THE EIGHTEENTH OF BRUMAIRE.
“News from France!” exclaimed Counsellor Gentz, entering Marianne’s
boudoir in breathless haste. “Do you already know what has occurred? Did
you hear, Marianne, how France has closed the eighteenth century?”
Marianne looked up into the face of her friend, with a gentle and
peculiar smile. “That must have been exciting intelligence,” she said.
“inasmuch as it was even able to arouse the dreamer, Frederick Gentz,
from his political sleep, and to cause him to take interest again in the
affairs of the world. Well, let us hear the news; what has occurred in
France?”
“General Bonaparte has overthrown the Directory, and dispersed the
Council of Five Hundred.”
“And you call that news?” asked Marianne, shrugging her shoulders. “You
tell me there the history of the ninth and tenth of November, or, as the
French republicans say, of the eighteenth and nineteenth of Brumaire.
And you believe that I have not yet heard of it to-day, on the
twenty-sixth of December? My friend Gentz, Bonaparte’s deeds need not
more than a month in order to penetrate through the world; they soar
aloft with eagle-wings, and the whole world beholds them, because they
darken the horizon of the whole world.”
“But you have only heard the preamble of my news,” ejaculated Gentz,
impatiently. “I have no doubt that you know the history of the
eighteenth of Brumaire, and that you are aware that France, on that day,
placed herself under the rule of three consuls, one of whom was General
Bonaparte.”
“The other two consuls are Sieyes and Dacos,” interrupted Marianne. “I
know that, and I know, too, that Lucien, Bonaparte’s brother, president
of the Legislative Assembly, upon receiving the oath of office of the
three consuls, said to them. ‘The greatest nation on earth intrusts
you with its destinies; the welfare of thirty millions of men, the
preservation of order at home, and the reestablishment of peace abroad,
are your task. Three months from to-day public opinion will expect to
hear from you how you have accomplished it.’” [Footnote: “Histoire du
Consulat et de l’Empire,” par A. Theirs, vol. i., p. 16.]
“Well, M. Bonaparte did not make public opinion wait so long,” said
Gentz; “or rather, he asserts public opinion had not given him time to
wait so long, and that it was public opinion itself that called upon him
to proclaim himself sovereign of France.”
“Sovereign of France?” asked Marianne, in surprise. “Bonaparte has made
himself king?”
“Yes, king, but under another name; he has caused himself to be elected
consul for ten years! Ah, he will know how to shorten these ten years,
just as he knew how to shorten those three months!”
“And this report is reliable?” asked Marianne, musingly.
“Perfectly so. Bonaparte was elected first consul on the twenty-fifth
of December, and on the same day the new constitution was promulgated
throughout France. That is a very fine Christmas present which France
has made to the world! A box filled with dragon’s teeth, from which
armed hosts will spring up. It is true the first consul now pretends
to be very anxious to restore peace to Europe. He has sent special
ambassadors to all courts, with profuse assurances of his friendship and
pacific intentions, and he sent them off even previous to his election,
in order to announce the news of the latter to the foreign courts on
the same day on which he was proclaimed first consul at Paris. Such a
peace-messenger of the general has arrived at Berlin; he has brought us
the strange and startling news.”
“What is the name of this peace-messenger of the modern god of war?”
asked Marianne.
“He sent his adjutant, General Duroc; the latter reached Berlin
yesterday, and appeared even to-day as the petted guest of our court,
at the great soiree of the queen. Oh, my friend, my stupid German heart
trembled with anger when I saw the kind and flattering attentions that
were paid to this Frenchman, while German gentlemen of genius, merit,
and ability were kept in the background, neither the king nor the
queen seeming to take any notice of their presence! There were Count
Hardenberg and the noble President of Westphalia, Baron Stein; they
stood neglected in a bay window, and looked sadly at the royal couple,
who treated the Frenchman in the midst of the court in the most
distinguished manner; there were Blucher and Gneisenau, overlooked by
everybody, although their uniforms were no less brilliant than that of
the French envoy; and there was finally Frederick Gentz, myself, who
had only appeared at this court festival owing to the special desire
and order of the queen, and whose presence she had entirely forgotten,
although Gualtieri reminded her of it at least three times, and told
her that I was there, and had only come because the queen had expressly
ordered it so. But what did her beautiful majesty care that a German
writer was vainly waiting for a smile of her affability, and a gracious
nod of her lovely head? The French envoy was by far more important than
all of us. For the sake of the Frenchman, even ‘Madame Etiquette,’ the
Countess von Voss, mistress of ceremonies, had been silenced, and the
plain adjutant of the first consul was received with as much distinction
as if he were a minister plenipotentiary, while he only came as the
simple agent for a private individual. They asked him to tell them
about the battle of the Pyramids, about the battles of Mount Tabor and
Aboukir, and the whole court listened to him with a suspense as though
Bonaparte’s adjutant were preaching a new gospel. Whenever he paused
in his narrative, the queen, with her fascinating smile, constantly
addressed new questions to him, and praised the achievements of General
Bonaparte as though he were the Messiah sent into the world to deliver
it from the evils of war! In short, he had a perfect success; and
at last, by means of an adroit trick, he managed to render it as
magnificent as possible. The queen told General Duroc of our German
customs, and informed him that this was the day on which the Germans
everywhere made presents to each other, and that gifts were laid under
Christmas-trees, adorned with burning tapers. At that moment Duroc
turned to the king, and said, with his intolerable French amiability:
‘Sire, if this is the day of universal presents in Germany, I believe
I will be courageous enough to-day to ask your majesty for a present in
the name of the first consul, General Bonaparte, if your majesty
will permit me to do so.’ The king, of course, gave him the desired
permission, and Duroc continued: ‘Sire, the present for which I am to
ask your majesty, in the name of the first consul, is a bust of your
great ancestor, Frederick the Second. The first consul recently examined
the statues in the Diana Gallery at the Tuileries; there were the
statues of Caesar and Brutus, of Coriolanus and Cicero, of Louis XIV.
and Charles V., but the first consul did not see the statue of Frederick
the Great, and he deems the collection of the heroes of ancient and
modern times incomplete as long as it does not embrace the name of
Frederick the Great. Sire, I take the liberty, therefore, to ask you,
in the name of France, for a bust of Frederick the Great!’” [Footnote:
Historical.]
“Very adroit, indeed,” said Marianne, smiling; “these republicans seem
to be excellent courtiers.”
“Yes, very adroit!” exclaimed Gentz; “the whole court was in ecstasy at
this tremendous flattery, at this compliment paid by the great republic
to little Prussia; but I could not stand it any longer in those halls,
and in the presence of these fawning Germans, and I hastened away in
order to unbosom to you my rage, my indignation, and my grief. Oh, my
fair friend, what is to become of Germany, and what will be the end of
all these troubles? Ruin is staring us in the face, and we do not see
it; we are rushing toward the precipice, and must fall a prey to France,
to this wolf in sheep’s clothing, which will caress and pet us until it
will be able to devour us!”
“I like to hear you talk in this strain,” said Marianne, joyfully. “That
is again the friend of my heart, who is now talking to me. Listen to me.
I have to communicate news to you, too, and you must not be surprised if
I reply to your important political intelligence by a reference to my
petty personal interests. But there is a connection between them, and
you will see it by and by. Listen, then, to the news concerning myself.”
“Yes, Marianne,” said Gentz, kneeling down before her, and leaning his
head upon her knees, “yes, tell me about yourself, my beautiful fairy
queen; lull my political pains a little by the magic song which is
flowing from your red lips like a fresh source of love. Oh, my charming
princess, now that I am looking up into your radiant face, I feel a
burning shame that I should have desecrated the delightful moments
I passed by your side by such trivial complaints about the misery of
German politics. What have we to do with politics? What do we care if
Germany is going to be ruined? Apres nous le deluge! Let us enjoy the
bliss of the fleeting hour!”
Marianne played smilingly with her slender fingers, covered with
sparkling diamond rings, in his hair, and looked upon him with a
wondrous air.
“Enthusiast!” she said; “now an ardent politician, then an impassioned
lover, and ready at all hours to exchange one role for the other! Will
you not listen to my news? My quarrel with my dear brother-in-law, Henry
XV., is ended; we have come to an agreement.”
“And I hope my sagacious and prudent Marianne has subdued her proud
and bold heart this time, and had a little regard for her advantage,”
replied Gentz. “A woman as beautiful and radiant as Marianne Meier needs
no empty aristocratic title, for your beauty makes you the queen of the
world; but you need wealth in order to add power to your beauty, and to
adorn it with a cloak glittering with gold and purple. Well, my queen,
are you again Marianne Meier and a millionaire besides?”
“What a fool!” she exclaimed, proudly, “what a fool you are to believe I
would crawl back into the Jews’ quarter and expose myself to the sneers
of my enviable friends! No, my friend, money and beauty are insufficient
for those who desire to play a role in the world; they stand in need of
rank and titles, too, for these are the magic words opening to us the
doors of royal palaces, and placing us on a par with the privileged and
inacessible. I, for one, want to play my role in the world; hence I must
have a distinguished title. It is true I also stand in need of wealth,
and by means of a skilful arrangement I have secured both. The mote in
my Jewish eye appearing to my aristocratic relatives like a very large
beam, I have yielded and renounced the title of a Princess von Reuss;
but, in spite of that, I remain a princess and retain the title of
highness. The prince, my brother-in-law, has given me a splendid estate
in fee-simple, the annual revenues of which amount to no less than
twenty thousand dollars; in return, however, I surrender to him the
family diamonds, this palace, the carriages with the coat-of-arms of the
Reuss family, the horses and liveries, and last, the name and title of a
Princess Dowager von Reuss.”
“And now, like all the fairies in the children’s books, you are a
wondrous child without name and rank, but showering with your snowy
hands golden suns and glittering stars upon mankind?”
“No, I am no nameless woman now, but I adopt the name of my estate of
Eibenberg, and from this day forward I shall be the Princess Marianne
of Eibenberg, the Emperor of Germany himself having recognized my new
title. The documents, signed by the emperor himself, are on the table
there. The prince brought them to me to-day as a Christmas-present. Now,
my friend, my real life is to commence; I have acquired wealth and a
distinguished name. The poor Jewess, the daughter of the Ghetto, has
moved into the palace of the aristocracy and become a princess.”
“And I will be the first to do you homage as though you were my princess
and queen!” exclaimed Gentz, “the first who will call himself your
vassal. Come, my princess, let me place the sweet yoke upon my neck; let
my forehead touch the ground on which you are walking; place your foot
upon my neck, so that I may feel the sweet burden of your rule.”
And bending down his head until his brow touched the floor, he placed
her tiny foot, encased in a beautiful silken shoe, upon his neck.
Marianne did not interfere with him, but looked down on him with a
proud, triumphant smile.
“You lie at my feet, Frederick Gentz,” she said, “nevertheless I will
lift you up to me; you shall stand by my side, my equal, famous and
great as you ought to be, owing to your genius! But a truce to tender
trifling, my friend; both of us have to accomplish great purposes, and
our thoughts and actions should be grave and stern. Come, rise from your
knees, my vassal; you shall be a prince by my side, and we will rule the
world together.”
She withdrew her foot from his neck, but Gentz seized it with both hands
and kissed it. He then quickly rose from his knees, and drew himself up
to his full height, looking at her sternly and almost angrily.
“You have often told me that you loved me,” he said, “but it was a
lie; you do not understand love, your heart is cold and your senses are
silent, only your pride speaks.”
“It is possible that you are right,” she replied, “but, in that case, I
love you with my pride and with my mind, and that is worth something, at
all events. I want to see you honored, famous, and influential; is not
that also love?”
“No, it is a mockery!” ejaculated Gentz, mournfully. “It is malice, for
you see I am a poor, despised man, without money, without fame, without
rank; a miserable military counsellor, outranked by every private
counsellor, and persecuted day by day by my creditors, as if they were
vultures following a poor dove whose wings have been clipped.”
“But your wings shall grow again, so that you may escape from the
vultures!” exclaimed Marianne, “and that you may soar, eagle-like, above
the miseries of the world, and exercise a commanding influence over it.
The time of dreams and expectations is over, the time for action has
come for all energetic and able minds. Two years ago I asked you, as I
do to-day, if you would not devote your services to Austria, and if you
would not seek for fame and happiness in that country, in which your
genius would be appreciated and rewarded. Do you remember what you
replied to me at that time?”
“Yes, I remember,” said Gentz, with a sarcastic smile; “I was foolish
enough to reject your offers, and to declare that I would stay here at
Berlin, and see if my native country would not need my abilities and
my services, and if our rulers here would not avail themselves of my
talents and of my pen. And thus I have lost, again, two years of my
life, and only my debts have increased, but not my fame.”
“Because you were an enthusiast, and expected to be appreciated in
Prussia; believing this good king (who would like to make his people
happy and prosperous, but who timidly shrinks back from all energetic
resolutions) would be very grateful to you for exhorting him to grant
freedom of the press to his subjects, and, in general, to introduce
liberty and equality in his states. Do you still believe that Frederick
William the Third will do so?”
“No, he will not,” replied Gentz, mournfully; “no, this king does not
understand the present age, and instead of being a step in advance of
it, he will always remain a step behind it, and thus involve Prussia in
untold misery and suffering. I have hoped and waited long enough; the
time of patience and idleness is now over, and I therefore renounce,
to-day, at the end of the eighteenth century, my native state, in order
to become a citizen and son of a larger fatherland. I cease to be a
Prussian, in order to become a German; and Prussia having no desire to
avail herself of my abilites, I am going to see whether or not Germany
has any use for them. My beautiful Marianne, you shall be the priestess
who receives the oath which I make on the altar of the fatherland: ‘I
swear to devote all my powers and talents to Germany; I swear to be a
faithful and untiring son to my great fatherland!’”
“I have heard your oath, Frederick Gentz, and I accept it in the name
of Germany,” said Marianne, solemnly. “You shall be the champion of
the honor and rights of Germany; your weapon, however, shall not be the
sword, but the pen.”
“But where will the lists be opened to my tournament?” asked Gentz,
musingly.
“In Austria,” replied Marianne, quickly; “the Emperor of Germany is
expecting you, the son of Germany; the Emperor of Germany is calling you
to serve and promote the interests of your fatherland. I am authorized
to tell you that. The new Austrian envoy, Count Stadion, has requested
me to do so; he has asked me to win you for Austria, that is, for
Germany. For, believe me, the welfare of Germany is nowadays consulted
in Austria, and not in Prussia!”
“No, not in Prussia!” exclaimed Gentz, mournfully. “Our government shuts
its eyes in order not to behold the terrors which are rushing toward
us with irresistible force, and will soon, like an avalanche, roll over
Germany and annihilate us all, unless we skilfully calculate the danger,
and raise sufficient bulwarks against it. They admire Bonaparte here,
and only behold a hero, while I scent a tyrant--a tyrant who wants to
subjugate us by his revolutionary liberty and his Jacobin’s cap, which
is but a crown in another shape. I hate Bonaparte, for I hate the
revolution which, notwithstanding its phrases of liberty and equality,
is but a bloody despotism that does not even grant freedom of opinion
to the citizen, and drags such ideas as are distasteful to it upon the
scaffold. I hate the revolution, I hate Bonaparte, and I hate every form
of tyranny, and shall oppose it as long as I live!”
“And I shall be a faithful squire by your side, and sharpen the bolts
which you are going to hurl at the enemy,” said Marianne, with fervent
enthusiasm. “We are both going to Vienna, in order to serve Germany.
In Vienna a new century and a new country will open their arms to us.
Thanks to my title, to my rank, and to my connections, every door
will be open to us there, and the Jewess, Marianne Meier, princess of
Eibenberg, will not even find the apartments of the emperor and empress
closed; on the contrary, their imperial majesties will receive me as
an honored and welcome guest, for I am a princess by the act of the
emperor, and the friend of the empress; Victoria de Poutet Colloredo is
also my friend. And whithersoever I go, you shall go, too, my friend,
and the doors that will open to me shall not be closed to you. My rank
opens them to me, and your genius opens them to you. Come, let us
be faithful allies; let us swear to support each other firmly and
immovably, and to walk together step by step.”
“Oh, my noble and generous friend,” exclaimed Gentz, sadly, “how
delicately you try to veil your protection! In such an alliance, I am
unable to offer you any compensation, for I should find all doors closed
if you should not open them to me. I have neither rank, money, nor
friends at court!”
“Well, let me protect you now, and at some later period you will protect
me,” said Marianne. “Let us swear to pursue our path together.”
“I swear it by all that is sacred to me!” exclaimed Gentz. “I swear that
I will remain faithful to you and to Germany for my whole life. I swear
that I will follow you everywhere; that I will serve you wherever and
whenever I can, and to love you to my last breath.”
“The alliance is closed,” said Marianne, solemnly, “Henceforth, we will
fight jointly, and pursue our goal together. It is our own greatness,
and the greatness of Germany. The country is in danger--let us see if we
cannot contribute something to its preservation, and if it does not need
our hands and our heads in order to weather the storm. If we should be
able, while assisting the country, to pick up a few laurels, titles,
decorations, and treasures for ourselves, we would be fools not to avail
ourselves of the opportunity.”
“Yes, you are right,” said Gentz, smiling, “we would be fools not to do
so; and you are right, too, as to the perils of the country. Germany is
in danger. The new century will dawn upon her with a bloody morning sun,
and it will arouse us from our sleep by a terrific cannonade. But as for
ourselves, we will not wait until the roar of the strife awakens us;
we will be up and doing now and work on the lightning-rod with which
we will meet the approaching thunderstorm, in order that its bolts may
glance off harmlessly and not destroy Germany. I will be an untiring
warrior in the great struggle against the revolution, and my pen, which
is my sword, shall never be idle in the strife. From this hour I cease
to be the insignificant Prussian counsellor, Frederick Gentz; from this
hour I will strive to become the great political writer of Germany. May
the genius of Germany be with me in my endeavors!”
“Amen!” said Marianne, fervently. “May the genius of Germany bless us
and the new century. Amen!”
THE PEACE OF LUNEVILLE