At luncheon that afternoon Fessenden found himself beside the Countess
Piroska. The Archduchess had an Independent on either hand, and
Alexandra assisted her with one of them. The Countess Vilma had another
in charge. There were no other guests, and Sarolta, who had found the
prospect of Radical politicians anything but amusing, was lunching
elsewhere. The table had been laid in the small dining-room adjoining
the blue room, but the curtains were half drawn across the large
windows, for all the women were paler than usual. Three had danced
until the cocks of Buda announced the morning, and the other had slept
less than they. She and Fessenden had met without a word, but with a
handshake of complete understanding. The “Young Kossuths” were in good
order; they had left the ball as soon as the general dancing began. As
they entered to-day they had looked somewhat truculent, as if fearful
of patronage, but were now at their ease, and Molnár alone appeared
indifferent to the delicate viands of the palace chefs.
“He is in love with our princess,” whispered Piroska scornfully. “Not
but that it is quite natural everybody should fall in love with her,
but I should think it would be a sensation to be avoided by any one
under an archduke; and as for Molnár, he is not to be pitied, he is too
ludicrous.”
“I don’t fancy you waste much pity on any one,” said Fessenden.
“I pity you,” said Piroska softly.
“Indeed?” he asked innocently. “What have I done that I should be
pitied?”
“Done? Ah--but I understand American better since I have had the
pleasure to know Miss Abbott. I mean--I think you are too fine to waste
your love on a woman who is no more achievable than the polar star.”
“Oh-- Do you think I am in love with the Archduchess? Well, I will
confide to you that I am, but don’t--don’t betray me, or the Emperor
will be ordering me out of the Dual Monarchy; and I have a theory that
it is a good thing for a young man to be in love with the polar star.
It keeps him out of much mischief.”
Piroska was nonplussed, and turned her wide gaze upon him. He was
eating with every appearance of appetite, and Piroska, although a
sordid soul, had her idea of what a lover should be.
“You never have eyes for any one else,” she murmured, at a loss.
“Remember the limited time at my disposal. One month--two, perhaps,
and I must walk a tread-mill in a land without polar stars.” He was
thinking, “Shall I throw her off the track, or would she be more useful
as an enemy? I should use her without scruple, for I am convinced
that she is here to spy, and she has a ledger where her heart ought
to be. It will not do to be too precipitate; she might act before we
are ready. All I want is her added weight at the right moment.” He
determined to be guided by events, and turned to her with his frank
smile, which seemed at once to establish a personal relation. “I should
like to show you America--that is a large order!--New York, rather,”
he said. “You must come over some time with my sister.” And then, to
the mystified but delighted little _intrigante_, he made himself as
agreeable for the next half-hour as he knew how; and his spirits were
so plainly unaffected that the Zápolya thought less of Ranata’s power
to charm.
The rising voice of Molnár gave him the excuse he wanted to assist the
Archduchess in her difficult task.
“You are all so tired,” he murmured to Piroska. “I had better talk to
that man.”
“The King is quite mistaken,” Molnár was announcing, “if he believes
that our ultimate idea in wishing the universal use of the Magyar
language in our own country is to divide the army against itself, or
to encourage hatred towards Austria. Not only does the Constitution
accepted by the King provide that Hungarian soldiers shall be commanded
by Hungarian officers, but we wish the language for two reasons--to
fulfil more nearly a passionate national ideal, and because it is the
fitting reward of a thousand years of indomitable individuality.”
“But do you not think,” asked Fessenden, “that passionate ideals, when
carried to extreme, may degenerate into mere vanity? I suppose you
are not averse from a fair-minded discussion, so you will not mind my
saying that I think vanity is the only rock on which the Hungarian
nation may split and go to pieces. It is a dominant trait in your
aristocracy, as is evidenced by their theatrical and childish delight
in an ancient and ornate costume--this in a day when the more highly
civilized a man is the more simply he dresses. The bulk of the nation
betray this itching vanity in its persistent struggle for things
insignificant in themselves, but whose attainment would inflate its
pride and permit it to exult over its step-children. If you can prove
to me that I am wrong, and that you are possessed by a nobler motive in
this agitation for the compulsory use of your language throughout an
army in which there are so many Austrians, Germans, Roumanians, Saxons,
Slavonians, Bulgarians, and, above all, the Croats, who most hate you,
I shall be glad to acknowledge myself mistaken.”
Molnár’s eyes had flashed. He was vaguely jealous of the American,
bitterly as he realized that his disappearance would leave no field
for him. But he had come to the palace determined to assist the cause
of his party, and not only did the quiet air of the room and company
depress his energy of temper, but his deep respect for the Archduchess,
and desire to stand well with her, would have restrained him from a
violent outburst. He replied with a calm which he was made subtly aware
his princess commended.
“It is difficult to prove what is so largely a matter of standard. The
Americans have so vast a country, so many liberties unknown in Europe,
but worthy of emulation, that what seems the noble motive of pride to
us may appear quite petty to them. But after all, did not your country,
when under the heel of another power, make mountains out of many
mole-hills that you would laugh at now? You tax yourselves more heavily
than England ever taxed you, and it is seldom that a voice is raised
in protest. The stamp-tax after your late war is a case in point. You
burned your British governors in effigy, and now your contented and
prosperous people merely shrug their shoulders at the iniquities of
your bosses, confident that the country can take care of itself. The
great patriotic virtues that were extolled a hundred years ago in the
United States of America are passed by now as a matter of course, or
their absence is unnoticed; and I remember reading that a large portion
of your country in its youth went quite hysterical at the monarchical
proposition that Mr. Washington’s head should appear on coins. But
I only wish to illustrate that a young country lacking complete
independence, or fearful of losing that so recently acquired, is never
so indifferent to certain points as a great one.”
“I admit all the faults of my country past and present, but it seems to
me that if the law of progress means anything, it means that a people
dissatisfied with monarchical government and bent upon republican
should take warning and example from the older republics--not act as
if every page of history had been destroyed. When vanity stiffens
into a monumental conceit, as in the case of England and ourselves,
it is still bad enough, and has its dangers, but at least it is not
childish, and is the result of a developed strength that it would be
next to impossible to wreck. But being still weak as you are, by your
constitutional inferiority to Austria, and the hatred with which you
are regarded by almost every other division and tribe in your share of
the Dual Monarchy, it doubly behooves you to eliminate your weaknesses.
And, I repeat, vanity is the one which will prove most fatal. William
played upon it in a masterly manner; he uttered but a few words
of flattery, he took the trouble to learn but three words of your
language, and the nation wept tears of joy. I amuse myself counting
the number of mustaches--particularly in the army!--that stand on end.
If it had been the tyrant of all the Russias, the momentary enthusiasm
would have been the same, although second thoughts would have
disillusioned you. That an enlightened and progressive monarch chose to
declare himself your friend, no matter for what purpose of his own, you
may count as a piece of good fortune which you had done nothing very
especial to encourage. But do you flatter yourself for a moment that if
William took you over he would permit the universal substitution of any
language for his own?”
“I was not of those whose heads were turned by the Emperor of Germany,”
snorted the Hungarian, whose own mustache Nature had planted in a most
aggressive fashion. “The constant abuse of Hungary by the German press,
and the attempts of propagandists to corrupt German-speaking Hungarians
and unite them for the propitious moment of rebellion against the
country their ancestors adopted--that Germany may have a weakened state
to oppose her when she is ready to put into execution her designs on
the Balkans--those are scores, sir, that an emperor cannot sweep from
some memories by flattery. I am--since the death of the Crown Prince--”
He hesitated and looked at the Archduchess.
“You are to speak with perfect freedom to-day,” she said smiling,
and endeavoring to feel as political as she should. “That was the
understanding when you consented to come. Please believe that I am
listening impersonally. Not that I wish your secrets, merely your
well-defined point of view.”
“Then I will say what is well enough known, your Royal Highness--that
I wish for no king whatever. Our king is as just and indulgent as
his fixed notions permit him to be, and yet under him autonomy is
a failure. I wish for complete independence, with, if not all the
features of the United States of America, at least with those which
have permitted her to exist in the face of all prophecies; and
with many others which we are quite capable of evolving ourselves.
Independence, you will not hesitate to admit, sir, is the only
logical condition for any civilized people at this stage of the
world’s history, and, above all, it is the only condition which will
content the most independent race in Europe. When the hour of this
Dual Monarchy strikes, I am perfectly willing that western Austria
shall go to Germany, provided that the price of our acquiescence
is the complete independence of this country. If the aristocracy
don’t like it they can move to Prussia; that country is badly in
need of a real aristocracy, and the fine clothes of our magnates
would be a pleasant relief among so many uniforms. But for Hungary,
Independence!--Independence!--Independence!”
His voice ended in a mild roar; and Fessenden replied in his most
matter-of-fact tones, “Then if you want independence, why, I repeat,
don’t you begin now to strengthen instead of weakening yourselves?
Surely you must know that if the King granted this demand of
yours, completely to Magyarize the army, you would incur the still
bitterer hatred of all these races who are obliged to serve in it.
Their native tongue means as much to them as yours does to you. And
when one considers that three-fourths of Hungary is ethnologically
non-Hungarian! If your king were thirty years younger, and you could
reasonably feel that you had that amount of time in which to subdue or
reconcile your rebellious step-children, then one might feel that you
had more wisdom, more reason on your side; but to strain at a gnat when
you must inevitably swallow a whole herd of camels the moment your king
sets these centrifugal forces free, is a folly I cannot comprehend in a
race so like my own in many respects.”
Molnár had listened sullenly, but with attention. It had been agreed,
although all four of the Hungarians were men of ability, that the brunt
of the talk should be borne by their leader; for they were sure to
interrupt even each other if they sent the blood to their heads with
too many words. But they were neglecting their plates to follow the
argument; and they frowned when Fessenden spoke, and smiled approval
upon the logic of Molnár. When the American asserted the analogy
between his race and theirs, they looked pleased and surprised; for it
is a remarkable fact that, in spite of the execration which Europeans,
as a result of our protective policy and successful invasion of her
aristocracies and industries, bestow upon the United States, they are
invariably surprised into pleasure if informed that they possess an
American trait--which is doubtless owing to the fact that every human
creature craves success; and rightly or wrongly, the United States and
that most vulgarized of words are synonymous.
Even Molnár looked slightly mollified, but he had come to make good his
cause before a princess who he believed must influence the King her
father, since he was convinced she could twist Hungary round her finger
if she chose. “It is to be hoped that another century will see us even
in advance of where the United States stands to-day,” he replied; “for,
as you justly observed, it is our part as an intelligent nation to
profit by the mistakes of other nations. But it is impossible to admit
that we are unwise to insist upon the adoption of our language as the
sole language of our army, even in the old age of the King; for we are
convinced that our disruption from Austria is but a question of a few
years, and it is wise to accustom the inferior races to the dominance
of our language and rule as long before our independence as possible.
It is our misfortune that we have not been in a position to push this
claim sooner. It was a tremendous innovation when Kossuth and Szechenyi
carried their point that Magyar should be the political language of
Hungary. It was not the part of wisdom to ask for more then, but that
is half a century ago--half a century. And you call us impatient and
unreasonable! You--who are so recently come from the battle-field,
do you recall the passionate enthusiasm with which you sang and
listened to your national hymns by your camp-fires at night--as you
marched to the battle-field? What would have been your emotions if
you had been compelled to sing the national songs of another country?
Good God! Cannot you understand what it would mean to us to sing our
own beautiful battle hymns in our own beautiful language, instead
of the words of a hated power in the most hideous sounds that ever
were invented to torture the ear? It is true that you have set your
national anthem to the tune of England’s, but you have long since
forgotten that; and I am told that when Americans go to England they
are flattered when the band plays ‘God Save the King.’ But that is your
happiness--that you have been permitted to forget--while we--we--”
“I have no doubt that if you asked for the privilege of ringing your
national hymns, and nothing more, the King would readily indulge you;
and the Hungarian military colleges you are sure to have will no doubt
entail much that you wish--if you have the patience to wait. I admit,
of course, that vanity has no part in your desire to sing your own
anthems in your own language--what more inspiring?--but the imposing of
your difficult tongue on the Austrians who are obliged to command in
your army during the years when you must still have an insufficiency of
Hungarian officers, as well as upon the races that hate you now, and
only await the opportunity to serve you the same trick they served you
in 1847--I repeat, it seems to me the height of vanity and folly. And
I regret it deeply, for in a struggle in which you were incontestably
right, you would have the sympathy of the United States. Kossuth is by
no means forgotten; and the American loves romance, having so little
of it. For romance you stand in history preeminently. But if you make
yourselves ridiculous--”
“Ridiculous?” All four were muttering. Ranata leaned forward, and drew
Molnár’s eyes to hers.
“How would it have been if Rudolf had lived?” she asked softly.
“Ah, Rudolf!” The four men might have received an electric shock.
“If our crown prince had lived,” cried Molnár, “he would be our
sympathetic, our indulgent ruler to-day. The King would surely have
abdicated in his favor before this--if he had been reluctant we should
have found a way to persuade him! The King is preferable to his
present heir; and not only do we hesitate to incur the antagonism of
the world by embittering the last days of our old monarch, but it is a
trait of human nature to postpone the evil day. But Rudolf! He would
have granted our demands; and with his tact and resource have found a
way to reconcile all the other states in the monarchy to our reforms.
Perhaps he would have given us our liberty, and accepted the presidency
of the republic! That indeed would have been Utopia!”
“No one can admire and regret Rudolf more than I do,” said Fessenden,
in the even dispassionate tones which irritated the Hungarians
more than his words; “but it is impossible not to notice that the
inevitable legend is growing up round his name. In a few years it
will obscure an individuality and a mental endowment that were better
left unexaggerated. I came on the scene too late to know him, but I
have heard him much discussed by more than one of his close personal
friends; and while he was far more genial and sympathetic than is
common among princes, and far more liberal and broad-minded, I do not
in the least believe that he had a republican instinct, or would have
parted voluntarily with an inch of his inheritance. Rather he would
have conceived it his mission to maintain its integrity with the last
corps of his army. No doubt his tact and his alert modern brain would
have found a way through these difficulties which would have satisfied
himself and Hungary. Problems that seem insoluble to an aged king might
have been disentangled readily enough by him. But the hard fact remains
that you have not Rudolf to deal with, but your king--and, for a period
after him, no doubt, the present Crown Prince; so would you not be
wiser to conciliate your enemies until you are strong enough to crush
them? Suppose Germany and Austria in a war against Russia--over the
Balkans, let us say--do you realize what your position would be as an
independent state with all the antagonistic races within your borders
in revolt--these races number 7,500,000, nearly half your population,
do they not? In some respects the Hungarian mind is the brightest and
most alert in Europe, and you are probably the only monarchical people
wholly without servility. If you wreck yourselves, and this rich and
enterprising country, because you love your weaknesses more than your
virtues, then you deserve to be crushed like an egg between the enemies
who will take a particular delight in the process. But your party does
not represent Hungary. The enlightened majority are not extremists. You
can obstruct and keep the country in a turmoil, but when it comes to
the general vote you must be beaten. But meanwhile you are demoralizing
Hungary at home, and making it ridiculous abroad--that is the point to
be considered now.”
Molnár pushed back his chair and stood up, tossing back his head. For
the moment he looked like the statue of the poet of the Revolution,
Alexander Petöfi, which, in its square across the river, seems to have
the nerves of the dead man in it.
“You pay us your cold tribute,” he cried, “but what do you know of the
ardor, the passionate enthusiasm of a race as different from yours as
the Latin from the Teutonic. Logic! We have as much as any men when
our hearts are not on fire with our wrongs; but we would rather die,
die, die--be crushed like an egg, if you will--than exist like slaves a
generation longer.” He turned suddenly to Ranata, his face illuminated
under its perpetual frown. “You--your Royal Highness”--he cried, “if
you were our queen--you, who look born to sit on a throne as wisely as
Maria Theresia, yet without her bigotry and obstinacy--you, who are so
like Rudolf-- Ah! Why not? Why not?”
“We will have our coffee in the next room,” said the Archduchess with
cold severity, as she rose and led the way. “Úr Molnár, have you seen
the river and Pest from the balcony?”