg, the city which gave birth
to the Marseillaise, had been a centre of Jacobin activities.
Metternich remembered that his pleasant social life had been
sadly interrupted, that a lot of incompetent citizens had suddenly
been called forth to perform tasks for which they were
not fit, that the mob had celebrated the dawn of the new liberty
by the murder of perfectly innocent persons. He had failed to
see the honest enthusiasm of the masses, the ray of hope in the
eyes of women and children who carried bread and water to
the ragged troops of the Convention, marching through the
city on their way to the front and a glorious death for the
French Fatherland.
The whole thing had filled the young Austrian with disgust.
It was uncivilised. If there were any fighting to be done it
must be done by dashing young men in lovely uniforms, charging
across the green fields on well-groomed horses. But to
turn an entire country into an evil-smelling armed camp where
tramps were overnight promoted to be generals, that was both
wicked and senseless. ``See what came of all your fine ideas,''
he would say to the French diplomats whom he met at a quiet
little dinner given by one of the innumerable Austrian grand-
dukes. ``You wanted liberty, equality and fraternity and you
got Napoleon. How much better it would have been if you
had been contented with the existing order of things.'' And
he would explain his system of