THE HIGHER MATHEMATICS
The counting-house of the firm of Kaulmann stands in the same place
where it stood fifty years ago. The entrance is as it was, and the
very panes of glass are identical with those through which the founder
of the house, in 1811, was wont to make his observations--as from an
observatory--upon the countenances of the passers-by, when a rise or
fall in the funds was expected. He knew what an excellent barometer
the faces of a crowd make, and how much can be gleaned by observation;
so too a chance word, which is let fall as it were by accident, often
contains the germ of much truth, and is, to an experienced man, in a
measure prophetic.
The young head of the house did not set much store by the
counting-house business. He had higher aims. He lived on the first
floor in luxurious bachelor chambers; his sitting-room was a museum,
and his writing-table was crowded with bronzes and antiques; his
inkstand was a masterpiece of Benvenuto Cellini's--or, perhaps, a
good imitation in galvanized plaster; his pen was gold, with a
diamond top; he used gold sand for blotting-paper; the sand-sifter
was made of porphyry, the pen-holder was a branch of real coral, the
paper-weight a mosaic from Pompeii, the candle-shades of real
crystal, the cover of the blotting-book Japanese. Every article had
a value of its own, from the Turkish paper knife to the paper
itself, which was of all sorts and descriptions, from the thickest
vellum to the most delicate straw note, perfumed with mignonette and
musk. In spite of these elaborate arrangements, no one had ever been
known to write at this so-called writing-table. The science
cultivated by Felix Kaulmann did not require the use of pen and ink;
it was purely mental work. Felix worked night and day; during his
sleep, even, he worked, but no trace of his labor was to be found on
paper. When he amused himself--dancing, riding, making love--he
seemed altogether occupied with the subject on hand; he worked,
nevertheless, all the time. He had a certain goal at which he was
aiming; for this he lived, for this he strove, and this alone
aroused his interest and his enthusiasm; he never forgot for one
moment the aim of his life. He had something more to do than to make
a pen travel over paper; he had to move men.
One day, not long after the events in the Castle of Bondavara, the
Abbé Samuel was seated in Felix Kaulmann's room. Both were engaged in
serious conversation. Before them an elegant equipage of fragrant
Mocha, whose fumes mingled with that of the Latakia, which our friend
the abbé smoked from a genuine Turkish pipe. Felix only smoked cigars.
"Well, here is your agreement with the countess. As you wished for
thirty-two years, it is regularly drawn up. And now I should like to
know of what use it can possibly be to either you or your company. It
is not enough for the countess to sign it; it wants the signature of
the prince to make the contract advantageous to you, for the countess
has only a life-interest in the Bondavara property. As soon as she
dies it goes to the prince, or to his grandson, and then your
agreement is null."
"I know that," returned Felix, knocking the ash from his cigar; "and
for this reason we must take care and keep the old girl alive. Let her
have a good time, and she will live to a great age. It is very hard to
kill an old maid, especially if she has lots of money. Besides, I am
not so careless as you suppose. I have looked into the matter; I have
seen the will of the old prince, and I know all its provisions. There
is a clause that makes me pretty safe. When Countess Theudelinde goes
off the reel, her brother, the present man, or his heirs, are obliged
to compensate all those, either tenants, householders, or creditors,
who may have erected any buildings on the estate. You see, the old
prince considered that it would be more than probable that his crazy
daughter might, in a fit of holy enthusiasm, build either a church or
a convent, and he thought he would give the heirs the advantage of her
generosity. It never entered into his head that any one would erect a
factory, a refinery, or open a mine. Now you see how useful this
clause is to me, the heirs will not be in a position to refund us the
two millions of money we are putting on the property."
"Unless they find another company to advance them the money."
"That would not be so easy. First of all, it would have to go into the
very intricate affairs of the Bondavara family; then it would require
immense capital, great energy, and a certain amount of risk. For the
rest, I can see as far as my neighbors. I don't sit with my hands in
my lap, I can tell you, and I have not put all my money on one card."
"Right! By-the-way, what has become of the little wild kitten you
brought away from the Bondavara mine?"
"I have placed her for the present in Madame Risan's school; she is
being educated, for she has extraordinary capabilities, although in a
general way she is a stupid creature. She has a splendid voice, but
she cannot sing, as singing is nowadays; she has a wonderfully
expressive face, but does not know how to make use of it; she is full
of feeling, and speaks no language but her mother-tongue."
"Do you mean to educate her for the stage?"
"Certainly."
"And then?"
"I intend to marry her."
The abbé raised his eyebrows in some astonishment.
"I should hardly have thought," he said, coldly, "that a pupil of
Madame Risan's would be likely to make a satisfactory wife, although
she might be an excellent actress."
Felix looked haughtily at his visitor, then shrugged his shoulders, as
who would say the abbé's opinion on this point was indifferent to him.
For a few minutes the men smoked in silence; then, with a sudden
clearing of his face, Kaulmann said, in his blandest manner:
"I want to ask you a question. You know the ins and outs of the
marriage laws. Is there any means by which a marriage can be set aside
without having recourse to the divorce court? That is always attended
with great expense and a good deal of scandal; and if the other side
should be obstinate and malicious, it can drag for an interminable
time."
"I know of only one other method. We will suppose that you are already
married according to the rules of the Church in this country. You
wish, for some reason, for a dissolution of this marriage. Well, you
have only to go to Paris, and take up your residence in the
banking-house your firm has there. Your father was a French subject,
so are you. According to the French law, no marriage is valid that is
not solemnized before the civil authorities; therefore, the remedy
would be in your hands. A short time ago the process was tried by the
French court. A certain count had married in Spain; the eldest son of
this marriage sought to recover his birthright, which had been
forfeited in consequence of his father's having neglected to be
remarried before the registrar in France. The court, however,
pronounced the Spanish marriage invalid, and yours would be a similar
case."
Felix got up from his seat. "I thank you," he said, "more than I can
say. If the recollection of our youthful friendship didn't remind me
that our compact was always to _love_ one another, I should certainly
feel that I owed you a heavy debt."
"For what?" returned the abbé, lifting his eyes in some surprise. "It
is well for you to remind me of our young days. Was I not then the
debtor of your father? What did he not do for me? He found me a
miserable, overworked, ill-paid student; he made me your tutor, and so
opened for me the road to better things. Oh, I never forget! But let
us not talk any more of the past."
"No, for the future is before us, and we shall work together. Now, I
must ask you, as the countess's representative, to sign the necessary
papers. There is the contract, and here is the check for the first
half-year's rent, and here is another check for the sum of forty
thousand gulden on my cashier."
"To whom payable?"
Felix answered by pressing the check into the abbé's hand, while he
whispered in his ear:
"To the friendly representative."
The other shook his head, with a wounded look on his face. "You mean
to offer _me_ a present?" he said, haughtily.
"You do not understand," returned Felix. "This money does not come
from me; it forms part of the expenses of the company, and in all such
undertakings figures under the head of 'necessary expenses.'"
As he spoke, Felix lit another cigar, and looked slyly at his
companion, as who should say, "You see what a capital fellow I am!"
Round the abbé Samuel's mouth a contemptuous smile flickered as he
tore the check for forty thousand gulden into four pieces; then he
laid his hand upon the banker's shoulder.
"My dear boy," he said, "I had the whole Bondavara property in the
hollow of my hand; it was mine to do as I chose with it. I did with it
as I do with these pieces of paper." He threw the torn check into the
grate. "Know me, once for all. I am no begging monk. I am a candidate
for high honors; nothing will content me but to be ruler of a
kingdom."
The haughty air with which the abbé said these words impressed the
banker so much that he laid down his cigar and stared vacantly at his
visitor.
"That is a great word," he said, slowly.
"Sit down and listen to what I shall disclose to you," returned the
priest, who, with his hands behind his back, now began to walk up and
down the room, pausing from time to time before his astonished
listener, to whom he poured out a torrent of words.
"The whole world is in labor," he said, "and brings forth nothing but
mice. And wherefore? Because the lions will not come into the world.
Chaos rules everywhere--in finance, in diplomacy, in the Church. One
man who would have intellect enough to see clearly could be master of
the situation. But where is he to be found? Fools in embroidered coats
are the leaders; therefore we see a country governed by incapables,
who do not know even where to begin. They would fain force it to
submit, but are afraid to use the necessary means. They oppress it,
and at the same time live in dread of what it may do. And this same
country does not itself know what to-morrow may bring, whether it
shall submit, pay the demands of its oppressors, or appeal to arms
against their tyranny; neither does it know who is its foe, who is its
friend, with whom to ally itself, against whom to fight; whether it
will go on submitting, whether it shall break out into curses or wild
laughter at its own follies. The country still possesses one element,
which stands, as it were, neutral between the two parties; this
element is the clerical; the Church is a power in Hungary."
Felix's face grew darker; he could not imagine what all this would
lead to. But the abbé had now paused, and was standing before him.
"What do you think, my son," he said, "would be the reward due to the
man who could find a way out of this mass of confusion--who could
unite the classes, and bring them into conformity with the wishes of
the government? Do you not think that there is nothing which would
better further your Bondavara speculation than a submissive deputation
of priests and people, who would give a promise of fidelity to the
minister? One hand washes the other; he who brings about such an
unlooked-for condition of affairs must be recompensed. Now do you
understand what use this would be to you?"
"I think I begin to see."
"And what office do you think should be offered to the man who brings
the peasant's frock into subjection and elevates the mitre?"
Felix clasped his hands together. That was his answer. The clergyman
resumed his walk up and down the room; his lips were compressed, his
head in the air.
"The primate is an old man," he said, suddenly.
Felix leaned back in his chair. He could see better in this position
the various expressions which passed over the abbé's face. He started
when the abbé murmured, almost under his breath:
"The pope is still older."
There was a moment's silence, and then the abbé continued, speaking
fast and with excitement:
"Dwarfs are at the rudder, my son; dwarfs who believe that their
impotent efforts will stem the storm. The Church is in danger of going
to pieces, and they make use of the old worn-out means of support.
Listen to my words. All the efforts of Rome are fruitless; it tries to
maintain its dignity with Peter's pence, and has allowed millions to
slip through its fingers. Only here in Hungary has the Church any
property left. I know well that in the minister's drawer there is a
paper prepared which only needs the signature of the state to become
law; it only requires a slight pretext, and Vienna will declare war
against the clerical power in Hungary. She will fight it upon the
liberal principle, and those who oppose will be the unpopular, the
losing side. It is only a question of time. The deficit grows daily,
the government is in a hole, the treasury is empty, there is no loan
possible. Hence a fight over the budget, or a trifling war somewhere.
You know the proverb, 'When the devil is hungry he eats flies.' The
clerical property in Hungary is the fly, and Austria will make one
bite at it. The chair of St. Peter and the Church property in Hungary
are both in danger. How is the danger to be averted? Let us put our
shoulders to the wheel; let us be more patriotic than the democrats,
more loyal than the prime-minister, more liberal than revolutionists;
let us save the Church property from the government, and the Church
itself from the revolution. Let us throw into the market a gigantic
loan of a hundred millions upon the property of the Hungarian Church
for the rescue of the throne of St. Peter. What do you now think of
the man who could do this thing? What should be his reward?"
"Everything," stammered Felix, his mind confused over this
bewildering, yet fascinating, programme.
"To this great work I have destined you," said the abbé, with a
solemn, majestic air. "Your Bondavara speculation is necessary, for
with it you can make a _coup_ which shall bring you a world-wide
reputation, your name shall be on a par with that of the Strousbergs,
the Pereiras, with that of Rothschild itself. This is the reason why I
have given you my support. When you are firmly established, then I
shall say to you, 'Lend me your shoulder,' upon which I shall climb
where I will."
After this Felix sank into a waking dream. Before his eyes gleamed the
gigantic loan, and through a mist he saw the tall form of the abbé
with a crown upon his head.