"If I do so, Prussia would think no longer of fulfilling her obligations
to me," exclaimed Napoleon. "Instead of paying the war contributions,
she would be foolish enough to rise in open hostility against me. Queen
Louisa hates me; she will never cease to intrigue against me, and to
instigate her husband to pursue a course hostile to me. She surrounds
herself and her husband by men who share her sentiments, and are
plotting to revolutionize Prussia--nay, all Germany. There is, for
instance, a certain Baron von Stein, whom the king appointed minister at
the request of the queen, and who is nothing but a tool in the hands of
this intriguing woman. That Stein is a bad and dangerous man; he is at
the head of secret societies, and I shall immediately take steps to
render him harmless. He and the queen alone make Prussia oppose me, and
refuse paying the stipulated contributions."
"Sire," said Alexander, almost imploringly, "I repeat to your majesty,
Prussia is unable to pay the enormous amount which has even been
increased after the conclusion of the treaty of Tilsit, and, moreover,
in the short space of two years. Oh, your majesty, the fate of the royal
family of Prussia is truly pitiable and weighs down my soul with
remorse. Do for my sake what you are unwilling to do for the sake of
Prussia. Let me not return without consolation to that mourning royal
family. Let me enjoy the triumph of proving to them that my words and
intercession were able to obtain from your majesty what neither the
queen's letter, nor all the solicitations of Prince William, and of the
Prussian diplomatists, had been able to accomplish! Oh, sire, you see I
am vain, and would like to demonstrate your friendship for me."
Napoleon's countenance grew milder while Alexander was impressively
uttering these words. "Sire," he said, "who could withstand your grace
and magnanimity? I wished a few minutes ago to be allowed to grant you
some request, difficult for me to fulfil, in order to give you a proof
of my regard! Well, your majesty has really asked something very
difficult for me to grant. But I will comply for your sake, sire! I will
deduct twenty millions from the sum to be paid by Prussia, extend the
time in which the contributions are to be paid from two to three years,
and withdraw my troops and officials in the course of six months. Is
your majesty satisfied with this, and will you regard it as a proof of
my friendship?"
"It is a proof of your friendship and generosity, and I thank your
majesty," exclaimed Alexander. "Oh, how happy I shall be when on my
return I announce these glad tidings to the royal couple! Ah, my poor
allies have suffered a great deal, and if your majesty does not object,
I should like to invite King Frederick William and his consort, next
winter, to spend a few weeks at St. Petersburg. Does your majesty
approve?"
Napoleon cast a quick and searching glance at Alexander. "I do not
assume to decide whom your majesty should hospitably receive," he said,
"and I confide in your friendship--you are henceforth my ally. Get the
King of Prussia to join this alliance, as the latter induced you to join
the alliance against me; that would indeed greatly promote the welfare
of Frederick William, and put an end to the intrigues of his queen. But
now, sire, a truce to politics and business! We are agreed and shall be
united in peace as in war. Our business is accomplished, and the days we
still spend here must be exclusively devoted to pleasure and friendly
intercourse. The Duke of Weimar would like to receive us for a few days
at his capital, to arrange a chase and a ball. Suppose we go thither
this afternoon and spend two days? Would it be agreeable to you?"
"I would accompany your majesty anywhere, were it into Orcus," exclaimed
Alexander. "Let us go to Weimar!"
"And if you please, sire, to Jena also. I should like to show the
battle-field to your majesty."
"And I should like to learn from your majesty how to win such laurels. I
follow you as a pupil."
CHAPTER XLII.
NAPOLEON AND GOETHE.
On his return from the early visit he had paid to the Emperor of Russia,
Napoleon immediately went to his cabinet and sent for Minister
Champagny, whom he met with unusual animation; and now, that he deemed
it no longer necessary to mask his countenance, it was beaming with joy.
"Champagny," he said, "it will be no longer necessary for you to send
letters to me. The emperor Alexander has accepted my offers, and
Romanzoff will have to hang up his 'cat's tongue' in the smoke-house.
For the present the appetite of the Russian Emperor for new territories
has been satisfied with the provinces of the Danube, and he will compel
his minister to yield. The stubborn old fellow will have to give way,
but, we are obliged to give him our promises in black and white. I go
this afternoon with the emperor to Weimar to spend a few days. You may
in the mean time carry on the negotiations with Romanzoff and draw up
the treaty. I shall send you further instructions to-night."
"And will not your majesty be kind enough to give me also instructions
as to the course I am to pursue toward the Austrian ambassador, Count
Vincent?" said the minister. "He overwhelms me every day with questions
and demands. He is very anxious to obtain an interview with your
majesty, to learn from your own lips that Austria has nothing to fear
from France, and that your majesty believes in the sincerity of the
friendship and devotedness of his master."
"I believe in the sincerity of Austria!" exclaimed Napoleon, frowning.
"I know her perfidy; I know that she is secretly arming to attack me as
soon as she believes me to be embarrassed by the events in Spain. But I
will unmask these hypocrites, and meet them with open visor. I will wage
war against them, because they disdain to remain at peace with me. Now
that I am sure of Russia, I am no longer afraid of Austria, for Russia
will assist me in the war against her, or at least not prevent me from
attacking and punishing her for her insolence. It was in my power to
overthrow that monarchy as I have overthrown those of Naples and Spain.
I refrained, and Austria is indebted to me for her existence. Now,
however, I am inexorable, and when I once more make my entry into
Vienna, it will be as dictator prescribing laws to the vanquished.
Austria is arming, and France will arm for another Austerlitz. I
authorize you to repeat these words to Count Vincent. I myself will
write to his emperor and intrust my letter to the ambassador. Tell him
so." He dismissed the minister and repaired to the dining-room.
Breakfast was ready, and had been served on a round table in the middle
of the room. Talleyrand, Berthier, Savary, and Daru, received the
emperor, and accompanied him to the table, not to participate in the
repast, but to converse with him, as Napoleon liked to do while he was
eating, and to reply to the questions which he addressed now to one, now
to another.
"Well, Daru," he asked, taking his seat, "you come from Berlin? What
about the payment of the contributions?"
"Ah, sire, the prospects are very discouraging," said Daru, shrugging
his shoulders. "More rigorous measures will probably become necessary to
coerce those stubborn Prussians, and--"
The door opened, and Constant, the _valet de chambre_, entered,
whispering a few words to Marshal Berthier.
The marshal approached the emperor, who was engaged with the wing of a
chicken. "Sire," he said, "your majesty ordered M. von Goethe to appear
before you at this hour. He is in the anteroom."
"Ah, M. von Goethe, the great German poet, the author of the 'Sorrows of
Werther,'" exclaimed Napoleon. "Let him come in immediately." A moment
later Constant announced M. von Goethe. Napoleon was still sitting at
the table; Talleyrand was standing at his right; Darn, Savary, and
Berthier, at his left. The eyes of all turned toward the door, where
appeared a gentleman of high, dignified bearing. He was tall and
vigorous, like a German oak; the head of a Jupiter surmounted his broad
shoulders and chest. Time, with its wrinkling hand, had tried in vain to
deform the imperishable beauty of that countenance; age could not touch
the charm and dignity of his features; the grace of youth still played
on his classic lips, and the ardor of a young heart was beaming from his
dark eyes as they looked calmly at the emperor.
Napoleon, continuing to eat, beckoned Goethe, with a careless wave of
his hand, to approach. He complied, and stood in front of the table,
opposite the emperor, who looked up, and, turning with an expression of
surprise to Talleyrand, pointed to Goethe, and exclaimed, "Ah, that is a
man!"[42] An imperceptible smile overspread the poet's countenance, and
he bowed in silence.
[Footnote 42: "_Voila un homme_!" These words created a great sensation
at the time, and were highly appreciated by the admirers of Goethe, as
well as by the great poet himself. His correspondence with friends
contains numerous allusions to them.--Vide "Riemer's Letters to and from
Goethe," p. 325.]
"How old are you, M. von Goethe?" asked Napoleon.
"Sire, I am in my sixtieth year."
"In your sixtieth year, and yet you have the appearance of a youth! Ah,
it is evident that perpetual intercourse with the muses has imparted
external youth to you."
"Sire, that is true," exclaimed Daru, "the muse of Goethe is that of
youth, beauty, and grace. Germany justly calls him her greatest poet,
and does homage with well-grounded enthusiasm to the author of 'Faust,'
of 'Werther,' and of so many other master-pieces."
"I believe you have also written tragedies?" asked Napoleon.
"Sire, I have made some attempts," replied Goethe, smiling. "But the
applause of my countrymen cannot blind me as to the real value of my
dramas. I believe it is very difficult, if not impossible, for a German
poet to write real tragedies, which fulfil the higher requirements of
art, and withal those of the stage. I must confess that my tragedies are
not so adapted."
"Sire," said Daru, "M. von Goethe has also translated Voltaire's
'Mohammed.'"
"That is not a good tragedy," said Napoleon. "Voltaire has sinned
against history and the human heart. He has prostituted the character of
Mohammed by petty intrigues. He makes a man, who revolutionized the
world, act like an infamous criminal deserving the gallows. Let us
rather speak of Goethe's own work--of the 'Sorrows of Werther.' I have
read it many times, and it has always afforded me the highest enjoyment;
it accompanied me to Egypt, and during my campaigns in Italy, and it is
therefore but just that I should return thanks to the poet for the many
pleasant hours he has afforded me."
"Sire, your majesty, at this moment, amply rewards me," said Goethe,
bowing slightly.
"Your 'Werther' is indeed a work full of the most exalted ideas," added
Napoleon; "it contains noble views of life, and depicts the weariness
and disgust which all high-minded characters must feel on being forced
to leave their sphere and come in contact with the gross world. You have
described the sufferings of your hero with irresistible eloquence, and
never, perhaps, has a poet made a more artistic analysis of love. Let me
tell you, however, that you have not been entirely consistent in the
work. You make your hero die not only of love, but of wounded ambition,
and you mention expressly that the injustice he met with at the hands of
his official superiors was a wound always bleeding, of which he suffered
even in the presence of the lady whom he loved so passionately. That is
not quite natural, and weakens in the mind of the reader the
comprehension of that influence which love exerted on Werther. Why did
you do so?"
Goethe looked almost in astonishment at the emperor; this unexpected
censure, and the quick, categorical question, had equally surprised him,
and momentarily disturbed the calmness of the poet. "Sire," he said,
after a brief pause, "your majesty has found fault with something with
which no one has reproached me heretofore, and I confess that your
criticism has struck me. But it is just, and I deserve it. However, a
poet may be pardoned for using an artifice which cannot easily be
detected, in order to produce a certain effect that he believes he is
unable to bring about in a simple and natural way."
Napoleon nodded assentingly. "Your 'Werther' is a drama of the heart,
and there are none to be compared with it," he said. "After reading it,
I am persuaded that it is your vocation to write in this style; for the
tragic muse is the favorite companion of the greatest poet. Tragedy was
at all times the school of great men. It is the duty of sovereigns to
encourage, patronize, and reward it. In order to appreciate it
correctly, we need not be poets ourselves; we only need knowledge of
human nature, of life, and of a cultivated mind. Tragedy fires the
heart, elevates the soul, and can or rather must create heroes. I am
convinced that France is indebted to the works of Corneille for many of
her greatest men. If he were living I would make a prince of him."
"Your majesty, by your words, has just adorned his memory with the
coronet of a prince," said Goethe. "Corneille would assuredly have
deserved it, for he was a poet in the noblest sense, and imbued with the
ideas and principles of modern civilization. He never makes his heroes
die in consequence of a decree of fate, but they always bear in
themselves the germ of their ruin or death; it is a natural, rational
death, not an artificial one."
"Let us say no more about the ancients and their fatalism," exclaimed
Napoleon; "they belong to a darker age. Political supremacy is our
modern fatalism, and our tragedies must be the school of politicians and
statesmen. That is the highest summit which poets are able to reach.
You, for instance, ought to write the death of Cæsar; it seems to me you
could present a much more exalted view of it than Voltaire did. That
might become the noblest task of your life. It ought to be proved to the
world how happy and prosperous Cæsar would have made it if time had been
given him to carry his comprehensive plans into effect. What do you
think of it, M. von Goethe?"
"Sire," said Goethe, with a polite smile, "I should prefer to write the
life and career of Cæsar, and in doing so I should not be at a loss for
a model." His eyes met those of the emperor, and they well understood
each other. Both of them smiled.
"You ought to go to Paris," exclaimed Napoleon. "I insist on your doing
so. There you will find abundant matter for your muse."
"Your majesty provides the poets of the present time, wherever they may
be, with abundant matter," said Goethe, not in the tone of a courtier,
but with the tranquillity of a prince who confers a favor.
"You must go to Paris," repeated Napoleon. "We shall meet again."
Goethe, who was an experienced courtier, understood the delicate hint,
and stepped back from the table. Napoleon addressed a question to
Marshal Soult, who entered at this moment. The poet withdrew without
further ceremony. The eyes of the emperor followed the tall, proud
figure, and turning to Berthier, he repeated his exclamation, "_Voila un
homme_!"
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS.
The two emperors made their entry into the decorated city of Weimar
amidst pealing bells, and the cheers of the people. The Duchess of
Weimar, just as she had done two years before, received the French
conqueror at the head of the palace staircase; this time, however, she
was not alone, but her husband, whom the emperor had formerly hated and
reviled so bitterly, stood at her side. Napoleon greeted the ducal
couple with his most winning smile.
The events of those terrible days of the past had been well-nigh
forgotten. A short time had sufficed to veil their memory, and Napoleon
was a welcome and highly-honored guest two years after the battle of
Jena. No vestige of the former distress remained; but the laurels of the
victor had not withered.
A vast number of carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, filled the
streets. The whole country had sent its representatives to greet the
emperors. All the houses were ornamented with flags, festoons, busts,
and laudatory inscriptions. But no one cared to stay at home. The
inhabitants and strangers hastened to the forest of Ettersburg, to
witness the great chase which the Duke of Weimar had arranged in honor
of the imperial guests.--Several hundred deer had been driven up and
fenced in, close to the large clearing which was to be the scene of this
day's festivities. In the middle rose a huge hunting-pavilion, the roof
of which rested on pillars twined with flowers. Here the two emperors
were to witness the chase, and the two wings of the structure were
assigned to the kings, dukes, and princes. All eyes and thoughts,
therefore, were turned in that direction; and yet no one noticed
particularly two youthful forms, wrapped in cloaks and leaning against
an oak near the gamekeepers. The merry clamor and the bugle-calls of the
hunters drowned the conversation of these young men. No one was
surprised at seeing rifles in their hands; they might be hunters or
gamekeepers--who could tell?
"I believe," said one of them, in a whisper, "we shall accomplish
nothing. My rifle does not carry far enough to hit him, and we are not
allowed to approach nearer."
"It is impossible to take a sure aim from here," replied the other. "My
eye does not reach so far; I could fire only at random into the
pavilion."
"The order says, however, to strike him alone, and not to endanger other
lives," said the first speaker. "The president said, if we kill him, it
would be an act of justice; but if we are so unfortunate as to kill
another, it would be murder."
"Oh, what sophistries to lull the warning voice of conscience!" murmured
the second speaker; "I--"
Loud cheers interrupted him; the notes of bugles and the roll of drums
mingled with the general uproar. The people seemed wild with excitement,
and the deer in the enclosure huddled together in terror. The two
emperors with their suites had just arrived.
"Look at him, brother," whispered the young man to his companion; "look
at the weird contrast of his gloomy countenance with the merry faces
around him. He stands like some incarnate spirit of evil in the midst of
laughing fools."
"Yes, but he is himself merry, brother Alfred, or seems to be," said his
companion.
"The groans of poor Germania are not heard in the flatteries of her
princes, who are fawning around him, and guarding him so well that the
hand of a true German cannot reach him."
"But the sword is hanging over him, brother Conrad," said Alfred, "and
if it do not fall on him to-day, it will to-morrow. Let us wait and
watch for an opportunity."
"Yes, Alfred, let us wait. We know not what favorable chance may aid
us."
The chase commenced; amidst deafening shouts the game were driven from
the enclosure. Whenever a deer passed near the pavilion, the two
emperors fired, and when the noble animal fell at perhaps ten yards'
distance, the spectators cheered, the bugles sounded, and the two
imperial sportsmen congratulated each other on their skill.
"It is in vain to stand here any longer," said Conrad, impatiently. "We
shall be unable to reach him, and it is repugnant to my feelings to
witness this butchery."
"Let us go, brother," whispered Alfred. "We must try to find another
opportunity. Let us reflect. Do you know the programme of the day's
festivities?"
"I do. After the chase there will be a gala-dinner, and the sovereigns
will then ride to the theatre, where the 'Death of Cæsar' will be
performed. After the representation of the tragedy, there will be a
grand supper and ball at the palace."
"The 'Death of Cæsar?'" asked Conrad, musingly. "Does fate intend giving
us a hint thereby? Does it show us where to find him and to strike the
blow? Let us be the actors in a similar play, and perform our part at
the entrance of the theatre! Are you ready, brother?"
"I am ready," replied Alfred, sighing. "We have sworn to do every thing
the league orders us to do--we must obey."
"Yes," said Conrad, sighing, "obey or die. Let us take our daggers
to-night, and use them well. Let us place ourselves in front of the
theatre, you on the right, and myself on the left. We must strike at the
same time, when he alights from his carriage. While all are gazing at
him, let us stealthily slip through the crowd. When you hear me shout
'One,' you will shout 'Two!' We will then simultaneously rush forward."
"At what time do we meet?"
"At seven o'clock, and if we escape death and arrest, we shall meet
again at the tavern outside the gate. Farewell, brother Alfred!"
"Farewell, brother Conrad!"
On the same evening, a thousand lights illuminated Weimar. That part of
the city between the palace and the theatre, where the emperors would
pass, was especially brilliant. When after the chase they had withdrawn
to rest a little, and the high dignitaries of the court were waiting in
the large reception-halls, Grand-Marshal Duroc approached General von
Muffling, who had left the Russian service; he was now vice-president in
Weimar, and had been charged by the duke with the supervision of the
court festivities.
"Tell me, sir," said Duroc, in a low voice, "I suppose you have a good
police here?"
"Of course, we have," replied Muffling, smiling, "that is to say, we
have a police to attend to sweeping the chimneys and cleaning the
streets, but as to a _haute police_, we still live in a state of perfect
innocence."
"The emperor, then, is to go to the theatre, and your police have taken
no precautions for his safety?" asked Duroc, anxiously.
"I believe it is so, M. Grand Marshal. If you wish to make any
arrangements, pray do so, and I shall approve them."
"Thank you," said Duroc, bowing. "I have secretly sent for a brigade of
French gendarmes. Will you permit them to guard the doors of the
theatre, and keep the populace from the streets along which the emperors
will ride?"
"Do as you please, M. Grand Marshal," said General von Muffling, with a
slightly sarcastic smile. "A detachment of the imperial guard will be
drawn up in front of the theatre, and hence I deemed any further
precautions entirely superfluous."
"The grenadiers are posted there only as a guard of honor," said Duroc;
"I hasten to send the gendarmes thither."
Fifteen minutes afterward the whole route from the palace to the theatre
was guarded by gendarmes, who pushed back all who tried to cross the
narrow sidewalks, or to step into the street along which the carriages
were rolling. A double line of grenadiers was drawn up in front of the
theatre. An officer walked up and down, gazing anxiously along the
street, in order to command the drummers to beat according to the rank
of the sovereigns arriving. For the emperors they were to roll thrice,
for the kings twice, and but once for the sovereign dukes and princes.
The drummers had just rolled three times, for the Emperor Alexander had
arrived. Another magnificent carriage approached; the coachman on the
box was covered with gold lace, and two runners, entirely clad in gold
brocade, accompanied. Two rolls had already been beaten, a third was
about to commence, when the commanding officer waved his hand angrily,
and shouted, "Silence! It is only a king!" The stout form of the King of
Wurtemberg appeared, and hastened into the theatre. Another carriage
approached. The drummers beat louder than before. Once, twice! And then
a third roll. The grenadiers presented arms, and the people rushed
forward. It was the Emperor Napoleon.
At this moment a young man elbowed himself through the crowd. He was
already close to the emperor. Only a single gendarme was in front of
him.
"One!" he shouted in a ringing voice, pushing aside the gendarme. "One!"
he repeated. No voice replied.
"Stand back!" cried the guard.
The emperor walked past. He had heard the shout. At the door he turned
his stern face, while his eyes flashed for a moment searchingly over the
crowd. He then slowly walked on. No accident disturbed the
representation, and the daggers that had been lurking outside for the
modern Cæsar had failed to strike him.
On the same evening the two conspirators met at the place agreed on.
With disappointed faces they seemed to read each other's secret
thoughts.
"Why did you not reply to me, brother?" asked Conrad. "Why were you
silent when I gave the signal?"
"I was unable to get through the crowd," said Alfred. "The gendarmes
refused to let me pass, and it appeared to me they were eying me
suspiciously. It was impossible to penetrate to the spot indicated. I
heard you call, but could not reply; I was too far from you."
"The work, then, must be done to-morrow," said Conrad, gravely and
sadly.
"Remember, brother, that the order of the president was to strike the
blow within a week. To-morrow is the last day!"
"Yes, to-morrow we must desecrate the sacred cause of the fatherland by
an assassination," said Alfred, sighing. "But we have sworn not to
shrink from death if the league requires it, and must obey!"
"We must obey or die," murmured Conrad. "Do you know the programme of
to-morrow?"
"I do, brother. Napoleon wishes to show the battle-field of Jena to the
Emperor Alexander, and to the kings and princes; and the Duke of Weimar,
who participated in the battle at the head of a Prussian division, has
arranged, in harmless self-irony, a hare-hunt. That will be a highly
dignified celebration of the anniversary of that battle."
"Oh, Germania! how thou must suffer!" groaned Conrad. "It is time for us
to place a bloody offering on thy altar! It must be done to-morrow. The
road to Jena crosses the small forest of the Webicht. Let us place
ourselves there close to the road, armed with our muskets. One of their
balls will surely hit him. We must both shoot at the same time."
"To-morrow, then, in the forest of the Webicht!"
On the following day the imperial and royal visitors repaired to Jena,
in order to hunt hares on the battle-field of Napoleon's famous victory.
On the Landgrafenberg, where Napoleon two years ago had spent the night
before the battle at a bivouac-fire, a magnificent tent had been
erected, and the Duke of Weimar begged leave to call it henceforth
"Napoleonsberg." Napoleon granted the request, smilingly, and then asked
the company to take a walk with him across the battle-field, that he
might explain to them the various operations of the great struggle. This
request of course was received with general joy, and the party descended
into the valley. Napoleon led the way; on his right Alexander, on his
left Prince William of Prussia, whom he had taken care to have by his
side. All listened in breathless silence to his words, which were
growing more and more enthusiastic. He disclosed to his audience his own
plans and motives, as well as the disastrous dispositions of his
enemies. Alexander listened to him musingly; the German kings and
princes, in breathless suspense. The French marshals, however, looked
discontented while their sovereign was speaking. Once, when the emperor
was just expatiating in glowing words on the correct mode of warfare,
his eyes happened to meet the countenance of Berthier, Prince of
Neufchatel, and noticed the dissatisfied expression of his features.
When Napoleon repaired to his tent, he ordered Marshal Berthier to
follow him. "Berthier, why did you look so angry?"
"Sire," faltered Berthier, in confusion, "I do not know that I did."
"But I know it. Why were you dissatisfied? Speak! I command you!"
"Well, if your majesty insists, I will speak," exclaimed Berthier. "Your
majesty apparently forgot what you have repeated to us so often: that we
ought always to treat our allies as though they afterward might become
our enemies. Is your majesty not afraid lest the sovereigns should
profit hereafter by the excellent lessons given them to-day?"
The emperor smiled. "Berthier," he said, kindly, "that is truly a bold
rebuke, and hence I like it. I believe you take me for a babbler. You
think, then, Prince of Neufchatel," he added, bending over Berthier and
pulling his ear, "that I have put whips into the hands of the German
princes which they might use against us! Be not alarmed; I do not tell
them every thing." And Napoleon opened the door of the tent with a
laugh, and gave the signal for the hunt to begin.
Not a human voice was to be heard in the forest of Webicht, which was
generally much frequented. It was but a bird's song that broke the deep
silence. Suddenly there was a rustling noise in the autumnal leaves
covering the ground, and quick footsteps approached the road crossing
the middle of the forest.
Two young men, wrapped in cloaks, glided through the woods, and
stationed themselves behind a couple of large beeches. They looked
searchingly along the road; opened their cloaks, and raised their
weapons to examine them, that they might make sure work.
"All right," said Conrad.
"All right," echoed Alfred.
"When I call out 'One,' we must both fire!"
"Yes, but we have been ordered to kill none but him," said Alfred,
hesitatingly. "What if he does not ride alone? If one of the balls
should strike an innocent man?"
"If one of his marshals or adjutants sits beside him he would not be an
innocent man, for he has assisted in making our country unhappy! Let
German soil drink his blood! He must not prevent us from carrying out
our purpose. We cannot shrink from it, because we have sworn obedience
to the league, and this is the last day. We must do or die!"
"Hush! let us listen and watch for him, brother Conrad." Soon the roll
of wheels was heard. The two conspirators raised their muskets as the
carriage approached. It could be seen that it contained two persons.
"It is he," whispered Alfred. "But who is seated by his side?"
"One of his adjutants," said Conrad; "no matter! Let us aim, brother."
The large trunks of the beeches concealed the forms of the conspirators.
"When I command, we fire!" whispered Conrad.
So close were they now that the persons seated in the coach could be
recognized. The man sitting on the right was Napoleon. But who was the
young man with the fine but downcast face?
"Stop," whispered Alfred. "Do not shoot, brother! He is no Frenchman! He
is a German prince, the brother of the King of Prussia! We cannot fire!"
"No, we must not fire at the brother of the unfortunate King of
Prussia!" murmured Conrad, lowering his arm. As the carriage passed by,
the conspirators could distinctly hear the words of Napoleon and his
companion. "A fine, fragrant forest," said the former, in his sonorous
voice, "just the thing for German poets and dreamers. For I suppose,
prince, the Germans like to dream?"
"Sire," said Prince William, mournfully, "I believe your majesty has at
last disturbed them in their visionary musings."
Napoleon burst into laughter, which resounded through the forest, and
startled the pale men standing behind the trees, and gazing gloomily
after him. He chatted gayly beside Prince William, without suspecting
that he, the brother of the King of Prussia, whom Napoleon had humbled
so often and so grievously, had just saved his life.
"We have failed again," said Alfred, when the noise of the wheels was
dying away in the distance. "The last day is nearly gone. What shall we
reply to the brethren when they ask us how we have carried out the order
which our country sent us? What shall we reply when they call us to
account?"
"We shall tell them that Heaven refused to allow the sacred cause of
Germany to be desecrated by murder!" exclaimed Conrad, gravely; "that,
faithful to our obligation, although with reluctant hearts, we tried to
accomplish our mission, but that we were restrained and our strength was
paralyzed. You will tell them so, brother--you alone. Tell them that I
was not forgetful of the oath I took on the day I joined the league.
Having been unable to obey, I die! Farewell, brother!" A shot reechoed
in the silent forest.
Not long after, a man, with livid cheeks and wild eyes, might have been
seen hastening across the distant heath on the other side of the woods.
As he ran he whispered, "Unhappy Germany!" These were the last words of
his companion Conrad, who lay dead on the fallen leaves.
Two days after their return from Weimar, on the 10th of October, the
emperors signed the treaty about which they had agreed, and in which
Romanzoff had been obliged to acquiesce. France consented in this treaty
that Russia should take possession of Moldavia and Wallachia. Russia
also agreed to whatever changes Napoleon had made, and would hereafter
make, in regard to the government of Spain, and engaged to assist him in
a war against Austria.
On the 14th of October they left Erfurt, and returned to their states.
The object of their meeting had been attained; both had derived benefit
from it. Alexander had gained Moldavia and Wallachia; Napoleon, a
powerful friend and ally. Europe received tremblingly the news of this
alliance of the West and the East. What hopes remained to Germany!--to
that dismembered country, over whose battle-fields Russia and France had
joined hands and concerted measures against the most powerful of its
states--Austria!
BOOK VI.
CHAPTER XLIV.
THE WAR WITH AUSTRIA.
Napoleon, in ill-humor, was pacing his cabinet, while Minister Champagny
was standing at the large desk, covered with papers and maps, where he
was engaged in folding and arranging several documents.
"They are bent on having war, those insolent Austrians," said Napoleon,
after a pause, "and they want it now, because they believe that I am not
prepared for it. What an unheard-of presumption, to arrest my couriers,
and take their papers from them! And now that I am taking
reprisals--that I on my part have issued orders to arrest their couriers
on all highways, and in all cities, and to take their papers from them,
the Austrians are raising a hue-and-cry about the violation of
international law; and if war should break out, the blame, as usual,
will be laid at my door!" He paused, but added immediately:
"I wished to remain at peace with Germany for the present, for I have
enough to do with those wretched Spaniards, who are rising against my
troops like a vast band of guerillas. But that is just what is giving
the Austrians courage. They believe me to be weakened, isolated, and
unable to wage war with any other power, and hence the cowards take
heart, and think they can obtain spoils from the lion. But, patience!
the lion retains his former strength and vigor, and will finally destroy
his enemies. Champagny, I suppose you have already sent the Austrian
ambassador his passports?"
"Yes, sire, Count Metternich has departed with all the members of his
legation."
"Very well; let him go to Vienna and announce my speedy arrival to the
Emperor Francis," exclaimed Napoleon, impatiently.
"Sire, Count Metternich will meet the emperor no longer in Vienna," said
Champagny calmly.
"No longer in Vienna!" exclaimed Napoleon, laughing scornfully. "Does
Francis II. suspect already that I am about to come, and has he taken to
his heels even before I have left Paris?"
"No, sire; it seems, on the contrary, that the Emperor Francis intends
to put himself at the head of his troops."
Napoleon burst into a loud laugh. "The Austrians, then, believe my
soldiers to be sparrows, and think they can drive them out by setting
up a scarecrow! If the Emperor Francis himself intends to command, he
will command the army only to retreat, for the word 'forward' is not to
be found in his dictionary. Have you looked over the dispatches from
Germany, and can you report to me what they contain?"
"I am ready, sire," said Champagny, glancing at the papers.
"Then commence," ordered the emperor, sitting down, and taking from the
table a penknife, with which he whittled the back of the chair.
"The four corps of the Austrian army, with the two reserve corps, moved
on the first of April toward the frontier of Bavaria," said Champagny.
"As soon as they cross the Inn and enter the territory of my ally, war
will break out," exclaimed Napoleon. "Proceed!"
"On the evening of the 9th of April, the Archduke Charles and his
brother, the emperor, arrived with the army at Linz. Thence he sent one
of his adjutants to the King of Bavaria, to whom was to be delivered an
autograph letter, in which the archduke announced to the king that he
had received orders to advance, and would regard and treat as enemies
all that would resist his progress, no matter whether they were German
or foreign troops."
"Why, that is a regular declaration of war," said the emperor, piercing
the velvet cushion of the chair with his penknife.
"Yes, sire, it is," said Champagny, taking up another paper. "We have
received, moreover, a copy of the war manifesto which the Emperor of
Austria has published in the _Vienna Court Gazette_, and which was drawn
up by Gentz, the well-known pamphleteer."
"Gentz!" ejaculated Napoleon. "Do not those warlike Austrians see that
that is their death-knell, and that it is a bad omen for them that Gentz
had to blow the war-trumpet? Is it not the same Gentz who drew up the
high-sounding manifesto for the King of Prussia, previous to the battle
of Jena?"
"Yes, sire, the same."
"Well, that was in 1806; the six has been transformed into a nine--that
is all the difference," exclaimed Napoleon. "Every thing else has
remained unchanged. I suppose the same language of self-reliance, of a
wounded sense of honor, and of noble patriotism, is to be found in the
manifesto of 1809 as in that of 1806? Oh, I know it! Those Germans ever
remain the same; they always believe their cause just; they always want
peace, and find war, without any fault of theirs. Those Austrians have
irritated me for about a year past; they have secretly armed during that
time. The busier they believed me to be in Spain, the more energetically
they continued their preparations; and whenever I had them questioned
about their motives and objects, they made evasive and unsatisfactory
replies. The natural consequence of all this was, that I moved my troops
toward the German frontier; that Davoust, Lannes, and Massena, with
three corps, had to approach Austria, and hold themselves in readiness
to cross its boundaries when the Austrians enter Bavarian territory; and
that, finally, I issued orders to the princes of the Confederation of
the Rhine to place their federal quota on a war-footing, and prepare for
the outbreak of hostilities. No sooner had this been done, than the
Austrians arrested my courier contrary to international law, and
compelled me to retaliate. Nevertheless, I suppose, they are entirely
innocent now, and the manifesto of the Emperor Francis proves clearly
that France, by her incessant insults and encroachments, by her
insatiable thirst after new territories, and by her boundless ambition,
compelled Austria to take up arms. Is it not so?"
"Yes, sire, it is so. There are at the conclusion of this manifesto
words and ideas that are almost identical with those your majesty
uttered just now."
"Read this conclusion," said Napoleon, leaning back in his chair.
Champagny read: "The Emperor Francis will never deem himself authorized
to meddle with the domestic affairs of foreign states, or to arrogate to
himself a controlling influence on their system of government, on their
legislative and administrative affairs, or on the development of their
military strength. He demands a just reciprocity. Far from being
actuated by motives of ambition or jealousy, the emperor will envy no
other sovereign his greatness, his glory, his legitimate influence; the
exclusive assumption of such advantages alone is the source of general
apprehensions and the germ of everlasting wars. Not France, in the
preservation and welfare of which his majesty will always take the
liveliest interest, but the uninterrupted extension of a system which,
under the name of the French Empire, acknowledges no other law in Europe
than its own, has brought about the present confusion; it will be
removed, and all the wishes of his majesty will be fulfilled, when that
exclusive system will be replaced by one of moderation, self-restraint,
the reciprocal independence of all the states, respect for the rights
of every power, the sacred observance of treaties, and the supremacy of
peace. Then alone can the Austrian monarchy and the whole political
fabric of Europe be maintained in a prosperous condition." |
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