Chapter Fifty Three.
A Kingly Scheme of Revolution.
Once more met the conclave of crowned heads, by their representatives; no longer in the palace of the Tuileries, but in the mansion of an English nobleman.
This time the ex-dictator of Hungary was the subject of their deliberations.
“So long as he lives,” said the commissioner of that crown most nearly concerned, “so long will there be danger to our empire. A week, a day, a single hour, may witness its dissolution; and you know, gentlemen, what must follow from that?”
It was an Austrian field-marshal who thus spoke.
“From that would follow an emperor without a crown—perhaps without a head!”
The rejoinder came from the joking gentleman who was master of the mansion in which the conspirators were assembled.
“But is it really so serious?” asked the Russian Grand Duke. “Do you not much overrate the influence of this man?”
“Not any, altesse. We have taken pains to make ourselves acquainted with it. Our emissaries, sent throughout Hungary, report that there is scarce a house in the land where prayers are not nightly put up for him. By grand couch and cottage-bed the child is taught to speak the name of Kossuth more fervently than that of Christ—trained to look to him as its future saviour. What can come of this but another rising—a revolution that may spread to every kingdom in Europe?”
“Do you include the empires?” asked the facetious Englishman, glancing significantly toward the Grand Duke.
“Ay, do I. And the islands, too,” retorted the field-marshal. The Russian grinned. The Prussian diplomatist looked incredulous. Not so the representative of France; who, in a short speech, acknowledged the danger. To his master a European revolution would have been fatal, at to himself.
And yet it was he, whose country had least to fear from it, who suggested the vile plan for its avoidance. It came from the representative of England!
“You think Kossuth is your chief danger?” he said, addressing himself to the Austrian.
“We know it. We don’t care for Mazzini, with his wild schemes on the Italian side. The people there begin to think him mad. Our danger lies upon the Danube.”
“And your safety can only be secured by action on the south side of the Alps.”
“How? In what way? By what action?” were questions simultaneously put by the several conspirators.
“Explain yourself, my lord,” said the Austrian, appealingly. “Bah! It’s the simplest thing in the world. You want the Hungarian in your power. The Italian, you say, you don’t care for. But you may as well, while you’re about it, catch both, and half a score of other smaller fish—all of whom you can easily get into your net.”
“They are all here! Do you intend giving them up?”
“Ha—ha—ha!” laughed the light-hearted lord. “You forget you’re in free England! To do that would be indeed a danger. No—no. We islanders are not so imprudent. There are other ways to dispose of these troublesome strangers, without making open surrender of them.”
“Other ways! Name them! Name one of them!” The demand came from his fellow-conspirators—all speaking in a breath.
“Well, one way seems easy enough. There’s a talk of trouble in Milan. Your white-coats are not popular in that Italian metropolis, field-marshal! So my despatches tell me.”
“What of that, my lord? We have a strong garrison at Milan. Plenty of Bohemians, with our ever faithful Tyrolese. It is true there are several Hungarian regiments there.”
“Just so. And in these lies the chance of revolutionary leaders. Your chance, if you skilfully turn it to account.”
“How skilfully?”
“Mazzini is tampering with them. So I understand it. Mazzini is a madman. Therefore let him go on with his game. Encourage him. Let him draw Kossuth into the scheme. The Magyar will be sure to take the bait, if you but set it as it should be. Send mutinous men among these Hungarian regiments. Throw out a hope of their being able to raise a revolt—by joining the Italian people. It will lure, not only Mazzini and Kossuth, but along with them the whole fraternity of revolutionary firebrands. Once in your net, you should know how to deal with such fish, without any suggestion from me. They are too strong for any meshes we dare weave around them here: Gentlemen, I hope you understand me?”
“Perfectly?” responded all.
“A splendid ideal,” added the representative from France. “It would be a coup worthy of the genius who has conceived it. Field-marshal, you will act upon this?”
A superfluous question. The Austrian deputy was but too happy to carry back to his master a suggestion, to which he knew he would gladly give his consent; and after another half-hour spent in talking over its details, the conspirators separated.
“It is an original idea!” soliloquised the Englishman, as he sat smoking his cigar after the departure of his guests. “A splendid idea, as my French friend has characterised it. I shall have my revanche against this proud refugee for the slight he has put upon me in the eyes of the English people. Ah! Monsieur Kossuth! if I foresee aright, your revolutionary aspirations will soon come to an end. Yes, my noble demagogue! your days of being dangerous are as good as numbered?”