The Story of Mankind [147]
gin-shops. They
peeped through the key-holes of the ministerial cabinet and
they listened to the conversations of the people who were taking
the air on the benches of the Municipal Park. They guarded
the frontier so that no one might leave without a duly viseed
passport and they inspected all packages, that no books with
dangerous ``French ideas'' should enter the realm of their
Royal masters. They sat among the students in the lecture
hall and woe to the Professor who uttered a word against the
existing order of things. They followed the little boys and
girls on their way to church lest they play hookey.
In many of these tasks they were assisted by the clergy.
The church had suffered greatly during the days of the
revolution. The church property had been confiscated. Several
priests had been killed and the generation that had learned its
cathechism from Voltaire and Rousseau and the other French
philosophers had danced around the Altar of Reason when
the Committee of Public Safety had abolished the worship of
God in October of the year 1793. The priests had followed the
``emigres'' into their long exile. Now they returned in the
wake of the allied armies and they set to work with a vengeance.
Even the Jesuits came back in 1814 and resumed their
former labours of educating the young. Their order had been
a little too successful in its fight against the enemies of the
church. It had established ``provinces'' in every part of the
world, to teach the natives the blessings of Christianity, but
soon it had developed into a regular trading company which
was for ever interfering with the civil authorities. During the
reign of the Marquis de Pombal, the great reforming minister
of Portugal, they had been driven out of the Portuguese lands
and in the year 1773 at the request of most of the Catholic
powers of Europe, the order had been suppressed by Pope
Clement XIV. Now they were back on the job, and preached
the principles of ``obedience'' and ``love for the legitimate
dynasty'' to children whose parents had hired shopwindows that
they might laugh at Marie Antoinette driving to the scaffold
which was to end her misery.
But in the Protestant countries like Prussia, things were
not a whit better. The great patriotic leaders of the year 1812,
the poets and the writers who had preached a holy war upon the
usurper, were now branded as dangerous ``demagogues.'' Their
houses were searched. Their letters were read. They were
obliged to report to the police at regular intervals and give an
account of themselves. The Prussian drill master was let loose
in all his fury upon the younger generation. When a party of
students celebrated the tercentenary of the Reformation with
noisy but harmless festivities on the old Wartburg, the Prussian
bureaucrats had visions of an imminent revolution. When
a theological student, more honest than intelligent, killed a
Russian government spy who was operating in Germany, the
universities were placed under police-supervision and professors
were jailed or dismissed without any form of trial.
Russia, of course, was even more absurd in these anti-
revolutionary activities. Alexander had recovered from his attack
of piety. He was gradually drifting toward melancholia. He
well knew his own limited abilities and understood how at
Vienna he had been the victim both of Metternich and the
Krudener woman. More and more he turned his back upon the
west and became a truly Russian ruler whose interests lay in
Constantinople, the old holy city that had been the first teacher
of the Slavs. The older he grew, the harder he worked and the
less he was able to accomplish. And while he sat in his study,
his ministers turned the whole of Russia into a land of military
barracks.
It is not a pretty picture. Perhaps I might have shortened
this description of the Great Reaction. But it is just as well
that you should
peeped through the key-holes of the ministerial cabinet and
they listened to the conversations of the people who were taking
the air on the benches of the Municipal Park. They guarded
the frontier so that no one might leave without a duly viseed
passport and they inspected all packages, that no books with
dangerous ``French ideas'' should enter the realm of their
Royal masters. They sat among the students in the lecture
hall and woe to the Professor who uttered a word against the
existing order of things. They followed the little boys and
girls on their way to church lest they play hookey.
In many of these tasks they were assisted by the clergy.
The church had suffered greatly during the days of the
revolution. The church property had been confiscated. Several
priests had been killed and the generation that had learned its
cathechism from Voltaire and Rousseau and the other French
philosophers had danced around the Altar of Reason when
the Committee of Public Safety had abolished the worship of
God in October of the year 1793. The priests had followed the
``emigres'' into their long exile. Now they returned in the
wake of the allied armies and they set to work with a vengeance.
Even the Jesuits came back in 1814 and resumed their
former labours of educating the young. Their order had been
a little too successful in its fight against the enemies of the
church. It had established ``provinces'' in every part of the
world, to teach the natives the blessings of Christianity, but
soon it had developed into a regular trading company which
was for ever interfering with the civil authorities. During the
reign of the Marquis de Pombal, the great reforming minister
of Portugal, they had been driven out of the Portuguese lands
and in the year 1773 at the request of most of the Catholic
powers of Europe, the order had been suppressed by Pope
Clement XIV. Now they were back on the job, and preached
the principles of ``obedience'' and ``love for the legitimate
dynasty'' to children whose parents had hired shopwindows that
they might laugh at Marie Antoinette driving to the scaffold
which was to end her misery.
But in the Protestant countries like Prussia, things were
not a whit better. The great patriotic leaders of the year 1812,
the poets and the writers who had preached a holy war upon the
usurper, were now branded as dangerous ``demagogues.'' Their
houses were searched. Their letters were read. They were
obliged to report to the police at regular intervals and give an
account of themselves. The Prussian drill master was let loose
in all his fury upon the younger generation. When a party of
students celebrated the tercentenary of the Reformation with
noisy but harmless festivities on the old Wartburg, the Prussian
bureaucrats had visions of an imminent revolution. When
a theological student, more honest than intelligent, killed a
Russian government spy who was operating in Germany, the
universities were placed under police-supervision and professors
were jailed or dismissed without any form of trial.
Russia, of course, was even more absurd in these anti-
revolutionary activities. Alexander had recovered from his attack
of piety. He was gradually drifting toward melancholia. He
well knew his own limited abilities and understood how at
Vienna he had been the victim both of Metternich and the
Krudener woman. More and more he turned his back upon the
west and became a truly Russian ruler whose interests lay in
Constantinople, the old holy city that had been the first teacher
of the Slavs. The older he grew, the harder he worked and the
less he was able to accomplish. And while he sat in his study,
his ministers turned the whole of Russia into a land of military
barracks.
It is not a pretty picture. Perhaps I might have shortened
this description of the Great Reaction. But it is just as well
that you should