FRANCE AND AUSTRIA.
Bonaparte had scarcely reached his room and just closed the door, when
the opposite door opened, and the entering footman announced, “His
excellency Count Louis Cobenzl.” Bonaparte waved his hand and went to
meet the count in the anteroom, where he welcomed him with the utmost
kindness and courtesy.
The two gentlemen thereupon reentered the room hand in hand, a pleasant
smile playing on their lips, while both were assuring each other of
their kind intentions, but at the same time secretly entertaining
the ardent desire and purpose to divine their mutual thoughts, but to
conceal their own schemes. The general, with great politeness, offered
the seat of honor on the sofa to the count, and sat down in an arm-chair
in front of him. A small round table with writing-materials and paper
stood between them, forming as it were the frontier between Austria and
France.
“So the ardent desires of Austria are fulfilled now,” said Count
Cobenzl, with a sweet smile. “France will no longer oppose us; she will
be our friend and ally.”
“France will welcome this new friend and ally of hers,” exclaimed
Bonaparte, feelingly, “provided Austria’s intentions are loyal. Ah, my
dear count, no protestations now! In politics words prove nothing,
deeds every thing. Let Austria, then, prove by her deeds that she really
desires to keep up a good understanding with France, and that she has
given up forever her hostile attitude toward the republic.”
“But has not Austria given proof of her intentions toward France
already?” asked the count, in surprise. “Has not his majesty the emperor
declared his willingness to resume diplomatic relations with France,
and thereby formally and before the whole world to recognize the French
Republic?”
“Sir,” exclaimed Bonaparte, “the French Republic does not humbly solicit
to be recognized. She compels hostile states to recognize her, for, like
the sun, she sheds her light over the whole globe, and she would pierce
the eyes of such as would feign not to see her, rendering them blind for
all time to come! [Footnote: Bonaparte’s own words.--Vide Constant, vol.
i., p. 284.] Austria beheld this radiant sun of the republic at Lodi,
at Rivoli, Arcole, and Mantua; whence, then, would she derive courage
enough to refuse recognizing France? But instead of words, prove to us
by your actions that your friendship is honest and sincere.”
“We are ready to do so,” said Count Cobenzl, politely. “Austria is
ready to give a public and brilliant proof of her devotion to the great
general whose glory is now filling the whole world with astonishment and
admiration. His majesty the emperor, in the letter which I had the honor
of delivering to you some time ago, told you already in eloquent words
how greatly he admired the conqueror of Italy, and how gladly his
majesty, if it were in his power, would grant you such favors as would
be agreeable to you. But at that time you rejected all such offers,
general, and nothing could induce you to accept of what we wished to
present to you. It seemed not to have value enough to--”
“Rather say, count, it was all too valuable not to be looked upon as a
bribe,” exclaimed Bonaparte. “I was negotiating with you, sword in hand,
and it would not have been becoming of me to lay the sword aside in
order to fill my hands with your presents.”
“But now, general, now that we have laid the sword aside, that we have
made peace, that we have exchanged the ratifications of the treaty--now
that you tender your hand to Austria in friendship and peace, you might
permit his majesty the Emperor of Austria to deposit something in your
friendly hand, that might prove to you how sincerely my august master
the emperor is devoted to you.”
“And what does the emperor desire to deposit in my hand?” asked
Bonaparte, with a quiet smile.
Count Cobenzl hesitated a little before making a reply. “General,” he
then said, “when I see you thus before me in your marble beauty, I
am involuntarily reminded of the heroes of Rome and Greece, who have
immortalized the glory of their countries, but whom the admiration of
posterity had to compensate for the ingratitude of their contemporaries.
General, republics never were grateful to their great men, and only too
often have they stigmatized their most glorious deeds; for the republics
deprecated the greatness of their heroes, because he who distinguished
himself, thereby annulled the equality and fraternity of all the
citizens. Pericles was banished from Athens, and Julius Caesar was
assassinated! General, will modern republics be more grateful than those
of antiquity? For my part, I dare say, it is rather doubtful, and the
French being descendants of the Romans, I am afraid they will not prove
any more grateful than the latter. The emperor, my august master, shares
my fears, and as he loves and venerates you, he would like to exalt you
so high as to prevent the hands of the political factions from reaching
up to you. His majesty therefore proposes to create a principality
for you in Germany, and to make you the sovereign ruler of two hundred
thousand people, appointing you at the same time a prince of the German
empire, and giving you a seat and vote at the imperial diet. [Footnote:
Historical.--Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V., p. 67.]
General, do you accept my emperor’s offer?”
“To become the emperor’s vassal?” asked Bonaparte, with an imperceptible
smile. “A small prince of the German empire who on solemn occasions
might be deemed worthy to present the wash-basin to the emperor, or to
be his train bearer, while every king and elector would outrank me. No,
my dear count, I do not accept the offer. I sincerely thank the emperor
for the interest he takes in my welfare, but I must accept no gifts or
favors not coming directly from the French nation, and I shall always
be satisfied with the income bestowed upon me by the latter,” [Footnote:
Bonaparte’s own reply.--Vide “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V., p.
51.]
“You reject the emperor’s offer?” asked Cobenzl, mournfully--“you
disdain wearing a crown?”
“If the crown should crush the few laurels with which my victories have
adorned me, yes; in that case I should prefer to decline the crown in
favor of my laurels. And, my dear count, if I had been so anxious for a
crown, I might have picked up one of those crowns that fell down at my
feet in Italy. But I preferred to crush them under my heels, just as
St. George crushed the dragon; and the gold of the crushed crowns, as it
behooved a good and dutiful son, I laid down on the altar of the great
French Republic. So you see I am not longing for crowns. If I might
follow my own inclinations, I should return to the silence and obscurity
of my former life, and I should lay my sword aside in order to live only
as a peaceable citizen.”
“Oh, general, if you should do so,” exclaimed Cobenzl, “there would
soon be men to pick up your sword in order to fight with it against the
Republic and to recall the Bourbons to the throne of the lilies.”
A rapid flash from Bonaparte’s eyes struck the count’s face and met his
sharp, searching glance.
“Count Cobenzl,” he said, quietly and coldly, “the lilies of France
have dropped from their stems, and, being drowned in the blood of the
guillotine, they could not be made to bloom again. He would be a poor,
short-sighted gardener who would try to draw flowers from seeds dead
and devoid of germs. And believe me, we are no such poor, short-sighted
gardeners in France. You alluded just now to the ingratitude of
republics, and you apprehended lest I might likewise suffer thereby.
Let me assure you, however, that even my country’s ingratitude would be
dearer to me than the gratitude of a foreign power, and that the crown
of thorns, which France may press upon my head, would seem to me more
honorable than the coronet with which an enemy of France might adorn
my brow. And now, count, a truce to such trifling matters! Let us speak
about business affairs. We have signed the ratifications of peace, which
are to be laid before the congress; it only remains for us to sign the
secret articles which shall be known by none but France and Austria. The
main point is the evacuation of Mentz by your troops, so that our army
may ocupy the fortress.”
“I am afraid, general, this very point will be a stumbling-block for the
members of the congress. They will raise a terrible hue and cry as soon
as they learn that we have surrendered Mentz.”
“Let these gentlemen say what they please,” said Bonaparte,
contemptuously; “we have called them hither that they may talk, and
while they are talking, we shall act!”
“They will say that Austria has sacrificed the welfare and greatness
of Germany to her own private interests,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl,
anxiously.
“Fools are they who care for what people will say!” replied Bonaparte,
shrugging his shoulders. “A prudent man will pursue his path directly
toward his aim, and the hum of babblers never disturbs him. Hear, then,
my last words: in case the Austrian troops do not leave Mentz within one
week, and surrender the fortress to the French forces, the French army
will remain in Venice, and I would sooner send the latter city to the
bottom of the sea than to let Austria have a single stone of hers. Mentz
must be ours, or I tear the treaty, and hostilities will recommence!”
And Bonaparte, with a furious gesture, seized the papers lying on the
table and was about to tear them, when Count Cobenzl suddenly jumped up
and grasped his hands.
“General,” he said, imploringly, “what are you going to do?”
“What am I going to do?” exclaimed Bonaparte, in a thundering voice, “I
am going to tear a treaty of peace, which you merely wanted to sign with
words, but not with deeds! Oh, that was the nice little trick of your
diplomacy, then! With your prince’s coronet you wanted to dazzle my
eyes--with the two hundred thousand subjects you offered me just now,
you wanted me to corrupt my soul, and induce me to barter away the
honor and greatness of France for the miserable people of a petty German
prince! No, sir. I shall not sell my honor at so low a price. I stand
here in the name of the French Republic and ask you, the representative
of Austria, to fulfil what we have agreed upon at Campo Formic. Mentz
must be ours even before our troops leave Venice. If you refuse that, it
is a plain infringement of the treaty, and hostilities will be resumed.
Now, sir, come to a decision. I am only a soldier, and but a poor
diplomatist, for with my sword and with my word I always directly strike
at my aim. In short, then, count, will you withdraw your troops from
Mentz and from the other fortresses on the Rhine, and surrender Mentz to
our army? Yes, or no?”
“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl, with a sigh, “we will fulfil
your wishes--we will withdraw our troops from Mentz and surrender the
fortress to the French.”
“When will the surrender take place? As speedily as possible, if you
please.”
“On the ninth of December, general.”
“Very well, on the ninth of December. The matter is settled, then.”
“But let there be no solemn ceremonies at the surrender,” said the
count, imploringly. “Let our troops withdraw quietly--let your forces
occupy the place in the same manner, so that when the delegates of
the German empire, assembled in congress in this city, and to whom the
Emperor of Germany has solemnly guaranteed the entire integrity and
inviolability of the empire, hear the news of the transaction, the
latter may be already an accomplished fact, to which every one must
submit.”
“Be it so, if that be Austria’s desire,” said Bonaparte, smiling.
“And now we will consider the other secret articles. The Austrian
troops retire from the German empire up to the line of the Inn and Lech,
occupying hereafter only Austrian territory.”
“Yes, general; in return for all these concessions on our part, the
French troops will evacuate on the thirtieth of December the fortresses
and territory of Venice, which has been ceded to Austria by the treaty
of Campo Formio, and retire behind the line of demarcation.”
“Granted! At the same time the troops of the republic seize the
tete-de-pont at Mannheim either by intimidating the isolated garrison,
or by making a sudden dash at the position, [Footnote: “Memoires d’un
Homme d’Etat.” The French took the tete-de-pont at Mannheim by assault,
on the 15th of January, 1798, the garrison refusing to evacuate it.
Mentz surrendered without firing a gun, and during the night of the
28th of December 1797, the French entered this great fortress, which was
thereupon annexed to the French Republic] and during the continuation of
the negotiations here at Rastadt, the French forces leave the left bank
of the Rhine and occupy the right bank from Basle to Mentz.”
“Granted,” sighed Count Cobenzl. “Austria yields the frontier of the
Rhine to France--that is, by the simultaneous retreat of her own forces
she surrenders to the republic the most important points of the German
empire, including Ehrenbreitstein. The congress of the states of the
German empire will deliberate, therefore, under the direct influence
produced by the immediate neighborhood of a French army.”
“In case the delegates of Germany do not like the looks of the French
soldiers, they may turn their eyes to the other side, where the Austrian
army is encamped on the Danube and on the Lech,” exclaimed Bonaparte.
“Thus the delegates will be surrounded by two armies. This fact may
interfere a little with the freedom of speech during the session of
congress, but it will be advantageous, too, inasmuch as it will induce
the delegates to accelerate their labors somewhat, and to finish their
task sooner than they would have done under different circumstances.”
“It is true, right in the face of these two armies at least the small
German princes will not dare to oppose the German emperor in ceding
the entire left bank of the Rhine to France. But it is only just and
equitable for us to indemnify them for their losses. In one of our
secret articles, therefore, we should acknowledge the obligation of
promising compensations to the princes and electors--”
“Yes, let us promise compensations to them,” said Bonaparte, with a
tinge of sarcasm. “As to the possessions of Prussia on the left bank of
the Rhine, France declares her readiness to give them back to the King
of Prussia.”
“But both powers agree not to allow the King of Prussia to acquire any
new territory,” exclaimed Count Cobenzl, hastily.
“Yes, that was our agreement at Campo Formio,” said Bonaparte.
“Austria’s increase of territory, besides Venice, will consist of
Salzburg and a piece of Upper Bavaria. In case she should make
further conquests in the adjoining states, France may claim a further
aggrandizement on the right bank of the Rhine.” [Footnote: Schlosser’s
“History of the Eighteenth Century,” vol. v., p. 43.]
“Yes, that was the last secret article of the preliminaries of Campo
Formio,” said Cobenzl, sighing.
“Then we have remained entirely faithful to our agreement,” said
Bonaparte. “We have not made any alterations whatever in the programme
which we agreed upon and deposed in writing at the castle of Campo
Formio. It only remains for us to-day to sign these secret articles.”
He took the pen and hastily signed the two documents spread out on the
table.
Count Cobenzl signed them also; but his hand was trembling a little
while he was writing, and his face was clouded and gloomy. Perhaps he
could not help feeling that Austria just now was signing the misery and
disgrace of Germany in order to purchase thereby some provinces, and
that Austria enlarged her territory at the expense of the empire whose
emperor was her own ruler--Francis II. Their business being finished,
the two plenipotentiaries rose, and Count Cobenzl withdrew. Bonaparte
accompanied him again to the door of the anteroom, and then returned to
his cabinet.
A proud, triumphant smile was now playing on his pale, narrow lips,
and his eyes were beaming and flashing in an almost sinister manner.
Stepping back to the table, he fixed his eyes upon the document with the
two signatures.
“The left bank of the Rhine is ours!” he said, heavily laying his hand
upon the paper. “But the right bank?”
He shook his head, and folding his arms upon his back, he commenced
pacing the room, absorbed in profound reflections. His features had now
resumed their marble tranquillity; it was again the apparation of Julius
Caesar that was walking up and down there with inaudible steps, and the
old thoughts of Julius Caesar, those thoughts for which he had to suffer
death, seemed to revive again in Bonaparte’s mind, for at one time he
whispered, “A crown for me! A crown in Germany. It would be too small
for me! If my hand is to grasp a crown, it must--”
He paused and gazed fixedly at the wall as if he saw the future there,
that arose before him in a strange phantasmagoria.
After a long pause, he started and seemed to awake from a dream.
“I believe I will read the letter once more, which I received yesterday
by mail,” he murmured, in an almost inaudible tone. “It is a wonderful
letter, and I really would like to know who wrote it.”
He drew a folded paper from his bosom and opened it. Stepping into a bay
window, he perused the letter with slow, deliberate glances. The bright
daylight illuminated his profile and rendered its antique beauty even
more conspicuous. Profound silence surrounded him, and nothing was heard
hut his soft and slow respiration and the rustling of the paper.
When he had finished it, he commenced perusing it again, but this
time he seemed to be anxious to hear what he was reading. He read
it, however, in a very low and subdued voice, and amidst the silence
surrounding him the words that fell from the lips of the resurrected
Caesar sounded like the weird whispers of spirits.
“You have to choose now between so great an alternative,” he read, “that
however bold your character may be, you must be uncertain as to the
determination you have to come to, if you are to choose between respect
and hatred, between glory or disgrace, between exalted power or an
abject insignificance, that would lead you to the scaffold, and,
finally, between the immortality of a great man, or that of a punished
partisan.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Bonaparte, and his voice was now loud and firm. “Ah! I
shall never hesitate between such alternatives. I should bear disgrace,
abject insignificance, and an utter lack of power? And my hand should
not be withered--it should be able yet to grasp a sword and pierce my
breast with it?”
He lowered his eyes again and continued reading: “You have to choose
between three parts: the first is to return quietly to France and to
live there as a plain and unassuming citizen; the second, to return to
France at the head of an army and there to become the leader of a party;
the third, to establish a great empire in Italy and proclaim yourself
king of the peninsula. I advise you to do so, and to grasp the Italian
crown with a firm hand.” [Footnote: Sabatier de Castres, living at
that time in exile at Hamburg, had written this anonymous letter to
Bonaparte.]
“He is a fool,” said Bonaparte, “who believes a man might make himself
king of Italy and maintain himself on the throne, unless he previously
has seized the sovereign power in France, [Footnote: “Memoires d’un
Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 69.] But no one must hear these thoughts! I
will go to Josephine!”
He hastily folded the paper and concealed it again in his bosom. Then
stepping to the looking-glass, he closely scanned his face in order to
see whether or not it might betray his thoughts; and when he had found
it to be as pale and impassive as ever, he turned round and left the
room.