"Continue the struggle?" asked Lutzow. "I beseech you, take my advice
and do not follow the dictates of courage alone; listen also to those of
prudence. It will be utterly useless, Schill; we should husband our
strength for better times. We are threatened either by military force,
or the rigor of the law. Prussia has drawn up a corps on her frontier to
repulse us, if need be, should we come armed; and, if unarmed, she would
have us tried by a court-martial. Napoleon's corps of observation is
stationed on the boundaries of Saxony and Westphalia, and even the King
of Denmark has ordered General von Ewald to march against us."
"The stag has been surrounded, but not yet captured," exclaimed Schill.
"There is still a place where he may escape. The King of Sweden has not
yet a corps in the field against us, and Stralsund is occupied only by a
garrison of scarcely three hundred men, commanded by General Candras.
Let us march thither and surprise the fortress. When Stralsund is ours,
we are on the sea-shore, and in communication with the British; we have
ships in the harbor, on which, if every thing else should fail, we could
find an asylum, and hasten to England."
"But suppose we should not take Stralsund?" asked Lutzow. "How could we
escape? I beseech you, listen to reason, consider our hopeless
situation; save yourself--save the poor soldiers who have reposed
confidence and hope in you! Let us embark for England. There are
well-nigh thirty ships in the harbor of Warnemunde; if they refuse to
take us on board, we can compel them."
"No," exclaimed Schill, vehemently. "We shall do just as I said--march
to Stralsund and take the fortress. But Lieutenant Barsch is to seize
twenty of the ships at Warnemunde and embark on them our baggage, the
sick, and the military chest, and convey them to the island of Rugen. We
start to-morrow and take Stralsund. That is my plan, and it must be
accomplished!"
And Schill's plan was accomplished. He marched his hussars to Stralsund,
and for a moment fortune smiled on him. The French commander, General
Candras, preferred to meet the enemy in the open field instead of
awaiting him behind the half-decayed fortifications. He marched against
Schill with the whole garrison and a battery of light artillery; but the
Prussian hussars, with a shout attacked the enemy, and dispersed them,
took six hundred prisoners, and made their triumphant entry into
Stralsund.
"And here let us conquer or die," said Schill to his officers, who were
standing around him. "Friends, brethren! the day of success is at hand,
and Stralsund is the first taken. Let us remain here; throw up
intrenchments against the enemy, and wait for the succor which England
has so often promised."
"Let us not wait for this succor," said one of the officers; "let us
meet it."
"Every hour of delay increases the danger," exclaimed another. "If we do
not now embrace the opportunity--if we do not start without delay, and
meet the English squadron in the open sea, or hasten to the Swedish
shore, we must inevitably perish."
"It would be foolhardiness to remain here for the enemy's superior force
to attack us," said a third. "To struggle against such odds is folly,
and prudent men submit to the decrees of fortune, instead of resisting
them in a spirit of childish petulance."
"Let us husband our resources for a future day," said a fourth. "It will
come when Germany, which is repudiating us now, will stand in need of
our assistance, and call us to her side. Let us preserve ourselves for
more favorable prospects, and a greater probability of success."
Schill looked angrily on his officers. "Is there no one who will raise
his voice against these opinions?" he asked. "Is there no one who will
reply to the timid and desponding, in the name of honor, courage, and
patriotism?"
All were silent; a murmur of indignation was the only reply. "Well,
then," exclaimed Schill, ardently, "I will myself speak against you all;
I will tell you that it is cowardly to flee from danger, and to think of
defeat instead of victory; that it is perfidious to desert our country
when in danger, to save one's own miserable life. Accursed be he who
thinks of flight and of forsaking the great cause which we are serving!
We must hold Stralsund to the last man. We must make it a German
Saragossa, and lie dead beneath the ruins of the city rather than
surrender. Let us repair the fortifications, throw up new earthworks,
and await the enemy behind the intrenchments. This is my resolution; I
will not suffer contradiction, but treat as rebels and mutineers those
who dare to act contrary to my orders! The soldiers obey me, and I am
their commander. But such of the officers as do not wish to participate
longer in the struggle; who, instead of remaining true to their duty,
prefer to save their lives by flight, are at liberty to do so. I will
not prevent them from making their escape; they may embark on one of the
ships in the harbor, and flee whither they desire. Let them remember,
however, that they will leave their dishonor here, and will not
participate in the glory which posterity may grant as the only
conquerors' crown to poor Schill and his faithful men. Let such as
desire to flee step forth and receive their discharge." A long pause
ensued. No one advanced.
"We agreed to serve under the leadership of Major von Schill," at last
said the oldest officer, in a grave, solemn voice; "we have sworn to
fight under him against the enemies of our country, to remain with him
to the last, and to obey his orders. We shall fulfil our oath, and not
faithlessly desert the banner which we have hitherto followed. Let Major
von Schill consider, however, that he is responsible for the lives of
all those who have united their destiny with his own, and that his
conscience, God, and posterity, will judge him, if instead of preserving
them he should lead them to an inglorious death or captivity. If Major
von Schill is unwilling to listen to prudence--if he refuses to embark
and escape with us, we will all remain, and, with him, await our fate.
Speak, then, major, will you go with us or remain?"
"I will remain," exclaimed Schill, energetically. "I will await the
enemy; I will conquer or die on German soil. Oh, friends, comrades, do
not speak to me of flight or submission; Schill does not flee, Schill
does not submit! I have tried to arouse my country; I have stretched out
my hand toward my countrymen, and said to them, 'I will assist you in
shaking the sleep from your half-closed eyes. Rise! and I will lead you
in the path of liberty and honor. My arm is strong, and my sword is
sharp; unite with me, and let us expel the tyrant!' But Germany did not
listen to my appeal; she is still sleeping too soundly, and God did not
decree that I should accomplish my task. Perhaps Providence may intend
that you and I shall strengthen the cause of liberty by shedding our
blood--our death will awaken the sleepers, that they may avenge us. The
Germans entertain great admiration for the dead. It is only toward the
living that they are cold and reserved. Brethren, let us die for liberty
if we cannot live for it. Let us remain united in life and death!"
"Yes, united in life and death!" exclaimed all the officers, and they
thronged around Schill to shake hands with him, and to assure him of
their fidelity.
Four days of repose and peace followed.--Schill profited by them to
repair the decayed intrenchments and fortifications, and made all
necessary preparations for an obstinate defence against the approaching
enemy.
On the 31st of May, early in the morning, while the major was reviewing
his troops in the market-place, wild shouts were heard in the streets.
They drew nearer and nearer. Soldiers were rushing toward Schill, and
behind them, at some distance, others in red uniforms became visible.
A flash of joy kindled the patriot's face. "The English," he exclaimed,
in a loud voice, "see their red coats! The English have landed, and are
coming to our assistance!"
"The English are coming!" echoed the exultant soldiers.
"No, no," gasped one of the guards, who had just reached the
market-place, "the Dutch are coming--it is the enemy! They surprised us
at the Knieper gate, dispersed our infantry, and penetrated into the
city. See! their assaulting columns are already advancing! Let every one
escape as he can!"
"It is the enemy!" exclaimed Schill, vaulting on his horse.
"Come, brethren, let us meet them. The cavalry will remain here as our
reserve. The other troops will follow me to the Triebseer gate!" And he
galloped into the narrow street leading to the gate, followed by his
men. He was a picture of heroism as he rode at the head of his band,
with his hair streaming in the wind, and his countenance beaming with
courage. Turning with a smile to Lieutenant Alvensleben, who was riding
at his side, "Oh," he said, "it seems to me as though a heavy load had
been removed from my breast, and I could breathe freely again. The
decisive struggle is at hand, and burdensome life will be resigned with
joy. I shall die, my friend, die. Hurrah! forward! liberty is beckoning
to me, glorious liberty!"
He spurred his horse and galloped more rapidly, Alvensleben remaining at
his side.
"Friend," exclaimed Schill, further on, "when I am no more, defend me
against my enemies, and greet my friends! Take my last oath of fealty to
the queen, and my last love-greeting to Germany, when she is free.
Hurrah! there comes the enemy! Let us sing an inspiring song!" And he
sang in a loud voice:
"Tod du susser, fur das Vaterland!
Susser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen!"
"_Willkommen_!" he cried again, and galloped more rapidly past the Dutch
soldiers, who were just emerging from a side-street and cut him off from
Alvensleben and his other followers. The enemy, commanded by the Dutch
General Carteret, was also approaching from the opposite street. The
patriot galloped into the midst of the staff--his sabre flashed, and the
general fell from his horse as if struck by lightning. Schill turned
when he was unable to penetrate through this body of men obstructing the
street. But another battalion had already formed behind him and cut him
hopelessly off from assistance. His own men tried to reach him. Shouts,
oaths, cries of defiance and fury, with the groans of the dying, rent
the air.
Schill saw that he was lost, that he was no longer able to save himself,
his faithful men, or his fatherland! There was no escape for him. Death
was howling around him on all sides, panting for its prey. Suddenly the
column of the enemy opened; he saw the gap, and spurred his horse with a
desperate effort, making him leap into the midst of the enemy. The Dutch
soldiers fell back in dismay, and Schill galloped by them into Fahr
Street. Forward, as on the wings of a tempest, he hastened to the
assistance of his men. A bullet hissed past him--another shot was fired.
He wavered in the saddle; the bullet had struck him! A detachment of
Dutch soldiers were just coming up the street. The man heading them saw
the pale Prussian officer, who was scarcely able to retain his seat.
"It is Schill! it is Schill!" he cried out, rushing forward.
"Hurrah, it is Schill!" shouted the others, aiming their muskets at him.
Three shots were fired. The brave Prussian still kept the saddle, but
his hand dropped the bridle, and the horse stood still. The Dutch
chasseurs surrounded and cut him. He lay helpless on the ground--that
herculean man. He was still alive; his eyes, that had so beamed with
courage, cast their last glance toward heaven, and his lips, that smiled
so sweetly, murmured, "_Tod du susser fur das Vaterland_!" A powerful
sabre-stroke at last ended his life. His enemies despoiled his body,
tearing off his decorations, and robbing him of a small crown of pearls
and the memorandum-book, both gifts of the queen whom he loved so well,
and for whom he fought so bravely. They seized the corpse and dragged it
along the street in order to present it to their general. His hands were
besmeared with mire; his uniform torn by the brutal grasp of the
conquerors, and his gory head trailed along the pavement. He was at last
deposited in the vestibule of the city hall, where the meat-merchants of
Stralsund trade on market days.
A butcher's bench was the catafalque of unfortunate Ferdinand von
Schill, the martyr of German liberty! There he lay, a horrible
spectacle, with broken limbs, a face deformed by bruises and
sabre-gashes, and his eyes glaring to heaven as if in accusation of the
ignominy of his death and the brutality of his enemies.
CHAPTER XLIX.
THE PARADE AT SCHONBRUNN.
Napoleon's great victory at Wagram had put an end to the war with
Austria, and destroyed only too speedily the hopes which the battle of
Aspern or Esslingen had awakened in the hearts of the Germans.
The Archduke Charles had gained at Aspern half a victory; and the fact
that the Austrians had not been beaten--that Napoleon had been compelled
to fall back with his army and to take refuge on the island of Lobau,
was regarded as a victory, which was announced in the most boastful
manner. But if it was a victory, the Austrians did not know how to
profit by it. Instead of uniting their forces and attacking Lobau, where
the French army was encamped, huddled together, and exhausted by the
long and murderous struggle--where the French grenadiers were weeping
over the death of their brave leader, Marshal Lannes, Duke of
Montebello--where the wounded and defeated were cursing for the first
time the emperor's insatiable thirst for conquest--instead of
surrounding the French army, or opening a cannonade upon them, the
Archduke Charles fell farther back from the right bank of the Danube,
and allowed his exhausted troops to rest and recover from the fatigue of
the terrible battle that had lasted two days. While the Austrians were
dressing their wounds, the French profited by the delay, and built new
bridges, procured barges, left the island that might have been a
graveyard for them, and reorganized their shattered forces.
On the 6th of July, Napoleon took revenge at Wagram for the two days of
Aspern, and wrested again from the Archduke Charles the laurels won at
the latter place. Germany was in ecstasies after the battle of Aspern,
but she bowed her head mournfully after that of Wagram.
Napoleon was again the master of Germany; and Austria, like the rest of
the country, had to bow humbly to his imperious will. The "first soldier
of Aspern," brave Prince John of Lichtenstein, was sent to Napoleon's
headquarters at Znaim to request an armistice and the opening of peace
negotiations. Napoleon, whose armies were exhausted, whose attention,
besides, was absorbed by the war in Spain, and who had found out at his
late battles what resistance was now beginning to be made in Germany,
granted the request, consented to a cessation of hostilities, and that
the envoys of France and Austria should agree upon terms of peace.
These negotiations had already been carried on for months, and no
conclusion had yet been arrived at. Vienna was still a French city, and
the Viennese had to submit to the rule of a new governor, and to the
galling yoke imposed on them by a foreign police, who kept a close
surveillance over every action--nay, every expression and look. They had
to bow to stern necessity, and to celebrate Napoleon's birthday, the
15th of August, by festivities and an illumination, as though it were
the birthday of their own sovereign.
Napoleon was still residing at Schonbrunn, at the palace which Maria
Theresa had built, and where she had signed the marriage-contract of her
daughter Marie Antoinette with the Dauphin of France. Marie Antoinette
had been guillotined, and the heir of the Revolution and of the French
crown was dwelling at her mother's palace.
Every morning the French Emperor reviewed his guards in the large
palace-yard, and thousands of the inhabitants of Vienna hastened
regularly to Schonbrunn in order to see him and witness the parade.
These morning reviews had become a favorite public amusement, and, when
listening to the music of the French bands, and beholding the emperor
(in his gray coat, with his broad brow covered with the three-cornered
hat) gallop down the ranks of his troops, followed by the brilliant
staff of his marshals and generals, amid shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_"
the kind-hearted citizen sometimes forgot that it was their enemy who
was displaying his power, and rejoicing in his ambition; instead of
cursing, they admired him and his veterans, whose scars were the signs
of many a victory.
Napoleon was but too well aware of the influence which these parades
were exerting on the minds of the people; he knew the fascination which
his person produced not only on his soldiers, but the public generally,
and he wished to profit by it, in order to conquer the civilians after
conquering their army. Every one, therefore, had free access, and the
subtle invader had always a kind glance and an affable smile with which
to win their hearts.
On the 13th of October, as usual, a parade was to be held; and the road
leading to Vienna was early covered with carriages, horsemen, and
pedestrians, hastening to Schonbrunn. Among those hurrying along the
high-road was a man of whom no one took any notice, with whom no one was
conversing, and who, while all around were laughing, and speaking of the
parade, was pursuing his way in grave silence. His youthful countenance
was sad and pale; long, light hair was waving round his oval face. His
eyes seemed on fire, and his thin, half-parted lips were quivering as
though he were a prey to intense emotion. He was wrapped in a large
black cloak reaching nearly to his feet; a small black velvet cap
covered his head. This strange figure looked like an apparition in the
midst of the chatting crowd, the elegant carriages, and dashing
horsemen. All were too busily engaged with themselves, with the review,
which was to be particularly brilliant, and with the emperor, who was
not only to be present, but to command the troops.
A few persons referred also to the hopes entertained of a speedy
conclusion of peace, and regretted that they had not yet been fulfilled,
while others conversed stealthily about the victories of the Tyrolese,
and of noble and brave Andrew Hofer, who, with his faithful
mountaineers, still dared to resist the French conqueror. The young man
listened gravely and silently to all this conversation.
It was yet early when he reached the palace; for the Viennese were
anxious to get good places, and to be as near the emperor as possible,
and therefore they had set out several hours before the parade was to
commence.
The young man glanced with an evident air of disappointment over the
large, unoccupied space which lay before him, and on which as yet not a
man of the imperial guard was to be seen. "Will there be no parade
to-day?" he asked a corpulent citizen of Vienna, who was standing at his
side.
"Certainly, sir, there will be one," said the citizen, with a
self-important air. "But it is very early yet, and an hour may elapse
before the emperor makes his appearance."
"An hour yet!" exclaimed the young stranger, indignantly. "I was told I
had to be here early in order to witness the spectacle."
"You were correctly informed, sir. For if you want to see any thing, it
is necessary to be here at this hour to secure a good place. Besides,
the time you will have to wait will not be very tedious. The various
regiments that are to participate in the parade will soon make their
appearance; then, come the imperial guards, who form in line, and,
finally, the emperor with his marshals. Oh, you ought to hear the
shouts, the music of the band, and the roll of the drums when he
appears! You will certainly hear the noise, provided it does not make
you deaf."
"I think it will not," said the young man, with a mournful smile. "But
tell me, shall we be able to see the emperor very near? From which door
will he make his appearance, and where does he generally take his
position?"
"He comes generally from the large portal yonder; it is there that he
mounts on horseback; he then rides down the front of the soldiers, and
halts a short time just there, where we are standing. Those who desire
to say any thing to him, or to deliver petitions, had better do so on
this very spot. But come, let us go a little farther into the
palace-yard, that we may see better."
"Very well, lead the way. I will follow," said the young man.
"Come, then, sir." And the kind-hearted citizen of Vienna elbowed
himself through the crowd.
The young conspirator followed him a few steps, and then halted. Instead
of advancing farther he slipped back to his former place.
"No," he muttered to himself, "I must not stand close to, or converse
with any one. I must be alone and an utter stranger, so as to cast
suspicion on no one else, and not to endanger the lives of innocent
persons. The glory of the deed will belong to me alone, if it should
succeed; let the penalty be inflicted on me alone, if it should fail."
He withdrew farther from the citizen who had spoken to him so
courteously, and when he had entirely lost sight of him, he approached
the palace cautiously and from the opposite side. "The blow must be
struck at once," he muttered. "Every delay will involve me in fresh
dangers, and my fate might be the same as that of the two brethren who
drew the black balls last year. I drew the lot this time, and must
accomplish what they were unable to perform."
The youthful stranger raised his eyes toward heaven, and a solemn
earnestness beamed from his countenance. "Yes, I swear it by the memory
of Anna, and the tears she will soon shed for me, that I will not, like
those two brethren, shrink from striking the blow. I drew the lot, and
the president must repair the fault committed by them. I must destroy
the tyrant! Heaven, hear my oath and let my plan succeed!" He elbowed
himself quickly through the crowd, and approached closer to the entrance
of the palace. Once, in the midst of the surging mass, his cloak was
accidentally displaced, and something like a dagger-blade flashed from
under it; but hastily arranging his cloak he glanced around with an air
of uneasiness. No one paid any attention to him, for all eyes were fixed
on the imperial guard marching into line with a proud step, conscious
that they were the favorites of the greatest general of the age, and the
terror of the battle-field.
CHAPTER L.
NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN.
While the regiments were forming in the palace-yard below, and the
spectators were thronging about them, Napoleon was still in his cabinet.
But he was not alone. Some of his adjutants and marshals were with him,
and stood, like the emperor, in front of a table covered with strange
articles. There lay a leg encased in a magnificent boot, a hand covered
with a white glove, an arm clad in the sleeve of a uniform, by the side
of which was a foot cut off close above the ankle, and encased in a neat
shoe.
Napoleon contemplated these things with grave glances, and then turned
his eyes toward a small man who was standing in humble attire and
attitude, and who was no other than the celebrated mechanician and
inventor of the metronome, Leonard Malzl. "You are a genius indeed!"
said the emperor, with an air of genuine admiration; "people did not say
too much in calling you the most skilful member of your profession. You
really suppose that it is possible to walk with such a leg?" And the
emperor pointed at that lying on the table.
"Sire, I do not only suppose it, I know it," said M. Malzl, gravely; "a
man may use these limbs and feet as easily and naturally as though he
were born with them. Please be so kind, your majesty, as to look at
this." M. Malzl took the article and placed it in front of a chair.
"Your majesty sees that it is a foot with about half a leg. It is
fastened with these two suspenders, that are thrown over the shoulders,
and a man may then walk with it."
"Yes, walk, but he would not be able to sit down."
"Yes, he would, sire; you touch this spring, and--your majesty sees, the
knee bends and the upper part drops on the chair."
"So it does!" exclaimed Napoleon, joyously, but suddenly his brow became
dark and his eyes gloomy. "Alas," he said, thoughtfully, "were Lannes
still alive, I might have at least offered him a substitute for the
limbs he lost." He stared at the ingenious work, and stroking his face
quickly said, "You assert, also, sir, that a man may use that hand, and
hold any thing with it?" asked Napoleon, lifting up the neatly-gloved
hand.
"Sire, it is just as good as one new-grown. The human will controls
every limb and moves these artificial fingers just as well as the
natural ones. Will your majesty be so kind as to order me to take
something from the table with this hand which you see now stretched
out?"
The emperor drew a ring, adorned with a large diamond, from his finger,
and laid it on the table. "Let the machine pick up this ring," he said.
Malzl took the hand, and, touching the spring fixed at the wrist, the
fingers bent immediately and seized the ring. Napoleon looked humorously
at his astonished marshals and generals. "Now, gentlemen," he said, "we
need no longer be afraid of bullets, for if we lose the hands and feet
that God has given us, we can replace them by those made by Mr. Malzl."
"Sire," said Mr. Malzl, smiling, "will you convince yourself that my
artificial hand cannot merely pick up, but also retain an object? Will
your majesty try to take the ring from it?"
Napoleon seized the ring, but the fingers held it with irresistible
tenacity. "Indeed, these are very sensible fingers," exclaimed Napoleon;
"they do not give up what they once get hold of."
"Yes, sire, they will. I touch this spring, and the fingers open again."
"No, no," exclaimed the emperor, "let them keep this time what they
have, and wear the ring as a memento. I will allow them only to deliver
it to their maker, who knows not only how to use his own hands so
skilfully, but also to manufacture serviceable ones for others. No
thanks, sir! we are greatly indebted to you, and not you to us, and it
certainly behooves me to thank you in the name of the brave soldiers
whose lost limbs you replace so ingeniously. When the precious day of
peace will come, people will be able to do without your invention, but I
am afraid we shall not live to see that day. We are, I fear, always
exposed to the horrors of war. Hence, your invention is a blessing that
cannot be appreciated too highly, for, thanks to you, there will be
fewer cripples and unsightly wooden legs. I shall issue orders to select
five of the bravest and most deserving invalids from every regiment of
my army, and you will restore to them their lost arms, legs and hands,
at my expense. Indeed, sir, you imitate the Creator, and the wonder
would be complete if you knew also how to replace lost heads."
"Sire, I do know that, too," said Malzl, smiling.
"Yes, a head of wax or painted wood!"
"No, sire, a head that moves, opens, and closes its eyes, and--thinks."
"A head that thinks?" exclaimed Napoleon, laughing. "Ah, that is a
pretty strong assertion, which you could hardly prove."
"Pardon me, your majesty, I engage to furnish the proof."
"How so?"
"If your majesty will acknowledge that one must think in order to play a
game of chess, then the artificial man in my possession is able to
think."
"Where have you that man with the thinking head?"
"Sire, I have caused my assistants to set it up in the adjoining room.
But I must observe that this man was not made by myself; it is the
master-piece of the late Mr. Kempeler, a well-known mechanician, of
whose son I bought my slave."
"Ah," said Napoleon, laughing, "do you not know that the trade in human
chattels is now prohibited in our civilized states? But let us see your
slave.--Come, gentlemen," added Napoleon, turning toward his marshals
and adjutants, "let us look at the work of this modern Prometheus." He
walked toward the door, but, before leaving the cabinet, he turned to
the chamberlain. "When the Duke de Cadore comes bring me word
immediately." He then stepped into the adjoining room and the marshals
and Mr. Malzl followed him.
In the middle of the room, at a small table, on which was a chess-board,
sat a neatly-dressed male figure, looking like a boy fourteen years old.
"That, then, is the celebrated chess-player," remarked Napoleon,
advancing quickly. "The face is made of wax, but who will warrant that
there is not a human countenance concealed under it, and that this
prepossessing and well-proportioned form does not really consist of
flesh and blood?"
"Sire, this will convince your majesty that such is not the case," said
Malzl, touching a spring on the neck of the automaton, and taking the
head from the trunk.
"You are right," exclaimed Napoleon, laughing, "I am fully convinced. It
is true men are walking about without heads, but they are not so honest
as to reveal the fact so openly as your automaton does."
"Sire, will your majesty grant the favor of playing a game of chess with
him?" asked Malzl, fastening on again the head of the automaton.
"What! the thing will dare to play a game of chess with me?"
"With your majesty's permission."
"And alone?"
"Yes, sire; your majesty will permit me, however, to take position
behind the chair?"
"Certainly. I see the chessmen are already on the board; let us
commence." The emperor sat down opposite the automaton, and saluted it
with a pleasant nod.
"Well, comrade, let us commence," said Napoleon.
The automaton made a graceful bow, and beckoned to the emperor with its
uplifted right hand, as though he wished him to commence.
"Well, I shall commence," said Napoleon, advancing a pawn.
The automaton took the pawn in front of the king and advanced it two
squares. The emperor made another move, and so did his opponent. Looking
smilingly at the figure, Napoleon played his black bishop as a knight,
occupying the oblique white square. The automaton, shaking its head, put
the bishop on the square it ought to occupy.
"Ah, it does not like cheating," exclaimed Napoleon, laughing; "it is a
very earnest and conscientious player." And the emperor made another
move. The automaton continued the game. Another attempt was made to
cheat by moving the castle in an oblique direction. His adversary took
the castle with an impetuous gesture and placed it aside like a pawn it
had won.
"It very properly punishes me," said the emperor. "We must play
seriously."
The game proceeded. It became more and more intricate; the chances were
soon in favor of the automaton, and the emperor was in danger of losing
the game. Forgetting who was his antagonist, he remembered only that he
was about to lose a game, and became serious. He played hastily, and for
the third time tried to cheat by moving a knight contrary to the rules.
The automaton shook its head vehemently, and upset the whole
chess-board.
"Ah, it refuses to continue the game," exclaimed Napoleon; "it despises
my swindling, and forgets that it is itself a swindle. You may be
thankful, M. Malzl, that we are no longer in the middle ages; formerly
they would have burned you at the stake as a sorcerer, attempting to do
what God alone is able to do."
"Sire, permit me to repeat that this machine was not made by myself, but
by Kempeler. But I hope your majesty will permit me to show you my own
automaton, and allow it to indulge in a little music before you."
"Where is it?"
"Here," said Malzl, opening the closed curtains of one of the windows,
and pointing at the handsome figure visible behind them.
"Ah, a postilion!" exclaimed Napoleon, "and it will blow us a tune on
the bugle?"
"Sire, it begs leave to play the _Marseillaise_ to your majesty," said
Malzl, moving the figure on rollers into the middle of the room.
"Let it commence," said Napoleon.
The postilion raised its arm, seized the bugle hanging on a silken
string around its neck, put it to its mouth and commenced blowing.
At this moment the door of the cabinet opened; the chamberlain entered
and approached the emperor. "Sire," he said, the "Duke de Cadore has
just arrived and begs to be admitted."
"Conduct him immediately into my cabinet," replied Napoleon, rising
hastily. He then beckoned the mechanician to his side. "Let your
postilion still play to the marshals. As to your chess-player, I must
buy it of you. You may apply to Grand-Marshal Duroc for the money. In
order to punish the automaton for nearly beating me at the game, I will
buy it, and it is henceforth to be my slave."[47]
[Footnote 47: This chess-player, which Napoleon bought of Malzl,
remained at the Villa Bonaparte, near Milan, until 1812, when it was
removed to Paris, where it is at the present time.]
"Sire, that is no punishment, but a reward, for which I beg leave to
thank you in the name of my chess-player."
"You have invented a most acceptable substitute for such of my invalids
as have lost arms or legs," said the emperor; "now you must invent
something else for me, and come to the assistance of the wounded on the
battle-field. Make me the model of an ambulance into which the disabled
can be placed safely and comfortably, and which is arranged in such a
manner that it may be taken asunder and transported on horseback with
the train of the army. You are an inventive genius, and I shall expect
you with your model in the course of a week. Now let your postilion blow
again. Good-by!" He waved his hand kindly to the mechanician, and then
hastened back into his cabinet. The Duke de Cadore was there already,
and saluted the emperor with a low bow.
"Well, Champagny," exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, "do you not yet bring us
peace?"
"No, sire, the ambassadors of Austria refuse peremptorily to accept the
terms proposed to them."
"Ah," exclaimed the emperor, menacingly, "those Austrians believe they
can bid me defiance. They have not yet been humbled enough, although I
have defeated their army, foiled the plans of their commander-in-chief,
expelled their emperor from his capital, and am residing at his palace.
They wish for further humiliations, and they shall have them. If they do
not change their mind very speedily, I shall send for the Grand-duke of
Wurzburg and adorn his head with the imperial crown of Austria."
"Sire, that would be replacing one puppet by another, but not removing
the men pulling the wires; and they are all animated by the same spirit.
Prince Lichtenstein and Count Bubna are no less inflexible than was
Count Metternich. It is true they have already yielded in some points,
and declared to-day that the Emperor Francis had authorized them to
accept some of the conditions proposed."
"Which?" asked Napoleon, hastily.
"The emperor is ready to cede to France Dalmatia and Croatia, the
territories demanded by your majesty."
"Well!" exclaimed Napoleon, "we obtain thereby the chief point. I shall
extend the territory of France to the Save, and become the immediate
neighbor of Turkey. Let the Emperor of Russia try then to carry his
plans against Constantinople into effect: France will know how to
protect her neighbor, and her troops will always be ready to defend the
Porte. When I have extended my frontiers into the interior of Dalmatia
and Croatia, Russia's influence in the Orient is paralyzed, and France
will be all-powerful in Constantinople. What is it that Austria refuses
after granting our principal demands?"
"Sire, she consents further to cede to Bavaria part of Upper Austria,
namely: Salzburg, Berchtesgaden, and part of the district of the Inn and
Hausruck, but she refuses to give up one-half of Upper Austria, which we
claimed; she refuses further to cede to Saxony such large territories in
Bohemia, and to Russia in Galicia, as was demanded by your majesty."
"We may yield a little as to these points," said Napoleon. "It is always
better to make exorbitant demands, because it is easier then to abate,
and appear accommodating. I do not attach, moreover, any great value to
the enlargement of Bavaria, Saxony, and Russia. Only the aggrandizement
of France by the extension of our frontiers to the boundaries of Turkey
was to be the object of our ambition. Having attained this, we will
yield as to the cession of other territories, and be satisfied with
less, provided that Austria accept unreservedly and fully the two other
conditions I refer to."
"Your majesty refers to the reduction of the Austrian army, and the war
contribution of one hundred millions of francs, which we have demanded."
"Which we have demanded, and which must be paid, unless they wish me to
resume hostilities," said Napoleon, menacingly.
"Sire, these are the two points as to which Austria shows the greatest
reluctance," said Champagny, shrugging his shoulders. "She contends that
a reduction of her army, brought about by the imperious demands of
France, is incompatible with the honor and dignity of her emperor; and
further, that she is unable to pay a war contribution of one hundred
millions of francs."
"She dares then to reject my demands!" exclaimed Napoleon, with a gloomy
air. "She will compel me to recommence the war for the sake of a few
miserable millions of francs!"
"Sire, Austria makes counter-propositions, and hopes that an
understanding will be arrived at. She promises to reduce her army
considerably in the course of six months, to disband the militia, and to
place the regiments on a peace footing. She further offers one-half of
the sum which we have demanded, namely, fifty millions."
"And she believes that I will be satisfied with that?" said Napoleon.
"She attempts to beat me down as though I were a British shopkeeper! She
dares to offer me one-half, and talks to me about the honor and dignity
of her emperor! As if it did not depend on me to trample under foot his
honor and dignity, and to cast the imperial crown of Austria into the
waves of the Danube, or to place it on my own head, just as I prefer!"
"Sire, I believe the Emperor Francis is fully aware of the danger
menacing him, and he is conscious, too, that his dynasty is at stake in
these negotiations. I do not believe, therefore, that hostilities will
break out again, owing to his reluctance to submit to these two
conditions."
"I shall not yield," said Napoleon, "although it seems to me disgraceful
to commence another war for the sake of fifty millions, and when I know
that my own army is in need of repose. I--" The emperor interrupted
himself, and listened to the clock, which struck twelve. "Indeed, it is
already twelve o'clock! My guard must have been waiting for me in the
palace-yard for some time." He stepped to the window and looked down.
"My splendid guard has already formed in line," he said, "and there is a
vast crowd of spectators from Vienna to see the parade."
"To see your majesty," corrected Champagny, approaching the window at a
sign made by Napoleon.
"Just look at that crowd!" said the emperor, smiling. "There are at
least three thousand men who have come hither to see me and my soldiers,
and they do not belong exclusively to the lower classes, as is proved by
the large number of carriages, the numerous elegant horsemen, and by the
windows yonder." He pointed at the windows of the opposite wing of the
palace; and when the minister turned his eyes, he beheld a large number
of ladies, whose toilet seemed to indicate that they belonged to the
higher classes of society.
"See!" said the emperor, "that beautiful lady in the ermine dress; it is
the Princess von Furstenberg, and the lady at her side is the wife of
Field-Marshal von Bellegarde. They requested Bausset to lend them one of
his windows, that they might witness the parade. The ladies at their
side are all members of the highest aristocracy, and the citizens and
the populace generally are in the yard below. You see, these good people
regard us no longer as enemies; they love and esteem us, and perhaps it
would be wisest and best for me to claim the crown of Austria in order
to put an end to all further quarrels. The Austrians, it seems to me,
would be content with it. Well, we shall see further about it! I will
not make the ladies, the populace, and, above all, my soldiers, wait
longer. You may remain here in my cabinet. There is a note on the table
which I want you to finish. I shall return soon."
The emperor took his hat, and, opening the door leading into the
adjoining room, he called out: "Gentlemen of the staff--to the parade!"
CHAPTER LI.
FREDERICK STAPS.
The bands played, and shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_!" burst from the
troops. Napoleon had emerged from the palace door, and the welcome was
as a sunbeam brightening his cold and emotionless face. He slowly
descended the steps of the outside staircase, with his eyes on the
soldiers, and he did not notice the young man who stood below,
presenting to him a petition with his left hand, while he concealed his
right under his cloak.
"Sire," said the young man, loudly and urgently, "sire, here is a
petition, and I request your majesty to listen to me for a moment. I--"
Napoleon passed on the other side without having heard these words. The
youth, holding the petition still in his hand, was about to follow him,
but Marshal Bessieres, who walked behind, kept him back. "If you present
a petition to the emperor," he said, "wait here until the parade is
over, when he will return this way." The marshal proceeded, but the
young man took no notice of his order, and mingled boldly with the emperor's suite. |
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