VIENNA.
A number of carriages rolled rapidly along the Ballhofsplatz behind the
royal castle of Hofburg in Vienna, and drew up one after another before
the brilliantly lighted portal of the Office of State. Fashionable
equipages, with servants in various liveries, arrived; the porter, in
his light blue coat embroidered with gold and with his long staff,
hurried to receive the ladies who alighted in rich evening dress, well
wrapped up in their warm mantles and hoods; they hastened through the
large doorway, mounted the broad staircase to the right and entered
the upper apartments of the splendid palace in which Kaunitz and
Metternich had striven to prove the words true, _Austria est imperatura
orbi universo_. It was now occupied by Lieutenant Field Marshal
Mensdorff-Pouilly, minister of the empire and of foreign affairs.
Amongst the carriages there were a number of _fesche_ (cabs); they are
always used by the gentlemen of Vienna to go about in, in the town,
however extensive their own stables, and the porter received them with
the same alacrity that he bestowed on the occupants of the more
fashionable carriages.
A young officer got out of one of these cabs dressed in the brilliant
variegated Uhlan uniform of green and scarlet glittering with gold. He
threw off his large white cloak, left it in the carriage, and desired
the coachman to wait for him near the Burgplatz.
He gave a last look at his faultless costume, drew his small black
moustache through his fingers, and then mounted the stairs happy and
confident of success, as a young Uhlan officer always is, whether on
the parquet or on horseback, and which this especial young officer had
every reason to expect.
Lieutenant von Stielow, a native of Mecklenburg, had, like many of his
northern compatriots, entered the Austrian service several years
before; about a twelvemonth ago an uncle had died childless, and he had
inherited from him such a considerable fortune, that his yearly income
had excited astonishment even amongst the Austrian nobility, who are
accustomed to enormous revenues; and the extremely handsome and amiable
young man, who had formerly been treated with cold politeness, was now
welcomed by the highest nobility of Vienna as an intimate friend,
especially in those houses where there were daughters of an age to
marry.
It was, then, only natural that the young man before whom life was
opening so brilliantly should be full of joyful confidence as he
mounted the steps of the Office of State. This was on one of the
exclusive evenings, when the Countess Mensdorff, in contradistinction
to her large official receptions, entertained her own especial friends.
These evenings, though of a strictly private nature, were much
frequented by the political world; here it was hoped a corner of the
veil might be raised, in which each diplomatic camp had shrouded its
activity, trusting the world might believe nothing was taking place
which could disturb its happy relations with its neighbours.
Footmen, in the faultlessly elegant Mensdorff livery, opened the doors
leading to the smaller rooms inhabited by the countess, and Lieutenant
von Stielow entered a salon filled with ladies in fresh and varied
toilettes and gentlemen in brilliant uniforms, or in the black civilian
evening dress.
In a smaller room, opening out of the larger apartment, and filled with
the thousand comfortable trifles found in the everyday drawing-room of
a lady of rank, the minister's wife, by birth a Princess Dietrichstein,
sat on a low divan. Her appearance was highly aristocratic, and she
received her guests with the naturally graceful and friendly manner
peculiar to distinguished society in Vienna.
Beside the Countess Mensdorff sat a full, luxuriant form in black, but
the brilliancy of the wearer's priceless jewellery excluded all idea of
mourning.
This lady's pale face, set off by masses of black hair, was of unusual
beauty, though deeply melancholy; her large black eyes, full of fire
and expression, shone with no earthly happiness; their enthusiastic,
thoughtful look recalled rather the old portraits of the high-born
abbesses of some religious order.
She was the Princess Obrenowitsch, wedded to Prince Michael of Servia,
but being separated from her husband, she lived in Vienna with her
young son. This beautiful lady, by birth a Countess Huniady, was
received with open arms by the highest society in Vienna,
notwithstanding her separation from her husband, who took every
opportunity of expressing his great esteem for her; but though she
inherited the warm Hungarian blood, and possessed genius and health,
she led, without entirely renouncing the world, a life of great
seclusion, and devoted all her talents and care to the education of her
young son, the heir of the princely house of Servia. It was always an
event when the beautiful, proud, and pious princess quitted her
seclusion and appeared in one of the salons of Vienna.
Before these ladies stood a somewhat short gentleman, of about sixty
years of age. He wore the close-fitting grey uniform of a lieutenant
field marshal, and was decorated with the Maria Theresa Cross, the
Order of Leopold, and the Maltese Cross. His full red face, set on an
unusually short neck, which looked the more remarkable from his
closely-buttoned uniform, had an expression of inexhaustible fun and
mirth; his dark eyes sparkled with life and good-natured satire; both
his short moustache and thick hair were white as snow, the latter shorn
so closely that the red tint showed through the bristly locks, and
caused society in Vienna to maintain that Field Marshal Reischach's
head looked like a very well-sugared strawberry.
Baron Reischach, one of the bravest officers in the Austrian army, was
now incapable of active service from the many wounds he had received
over his whole body; though they often caused him acute suffering, he
was regarded in Vienna as a most cheerful member of society, to whom it
seemed almost possible to be in two places at once, so completely did
he see all that was to be seen, and know all that was to be known; his
amusing stories and witty observations always banished ennui from every
reunion where he appeared.
During a round of afternoon visits Baron Reischach was sure to be met
with more than once, for he never neglected the old ladies of his
acquaintance, and frequently called on them to inquire after their
health, relate all the news of the day, and to show them all sorts of
small attentions. In the evening he was to be found at the Burg
Theatre, and between the acts he was always to be seen in the boxes of
the older ladies, yet he managed to find time to slip behind the scenes
and to compliment the _prime donne_ on their toilettes or their acting.
After the theatre he was always in some salon, now hurrying through
some large "at home," bandying a _bon-mot_ here, relating a witty
anecdote there, then for a quarter of an hour he might be found at the
tea-table of some small circle, shaking from his inexhaustible
cornucopia the most amusing stories. Later still, he was to be found in
a corner of the dining-room of the Stadt Frankfurt Hotel, beside a
glass of old Hungarian wine, the life and soul of some merry supper,
the body consisting of Counts Wallis, Fuchs, and Wrbna.
Such was Lieutenant Field Marshal Reischach, who now stood before the
ladies, holding his green plumed hat in his hand which rested on his
sword.
He was telling them something very amusing, for Countess Mensdorff
laughed aloud, and a smile passed over even the grave face of the
Servian princess.
"Now you must tell us, Baron Reischach," said the Countess Mensdorff,
"everything you saw last night at the theatre--not how Wolter acted, we
know in your eyes she is always superb, incomparable; but tell us what
you observed in the house and the boxes. I am sure a great deal went
on, or did not go on, that you can relate. You see you have made the
princess smile already, make her laugh outright."
The baron replied, with a slight bow to the Princess Obrenowitsch: "I
dare hardly hope the princess will listen much longer to an old
worldling like myself, especially as _nothing_ happened. Our young
Mecklenburg Uhlan passed some time in the Countess Frankenstein's box,
talking with great animation to Countess Clara, and thereby enraging
one of our friends. I need not tell her name, I saw----"
Here his confidences were interrupted by the arrival of their subject,
the young Uhlan officer, von Stielow, who advanced to pay his respects
to Countess Mensdorff.
She laughed. "We were speaking of you, Baron Stielow; it was easy to
see, this evening, at the theatre, it was not Wolter who engrossed your
attention, which Herr von Reischach regards as a great mistake."
The young officer coloured slightly, saluted the field marshal, and
said: "His excellency is a sharp observer. I was only a very short time
at the Burg Theatre, and I visited some friends in their boxes."
The repartee Herr von Reischach was about to make, was prevented by the
arrival of a tall gentleman in a general's uniform, accompanied by a
slender, graceful lady, and as they came up to speak to the countess,
Herr von Stielow seized the opportunity of escaping further discussion.
It was Count Clam Gallas, with his wife, Countess Mensdorff's younger
sister. The count's tall form had not the perfect ease in uniform
possessed by the great Austrian nobles, his features were completely of
the Hapsburg type, and he was decorated with the Golden Fleece; he
offered his hand to his sister-in-law with simple cordiality; whilst
his wife, whose figure was unusually elegant, and her beauty
extraordinarily preserved, though she was no longer young, sank into an
arm-chair beside Princess Obrenowitsch.
"Where is Mensdorff?" asked Count Clam Gallas, "I do not see him; he is
surely not ill again?"
"He was sent for by the emperor," replied the countess; "and, though he
has come back, he has something to despatch. I have had to offer his
excuses; but we shall not have to wait for him much longer."
"I have heard wonders of your fete in Prague, countess," said the
baron, turning to the Countess Clam Gallas, "they cannot praise it
enough; Countess Waldstein, whom I met to-day, at Princess Lori
Schwarzenberg's, has been quite enchanted."
"Yes, it was quite a success," said the countess, "and gave us all much
pleasure. We had the idea," she continued, turning to Princess
Obrenowitsch, "of performing Wallenstein's 'Camp in Prague;' of course,
it has been so often performed before, there is nothing remarkable
about that. The extraordinary thing was that the actors in this play,
in which Schiller brings Wallenstein's army so wonderfully before us,
were really direct descendants of the great leaders in the Thirty
Years' War. This gave an unusual meaning, and an unusual spirit to the
representation. I assure you we were all inspired by a breath from the
past, both performers and audience felt the same vivid emotion. The
ancient mighty spirit of Austria seemed to rise up before us, clashing
its arms, and a blast from the Swedish horns would have made the whole
company cry 'To horse!' and have sent them to ride forth like their
ancestors."
"Yes," said Count Clam Gallas, "it made a wonderful impression on all
of us--we all felt that the time will come, if it be God's will, when
the Austrian sword must again be drawn, and our emperor restored to his
old position. It looks to me as if the times were stormy, and we should
soon ride forth."
There was a moment's pause. Herr von Reischach looked grave and was
silent; when foreign policy and warlike action were spoken of, it
grieved his true old soldier's heart, that he, with his hacked and
shattered limbs, could no longer take a part.
Countess Mensdorff, whose fine tact always prevented political
discussions in her drawing-room, broke the short silence by observing
to von Reischach with a smile:
"It is a pity you were not there, Baron Reischach, you would have
performed the Capuchin excellently, and preached the moral to the
wicked world."
"Certainly," said he, and added in a tone of comic pathos: "_Contenti
estote_, be satisfied with your ammunition bread."
"Yes, but if a _pate de foie gras_ came first, and a bottle of old
Hungarian wine," laughed the count, "he would leave the ammunition
bread alone."
"_Nullum vinum_," cried Herr von Reischach, stretching out his hand,
and shaking his head, "_nisi Hungaricum!_" he added in a lower tone,
bowing to the Princess Obrenowitsch, who thanked him by a slight smile
for the compliment paid her in her native tongue.
Other guests arrived, the circle of ladies increased, and Count Clam
Gallas and Baron Reischach withdrew, still conversing, into the outer
salon.
Here groups of ladies and gentlemen were talking with much animation;
the younger people busy about their own affairs, the elder ladies
watching the proceedings of their daughters, and the gentlemen casting
searching glances at the different members of the _corps diplomatique_,
who now exchanged a hasty word, now lingered in earnest conversation.
In the middle of the room, beneath the brilliant chandelier, stood the
French ambassador, the Duke de Gramont, a tall man, with a faultless
figure and military bearing, with the white star of the Legion of
Honour upon his black coat, and the broad red ribbon across his breast.
Short black whiskers framed his long, well-chiselled face, of the type
of the old French aristocracy, combining amiable friendliness with
dignified reserve. His small, beautifully-shaped mouth was slightly
shaded by a moustache, the points of which were turned upwards; his
brow was high and broad, but gently rounded rather than boldly arched;
in his dark eyes shone the careless indifference which is always the
heritage of the old French _noblesse_, and which in so many phases of
their history has caused them to treat the gravest and most important
subjects with a lightness and frivolity difficult to understand. The
arrangement of his abundant dark hair gave him a still greater
resemblance to one of those old grand seigneurs who, in the palmy days
of the monarchy, surrounded by pomp and stiff park alleys, led their
careless, graceful lives so easily.
The duke was standing for a moment alone, examining those around, when
he was joined by a gentleman of middle age, who, far from possessing
the French ambassador's careless and distinguished repose, was chiefly
remarkable for the rapid changes of expression seen on his thin,
strongly-marked face. He wore whiskers, and his light hair was cut and
arranged in the way peculiar to the North German soldier. He was
shorter than the duke, his movements were animated, his dress of
faultless simplicity, and across his breast he wore the white and
orange ribbon of the Prussian order of the Red Eagle.
Herr von Werther, the Prussian ambassador, greeted the duke with much
courtesy, but not with the cordiality which expresses personal
friendship.
"At last, duke," said Herr von Werther, in French, "I am able to wish
you good evening. How is the duchess? I do not see her."
"She has a bad cold," replied the ambassador. "And Madame von Werther,
she, too, has to remain in the house from this influenza?"
"She is very unwell, and I should not have come out myself," said Herr
von Werther, with a smile, "if it were not our duty to collect news."
"And have you succeeded?" asked the duke.
"Not yet. Count Mensdorff is still with the emperor, the countess tells
me; and I have heard nothing, except a few _cancans_ from the guests.
But," he added gravely, and in a lower voice, "the air seems to me full
of important events. You are well aware that the general feeling grows
stronger and stronger."
"I regret that it is so," said the Duke de Gramont; "for such sharp
opposition of conflicting views and claims can only lead to war.
Personally, this appears to me very undesirable."
"You know," replied Herr von Werther, "that we certainly do not wish
for war; but can we avoid it, without sacrificing our dignity and our
position? What would you advise?"
"We are completely out of the contention, we can only observe what
takes place," said the duke, in a tone of reserve; "and we can only
wish well to both sides: it would not become us to give advice, unless,
indeed, we were asked to mediate. Do you not see," he added, with a
forced smile, "that we are observed? We are rather isolated just here,
and our harmless conversation may give rise----"
"You are quite right," interrupted Herr von Werther; "let us avoid
these inquisitive eyes."
With a slight bow to the duke, and whispering to himself, "He knows
nothing," he turned to a tall, strongly-built old gentleman, with a
bald forehead, sharp features, and bright brown eyes, who stood a few
paces off, dressed in the uniform of a Hanoverian general.
"Good evening, General Knesebeck," he said, whilst the general politely
returned his greeting; "what news do you hear from Hanover?"
"None at all for some time past," replied the general slowly, with some
reserve. "My brother lives quietly in the country; he writes to me but
seldom, and troubles himself very little about events in Hanover."
"I rejoice," continued Herr von Werther, "that Count Platen has been to
Berlin, as I hear the visit was of a most friendly nature. God grant
that this may continue, and that all the little misunderstandings may
vanish which have arisen between Prussia and Hanover, two states who
really heartily esteem each other, as history and the traditions of the
Seven Years' War amply prove."
"From my heart I regret the misunderstandings which have arisen on both
sides," replied General von Knesebeck. "We in Hanover ardently wish to
live in peace with our neighbours; but, before all things, we must
labour to maintain the integrity of all the German states. Our safety,
both from within and from without, depends on the friendship of the two
great German powers, and on the united strength of the German
confederation. God preserve them!"
A further remark from Herr von Werther was prevented by the approach of
the English ambassador, Lord Bloomfield. He had the regular features
and characteristic countenance of the English aristocracy, with a
healthy complexion and a fresh, genial expression. He was decorated
with the ribbon of the Scotch order of the Thistle; and after he joined
in the conversation, it turned to the every-day events of society in
Vienna.
Thus the soiree in Countess Mensdorff's salons ran its course with its
usual smoothness, for the elegant and smiling guests betrayed none of
the restless anxiety which possessed the minds of many of those
present. On the other side of the Office of State in the meantime, in
the large ante-room of the minister's cabinet, with its furniture of
blue silk and blue window hangings, sat two men in great arm-chairs, by
the large round table near the wall. A small fire flickered in the
large fireplace in the corner, and an enormous lamp with its globe of
ground glass stood on the table, leaving a large part of the spacious
room in half darkness, but lighting up the two men who were close
to it very distinctly, whilst it shed a faint reflected light on the
life-size portrait of the Emperor Francis Joseph, which in a
magnificent gold frame filled up the middle of the wall, and
represented the emperor in the full uniform of a general, with the
youthful beauty of the early age when he ascended the throne.
One of these men sat carelessly leaning back in his arm-chair. He was
apparently half-way between fifty and sixty. His face bore the impress
of considerable talent, with a certain mixture of catholic enthusiasm
and repression, sometimes seen in old portraits of cardinals and
prelates. An apparent love of ease, small soft white hands, a
comfortable and elegant dress, completed the resemblance to the
portraits of the spiritual lords of the Italian school.
Such was the privy councillor and under secretary of state, Baron von
Meysenbug, and beside him sat the ministerial councillor von
Biegeleben, a tall, stiff, dry pedantic looking person, with a very
bilious complexion and bureaucratic manner. He looked half-way between
a professor and the manager of a counting-house, as he sat upright on
his chair with his hat in his hand.
"The count is long in coming," cried Herr von Meysenbug impatiently, as
he tapped with his slender fingers on the dark table-cover. "I am very
anxious--I fear, I fear he may yet play us a trick and persuade the
emperor to yield!"
"I cannot think it," observed Herr von Biegeleben in a slow, quiet
voice; "his majesty is too much penetrated with the idea of the former
position of Hapsburg in Germany to dream of falling in with the desires
of Berlin. In Frankfort he saw the glorious recollections of the empire
live again, and he felt deeply and bitterly the checkmate prepared for
him by Prussian resistance; he will be firm."
"But Count Mensdorff will resign, he will not be answerable for the
consequences of a rupture!" said von Meysenbug, thoughtfully.
"Well, and if he does?" asked Herr von Biegeleben with a stiff smile;
"the emperor will then perhaps proceed with more quickness and
decision."
"Perhaps so," said Herr von Meysenbug; "but Count Mensdorff is of a
reliant disposition and requires advice; should we hold the reins so
completely in our hands under his successor?"
"I do not think we could be dispensed with," said von Biegeleben. "Your
excellency stands so firm on the Roman basis it would be impossible to
set you aside; I, for my unimportant self--well, who have we who knows
and can work all the German embarrassments? Herr von Gagern?"
Herr von Meysenbug shrugged his shoulders and made a slight movement
with his hand.
At this moment the door of the ante-room opened and Count Mensdorff
entered.
There was nothing extraordinary in the appearance of this minister,
whose fate it was to guide Austria to such great disaster. He was a man
of middle height, of regular and pleasing features of the French type,
and of a complexion that showed ill-health; his short hair and small
moustache were black. He wore the uniform of a lieutenant field marshal
and the star of the order of Leopold. In consequence of chronic illness
his manner was feeble and uncertain, and he endeavoured to avoid
standing during a conversation, as it fatigued him.
Both the gentlemen rose.
After greeting them Count Mensdorff said: "I regret that I have kept
you waiting, gentlemen; I was detained longer than I expected." He then
walked slowly to his cabinet, inviting von Meysenbug and Biegeleben to
follow him.
The ministerial cabinet was a large apartment, and like the ante-room
it was lighted only by the lamp standing upon the large writing-table.
Count Mensdorff sank exhausted into an arm-chair near the table, and
gave a sigh of relief when he had placed himself comfortably and
supported his arms on the sides of the chair. He had first invited the
two gentlemen, by a movement of the hand, to seat themselves near him
at the writing-table.
The three men sat for a few moments in silence. The faces of the two
privy councillors expressed great anxiety. Mensdorff gazed wearily
before him.
"Well, gentlemen," he said at last, "it seems that your wishes will be
fulfilled. His majesty the emperor will not draw back--he will by no
means consent to the Prussian project for the reform of the
confederacy; in a word, he has decided to go energetically onwards and
to meet the great German question with decision--though the result
should be a breach, and war;" the last word he pronounced in a low
tone, and with a half repressed sigh.
Meysenbug and Biegeleben exchanged looks of lively satisfaction, and
awaited with great anxiety the further communications of Count
Mensdorff.
"I left nothing untried," he proceeded, "to dissuade his majesty from
this dangerous decision and unsafe policy. You know I do not pretend to
understand politics well--I rely upon your superior knowledge; but I am
a soldier, and though I have no right to consider myself a great
general, I know perfectly what is needful for an efficient army. Well,
gentlemen, the policy which we now pursue must lead to war--for
Bismarck is not the man tamely to submit,--but for war an efficient
army is needful, and this our opponents possess, and we have it
not--utterly and entirely we have it not, according to my military
convictions. What then will be our position?" He stopped, exhausted and
sad.
"But your excellency must not look at the black side of things," said
Herr von Meysenbug, "we have 800,000 men, according to the statements
made by the War Department, and----"
"The War Department," interrupted Mensdorff energetically, "may state
what it pleases. I am a practical soldier, and care little for the acts
of the War Department; I know the condition of the army, and if the
half of your 800,000 men can march I shall rejoice. And we shall be
forced to operate in two theatres of war at once," he added; "for you
must see that at the first cannon shot Italy will begin--I am convinced
an alliance has already been formed with Prussia."
Herr von Biegeleben smiled with the air of an experienced picture
dealer who hears a dilettante expressing an opinion, and he remarked in
his measured tone,--"May I remind your excellency that our ambassadors
in Berlin and Florence assure us most positively that there is no
question of an alliance between Prussia and Italy; yes, they even say
that the slight difficulty which has arisen respecting the recognition
of Italy by Prussia still increases. Certainly Italy would not, as the
Duke de Gramont has told me to-day, seek so zealously the French
mediation respecting the ceding of Venetia, if a Prussian alliance
were concluded or likely to be so."
"Yes, yes," said Count Mensdorff thoughtfully, "the ambassadors
maintain there is no alliance, I know that well, and yet I am certain
of the contrary. I am also certain that the first threads of this
treaty were spun in Paris--I feel quite sure of it--though it may not
yet be a treaty placed in the archives."
"But," exclaimed Herr von Meysenbug, "the Duke de Gramont would surely
not----"
"Gramont!" interrupted Count Mensdorff with still greater energy; "and
do you really believe Gramont knows what is going on in Paris? Do you
believe that the Emperor Napoleon has the last word of his labyrinthine
policy written out in an official despatch and sent off to Gramont?
Gramont knows what he is to say, and," he added, speaking more slowly
and in a lower voice, "he is certainly not to say anything which might
prevent war, for this war will be quite for the advantage of France.
Paris has greatly feared lest the Prussian and Austrian arms should be
united in Holstein; rather let Germany clash in a bloody struggle!
Whichever side is defeated in this war, it is Germany which is
defeated, and the conqueror wins for France!"
"Events look blacker and blacker to your excellency," said von
Meysenbug with a slight smile. "I, on the other hand, hope that the
victory of the Austrian arms will again establish German unity beneath
the banners of the empire,--and if Italy moves we shall soon make an
end of that impious kingdom which threatens Church and State with
annihilation!"
"Would to God I could share your faith," said Count Mensdorff,
mournfully; "but I do not believe in the success of the Austrian arms,
and if Benedek knows the army and its construction as well as I do, he
will say the same. I have told the emperor all this," he continued, in
a still lower voice, "and I implored him to take from me the office of
prime minister, as it made me responsible for a policy which must lead
to heavy catastrophe."
"But your excellency!" cried both the gentlemen in alarm.
"No, no," said Count Mensdorff, with a feeble smile, "I am not going
out. His majesty has commanded me to remain at my post, and as a
soldier I obey--as a soldier," he repeated with emphasis, "for were I a
political minister of the modern school, I should not remain. But so it
is. Well, the order is given, and now we must march on. How must we act
to hasten the decision, to bring on the quarrel; for since we are to
act, I am for acting at once; every day will give our opponent fresh
strength."
"The means are simple," said Herr von Biegeleben, sitting very upright
in his chair, and raising his hand as if imparting instruction; "the
Holstein states must be urgently called upon to discuss the position of
their country, and to decide upon the succession; let us assemble them;
this will cross all the Prussian plans and oblige the gentlemen in
Berlin to show their hands; at the same time we shall gain a powerful
support in the sympathy of the Grand Duchies, and the great German
party."
"But our rule is only conjoint in the Grand Duchies." suggested Count
Mensdorff; "by the Treaty of Gastein we only exercise the sovereign
rights in common with Prussia."
"That is the precise point, permit me, your excellency," interrupted
von Biegeleben, "which will bring on the conflict, and it will come
under the favourable circumstances of being in a national cause."
"Well, it does not seem quite right," said Mensdorff, "and I care very
little for the sympathy of the beer-shop orators in the Grand Duchies
and in Germany and for all the singers and rhymers. I would rather we
had an army like the Prussians; but be so good as to make me a small
memorial on the subject with an instruction for Gablenz, and I will lay
it before the emperor."
Herr von Biegeleben bowed, and a slight smile of satisfaction passed
over Herr von Meysenbug's countenance.
"What is the aspect of Germany?" asked Mensdorff; "how do things
progress in Saxony? Are they ready?"
"Perfectly," replied von Biegeleben. "Herr von Beust is very impatient,
and has sent me a memorandum in which he points out the necessity for
immediate action. Also he considers the assembling of the Holstein
states as the best means for letting light into the situation. The
disposition of the people in Saxony is excellent. Would your excellency
like to read Count von Beust's note on the subject?"
He opened the portfolio which lay on the table.
Count Mensdorff waved his hand.
"How can Beust ever find time to write all that?" he said, with a
slight smile and a sigh. "With regard to Hanover," he then continued,
"have we any chance there?"
"A courier has just arrived with a despatch from Count Ingelheim,"
replied Herr von Biegeleben, whilst he drew some papers from a case,
and looked hastily through them; "he is satisfied. Count Platen has
returned from Berlin, and assures him that all the efforts made to win
him and Hanover to the side of Prussia have been unavailing. He has
promised nothing, and he told Count Ingelheim to make known his
inclinations in Vienna."
"Yes, I know him," said Count Mensdorff, slightly shrugging his
shoulders. "And King George?" he asked.
"The king," replied Herr von Biegeleben, "will not hear of war; he
always maintains that a good understanding between Austria and Prussia
is the salvation of Germany; yet, if it comes to a rupture, the king
must stand on our side."
"That does not seem to me certain," said Mensdorff. "King George, in my
opinion, is a German and a Guelph, but he is not an Austrian. The
traditions of the Seven Years' War still live in him."
"It is true," said von Meysenbug, who now took up the conversation,
"that the King of Hanover is not devoted to Austria, and yet I believe
he is safe, notwithstanding the powerful Prussian influence with which
he is surrounded. We must endeavour to offer him something which will
flatter his ideas; the king's hero is the Great Henry the Lion. Count
Ingelheim knows through Doctor Klopp that he has been much engrossed
with the history of his great and unfortunate ancestor."
"Doctor Klopp? Who is he?" asked Count Mensdorff, repressing a slight
yawn.
"A schoolmaster formerly, who compromised himself in the year 1848 as a
democrat and advocate of the rights of the people, but he is
converted."
"To our church?" asked Mensdorff.
"Why--no," replied Herr von Meysenbug, with some hesitation; "but to
our ideas and interests. He shows great talent in composing historical
plays favourable to our side; he has obtained a certain celebrity, and
is appointed editor of the 'Leibnitziana.' He sees a good deal of Count
Platen, and is very useful to us."
"Well, well," said Count Mensdorff, smiling, "I suppose he is under
your secret rule, dear Meysenbug?"
"I interest myself certainly in all rising authors," replied Herr von
Meysenbug, calmly; "but Count Ingelheim especially protects them in
Hanover."
"Well, and the bait for King George?" asked Mensdorff.
"My opinion is," said Herr von Meysenbug, "that a treaty should be made
with Hanover guaranteeing them Prussian Westphalia and Holstein at the
favourable termination of the war. We shall thus create a strong and
irresistible position in the north, and Hanover thus strengthened can
make no friendly alliance with Prussia, but will be entirely devoted to
us in future."
"Dividing the bear's skin whilst he still wears it in the wood," said
Count Mensdorff; "well, make a memorial on the subject; I will lay it
before the emperor. I very much doubt whether for such a bait the King
of Hanover will place his country in grave peril."
"We must give him the means of meeting the danger. The Kalik Brigade is
up there; let us place it at his disposal, and Lieutenant Field Marshal
Gablenz as its general."
"Our best soldier!" exclaimed Mensdorff; "yet the post is most
important,--but if King George will accept nothing of all this?"
"Then events must take their course," said Meysenbug. "The vacillation
of Count Platen in taking no decided step on either side will oblige
Prussia to menace Hanover; this will arouse the pride of the king, and
an important Prussian force will be occupied in the north, without,"
added Herr von Meysenbug with a smile, "our owing any duty to Hanover.
They are taking immense trouble about Hanover in Berlin," he continued,
"and they proposed, when Count Platen was in Berlin, a family union."
"So?" asked Count Mensdorff, attentively; "what then?"
Herr von Meysenbug took a letter from his portfolio, and handed it to
the minister, pointing out the particular passage with his finger.
"Count Platen assured Ingelheim the affair should come to nothing," he
said, rubbing his hands, whilst the minister read; "and in Berlin there
is Stockhausen quite devoted to us, and determined to prevent any
understanding being arrived at."
"Well, gentlemen," said Count Mensdorff, rising and returning von
Meysenbug his paper, "you now know his majesty's intentions, so apply
yourselves to the work. I shall see you when you visit the countess."
Both the gentlemen bowed, and left the cabinet.
Count Mensdorff sat for some time leaning back in his arm-chair. His
features expressed gloomy thought, and his eyes saw nothing that was
around him, but gazed into space.
He raised his head slowly, and looked round the large dimly-lighted
room.
"Oh! ye great men who have watched in this spot over Austria's
greatness, would that ye were in my place! My hand is ready to draw the
sword for my country, but it is unable to guide the vessel of state
through this dangerous sea so full of sunken rocks. I see the abyss on
the brink of which Austria, my beloved Austria, stands. I cannot
restrain her,--I cannot even resign the place which burdens me with the
whole responsibility. I must tarry at my post since I am a soldier, and
yet I cannot serve as a soldier."
Again he sank into deep thought.
A low knock was heard at the inner door of the cabinet, and almost
immediately two boys entered, of the ages of five and eight; they
advanced shyly and cautiously at first, but when they saw the count was
alone, they ran up to him, and climbed on to his chair.
Count Mensdorff awoke from his reverie; his face cleared, and he smiled
as he put his arms around the two boys.
"We have not seen you before to-day, papa," said the youngest, "and we
waited to say good night. Good night, dear papa, we were to go to bed
directly, and we are very tired."
Count Mensdorff gently stroked their hair as he drew the two children
nearer to him, and pressed a kiss on their pure white brows.
"Good night, my children," he said, affectionately; "thank you for
staying up to see me. I hope you have been industrious and good all
day."
"Of course we have, papa," cried both the children with proud
certainty, "or they would not have let us stay up to see you!"
The minister's eyes, before so sad, shone with affection; no one could
have imagined that this man, with his mild face and smiling look,--his
two children in his arms,--that this was the man who was to guide a
great empire through its most dangerous crisis, and to encounter
Germany's mightiest and bloodiest catastrophe.
"Sleep well, my children," said Count Mensdorff. "God bless you!" He
kissed them once more, and made the sign of the cross over their heads.
He looked happy until they left the room, then his eyes grew sad again.
"They are happy," he whispered; "care has not yet robbed them of
sleep."
He rose and rang a bell.
The attendant entered.
"Does the countess entertain a large party?"
"It is a small reception day, but the guests are very numerous."
Count Mensdorff sighed, glanced for a moment at the mirror, and then
left his cabinet, to repair to his wife's drawing-room.
There the crowd had become even larger, and the greatest animation
prevailed. The politicians had extracted all the news, or convinced
themselves there was none to hear, and the whole company was passing
the time in light conversation in various groups, until the minister's
return; the younger gentlemen fluttered round the young ladies, and
Lieutenant von Stielow was seen in animated conversation with a young
beauty of most pleasing and distinguished appearance.
This young lady, the only daughter of the widowed Countess
Frankenstein, was the same who had so occupied him in the theatre when
he had been observed by Baron von Reischach, and now the young officer
seemed extremely absorbed in the apparently light drawing-room
conversation, for he looked down on the young lady with great interest,
and she leant on the arm of her chair and raised her large brown eyes
to his face, whilst her hand played with her white feather fan, which
matched her dress in simplicity; it was entirely white, and only
ornamented with small bouquets of violets.
"Then it is arranged, countess," said Herr von Stielow, "if you go into
Switzerland with your mother you accept me as your travelling
companion. I know all the most beautiful parts, and I will make you an
excellent guide."
"I have not the selection of our travelling companions, Herr von
Stielow," replied the young lady; "but I am sure it will be agreeable
to my mother if we meet you in Switzerland, and if you are kind enough
to show us some of its beauties."
"That is an excessively courteous reply, fair lady," said the
lieutenant, with some displeasure, "but to me it is rather too
courteous. I am quite sure that the countess will welcome me if she
meets me, and that she will not refuse her consent to my joining your
tour among the mountains, but----"
"Well," said the young lady, with a saucy little laugh, "then our
travelling plans are made, and everything is arranged; or did you wish
for an uncourteous answer? You could hardly expect one from me."
"You are unkind, countess," replied von Stielow, biting his lips in the
vain endeavour to gnaw his short moustache; "you know well I am not
making idle conversation, but that I ask an important question. I do
not at all wish to be intrusive, and to owe it to your mother's
politeness that I am not sent away. You see," he added, more warmly,
and with less constraint, "I expect such pleasure from our trip,--I
love the free pure mountain air,--and I am sure that you, too, will
find immense enjoyment in the lovely valleys and high peaks; you will
appreciate their beauty, you must be happier there than here, 'in the
breath of the tomb,' as the poet says."
The young lady listened to him with her upturned eyes glowing brighter
and warmer, but she suddenly cast them down, and said in a mocking
tone, which was, however, softened by the smile on her lips, "And how
do you know that I am not quite in my element in the tomblike breath of
the town?"
"I know it, Countess Clara," said the young officer, with animation;
"and because I know it I wish to guide you to the great poem of
glorious nature, and to read it with you,--but only if you honestly
wish it, and will be really glad to have me with you."
"We make plans for the summer, and the whole world speaks of war. Who
knows," she added, as her brows clouded, "whether all our plans will
not be thrown to the winds, or consumed in the flames?"
"Good heavens!" cried Herr von Stielow, "if war breaks out of course
all will be changed; but that need not prevent our making plans in case
all should keep quiet. So----"
"Here comes Count Mensdorff," said the young lady, rising. "Perhaps we
shall now hear something. Mamma signs to me; forgive me for leaving
you, Herr von Stielow; we shall see you in a day or two; you will tell
me then if we are to have peace or war, and if our imaginary trip has
any chance."
"Then you will take me?" he asked, earnestly; "but I want no courteous
reply, give me a kind and honest answer."
She looked firmly at him for a moment, and then said, as a slight blush
heightened the tender colour in her cheeks, "Yes--if you will find us
piquant enough, and if you can forget Vienna."
And with a light elastic step she glided over the parquet, and joined
her mother and a circle of ladies on the other side of the room.
Herr von Stielow looked after her for a moment with emotion, and then
joined various other groups.
Count Mensdorff, on entering the room, first joined the circle
immediately around the countess, and remained in conversation there
some little time.
The diplomatists all grew uneasy, and broke off with more or less
politeness the indifferent conversations in which they were engaged.
At last the minister entered the second drawing-room alone. The Duke de
Gramont immediately approached him with easy grace, and was warmly
welcomed.
The two personages became the centre of general observation, but no one
ventured near to disturb their earnest conversation, which lasted about
ten minutes.
When Count Mensdorff turned away from the duke he found himself just
opposite Herr von Werther.
He spoke to him with perfect politeness, and immediately all the
anxious side glances were employed in watching their interview.
It lasted only two minutes.
Count Mensdorff turned from the Prussian ambassador with a low bow, and
walked hastily through the room to General von Knesebeck, took his arm,
led him aside, and commenced a most cordial and animated conversation.
The Duke de Gramont had again joined the other guests. Von Meysenbug
and von Biegeleben had appeared, and were surrounded by diplomatists of
the second rank.
In about a quarter of an hour Baron Werther was surrounded by an icy
atmosphere; every attempt he made at conversation fell to the ground,
after the few phrases which politeness demanded; and it required all
his talent to conceal his isolation, until the happy moment came which
permitted him to retreat.
At last the time of departure arrived, and the salons of the palace
grew empty.
Lieutenant von Stielow went down the broad steps and found his cab in
the appointed place.
He gave the coachman an address, got in, and wrapped himself in his
white cloak.
"What did she mean about forgetting Vienna,--can she know? Well, all
Vienna knows it; I make no secret of my life. If _she_ wished it, I
would cast aside every folly, but does she wish it?"
He grew very thoughtful.
"She will wish it," he cried, "and then my life shall follow its true
star,--away with every erring meteor; but how charming they are!" he
whispered to himself.
The carriage stopped before a large house in the Ringe.
Herr von Stielow dismissed the coachman, nodded to the porter as if he
knew him well, and ascended a couple of steps. A pretty lady's-maid
opened the glass door of the entrance hall.
The young officer threw off his mantle, and entered a room elegantly
furnished with dark blue satin; before the fire-place stood a tea-table
lighted by a large Carcel lamp.
Upon a _chaise longue_, on one side of the fire-place, reposed the
slender form of a young and beautiful woman clothed in white.
Her pale features of the noblest Grecian type were partly illumined by
the lamp, partly by the red glow of the fire, and her eyes, of deeper
black than even the smooth ebon tresses of her hair, now shone in soft,
sweet reverie, now sparkled with quick, brilliant rays.
Her slender white arms half concealed by her large open sleeves, lay in
her lap, and her slight fingers played with the clasp of her girdle.
Her whole appearance was of wonderful beauty, with a demoniacal look
heightened by the changing lights which played over her face and the
whole of her figure.
As the young man entered, she sprang up, and her eyes flashed; it were
hard to say whether with love, pride, or triumph.
Such must have been Cleopatra, when Antony approached her.
She flew to meet him, and threw her arms around him, whilst her glowing
looks were fixed upon his eyes.
"At last you come, sweet friend!" she whispered; "I have waited long!"
When the young man entered the room there had been a certain coldness
on his face, and now there was more politeness than tenderness in the
movement with which he placed his arm around her shoulder.
Did she feel this?
Her eyes dilated and became more glowing, her arms were pressed closer
round his neck, and through her slender form passed a slight shiver.
A magnetic stream seemed to pass from her to her lover. He led her
gently to her seat, knelt down before her, and kissed her left hand as
it hung by her side, whilst with the right she stroked the hair upon
his brow.
The star was veiled with clouds, the baleful meteor glowed in vivid
brightness.