THE BLOW FALLS
“I WANT to see what it is like to be mad.”
The words struck on Maximilian’s ear like the grinding crash of a
collision upon the ear of the sailor sleeping peacefully in his berth,
far out upon the waste of waters. He sprang to his feet, and confronted
the young Prince with terrible eyes.
“What are you saying? Who taught you that?”
Ernest recoiled, terror-stricken.
“My mother told me of it,” he blurted out helplessly, backing towards
the door to secure a refuge from the King’s wrath.
Maximilian struck furiously upon a gong. Karl rushed in, evidently in a
state of alarm.
“Take this boy away,” said the King, fiercely, “and send me Bernal here
at once, and Johann Mark.”
Karl darted off, accompanied by Ernest, who, in his hurry to escape
from his cousin’s presence, forgot to call his dog after him; and
Maximilian paced the room with frantic strides till the attendant
returned. Auguste was with him.
“Herr Mark has left the Castle,” explained the agitated Karl. “He
took a horse from the stable an hour ago, saying that it was on your
Majesty’s service, and rode away at a gallop.”
Maximilian tore at his hair.
“Traitor! He has deserted me in the hour of need, after working my
ruin!” he cried in the first moment. But on reflection, he added,
“Perhaps he has gone to get help. We shall see.”
Bernal affected to be ignorant of the cause of the King’s excitement.
“Has anything happened?” he inquired. “What is it that has disturbed
you?”
Maximilian glanced from his face to that of Karl, and back again. The
musician was unable to meet his eye. Karl, better used to hypocrisy,
displayed the most genuine tribulation.
“Auguste,” said the King, speaking solemnly and mournfully, “you
remember what I told you of the night I passed in prison in Mannhausen.
The conspirators have gone on with their work. My aunt has joined them,
and I have just learnt from Ernest that they are openly declaring
me”--it required an effort to bring out the word--“mad. I adjure you,”
he added, beseechingly, “in the name of our sacred friendship, to tell
me whether you had any inkling of this?”
The man thus addressed shifted his position uneasily, and cast down his
eyes.
“I have had certain fears,” he said, in low, indistinct tones, “that
if you drove the Ministers too far, they would succeed in convincing
the public that you ought not to be entrusted with the royal power. No
doubt your refusal to proclaim these wretched meetings has been the
last straw. Maximilian!--perhaps it is not yet too late--give up this
Socialist and his wild ideas; you have not been the same man since he
came--”
The King interrupted him with a gesture so imperious and so scornful,
that the musician fairly cowered beneath it.
“And you--you whom I have loved as a brother, you to whom I have shown
my inmost heart--you have deserted me! Sir, never dare to address me
again in the name you have used. Henceforth to you I am the King of
Franconia--and a stranger. You will leave my palace to-morrow, and you
may take with you the thirty pieces of silver you have earned.”
Without attempting a reply, Bernal turned and went out of the King’s
presence.
Maximilian turned to Karl.
“And you, Karl, why should you be faithful to me? All my friends have
betrayed me; why do not you go and join them? Doubtless you will be
rewarded well.”
Stricken to the heart, the wretched attendant fell on his knees before
his master, and began to sob.
“See,” said Maximilian, speaking aloud as if to some witness of the
scene, “this poor youth, on whom I have bestowed neither titles nor
honours, whom I simply fed from day to day, and treated as some
creature of a lower nature, he clings to me when all my friends and my
Ministers, and my very kinsmen, have cast me off. What have I done to
deserve this poor fellow’s faithfulness? Karl, if I survive this day as
King of Franconia, you shall be made a Count; and I will bestow upon
you the motto, ‘Only true.’”
The miserable Karl cast himself grovelling at full length upon the
floor.
“No, no,” said Maximilian, raising him gently, “do not distress
yourself so much for me, Karl. I have been a kind master to you, have
I not?--but you have served me well. You, at least, have nothing to
reproach yourself with. Come, let us act. I will know the worst at
once. Go instantly to the Chancellor, and tell him I command his
presence without a moment’s delay.”
Karl bowed his head, unable to speak, and fled from the room.
The King walked to an iron cupboard in a corner of the cabinet,
unlocked it, and took out a golden circlet, which represented the
crown of Franconia on all occasions except the coronation ceremony
itself. He placed the diadem upon his head, closed the cupboard, and
seated himself at the head of the table, on which the map, with its
parti-coloured pins, was still spread.
There he sat silently, awaiting his doom.
Maximilian’s agony was not of long duration. The tramp of many feet was
heard in the ante-room, the door swung back, and the Chancellor von
Sigismark entered, clad in his official robes, and bearing in his hands
a great parchment scroll, blazoned with the arms of the State, from the
foot of which swung, by a silken cord, a huge round of wax stamped by
the Great Seal of the Franconian kingdom.
After him filed in, in solemn procession, nearly the whole of the
members of the Privy Council, the only notable absentee being the Count
von Eisenheim, the distant kinsman of the King. The other Ministers and
high officers of State followed; and in the rear stole the Princess
Hermengarde, with Auguste Bernal and a third figure whose presence
destroyed the last doubt in Maximilian’s breast as to his fate--the
sombre-coated Court physician.
“On your allegiance,” exclaimed the King, as the party filed in before
him, “I order every one except the Chancellor to retire.”
Not a soul obeyed. All cast looks at the young monarch, in which he
read pity or horror. Without waiting, the Count proceeded to read from
the parchment in his hands.
“Whereas it has pleased Almighty God,” the document began, “to
afflict his Majesty, Maximilian Charles Leopold Joseph Marie von
Astolf, King of Franconia, Grand Duke of Thuringia and Swabia,
Prince of Astolf, Marquis of Este and Ferrara, Count of Lech,
Meyer, and Ratisbon, Lord of Hohenlingen, Lord of Stürn, Lord of
Neustadt, Knight of the Order of the Golden Fleece, etc., etc., with
unsoundness of mind: Now we, the members of the Privy Council of
Franconia, having received and considered the testimony of Herman
Krauss, doctor of medicine, physician to his said Majesty, and of
her Royal Highness, Hermengarde of Schwerin-Strelitz, Princess of
Franconia, aunt to his Majesty, and of the illustrious Count von
Sigismark, Chancellor of Franconia, and of Herr Paul Moritz, Minister
of the Interior, Herr Auguste Bernal, his Majesty’s intimate friend,
Karl Fink, his Majesty’s confidential attendant, and divers others,
do hereby pronounce his said Majesty to be incapable of governing;
and whereas his Royal Highness, Prince Ernest Leopold Friedrich
Hugo Marie von Astolf, heir-presumptive to the throne, has not yet
attained the age of eighteen, we furthermore hereby appoint her
Royal Highness, the Princess Hermengarde aforesaid, mother of the
said Prince Ernest Leopold, to be Regent of the kingdom until his
Royal Highness shall attain the said age of eighteen, and we do
hereby invest her with all the powers, rights and prerogatives of
his Majesty for such period, and entrust her with the custody of his
Majesty’s person. Done by the Privy Council at Seidlingen this fifth
day of June, 18--.
“WILHELM VON SIGISMARK, Chancellor.
“CHRISTIAN SILBUR, Clerk.”
The reading of this act was received in absolute silence, except when
the Chancellor came to the name Karl Fink, when the King uttered a
stifled cry, and glanced over the throng in search of his attendant.
But Karl had slunk away, unable to endure the exposure of his baseness.
The Chancellor, with several others of the Council, had anticipated a
fearful explosion on the part of their victim, and a body of guards had
been ordered into the ante-room, in case of any forcible resistance.
But their apprehensions were disappointed. As the Count folded up his
parchment, a strange, baffled, hunted look spread over the King’s
features. He gazed at the array of countenances before him with a
sickly smile for one moment, and then, bursting into a vacant laugh,
leant back in his chair, and exclaimed--
“Wolf! Wolf! Won’t some one bring Wolf to me?”
The dog, which had been left behind by Prince Ernest, crept forward at
the sound of its name, and licked the King’s hand.
* * * * *
While these events were passing in the Castle of Seidlingen, Johann was
approaching the capital as fast as the train could carry him.
On his arrival at Mannhausen, the first sound that struck upon his ear
as he emerged from the station was the voice of a newsboy shouting out
the deposition of the King. The telegraph had been quicker than the
train.
Without giving a moment to rest or refreshment, he sprang into a
carriage, and drove off to the house of his old friend and comrade,
Schwartz, the man with the red beard. Schwartz was completely taken by
surprise at his appearance. Indeed, his manner was so embarrassed that
if Johann’s mind had been free to take in anything but the fate of the
King, he must have perceived that something was wrong.
“I have come here straight from Seidlingen,” he burst out, without
waiting for Schwartz, “to rouse the revolutionary party on behalf of
King Maximilian. He is the victim of a vile plot, solely on account
of his sympathy with us. They are scheming to depose him as a madman,
though he is no more insane than you are.”
Schwartz listened coldly.
“I was just about to go to a meeting of the revolutionary committee,”
he said. “You had better come with me.”
Johann eagerly assented, and as they walked along, poured into his
companion’s ear the history of the last few weeks. Schwartz heard him
without vouchsafing any reply. The two men seemed to have exchanged
natures. Still Johann suspected nothing.
The Committee was assembled in a small private meeting-place when they
arrived. The chair was vacant, and Schwartz at once walked up to the
head of the room, and occupied it, leaving Johann by the door. The
sullen, hostile looks of those present were the first signs that roused
the intruder to a sense of what was coming.
“The first business before us,” calmly announced Schwartz, as soon as
he had placed himself in the chair, “is the reading of the minutes of
our last meeting.”
A sensation made itself felt through the gathering, and all eyes were
directed towards Johann as the secretary proceeded to read in a cold,
metallic voice.
This was the last item in the minutes--
“Moved by Comrade Meyerbeer, seconded by Comrade Hirst, and carried
unanimously, that Johann Mark be expelled from all further connection
with the revolutionary movement, as a friend and favourer of monarchy.”
The republican reeled beneath the blow. His first impulse was to rush
from the meeting. But before the chairman could affix his signature to
the fatal page, he gathered himself together, and strode proudly up the
room.
“You have condemned me in my absence,” he cried, sternly. “Will you
give me a hearing now?”
The chairman, after consulting his comrades with a glance, bowed
his head in token of consent, and Johann, seizing the permission,
launched forth into a full statement of all that had happened since
his first meeting with King Maximilian. He wound up his harangue by
reiterating what he had already told Schwartz as to the true nature of
the conspiracy against the King, and implored those present to banish
prejudice from their minds, and come to the rescue of one who was about
to fall in their cause.
The meeting heard him out in perfect silence. Schwartz took it upon
himself to reply.
“Johann Mark,” he said, gravely, “we have been friends for years, and
it goes to my heart to have to cast you off. But the cause is more
sacred than friendship. We believe you to be sincere; we do not condemn
you, as we might, to the penalties of a traitor; but you have gone
over to the enemy, and henceforth there can be no more comradeship
between you and us.”
Johann stamped his foot.
“I know you,” he exclaimed bitterly. “You talk of liberty and
brotherhood, and yet you calmly stand by and see the sacrifice of the
only king who ever showed himself ready to serve the cause of liberty
and brotherhood. What are your real motives? Not love of the principles
you proclaim so loudly! Not love of the people! But blind hatred for a
name.”
“Stop!” It was Schwartz who raised his voice harshly over the angry
murmur arising in the hall. “If you have been blinded and deceived,
we have not. I know these Astolfs; I know this race of vipers. My
daughter and her child were foully done to death by the father of this
Maximilian; their blood cries out for vengeance; and rather than stir
one inch to save him from his fate, I swear to you that if he were here
at this moment, I would strangle him with my own hands!”
A dreadful silence followed the dreadful oath. Johann, sick to his very
heart, sank his head upon his breast, and went away out of the company,
and out of their communion for ever.
Henceforth he had nothing more to do in Mannhausen. If the King were to
be delivered, it must be by his unaided efforts. He took his way back
to the railway station at which he had so recently arrived, and as he
walked along he saw, staring at him from every wall and hoarding, a
proclamation prohibiting the revolutionary demonstration on pain of
treason, and signed in the name of Hermengarde, Regent of Franconia.
The following Sunday, armed troops patrolled the streets of Mannhausen,
and of all the principal towns in Franconia. In some places the
proposed demonstrations were abandoned altogether. In others, the
revolutionists gathered, only to be charged, ridden down, and bayoneted
by the soldiery. Many were killed, hundreds were taken and thrown into
prison, there to await the sternest penalties of the law. The whole
revolutionary movement was extinguished as if by a breath, and the
Regent’s government received the applause of the civilised world.