Now, it was not the emperor who called for his Dalberg, but the Diet that whispered his name.
And it seemed as if the man who had been called for, had heard these whispers, for the large doors of the old session-hall opened, and the archchancellor of the empire, Baron Dalberg, entered. Clad in his full official costume, he stepped into the hall and approached his seat at the green table. But instead of sitting down on the high-backed, carved arm-chair, he remained standing, and his eyes glided greetingly past all those grave and gloomy faces which were fixed on him.
“I beg the august Diet to permit me to lay a communication before it,” said the archchancellor of the empire, with a bow to the assembly.
The grave faces of the ambassadors nodded assent, and Dalberg continued, in a loud and solemn voice: “I have to inform the Diet that, as I am growing old and feel a sensible decline of my strength, I have deemed it indispensable for the welfare of Germany and myself to choose already a successor and coadjutor. Having long looked around among the noble and worthy men who surround me in so great numbers, I have at length made my selection and come to such a decision as is justified by the present state of affairs. The successor whom I have selected is a worthy and high-minded man, whose ancestors have greatly distinguished themselves in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in the service of the German empire. It is the Archbishop and Cardinal Fesch, uncle of the Emperor of France.”
A long and painful pause ensued; the members of the Diet looked, as if stupefied with terror and astonishment, at this man who, himself a German prince, dared to inform the German Diet that he had invited a foreigner to share with him the high dignity of a first German elector and of inheriting it after his death.
Dalberg read, perhaps, in the gloomy mien of the gentlemen the thoughts which they dared not utter, for he hastened to communicate to the Diet the motives which had influenced him in making the above named selection. He told them he had acted thus, not in his own interest, but in order to maintain the menaced constitution of the German empire, and to place it under Napoleon’s powerful protection. He then informed them joyfully that the Emperor of the French had already approved of the appointment of his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, and promised, moreover, that he would devote his personal attention to the regeneration of the German empire and always afford it protection.
The members of the Diet had moodily listened to him; their air had become more and more dissatisfied and gloomy; and when the elector paused, not a single voice was heard to propose the vote of thanks which Dalberg, on concluding his remarks, had asked for, but only a profound, ominous stillness followed his speech.
This, however, was the only official demonstration which the German Diet ventured to make against the appointment of Cardinal Fesch, and their silence did not prevent the consummation of this unparalleled measure. A foreigner, not even familiar with the German language, now became coadjutor of the archchancellor of the German empire—a foreigner became the first member of the German electoral college—a foreigner was to have the seals of the empire in his hands, keep the laws of Germany in his archives, and preside at the election of the emperors and at the sessions of the Diet!
And this foreigner was the uncle of the Emperor of the French, of the conqueror of the world. But the German Diet was silent and suffered on.
The horizon of Germany became more and more clouded; the Diet continued its sessions quietly, calmly, and inaudibly in the old city-hall at Ratisbon.