Lay Down Your Arms 68

Lay Down Your Arms 68

Now succeeded a time of real refreshment. Long walks, long hours of

study, long hours of play with the children, and no entries in the red

volumes--which last was a sign of freedom from care, and spiritual

peace.

 

Europe also seemed at that time tolerably free from care, and peaceful.

At least no “black spots” were anywhere visible. One did not even hear

any more talk about the famous _Revanche de Sadowa_. The greatest

trouble which I experienced at that time was caused by the universal

obligation for defence which had been introduced a year before amongst

us Austrians. That my Rudolf some time or other _must_ become a

soldier--that was a thing I could not bear. And yet folks dream of

freedom!

 

Frederick tried to comfort me. “A year of ‘volunteering’ is not much.” I

shook my head.

 

“Even if it were but a day! No man ought to be compelled to take upon

himself a certain office, which perhaps he hates, even for a single day;

for during that day he must make a show of the opposite of what he

feels--must pretend that he is doing joyfully what he really hates--in

short, he is obliged to lie, and I wanted to bring up my son to be true,

before all things.”

 

“Then he ought to have been born one or two centuries later, my

dearest,” replied Frederick. “It is only the perfectly free man who can

be perfectly true; and we are still poorly off for both things--freedom

and truth--in our days; that becomes clearer and clearer to me the

deeper I plunge into my studies.”

 

Now, in this retirement Frederick had twice the leisure for his work,

and he set about it with true ardour. However happy and content we were

with our life in this solitude, still we remained firm in our

determination to spend next winter in Paris again. This time, however,

it was not with the view of amusing ourselves, but in order to do

something practical towards the fulfilment of the task of our lives. In

this, it is true, we did not cherish any _confidence_ that we should

attain anything; but when a man sees even the possibility of the shadow

of a chance offered him to contribute anything towards a cause which he

recognises as the holiest cause on earth, he feels it to be a duty which

he cannot refuse, to try this chance. Now, in recapitulating, during our

familiar talks, the recollections of Paris, we had thought also of that

plan of the Emperor Napoleon which had come to our ears by the

communications of his confidants--I mean the plan for proposing

disarmament to the great powers. It was on this that we based our hopes

and our projects. Frederick’s researches had brought into his hand

Sully’s _Memoirs_, in which the plan of Henry IV. for peace is described

in all its details. We meant to convey an abstract of this to the

Emperor of the French; and at the same time to try, through our

connections in Austria and Prussia, to prepare both these Governments

for the propositions of the French Government. I could set this on foot

by the means of Minister To-be-sure, and Frederick had at Berlin a

relative who was in an influential political position, and stood very

well at court.

 

In December, which was the time we meant to move to Paris, we were

prevented. Our treasure, our little Sylvia, fell ill. What anxious hours

those were! Napoleon III. and Henry IV. of course were then put in the

background--our child dying!

 

But she did not die. In two weeks all danger was over. Only the

physician forbade us to travel during the worst of the winter’s cold. So

we put off our departure till March.

 

This sickness and recovery, the danger and the preservation--what a

shock they had given our hearts! and how much--though I thought that no

longer possible--they had brought them more near to each other still! To

tremble in unison before a horrid disaster--one which each fears the

more from seeing the other’s despair, and to weep tears of joy in common

when this disaster has been averted--are things which have a most mighty

influence in welding souls together.

 

* * * * *

 

Forebodings? No, there were none. If there had been Paris would not have

made on me the cheerful impression of promised pleasure which it did on

one sunny afternoon of March, 1870, on our arrival. One knows now what

horrors were brooding over that city after a very short interval; but

not the faintest anticipation of trouble arose in my mind.

 

We had already hired beforehand, through the agent, John Arthur, the

same little palace in which we had lived last year, and at its door was

waiting for us our _maître d’hôtel_ of the previous year. As we drove

across the Champs Elysées to reach our dwelling, it was just the hour

for the Bois, and several of our old acquaintances met us and exchanged

joyful recognitions. The numerous little barrows of violets which were

dragged about the streets of Paris that year filled the air with the

promise of spring; the sunbeams were sparkling and playing in rainbows

on the fountains of the _Rond-point_, making little reflections on the

carriage lamps and the harness of the many carriages. Amongst others,

the beautiful empress was driving in a carriage harnessed _à la

Daumont_. She passed us, and, recognising me, made a gesture of

salutation.

 

There are some special pictures or scenes which photograph or phonograph

themselves on our memory, along with the feelings that accompany them,

and some of the words that are spoken at them. “This Paris is truly

lovely,” cried Frederick at this point, and my feeling was a childish

self-congratulation at the coming treat. Had I known what was coming to

me, and to this whole city, now bathed in splendour and rejoicing!

 

This time we abstained from throwing ourselves, as we had done the year

before, into the whirlpool of worldly amusements. We announced that we

would not accept any dancing invitations, and kept ourselves apart from

the great receptions. Even the theatre we did not visit so often--only

when some piece made a great impression--and so it came about that we

spent most evenings at home alone, or in the society of a few friends.

 

As to our plans with regard to the idea of the emperor about

disarmament, we got on but badly with them. Napoleon III. had not,

indeed, given up his idea altogether, but the present time, it was said,

was not at all suited for carrying it out. In the circle around the

throne a conviction had grown up that that throne stood on no very firm

footing--a great discontent was boiling and seething among the people,

in order to repress which all the police and censorship regulations were

made more stringent, and the only consequence of this was greater

discontent. The only thing, said certain people, which could give

renewed splendour and security to the dynasty would be a successful

campaign. It is true there was no near prospect of this, but all mention

of disarmament would be a total and complete mistake, for thereby the

whole Bonaparte-nimbus would be destroyed, which was undoubtedly founded

on the heritage of glory of the first Napoleon. We had also received no

very cheering answers to our inquiries on these subjects from Prussia

and Austria. There people had entered on an epoch of expansion of the

“defensive forces” (the word “army” began to be unfashionable), and the

word “disarmament” fell on this like a gross discord. On the contrary,

in order to obtain the blessings of peace, the “defensive power” must

be increased--the French were not to be trusted--the Russians

neither--and the Italians, most certainly not--they would fall on Triest

and Trent at once, if they had the opportunity--in short, the only thing

to do was to nurse the Landwehr system with all the care possible.

 

“The time is not ripe,” said Frederick, on our receiving communications

such as these, “and I must, I suppose, in reason give up the hope that I

personally may be able to help in hastening the ripening of that time,

or even see the fruits I long for blossoming. What I can contribute is

mean enough. But from the hour that I saw that this thing, however mean,

is my duty, it has in spite of all become the greatest thing of all to

me, so I keep on.”

 

But if for the present the project of disarmament had been dropped, I

had yet one comfort--there was no war in sight. The war party which

existed in the court and among the people, and whose opinion was that

the dynasty must be “rebaptised in blood,” and that another little taste

of glory must be provided for the people, were obliged to renounce their

plan of attack and their bewitching “little campaign on the Rhine

frontier”. For France possessed no allies; great drought prevailed in

the country; a dearth of forage was to be anticipated; the army horses

had to be sold; there was no “question” in agitation; the contingent of

recruits had been diminished by the legislative body; in short, so

Ollivier declared from the tribune--“the peace of Europe is assured”.

 

_Assured!_ I rejoiced over the word. It was repeated in all the papers,

and many thousands rejoiced with me. For what can there be better for

the majority of men than assured peace?

 

How much, however, that security which was announced by a statesman on

June 3, 1870, was worth we now all know. And even at the time we might

have known this much, that assurances of that kind from statesmen,

though the public always receives them again with the same innocent

trust, really contain no guarantee--literally none. The European

situation shows no question in agitation--therefore peace is secure.

What feeble logic! Questions may come into agitation any moment; it is

not till we have prepared some means against such a contingency other

than war, that we can ever be secure against war.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XVII.

 

_We remain in Paris to get ready a new house.--The “question”

between France and Prussia.--Candidature of Prince Hohenzollern for

the crown of Spain.--The war rumours and the speeches in the

Chamber become menacing.--The Hohenzollern candidature

withdrawn.--Further demands of France.--Threatening debate in the

French Chamber.--War declared.--Excitement and enthusiasm in

Paris.--With which side should we sympathise?--The opposing

manifestoes.--We linger in Paris.--Opinions about war of eminent

French writers.--Proclamations of the two armies.--Secret history._

 

 

Paris society again dispersed in all directions. We, however, remained

behind on business. For an extraordinarily advantageous bargain had been

offered to us. Through the sudden departure of an American a little,

half-finished hotel, in the Avenue de l’Imperatrice, had had to be

offered for sale, and at a price which did not amount to much more than

the sum already expended on the decoration and furnishing of the thing

itself. As we had already the intention of spending in future some

months of each year in Paris, and as the purchase in question was also

at the same time an excellent bargain, we closed with it. We wished to

superintend the completion ourselves, and for this purpose stopped in

Paris. The decoration of one’s own nest is, besides, such a pleasurable

task that we willingly endured the unpleasantness of staying in a city

the whole summer. Besides, we had plenty of houses to which we could

resort for company. The château of Princess Mathilde, St. Gratien, then

Château Mouchy, and next Baron Rothschild’s place, Ferrières, and other

summer residences besides of our acquaintance, were situated near Paris,

and we arranged once or twice a week to pay a visit, now to one of them,

now to another.

 

It was, I recollect, in the _salon_ of Princess Mathilde that I first

heard of “the question” that was soon to come into “agitation”.

 

The company was sitting, after _déjeûner_, on the terrace, looking on to

the park. Who were all the people there? I do not recollect them all

now; only two of the persons present remain in my memory, Taine and

Renan. The conversation was a very lively one, and I recollect that it

was Renan chiefly who led the talk, sparkling with _esprit_ and

witticisms. The author of the _Vie de Jésus_ is an example that a man

may be incredibly ugly and yet exercise an incredible fascination.