Arthur O'Leary Part 53

Alexander was indeed the worthy grandson of Catherine, and, however a feeling of personal regard for Napoleon existed through the vicissitudes of after-life, it is no less true that the dissimulation of the Russian had imposed on the Corsican; and that while Napoleon believed him all his own, the duplicity of the Muscovite had overreached him. It was in reference to that interview and its pledged good faith, Napoleon, in one of his cutting sarcasms, p.r.o.nounced him, "Faux comme un Grec du Bas Empire."

Nothing troubled the happiness of the meeting at Erfurt. It was a joyous and a splendid fete, where, amid all the blandishments of luxury and pleasure, two great kings divided the world at their will. It was Constantine and Charlemagne who part.i.tioned the East and West between each other. The sad and sorrow-struck King of Prussia came not there as at Tilsit; nor the fair Queen of that unhappy kingdom, whose beauty and misfortunes might well have claimed the compa.s.sion of the conqueror.

Never was Napoleon's character exhibited in a point of view less amiable than in his relations with the Queen of Prussia. If her position and her personal attractions had no influence over him, the devoted attachment of her whole nation towards her, should have had that effect. There was something unmanly in the cruelty that replied to her supplication in favour of her country, by trifling allusions to the last fas.h.i.+ons of Paris, and the costumes of the Boulevard; and when she accepted the moss-rose from his hand, and tremblingly uttered the words--"Sire, avec Magde-bourg?"--a more suitable rejection of her suit might have been found, than the abrupt "Non!" of Napoleon, as he turned his back and left her. There was something prophetic in her speech, when relating the anecdote herself to Hardenberg, she added--

"That man is too pitiless to misfortune, ever to support it himself, should it be his lot!"

But what mean all these reflections, Arthur? These be matters of history, which the world knows as well, or better than thyself. "Que diable allez-vous faire dans cette galere?" Alas! this comes of supping in the Speiss Saal of the "Kaiser," and chatting with the great round-faced Prussian in uniform, at the head of the table; he was a lieutenant of the guard at Tilsit, and also at Erfurt with despatches in 1808; he had a hundred pleasant stories of the fetes, and the droll mistakes the body-guard of the Czar used to fall into, by ignorance of the habits and customs of civilized life, They were Bashkirs, and always bivouacked in the open street before the Emperor's quarters, and spent the whole night through chanting a wild and savage song, which some took up, as others slept, and when day broke, the whole concluded with a dance, which, from the description I had of it, must have been something of the most uncouth and fearful that could be conceived.

Napoleon admired those fellows greatly, and more than one among them left Erfurt with the cross of the Legion at his breast.

Tired and weary, as I was, I sat up long past midnight, listening to the Prussian, who rolled out his reminiscences between huge volumes of smoke, in the most amusing fas.h.i.+on. And when I did retire to rest, it was to fall into a fearful dream about Bashkirs and bastions; half-moons, hot shot, and bomb-proofs, that never left me till morning broke.

"The Rittmeister von Otterstadt presents his compliments," said the waiter, awakening me from a heavy sleep--"presents his compliments---"

"Who?" cried I, with a shudder.

"The Rittmeister von Otterstadt, who promised to show you the fortress."

"I'm ill,--seriously ill," said I, "I should not be surprised if it were a fever."

"Probably so," echoed the immovable German, and went on with his message. "The Herr Rittmeister regrets much that he is ordered away on Court Martial duty to Entenburg, and cannot have the honour of accompanying you, before Sat.u.r.day, when----"

"With Heaven's a.s.sistance, I shall be out of the visible horizon of Erfurt," said I, finis.h.i.+ng the sentence for him.

Never was there a mind so relieved as mine was by this intelligence; the horrors of that two days' perambulations through arched pa.s.sages, up and down flights of stone steps, and into caves and cells, of whose uses and objects I had not the most remote conception, had given me a night of fearful dreams, and now, I was free once more.

Long live the King of Prussia! say I, who keeps up smart discipline in his army, and I fervently trust, that Court Martial may be thoroughly digested, and maturely considered; and the odds are in my favour that I'm off before it's over.

What is it, I wonder, that makes the inhabitants of fortified towns always so stupid? Is such the fact?--first of all, asks some one of my readers. Not a doubt of it--if you ever visited them, and pa.s.sed a week or two within their walls, you would scarcely ask the question. Can curtains and bastions--fosses and half-moons, exclude intelligence as effectually as they do an enemy? are batteries as fetal to pleasure as they are to platoons? I cannot say; but what I can and will say, is, that the most melancholy days and nights I ever pa.s.sed, have been in great fortresses. Where the works are old and tumbling, some little light of the world without, will creep in through the c.h.i.n.ks and crevices, as at Antwerp and Mentz; but let them be well looked to--the fosses full--no weeds on the ramparts--the palisades painted smart green, and the sentry boxes to match, and G.o.d help you!

There must be something in the humdrum routine of military duty, that has its effect upon the inhabitants. They get up at morning, by a signal gun; and they go to bed by another; they dine by beat of drum, and the garrison gives the word of command for every hour in the twenty-four; There is no stir, no movement; a patrol, or a fatigue party, are the only things you meet, and when you p.r.i.c.k up your ears at the roll of wheels, it turns out to be only a tumbril with a corporal's guard!

Theatres can scarcely exist in such places; a library would die in a week; there are no soirees; no society. Billiards and beer, form the staple of officers' pleasures, in a foreign army, and certainly they have one recommendation, they are cheap.

Now, as there was little to see in Erfurt, and still less to do, I made up my mind to start early the next day, and push forward to Weimar, a good resolution as far as it went, but then, how was the day to be pa.s.sed? People dine at "one" in Germany, or, if they wish to push matters to a fas.h.i.+onable extreme, they say "two." How is the interval, till dark, to be filled up--taking it for granted you have provided some occupation for that? Coffee, and smoking, will do something, but except to a German, they can't fill up six mortal hours. Reading is out of the question after such a dinner,--riding would give you apoplexy--sleep, alone, is the resource. Sleep "that wraps a man, as in a blanket," as honest Sancho says, and sooth to say, one is fit for little else, and so, having ordered a pen and ink to my room, as if I were about to write various letters, I closed the door, and my eyes, within five minutes after, and never awoke till the bang of a "short eighteen" struck six.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV. THE HERR. DIRECTOR KLUG.

"Which is the way to the theatre?" said I to an urchin who stood at the inn door, in that professional att.i.tude of waiting, your street runners, in all cities, can so well a.s.sume; for, holding a horse, and ringing a bell, are accomplishments, however little some people may deem them.

"The theatre?" echoed he, measuring me leisurely from head to foot, and not stirring from his place.

"Yes," said I, "they told me there was one here, and that they played to night."

"Possibly," with a shrug of the shoulders, was the reply, and he smoked his short pipe, as carelessly as before.

"Come then, show me the way," said I, pulling out some kreut-zers, "put up that pipe for ten minutes, and lead on."

The jingle of the copper coin awakened his intelligence, and though he could not fathom my antipathy to the fumes of bad tobacco, he deposited the weapon in his capacious side pocket, and with a short nod, bade me follow him.

No where does nationality exhibit itself so strikingly, as in the conduct and bearing of the people who show you the way, in different cities. Your German is sententious and solemn as an elephant, he goes plodding along with his head down and his hands in his pockets, answering your questions with a sulky monosyllable, and seeming annoyed when not left to his own meditations. The Frenchman thinks, on the contrary, that he is bound to be agreeable and entertaining, he is doing the honours of La Grande Nation, and it stands him upon, that you are not to go away discontented with the politeness of "the only civilized people of Europe." Paddy has some of this spirit too, but less on national than individual grounds; he likes conversation, and leads the way to it; beside, no one, while affecting to give information himself, can pump a stranger, like an Irishman. The Yankee plan is cross-examination outright, and no disguise about it; if he shows the way to one place, it is because you must tell him where you came from last; while John Bull, with a brief "Don't know, I'm sure," is equally indifferent to your road and your fortune, and has no room for any thoughts about you.

My "avant courier" was worthy of his country; if every word had cost him a molar tooth, he couldn't have been more sparing of them, and when by chance I either did not hear or rightly understand what he did say, nothing could induce him to repeat it; and so, on we went from the more frequented part of the town, till we arrived at a quarter of narrow streets, and poor-looking houses, over the roofs of which I could from time to time, catch glimpses of the fortifications; for we were at the extreme limits of the place.

"Are you quite certain this is the way, my lad?" said I, for I began to fear lest he might have mistaken the object of my inquiry.

"Yes, yes--there it was--there was the theatre," and so he pointed to a large building of dark stone, which closed the end of the street, and on the walls of which, various placards and announcements were posted, which, on coming nearer, I found were bills for their night's performance, setting forth how the servants of his Majesty would perform "Den Junker in den Residentz," and the afterpiece of "Krahwinkel." There was a very flouris.h.i.+ng catalogue of actors and actresses, with names as hard as the dishes in a bill of fare; and something about a "ballet,"

and a "musical intermezzo."

Come--said I to myself--this is a piece of good fortune. And so, dismissing my little foot page I turned to the door, which stood within a deep porch.

What was my amazement, however, to find it closed--I looked on every side, but there was no other entrance; besides, the printed list of places and their prices, left no doubt that this was the regular place of admission. There's no knowing, after all,--thought I--these Germans are strange folks; perhaps they don't open the door without knocking, and so, here goes.

"In Himmel's namen was ist das?" screamed an angry voice, as a very undignified-looking Vrau peeped from a window of a foot square, above the door--"What do you want with that uproar there?" roared she, louder than before.

"I want to get in--a place in the boxes, or a 'stalle' in the 'balcon'--anywhere will do."

"What for?" cried she again.

"What for!--for the play to be sure--for the 'Junker in den Resident.'"

"He is not here at all--go your ways--or I'll call the Polizey," yelled she, while, banging the window, there was an end of the dialogue.

"Can I be of any service to you, mein Herr?" said a portly little fellow, without a coat, who was smoking at his door--"What is it you want?"

"I came to see a play," said I, in amazement at the whole proceedings, "and here I find nothing but an old beldam that threatens me with the police."

"Ah! as for the play I don't know," replied he, scratching his head, "but come with me over here to the 'Fox' and we're sure to see the Herr Director."

"But I've nothing to do with the Herr Director," said I; "if there's no performance I must only go back again--that' s all."

"Aye! but there may though," rejoined my friend; "come along and see the Herr himself, I know him well, and he'll tell you all about it."

The proposition was at least novel, and as the world goes, that same is not without its advantages, and so I acceded, and followed my new guide, who, in the careless _negligee_ of a waistcoat and breeches, waddled along before me.

The "Fox" was an old-fas.h.i.+oned house, of framed wood, with queer diamond-shaped panes to the windows, and a great armorial coat over the door, where a fox, in black oak, stood out conspicuously.

Scarcely had we entered the low arched door, when the fumes of schnaps and tobacco nearly suffocated me; while the merry chorus of a drinking song, proclaimed that a jolly party was a.s.sembled.

I already repented of my folly in yielding to the strange man's proposal, and had he been near, would at once have declined any further step in the matter; but he had disappeared in the clouds,--the disc of his drab shorts was all I could perceive through the nebulee. It was confoundedly awkward, so it was. What right had I to hunt down the Herr Director, and disturb him in his lair. It was enough that there was no play; any other man would have quietly returned home again, when he saw such was the case.

While I revolved these thoughts with myself, my fat friend issued from the mist, followed by a tall, thin man, dressed in deep black, with tights and hessians of admirable fit; a pair of large, bushy whiskers bisected his face, meeting at the corners of the nose; while a sharp, and pointed chin tuft, seemed to prolong the lower part of his countenance to an immense extent.

Before the short man had well uttered his announcement of the "Herr Director," I had launched forth into the most profuse apologies for my unwarrantable intrusion, expressing in all the German I could muster, the extent of my sorrow, and ringing the changes on my grief and my modesty, my modesty and my grief; at last I gave in, fairly floored for want of the confounded verb one must always clinch the end of a sentence with, in German.