The political atmosphere constantly grew darker and more threatening.
Throngs of people had streamed from all the provinces to attend
Ottilie's funeral, all with the same sorrow, the same rancor; and,
after the obsequies were over, they assembled for consultations of the
most serious nature, and these consultations resulted in resolutions.
Unions were formed and dissolved, deputations sent and dismissed, the
press rose and was suppressed. The evidences of the advancing movement
became more and more decided, the measures of the government yet more
stringent.
Suddenly a shout rang through the whole country.
"Count Ottmar has formed an opposition in the ministry! Count Ottmar
has declared for the constitution!" The news ran like wildfire. Ottmar,
who had been so long hated as the enemy of all progress, the powerful
favorite of the prince, suddenly threw influence, position, and
authority into the wavering scale, and acknowledged before the world
the cause against which he had so long battled. No one took time to
question the motive of this sudden change; enough that it was so, it
was help in the hour of the utmost need; and new courage animated the
elastic minds of the people. Ottmar was now the centre of universal
attention; the last hope was bound up in him. This consciousness gave
him a dignity which pervaded his whole character. He was once more the
old Ottmar, who strode on haughtily erect, in triumph; but another and
a nobler triumph was now depicted in his sparkling eyes, his lofty
bearing; it was not the victory of subtle arts over the hearts of
feeble women, credulous princes, and less gifted diplomats; but the
conquest of a manly action upon minds, and the pride of an honest
purpose in lieu of treacherous fascinations.
He was animated with new life. The conflict between his principles and
his course of action, as well as that between his love and his career,
which Cornelia so greatly feared, had arisen; and although the first
impulse to his new deeds, as in the case of Albert's liberation, had
been merely the selfish desire to enter the path upon which he might
hope to find Cornelia, he again felt with great satisfaction the
blessing of his good action.
There is scarcely any soil more favorable for the efforts of man than
to represent a nation, be it in whatever form it may, none in which the
noblest and purest philanthropy can be better developed; but there is
also none from which personal vanity reaps a more abundant harvest.
Cornelia knew this, and therefore had sought to lead Ottmar into this
career. Vanity was the tie by which she endeavored to unite the egotist
to a great cause, until its own nature could enter into him and raise
him above himself. The moment had now arrived when her expectation
began to prove itself correct. _Heinrich_ found himself obtaining an
importance in the eyes of the whole country, which he had hitherto
possessed only within the narrow circle of the court; saw himself
beloved where he had formerly been hated; surrounded with shouts of
joy, instead of having men shrink from him in fear, and he would have
been unnatural if it had not both flattered him and stirred the silent
chords of benevolence within him. Thus the way was opened which he must
follow if his opposition in the ministry succumbed, and he sacrificed
the portfolio to his new confession of faith.
"Cornelia, wonderful woman, what have you made me?" he said to himself
a hundred times, while his breast heaved with a sigh of longing. He
pressed his hand upon his heart, which he felt more and more to be the
centre of gravity of his nature; where the head whose lofty ideas had
given him new life had so often rested and thought. "When shall I hide
you here again? When, after all these tumultuous conflicts, shall I
hold quiet, blissful intercourse with you? When will your sparkling
eyes rest lovingly upon me, and say, I am satisfied with you,
Heinrich'?"
Weeks elapsed, and the people still hoped, while Ottmar saw the
catastrophe he expected approach nearer and nearer,--for he knew the
situation of affairs too well to believe for a moment that his
opposition would effect anything more than to give him the confidence
he needed for his new career, and make his change of opinion easier. He
was not mistaken. From the moment he acknowledged his real views he was
excluded from all personal intercourse with the prince, and the
majority in the ministry was against him. The prince, calm and
immovable in his convictions, did not suspect that in Ottmar alone lay
the pledge of his security; his eyes, which were constantly gazing into
the obscurity of a long-buried past, did not perceive the feeling of
the nation which had assembled menacingly about the liberal minister.
But Ottmar felt this invisible power hovering around his brow with
whispers of promise, and knew that he was the real ruler of the moment;
for with him fell the last barrier that withheld the rising flood from
the steps of the throne, and with a proud smile he at last hailed his
overthrow in the ministry as the first real triumph of his life.
"May you never be compelled by force, your Highness, to acknowledge the
spirit you now deny!" were his last words, as he left the council of
ministers. He did not suspect how soon, for the first time, he was to
know and estimate at its full power the spirit that, with scornful
menace, he had held up as a ghost before the eyes of the prince.
On the evening of the same day the rumor that Ottmar had sent in his
resignation spread through the city, so that undoubtedly the question
of the constitution had been unfavorably decided. The streets were
deserted, but the public-houses were filled to overflowing;
conversations were carried on a low tone, and several arrests were
made.
The next morning the newspapers confirmed the report that Count
Ottmar's resignation had been sent in and accepted; and further
remarked that the government, spite of its eagerness to accede to all
just and reasonable demands, could not suffer itself to be borne on by
the extreme views of this man, etc.
This was too hard a blow for the newly-excited hopes of the nation.
Ottmar himself, by his previous conduct, had unconsciously increased
its expectations to such an extent that they could only be crushed by a
terrible rebuff, but not subside peacefully.
A nation which has long pleaded and had its most reasonable demands
rejected, its highest expectations disappointed, is a terrible power
when, with its last hope, its last fear is cast aside. Scarcely had the
news of Ottmar's withdrawal from the ministry spread abroad, when all
the machines stood still, all the looms stopped. A strange bustle began
to make itself heard in the streets. Workmen ran busily to and fro,
groups formed and separated. Crowds of men, engaged in earnest
conversation, surged up and down. Towards evening the strange
mysterious rabble, the vermin which always crawl forth when the soil of
popular order is disturbed, began to mingle with the throng. The
questions and interference of the police were answered with contempt or
a slap in the face. At last, with the gathering darkness, the aimless
tumult assumed purpose and direction; Ottmar's house was the point
towards which the pulsing life of the whole City streamed. A cheer was
raised for the discharged minister, the fallen representative of the
people. A few hasty charges from the patrol dispersed the scarcely
organized, defenceless crowd; but the result was that the following day
it assembled again, and the scene was repeated; this time with a cheer
for Ottmar and a hiss for the government. The advancing soldiers found
a part of the crowd armed, and a struggle ensued. When the first
wounded man fell a furious yell burst forth, and the resistance became
desperate, until a second detachment of mounted gendarmes dashed upon
the combatants with drawn sabres and forced them asunder.
The first blow dealt upon such occasions opens the artery of a whole
nation, and the wild blood streams forth until strength is utterly
exhausted, and the arm yields feebly to the bandage which often only
conceals a new fetter.
On the third day the City looked as if some public festival were being
celebrated. An inexplicable concourse of strangers thronged the
streets; the trains arrived crowded with the inhabitants of the
provinces; new bands constantly flocked to the City; the soldiers were
consigned to the barracks, the places of business closed.
Still the demon of insurrection, imprisoned in every throbbing heart,
waited until the scattered masses obtained a definite form, and
then burst forth with all his long-repressed power; one mind in a
many-limbed, gigantic body. Roaring and shouting he rushed forward with
the wings of the storm, ever swelling and increasing, destroying all
peaceful life as he dashed along. The breezes fled before and around
him, the earth shook and whirled its stones upward to the glittering
palaces; while shattering and crashing, groaning and roaring, was the
accompanying harmony to the terrible, howling, and shouting song of
fury of the unchained revolution.
Pale terror stared hollow-eyed at the passing desolation, while the
Nemesis of the insulted law dashed after on snorting steeds. But the
ghost of fratricide rested with paralyzing power upon the pursuers, and
unreached, unchecked, a part of the mighty crowd rushed on to the
arsenal. The guard stationed for its defense fell at the first
tremendous assault; the huge doors yielded, and with an exultant roar
of "Arms!" the combatants rushed in over the treasured emblems of
battle-traditions centuries old, to prepare for the most important
conflict--the victory of the new over the old time.
Vengeance hastened after with lightning and thunder; and the infuriated
forces, crashing and shrieking, rushed upon each other and struggled in
the most terrible of all conflicts--the narrow, crowded battle of the
streets. Repeated volleys of artillery and new bands of soldiers at
last forced a way through the throng before the arsenal was plundered.
But, as a wave which the tempest lashes asunder always rushes together
with redoubled violence, the crowd divided and grew denser here and
there before the regular weapons of the troops. Hotter and more deadly
grew the struggle. Darkness was gradually added to the thick smoke of
the powder, which enveloped the noisy city and absorbed every ray of
light. Barricades, those terrible fortifications of the populace,
had risen, and around them the conflict raged, so that the walls
of the houses groaned and trembled, and with the last gleam of day the
last appearance of definite purpose vanished, darkness shrouded the
heated brains, and both within and without all outline of form
and plan vanished. Murder was no longer committed for the sake
of a certain object, but became the object itself. Nature asserted
her rights, not in a peaceful, normal manner, but with horrible
degeneracy,--stupefaction in the place of sleep, the delirium of fury
instead of dreams. The animal developed itself in forms of hideous
distortion, and the most dangerous madness took possession of the soul:
joy in cruelty, pleasure in destruction. Hour after hour elapsed in a
wild tumult of excesses and crimes; anarchy writhed and twisted
horribly beneath the superior force of fresh bodies of troops, clung
giddily to her bulwarks, and defended them with convulsive energy as
her last support. The struggle now became monotonous. Signals, volleys
of artillery, and fierce howls, like those of wild beasts, alternated
at regular intervals, while above them rose the notes of the
alarm-bells, and only the crash of falling barricades, the glare of
burning houses, interrupted the terrible rhythm with which the yielding
revolution was uttering its last sighs. Limb after limb began to die,
street after street became quiet.
At last, towards morning, the over-taxed strength was exhausted, the
thirst for blood slaked. Death was gleaning in the houses where battle
had cast its mangled victims, and trembling hands were busied in
binding up wounds, while compassion and horror struggled for the
mastery. The last shot died away, the insurrection was quelled. Silence
spread over the scene the lassitude of death. Slowly the ever-patient
heavens flushed with the rosy hues of dawn, and the still reeking city
lay purple in its blood.
Ottmar stood at the window gazing silently, now at the glowing sky and
now at the blood-stained earth. Horror had stupefied him. In the angles
of the streets soldiers, who had fallen asleep while standing in the
ranks, leaned against each other, shoulder to shoulder. Now and then a
body covered with straw was borne past; pallid women stepped
noiselessly over the barricades, urged on by the courage of despair,
and crept along the streets to seek their husbands and sons; invisible
angels of death floated through the air, guided them into the right
path, and hovered around them when, in some lifeless body, they were
forced to recognize a relative.
_Heinrich_ gazed motionless at these changing scenes of misery; but his
inmost heart was strangely stirred. The spirit of murdered freedom
celebrated in him its resurrection, built a temple in his soul, raised
its arches heavenward, and led him away from this sorrowful scene of
his former unhallowed labors to his own home, where the lists stood
open to the missionaries of national happiness, where he could obey the
call which had appealed to his conscience in the death-cry of an
ill-used country. All the frivolity and brilliancy that had formerly
charmed him was swallowed up in the streams of blood he had seen
flow,--all striving and struggling to assert his own merits vanished in
the newly-awakened consciousness of the duties devolving upon every
talented man for the development and culture of the masses. The
solemnity of the moment had seized upon him and stripped off all that
was false and superficial. He could not answer with sophisms the great
question propounded by the times; he must at last be himself again,
must acknowledge the truth, and from amidst all the horrors of
vengeance, the rushing streams of blood, once more arose in its pure
beauty the thought of the eternal rights of man he had so grievously
profaned.