THE RIOT.
The streets of Vienna were densely crowded on the following day. Every
house was beautifully decorated with fresh verdure and festoons of
flowers; business was entirely suspended, and the people in their
holiday dresses were moving through the streets, jubilant, singing
patriotic hymns, and waiting in joyous impatience for the moment when
the procession of the volunteers would leave the city hall in order
to repair to the Burg, where they were to cheer the emperor. Then they
would march through the city, and finally conclude the festival with a
banquet and ball, to be held in a public hall that had been handsomely
decorated for the occasion.
Not only the people, however, but also the educated and aristocratic
classes of Vienna wanted to participate in the patriotic festival. In
the open windows there were seen high-born ladies, beautifully dressed,
and holding splendid bouquets in their hands, which were to be showered
down upon the procession of the volunteers; an endless number of the
most splendid carriages, surrounded by dense crowds of pedestrians, were
slowly moving through the streets, and in these carriages there were
seated the ladies and gentlemen of the aristocracy and of the wealthiest
financial circles; they witnessed the popular enthusiasm with smiles of
satisfaction and delight.
Only the carriages of the ministers were missing in this gorgeous
procession, and it was reported everywhere that two of these gentlemen,
Prime Minister Baron von Thugut and Police Minister Count Saurau,
had been taken sick, and were confined to their beds, while the other
ministers were with the emperor at Laxenburg.
Baron Thugut’s prediction had been verified, therefore; the police
minister had really been taken so sick that he had to keep his bed,
and that he had requested Baron Thugut by letter to take charge of his
department for a few days.
But the prime minister himself had suddenly become quite unwell, and
was unable to leave his room! Hence he had not accompanied the other
ministers to Laxenburg in order to dine at the emperor’s table. Nay--an
unheard of occurrence--he had taken his meals all alone in his study.
His footman had received stringent orders to admit no one, and to
reply to every applicant for an interview with him, “His excellency was
confined to his bed by a raging fever, and all business matters had to
be deferred until tomorrow.”
The minister’s condition, however, was not near as bad as that. It
was true he had the fever, but it was merely the fever of expectation,
impatience, and long suspense. The whole day had passed, and not a
single dissonance had disturbed the pure joy of the celebration; not a
single violent scene had interrupted the patriotic jubilee. The crowds
on the streets and public places constantly increased in numbers, but
peace and hilarity reigned everywhere, and the people were singing and
laughing everywhere.
This was the reason why the minister’s blood was so feverish, why he
could find no rest, and why his cold heart for once pulsated so rapidly.
He was pacing his study with long steps, murmuring now and then some
incoherent words, and then uneasily stepping to the window in order to
survey the street cautiously from behind the curtain, and to observe the
surging crowd below.
Just then the large clock on the marble mantelpiece commenced striking.
Thugut hastily turned toward it. “Six o’clock, and nothing yet,” he
murmured. “I shall put that fellow Wenzel into a subterranean dungeon
for life, and dismiss every agent of mine, if nothing--”
He paused and listened. It had seemed to him as though he had heard a
soft rap at the hidden door leading to the secret staircase. Yes, it was
no mistake; somebody was rapping at it, and seemed to be in great haste.
“At last!” exclaimed Thugut, drawing a deep breath, and he approached
with hurried steps the large painting, covering the whole wall and
reaching down to the floor. He quickly touched one of the artificial
roses on the gilt frame. The painting turned round, and the door became
visible behind it in the wall.
The rapping was now plainly heard. Thugut pushed the bolt back and
unlocked the door. His confidential secretary, Hubschle, immediately
rushed in with a glowing face and in breathless haste.
“Your excellency,” he gasped--“your excellency, the fun has just
commenced! They are now pursuing the deer like a pack of infuriated
blood-hounds. Oh, oh! they will chase him thoroughly, I should think!”
Thugut cast a glance of gloomy indignation on the versatile little man
with the bloated face. “You have been drinking again, Hubschle,” he
said; “and I have ordered you to remain sober to-day!”
“Your excellency, I am quite sober,” protested Hubschle. “I assure you I
have not drunk any more than what was required by my thirst.”
“Ah, yes; your thirst always requires large quantities,” exclaimed
Thugut, laughing. “But speak now rapidly, briefly, and plainly. No
circumlocution, no tirades! Tell me the naked truth. What fun has just
commenced?”
“The inauguration of the banner, your excellency.”
“Then Bernadotte has hung out his banner, after all?”
“Yes, he has done so. We were just going down the street--quite a jolly
crowd it was, by the by. Master Wenzel, a splendid fellow, had just
loudly intoned the hymn of ‘God save the Emperor Francis,’ and all the
thousands and thousands of voices were joining the choir, as if they
intended to serenade the French ambassador, when, suddenly, a balcony
door opened, and General Bernadotte, in full uniform came out. He was
attended by his whole suite; and several footmen brought out an immense
banner, which they attached to the balcony. We had paused right in the
middle of our beautiful hymn, and the people were looking up to the
balcony, from which the gentlemen had disappeared again, with glances
full of surprise and curiosity. But the banner remained there! Suddenly
a violent gust touched the banner, which, up to this time, had loosely
hung down, and unfolded it entirely. Now we saw the French tri-color
proudly floating over our German heads, and on it we read, in large
letters of gold--Liberte! Egalite! Fraternite!” [Footnote: “Memoires
d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. V. p. 494.]
“What impudence!” muttered Thugut.
“You are right, that was the word,” exclaimed Hubschle.
“‘What impudence!’ roared Master Wenzel; and the whole crowd immediately
repeated, ‘What impudence! Down with the foreign banner! We are not so
stupid as the people of Milan, Venice, and Rome; we do not jubilantly
hail the French color; on the contrary, this banner makes us angry. Down
with it! It is an insult offered to the emperor, that a foreign flag
with such an abominable inscription is floating here. Down with the
banner!’”
“Very good, very good, indeed,” said Thugut, smiling. “This man Wenzel
is really a practical fellow. Go on, sir.”
“The crowd constantly assumed larger proportions, and the shouts
of ‘Down with the banner!’ became every moment more impetuous and
threatening. Suddenly a small detachment of soldiers emerged from the
adjoining street. The officer in command kindly urged the people to
disperse. But it was in vain; the tumult was constantly on the increase.
The crowd commenced tearing up the pavement and throwing stones at the
windows and at the banner.”
“And the soldiers?”
“They quietly stood aside. But--somebody is rapping at the opposite
door! Shall I open it, your excellency?”
“One moment! I first want to turn back the painting. So! Now open the
door, Hubschle!”
The private secretary hastened with tottering steps to the door and
unlocked it. Thugut’s second private secretary entered. He held a sealed
letter in his band.
“Well, Heinle, what’s the matter?” asked Thugut, quietly.
“Your excellency, the French ambassador, General Bernadotte, has sent
this letter to your excellency.”
“And what did you reply to the messenger?”
“That your excellency had a raging fever; that the doctor had forbidden
us to disturb you, but that I would deliver it to the minister as soon
as he felt a little better.”
“That was right. Now go back to your post and guard the door well in
order that no one may penetrate into my room. And you, Hubschle, hasten
back to the Kohlmarkt and see what is going on there, and what is
occurring at the French embassy. But do not drink any more liquor!
As soon as this affair is over, I shall give you three days’ leave of
absence, when you may drink as much as you please. Go, now, and return
soon to tell me all about it.”
“And now,” said Thugut, when he was alone, “I will see what the French
ambassador has written to me.”
He opened the letter, and, as if the mere perusal with the eyes were
not sufficient for him, he read in a half-loud voice as follows: “The
ambassador of the French Republic informs Baron Thugut that at the
moment he is penning these lines, a fanatical crowd has been so impudent
as to commit a riot in front of his dwelling. The motives that have
produced this violent scene cannot be doubtful, inasmuch as several
stones already were thrown at the windows of the house occupied by the
ambassador. Profoundly offended at so much impudence, he requests Baron
Thugut immediately to order an investigation, so that the instigators of
the riot may be punished, and that their punishment may teach the others
a much-needed lesson. The ambassador of the French Republic has no doubt
that his reclamations will meet with the attention which they ought
to excite, and that the police, moreover, will be vigilant enough to
prevent similar scenes, which could not be renewed without producing
the most serious consequences, the ambassador being firmly determined to
repel with the utmost energy even the slightest insults, and accordingly
much more so, such scandalous attacks. Baron Thugut is further informed
that he has reason to complain of the conduct of several agents of
the police. Some of them were requested to disperse the rioters, but,
instead of fulfilling the ambassador’s orders, they remained cold and
idle spectators of the revolting scene.” [Footnote: “Memoires d’un Homme
d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 495.]
“What overbearing and insulting language this fellow dares to use!”
exclaimed Thugut, when he had finished the letter. “One might almost
believe he was our lord and master here, and--ah, somebody raps again at
the door! Perhaps Hubschle is back already.”
He quickly touched the frame of the painting again, and the door opened.
It was really Hubschle, who entered as hastily as before.
“Your excellency, I have just reascended the staircase as rapidly as
though I were a cat,” he gasped. “At the street door I learned some
fresh news from one of our men, and I returned at once to tell you all
about it.”
“Quick, you idle gossip, no unnecessary preface!”
“Your excellency, things are assuming formidable proportions. The riot
is constantly on the increase, and grows every minute more threatening.
Count Dietrichstein, and Count Fersen, the director of the police, have
repaired to General Bernadotte and implored him to remove the banner.”
“The soft-hearted fools!” muttered Thugut.
“But their prayers were fruitless. They preferred them repeatedly, and
always were refused. They even went so far as to assure the ambassador,
in case he should yield to their request and give them time to calm the
people and induce them to leave the place, that the Austrian government
would assuredly give him whatever satisfaction he should demand. But
General Bernadotte persisted in his refusal--and replied peremptorily,
‘No, the banner remains!’”
“Proceed, proceed!” exclaimed Thugut, impatiently.
“That is all I know, but I shall hasten to collect further news, and
then return to your excellency.”
Hubschle disappeared through the secret door, and Thugut replaced
the painting before it. “The banner remains!” he exclaimed, laughing
scornfully. “We will see how long it will remain! Ah, Heinle is rapping
again at the other door. What is it, Heinle?”
“Another dispatch from the French ambassador,” said Heinle, merely
pushing his arm with the letter through the door.
“And you have made the same reply?”
“The same reply.”
“Good! Return to your post.”
The arm disappeared again. Thugut opened the second dispatch, and read
as before in a half-loud voice: “The ambassador of the French Republic
informs Baron Thugut that the fury of the mob is constantly on the
increase; already all the window-panes of the dwelling have been
shattered by the stones the rioters are incessantly throwing at them;
he informs you that the crowd at the present moment numbers no less than
three or four thousand men, and that the soldiers whose assistance was
invoked, so far from protecting the house of the French embassy,
remain impassive spectators of the doings and fury of the rabble,
their inactivity encouraging the latter instead of deterring them. The
ambassador cannot but believe that this scandalous scene is not merely
tolerated, but fostered by the authorities, for nothing whatever is
done to put a stop to it. He sees with as much regret as pain that the
dignity of the French people is being violated by the insults heaped
on the ambassador, who vainly implored the populace to disperse and go
home. At the moment the ambassador is writing these lines, the rage of
the crowd is strained to such a pitch that the doors have been broken
open by means of stones, while the soldiers were quietly looking on. The
furious rabble tore the French colors from the balcony with hooks and
long poles. The ambassador, who cannot remain any longer in a country
where the most sacred laws are disregarded and solemn treaties trampled
under foot, therefore asks Baron Thugut to send him his passports in
order that he may repair to France with all the attaches of the embassy,
unless Baron Thugut should announce at once that the Austrian government
has taken no part whatever in the insults heaped upon the French
Republic; that it disavows them, on the contrary, in the most formal
manner, and that it orders the ringleaders and their accomplices to
be arrested and punished in the most summary manner. On this condition
alone, and if the Austrian government agrees to restore the French
banner and to cause it to be displayed on the balcony of the French
embassy by a staff-officer, the ambassador consents to remain in Vienna.
Let Baron Thugut remember that these are precious moments, and that
he owes the ambassador an immediate and categorical reply to his
inquiries.” [Footnote: “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v., p. 501.]
“Well, I believe the good people of Vienna will take it upon themselves
to make a categorical reply to General Bernadotte, and to silence
the overbearing babbler, no matter how it is done,” exclaimed Thugut,
laughing scornfully. “I am really anxious to know how this affair is
going to end, and how my brave rioters will chastise the ambassador
for his insolence. What, another rap already? Why, you are a genuine
postillon d’ amour! Do you bring me another letter?”
“A third dispatch from General Bernadotte,” exclaimed Heinle, outside,
pushing his arm with the dispatch again through the door.
Thugut took it and rapidly opened it. “It seems matters are growing more
pressing,” he said, smilingly. “Let us read it!”
And he read with an air of great satisfaction:
“The ambassador of the French Republic informs Baron Thugut that the
riotous proceedings have lasted five hours already; that no agent of the
police has come to his assistance; that the furious rioters have taken
possession of a portion of the house and are destroying every thing they
can lay their hands on.”
“Aha, my friend Wenzel is looking for the papers in the rooms of the
French embassy!” exclaimed Thugut, triumphantly. He then read on.
“The ambassador, the secretaries of legation, the French citizens and
officers who are with him, were compelled to retire to a room where
they are waiting further developments with the undaunted courage
characteristic of the republicans. The ambassador repeats his demand
that the necessary passports be sent for him and for all the French who
desire to accompany him. The transmission of these passports is the more
urgent, as the rioters, who were about to rush into the room where the
French were awaiting them, only shrank back when some servants of
the French embassy discharged the fire-arms with which they had been
provided.”
“Ah, a regular battle, then, has taken place!” shouted Thugut, in great
glee. “A siege in grand style! Wonder why Hubschle has not come back
yet? But stop! I hear him already. He raps! I am coming, sir! I am
opening the door already!”
And Thugut hastened to touch the frame of the painting and to open the
door.
It was true, Hubschle, the private secretary, was there, but he did
not come alone. Wenzel, soiled with blood, his clothes torn and in the
wildest disorder, entered with him, supporting himself on Hubschle’s
arm.
“Ah, you bring me there a wounded boar!” said Thugut, morosely.
“A boar who splendidly goaded on the hounds and performed the most
astonishing exploits,” said Hubschle, enthusiastically. “He received
a gunshot wound in the right arm and fainted. I carried him with the
assistance of a few friends to a well, and we poured water on him until
he recovered his senses and was able again to participate in the general
jubilee.”
“Then it was a jubilee? Mr. Wenzel, tell me all about it.”
“It was a very fine affair,” said Wenzel, gasping. “We had penetrated
into the house and were working to the best of our power in the
magnificent rooms. The furniture, the looking-glasses, the chandeliers,
the carriages in the courtyard, every thing was destroyed, while we
were singing and shouting, ‘Long live the emperor! God save the Emperor
Francis!’”
“What a splendid Marseillaise that dear, kind-hearted Haydn has composed
for us in that hymn,” said Thugut, in a low voice, gleefully rubbing his
hands. “And the banner? What has become of the banner?”
“The banner we had previously torn to pieces, and with the shreds we
had gone to the Schottenplatz and publicly burned them there amidst the
jubilant shouts of the people.”
“Very good. And what else was done in the embassy building?”
“We rushed from room to room. Nothing withstood our fury, and finally we
arrived at the room in which the ambassador and his suite had barricaded
themselves as in a fortress. It was the ambassador’s study,” said
Wenzel, slowly and significantly--“the cabinet in which he kept his
papers.”
Thugut nodded gently, and said nothing but “Proceed!”
“I rushed toward the door and encouraged the others to follow me. We
succeeded in bursting the door open. At the same moment the besieged
fired at us. Three of us dropped wounded; the others ran away.”
“Yes, the miserable rascals always run away as soon as they smell
gunpowder,” said Thugut, indignantly. “And you, Mr. Wenzel?”
“I was wounded and had fainted. My comrades carried me out of the
house.”
“And the papers?” asked Thugut. “You did not take them?”
“Your excellency, General Bernadotte and the whole retinue of the
embassy were in the room in which the ambassador keeps his papers. I
would have penetrated into it with my friends if the bullet had not
shattered my arm and stretched me down senseless.”
“Yes, indeed, you became entirely senseless,” said Thugut, harshly, “for
you even forgot that I only promised to release you provided you should
bring the papers of the French ambassador.”
“Your excellency,” shouted Wenzel, in dismay, “I--”
“Silence!” commanded Thugut, in a stern tone; “who has allowed you to
speak without being asked?”
At this moment another hasty rap at the door was heard, and Heinle’s arm
appeared again in the door.
“Another dispatch from the French ambassador?” asked Thugut.
“No, your excellency, a dispatch from his majesty the emperor.”
Thugut hastily seized the small sealed note and opened it. It contained
nothing but the following words:
“The ambassador has received a salutary lesson, and his banner has been
destroyed. Let us stop the riot now, and avoid extreme measures. Several
regiments must be called out to restore order.”
The minister slowly folded the paper and put it into his pocket. He
then rang the bell so violently and loudly, that Heinle and the other
servants rushed immediately into the room.
“Open every door--call every footman!” commanded Thugut. “Admit every
one who wants to see me. Two mounted messengers shall hold themselves in
readiness to forward dispatches. Every one may learn that, in spite
of my sickness, I have risen from my couch in order to reestablish
tranquillity in the capital.”
He stepped to his desk and rapidly wrote a few words, whereupon he
handed the paper to Germain, his valet de chambre.
“Here, Germain, hasten with this note to Count Fersen, the director of
police, and take this fellow along. Two footmen may accompany you. You
will deliver him to the director of the police and tell him that he is
one of the rioters whom my agents have arrested. Request the director
to have him placed in a safe prison and to admit none to him but the
officers of the criminal court. He is a very dangerous criminal; this is
the second time that he has been arrested as a rioter. Well, what is
the matter with the fellow? He reels like a drunken man! He has probably
drunk too much brandy for the purpose of stimulating his courage.”
“Pardon me, your excellency,” said Hubschle, “the man has fainted.”
“Then carry him away, and take him in a carriage to the director of
the police,” said Thugut, indifferently, and he looked on coldly and
unfeelingly, while the footman hastily seized the pale, unconscious man
and dragged him away.
He returned to his desk and rapidly wrote a few words on a sheet of
large, gilt-edged paper, which he then enclosed in an envelope, sealed,
and directed.
“A dispatch to the emperor!” he said, handing it to Heinle. “Let a
mounted messenger take it immediately to his majesty.”
This dispatch contained the reply to the emperor’s laconic note, and
it was almost more laconic than the latter, for it contained only the
following words:
“Sire, within an hour order will be reestablished.”
“Now, Hubschle, sit down,” said Thugut, all the others having left the
room by his orders. “Collect your five senses, and write what I am going
to dictate to you.”
Hubschle sat already at the desk, and waited, pen in hand. Baron Thugut,
folding his hands behind his back, slowly paced the room and dictated:
“The minister of foreign affairs has heard with regret of the riotous
proceedings referred to in the notes which the ambassador of the French
Republic has addressed to him this evening. The minister will report the
whole affair to his imperial majesty, and entertains no doubt that the
emperor will be very indignant at the occurrence. The ambassador may
rest assured that nothing will be left undone in order to ferret out the
perpetrators of this outrage, and to punish them with the whole severity
of the laws, and with the sincere desire which the Austrian government
has always entertained to maintain the friendship so happily established
between the two countries.” [Footnote: The French ambassador really left
Vienna in consequence of this riot. The emperor vainly tried to pacify
him. Bernadotte persisted in his demands. He wanted the Austrian
Government to restore the banner and to have it displayed on his balcony
by a staff officer. In reply to these repeated demands, Thugut sent
him his passports, and the legation left Vienna.--Vide Hauser, “German
History,” vol II., p. 180. “Memoires d’un Homme d’Etat,” vol. v.]
“Well, why do you dare to laugh, Hubschle?” asked Thugut when he took
the pen in order to sign the note.
“Your excellency, I am laughing at the many fine words in which
this dispatch says: ‘Mr. Ambassador, ask for your passports; you may
depart.’”
Thugut smiled. “When you are drunk, Hubschle, you are exceedingly
shrewd, and for that reason, I pardon your impertinence. Your rubicund
nose has scented the matter correctly. The ambassador has demanded his
passports already. But go now. Take this dispatch to the second courier
and tell him to carry it immediately to the French embassy. As for
yourself, you must hasten to the commander of Vienna, and take this
paper to him. You may say to him, ‘The gates are to be closed in order
to prevent the populace of the suburbs from reaching the city. The
Preiss regiment shall occupy the house of the ambassador and the
adjoining streets, and fire at whosoever offers resistance or wants to
raise a disturbance.’ Vienna must be perfectly quiet in the course of an
hour. Begone!”
Hubschle rushed out, and Thugut remained alone. He slowly and
deliberately sat down in an arm-chair, and pondered serenely over the
events of the night.
“It is true I have not wholly accomplished my purpose,” he muttered,
“but M. Bernadotte will try no longer to injure me. He shall have his
passports to-morrow morning.”
LAST DAYS OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.