CHAPTER XVII
IS WATERLOO TO BE CONSIDERED GOOD?
There exists a very respectable liberal school which does not hate Water- loo. We do not belong to it. To us, Waterloo is but the stupefied date of lib- erty. That such an eagle should emerge from such an egg is certainly unexpected.
If one places one's self at the culminating point of view of the question, Waterloo is intentionally a counter–revolutionary victory. It is Europe against France; it is Petersburg, Berlin, and Vienna against Paris; it is the statu quo against the initiative; it is the 14th of July, 1789, attacked through the 20th of March, 1815; it is the monarchies clearing the decks in opposi- tion to the indomitable French rioting. The final extinction of that vast peo- ple which had been in eruption for twenty–six years—such was the dream.
The solidarity of the Brunswicks, the Nassaus, the Romanoffs, the Hohen- zollerns, the Hapsburgs with the Bourbons. Waterloo bears divine right on its crupper. It is true, that the Empire having been despotic, the kingdom by the natural reaction of things, was forced to be liberal, and that a constitu- tional order was the unwilling result of Waterloo, to the great regret of the conquerors. It is because revolution cannot be really conquered, and that being providential and absolutely fatal, it is always cropping up afresh: be- fore Waterloo, in Bonaparte overthrowing the old thrones; after Waterloo, in Louis XVIII. granting and conforming to the charter. Bonaparte places a postilion on the throne of Naples, and a sergeant on the throne of Sweden, employing inequality to demonstrate equality; Louis XVIII. at Saint–Ouen
countersigns the declaration of the rights of man. If you wish to gain an idea of what revolution is, call it Progress; and if you wish to acquire an idea of the nature of progress, call it To–morrow. To–morrow fulfils its work irre- sistibly, and it is already fulfilling it to–day. It always reaches its goal strangely. It employs Wellington to make of Foy, who was only a soldier, an orator. Foy falls at Hougomont and rises again in the tribune. Thus does progress proceed. There is no such thing as a bad tool for that workman. It does not become disconcerted, but adjusts to its divine work the man who has bestridden the Alps, and the good old tottering invalid of Father Elysee.
It makes use of the gouty man as well as of the conqueror; of the conqueror without, of the gouty man within. Waterloo, by cutting short the demolition of European thrones by the sword, had no other effect than to cause the rev- olutionary work to be continued in another direction. The slashers have fin- ished; it was the turn of the thinkers. The century that Waterloo was intend- ed to arrest has pursued its march. That sinister victory was vanquished by liberty.
In short, and incontestably, that which triumphed at Waterloo; that which smiled in Wellington's rear; that which brought him all the marshals' staffs of Europe, including, it is said, the staff of a marshal of France; that which joyously trundled the barrows full of bones to erect the knoll of the lion; that which triumphantly inscribed on that pedestal the date "June 18, 1815"; that which encouraged Blucher, as he put the flying army to the sword; that which, from the heights of the plateau of Mont–Saint–Jean, hovered over France as over its prey, was the counter–revolution. It was the counter–rev- olution which murmured that infamous word "dismemberment." On arriv- ing in Paris, it beheld the crater close at hand; it felt those ashes which scorched its feet, and it changed its mind; it returned to the stammer of a charter.
Let us behold in Waterloo only that which is in Waterloo. Of intentional liberty there is none. The counter–revolution was involuntarily liberal, in the same manner as, by a corresponding phenomenon, Napoleon was invol- untarily revolutionary. On the 18th of June, 1815, the mounted Robespierre was hurled from his saddle.
