CHAPTER III.
[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 réunion 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 Hôtel, 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 fête 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 pâté 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 soirée 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.