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<h2> CHAPTER XVII—IS WATERLOO TO BE CONSIDERED GOOD? </h2>
<p>There exists a very respectable liberal school which does not hate
Waterloo. We do not belong to it. To us, Waterloo is but the stupefied
date of liberty. That such an eagle should emerge from such an egg is
certainly unexpected.</p>
<p>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 opposition to the indomitable French rioting. The final
extinction of that vast people which had been in eruption for twenty-six
years—such was the dream. The solidarity of the Brunswicks, the
Nassaus, the Romanoffs, the Hohenzollerns, 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 constitutional 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: before 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 irresistibly, 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 revolutionary work to be
continued in another direction. The slashers have finished; it was the
turn of the thinkers. The century that Waterloo was intended to arrest has
pursued its march. That sinister victory was vanquished by liberty.</p>
<p>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-revolution which murmured that
infamous word "dismemberment." On arriving 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.</p>
<p>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
involuntarily revolutionary. On the 18th of June, 1815, the mounted
Robespierre was hurled from his saddle.</p>
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