XX
At luncheon that afternoon Fessenden found himself beside the Countess Piroska. The Archduchess had anIndependent on either hand, and Alexandra assisted her with one of them. The Countess Vilma had another in charge. There were no other guests, and Sarolta, who had found the prospect of Radical politicians anything but amusing, was lunching elsewhere. The table had been laid in the small dining-room adjoining the blue room, but the curtains were half drawn across the large windows, for all the women were paler than usual. Three had danced until the cocks of Buda announced the morning, and the other had slept less than they. She and Fessenden had met without a word, but with a handshake of complete understanding. The “Young Kossuths” were in good order; they had left the ball as soon as the general dancing began. As they entered to-day they had looked somewhat truculent, as if fearful of patronage, but were now at their ease, and Molnár alone appeared indifferent to the delicate viands of the palace chefs.
“He is in love with our princess,” whispered Piroska scornfully. “Not but that it is quite natural everybody should fall in love with her, but I should think it would be a sensation to be avoided by any one under an archduke; and as for Molnár, he is not to be pitied, he is too ludicrous.”
“I don’t fancy you waste much pity on any one,” said Fessenden.
“I pity you,” said Piroska softly.
“Indeed?” he asked innocently. “What have I done that I should be pitied?”
“Done? Ah—but I understand American better since I have had the pleasure to know Miss Abbott. I mean—I think you are too fine to waste your love on a woman who is no more achievable than the polar star.”
“Oh— Do you think I am in love with the Archduchess? Well, I will confide to you that I am, butdon’t—don’t betray me, or the Emperor will be ordering me out of the Dual Monarchy; and I have a theory that it is a good thing for a young man to be in love with the polar star. It keeps him out of much mischief.”
Piroska was nonplussed, and turned her wide gaze upon him. He was eating with every appearance of appetite, and Piroska, although a sordid soul, had her idea of what a lover should be.
“You never have eyes for any one else,” she murmured, at a loss.
“Remember the limited time at my disposal. One month—two, perhaps, and I must walk a tread-mill in a land without polar stars.” He was thinking, “Shall I throw her off the track, or would she be more useful as an enemy? I should use her without scruple, for I am convinced that she is here to spy, and she has a ledger where her heart ought to be. It will not do to be too precipitate; she might act before we are ready. All I want is her added weight at the right moment.” He determined to be guided by events, and turned to her with his frank smile, which seemed at once to establish a personal relation. “I should like to show you America—that is a large order!—New York, rather,” he said. “You must come over some time with my sister.” And then, to the mystified but delighted littleintrigante, he made himself as agreeable for the next half-hour as he knew how; and his spirits were so plainly unaffected that the Zápolya thought less of Ranata’s power to charm.
The rising voice of Molnár gave him the excuse he wanted to assist the Archduchess in her difficult task.
“You are all so tired,” he murmured to Piroska. “I had better talk to that man.”
“The King is quite mistaken,” Molnár was announcing, “if he believes that our ultimate idea in wishingthe universal use of the Magyar language in our own country is to divide the army against itself, or to encourage hatred towards Austria. Not only does the Constitution accepted by the King provide that Hungarian soldiers shall be commanded by Hungarian officers, but we wish the language for two reasons—to fulfil more nearly a passionate national ideal, and because it is the fitting reward of a thousand years of indomitable individuality.”
“But do you not think,” asked Fessenden, “that passionate ideals, when carried to extreme, may degenerate into mere vanity? I suppose you are not averse from a fair-minded discussion, so you will not mind my saying that I think vanity is the only rock on which the Hungarian nation may split and go to pieces. It is a dominant trait in your aristocracy, as is evidenced by their theatrical and childish delight in an ancient and ornate costume—this in a day when the more highly civilized a man is the more simply he dresses. The bulk of the nation betray this itching vanity in its persistent struggle for things insignificant in themselves, but whose attainment would inflate its pride and permit it to exult over its step-children. If you can prove to me that I am wrong, and that you are possessed by a nobler motive in this agitation for the compulsory use of your language throughout an army in which there are so many Austrians, Germans, Roumanians, Saxons, Slavonians, Bulgarians, and, above all, the Croats, who most hate you, I shall be glad to acknowledge myself mistaken.”
Molnár’s eyes had flashed. He was vaguely jealous of the American, bitterly as he realized that his disappearance would leave no field for him. But he had come to the palace determined to assist the cause of his party, and not only did the quiet air of the room andcompany depress his energy of temper, but his deep respect for the Archduchess, and desire to stand well with her, would have restrained him from a violent outburst. He replied with a calm which he was made subtly aware his princess commended.
“It is difficult to prove what is so largely a matter of standard. The Americans have so vast a country, so many liberties unknown in Europe, but worthy of emulation, that what seems the noble motive of pride to us may appear quite petty to them. But after all, did not your country, when under the heel of another power, make mountains out of many mole-hills that you would laugh at now? You tax yourselves more heavily than England ever taxed you, and it is seldom that a voice is raised in protest. The stamp-tax after your late war is a case in point. You burned your British governors in effigy, and now your contented and prosperous people merely shrug their shoulders at the iniquities of your bosses, confident that the country can take care of itself. The great patriotic virtues that were extolled a hundred years ago in the United States of America are passed by now as a matter of course, or their absence is unnoticed; and I remember reading that a large portion of your country in its youth went quite hysterical at the monarchical proposition that Mr. Washington’s head should appear on coins. But I only wish to illustrate that a young country lacking complete independence, or fearful of losing that so recently acquired, is never so indifferent to certain points as a great one.”
“I admit all the faults of my country past and present, but it seems to me that if the law of progress means anything, it means that a people dissatisfied with monarchical government and bent upon republican should take warning and example from the older republics—not act as if every page of history had been destroyed. Whenvanity stiffens into a monumental conceit, as in the case of England and ourselves, it is still bad enough, and has its dangers, but at least it is not childish, and is the result of a developed strength that it would be next to impossible to wreck. But being still weak as you are, by your constitutional inferiority to Austria, and the hatred with which you are regarded by almost every other division and tribe in your share of the Dual Monarchy, it doubly behooves you to eliminate your weaknesses. And, I repeat, vanity is the one which will prove most fatal. William played upon it in a masterly manner; he uttered but a few words of flattery, he took the trouble to learn but three words of your language, and the nation wept tears of joy. I amuse myself counting the number of mustaches—particularly in the army!—that stand on end. If it had been the tyrant of all the Russias, the momentary enthusiasm would have been the same, although second thoughts would have disillusioned you. That an enlightened and progressive monarch chose to declare himself your friend, no matter for what purpose of his own, you may count as a piece of good fortune which you had done nothing very especial to encourage. But do you flatter yourself for a moment that if William took you over he would permit the universal substitution of any language for his own?”
“I was not of those whose heads were turned by the Emperor of Germany,” snorted the Hungarian, whose own mustache Nature had planted in a most aggressive fashion. “The constant abuse of Hungary by the German press, and the attempts of propagandists to corrupt German-speaking Hungarians and unite them for the propitious moment of rebellion against the country their ancestors adopted—that Germany may have a weakened state to oppose her when she is ready to putinto execution her designs on the Balkans—those are scores, sir, that an emperor cannot sweep from some memories by flattery. I am—since the death of the Crown Prince—” He hesitated and looked at the Archduchess.
“You are to speak with perfect freedom to-day,” she said smiling, and endeavoring to feel as political as she should. “That was the understanding when you consented to come. Please believe that I am listening impersonally. Not that I wish your secrets, merely your well-defined point of view.”
“Then I will say what is well enough known, your Royal Highness—that I wish for no king whatever. Our king is as just and indulgent as his fixed notions permit him to be, and yet under him autonomy is a failure. I wish for complete independence, with, if not all the features of the United States of America, at least with those which have permitted her to exist in the face of all prophecies; and with many others which we are quite capable of evolving ourselves. Independence, you will not hesitate to admit, sir, is the only logical condition for any civilized people at this stage of the world’s history, and, above all, it is the only condition which will content the most independent race in Europe. When the hour of this Dual Monarchy strikes, I am perfectly willing that western Austria shall go to Germany, provided that the price of our acquiescence is the complete independence of this country. If the aristocracy don’t like it they can move to Prussia; that country is badly in need of a real aristocracy, and the fine clothes of our magnates would be a pleasant relief among so many uniforms. But for Hungary, Independence!—Independence!—Independence!”
His voice ended in a mild roar; and Fessenden replied in his most matter-of-fact tones, “Then if you want independence, why, I repeat, don’t you begin now tostrengthen instead of weakening yourselves? Surely you must know that if the King granted this demand of yours, completely to Magyarize the army, you would incur the still bitterer hatred of all these races who are obliged to serve in it. Their native tongue means as much to them as yours does to you. And when one considers that three-fourths of Hungary is ethnologically non-Hungarian! If your king were thirty years younger, and you could reasonably feel that you had that amount of time in which to subdue or reconcile your rebellious step-children, then one might feel that you had more wisdom, more reason on your side; but to strain at a gnat when you must inevitably swallow a whole herd of camels the moment your king sets these centrifugal forces free, is a folly I cannot comprehend in a race so like my own in many respects.”
Molnár had listened sullenly, but with attention. It had been agreed, although all four of the Hungarians were men of ability, that the brunt of the talk should be borne by their leader; for they were sure to interrupt even each other if they sent the blood to their heads with too many words. But they were neglecting their plates to follow the argument; and they frowned when Fessenden spoke, and smiled approval upon the logic of Molnár. When the American asserted the analogy between his race and theirs, they looked pleased and surprised; for it is a remarkable fact that, in spite of the execration which Europeans, as a result of our protective policy and successful invasion of her aristocracies and industries, bestow upon the United States, they are invariably surprised into pleasure if informed that they possess an American trait—which is doubtless owing to the fact that every human creature craves success; and rightly or wrongly, the United States and that most vulgarized of words are synonymous.
Even Molnár looked slightly mollified, but he had come to make good his cause before a princess who he believed must influence the King her father, since he was convinced she could twist Hungary round her finger if she chose. “It is to be hoped that another century will see us even in advance of where the United States stands to-day,” he replied; “for, as you justly observed, it is our part as an intelligent nation to profit by the mistakes of other nations. But it is impossible to admit that we are unwise to insist upon the adoption of our language as the sole language of our army, even in the old age of the King; for we are convinced that our disruption from Austria is but a question of a few years, and it is wise to accustom the inferior races to the dominance of our language and rule as long before our independence as possible. It is our misfortune that we have not been in a position to push this claim sooner. It was a tremendous innovation when Kossuth and Szechenyi carried their point that Magyar should be the political language of Hungary. It was not the part of wisdom to ask for more then, but that is half a century ago—half a century. And you call us impatient and unreasonable! You—who are so recently come from the battle-field, do you recall the passionate enthusiasm with which you sang and listened to your national hymns by your camp-fires at night—as you marched to the battle-field? What would have been your emotions if you had been compelled to sing the national songs of another country? Good God! Cannot you understand what it would mean to us to sing our own beautiful battle hymns in our own beautiful language, instead of the words of a hated power in the most hideous sounds that ever were invented to torture the ear? It is true that you have set your national anthem to the tune of England’s, but you have long since forgotten that; and I amtold that when Americans go to England they are flattered when the band plays ‘God Save the King.’ But that is your happiness—that you have been permitted to forget—while we—we—”
“I have no doubt that if you asked for the privilege of ringing your national hymns, and nothing more, the King would readily indulge you; and the Hungarian military colleges you are sure to have will no doubt entail much that you wish—if you have the patience to wait. I admit, of course, that vanity has no part in your desire to sing your own anthems in your own language—what more inspiring?—but the imposing of your difficult tongue on the Austrians who are obliged to command in your army during the years when you must still have an insufficiency of Hungarian officers, as well as upon the races that hate you now, and only await the opportunity to serve you the same trick they served you in 1847—I repeat, it seems to me the height of vanity and folly. And I regret it deeply, for in a struggle in which you were incontestably right, you would have the sympathy of the United States. Kossuth is by no means forgotten; and the American loves romance, having so little of it. For romance you stand in history preeminently. But if you make yourselves ridiculous—”
“Ridiculous?” All four were muttering. Ranata leaned forward, and drew Molnár’s eyes to hers.
“How would it have been if Rudolf had lived?” she asked softly.
“Ah, Rudolf!” The four men might have received an electric shock. “If our crown prince had lived,” cried Molnár, “he would be our sympathetic, our indulgent ruler to-day. The King would surely have abdicated in his favor before this—if he had been reluctant we should have found a way to persuade him! The Kingis preferable to his present heir; and not only do we hesitate to incur the antagonism of the world by embittering the last days of our old monarch, but it is a trait of human nature to postpone the evil day. But Rudolf! He would have granted our demands; and with his tact and resource have found a way to reconcile all the other states in the monarchy to our reforms. Perhaps he would have given us our liberty, and accepted the presidency of the republic! That indeed would have been Utopia!”
“No one can admire and regret Rudolf more than I do,” said Fessenden, in the even dispassionate tones which irritated the Hungarians more than his words; “but it is impossible not to notice that the inevitable legend is growing up round his name. In a few years it will obscure an individuality and a mental endowment that were better left unexaggerated. I came on the scene too late to know him, but I have heard him much discussed by more than one of his close personal friends; and while he was far more genial and sympathetic than is common among princes, and far more liberal and broad-minded, I do not in the least believe that he had a republican instinct, or would have parted voluntarily with an inch of his inheritance. Rather he would have conceived it his mission to maintain its integrity with the last corps of his army. No doubt his tact and his alert modern brain would have found a way through these difficulties which would have satisfied himself and Hungary. Problems that seem insoluble to an aged king might have been disentangled readily enough by him. But the hard fact remains that you have not Rudolf to deal with, but your king—and, for a period after him, no doubt, the present Crown Prince; so would you not be wiser to conciliate your enemies until you are strong enough to crush them? Suppose Germany andAustria in a war against Russia—over the Balkans, let us say—do you realize what your position would be as an independent state with all the antagonistic races within your borders in revolt—these races number 7,500,000, nearly half your population, do they not? In some respects the Hungarian mind is the brightest and most alert in Europe, and you are probably the only monarchical people wholly without servility. If you wreck yourselves, and this rich and enterprising country, because you love your weaknesses more than your virtues, then you deserve to be crushed like an egg between the enemies who will take a particular delight in the process. But your party does not represent Hungary. The enlightened majority are not extremists. You can obstruct and keep the country in a turmoil, but when it comes to the general vote you must be beaten. But meanwhile you are demoralizing Hungary at home, and making it ridiculous abroad—that is the point to be considered now.”
Molnár pushed back his chair and stood up, tossing back his head. For the moment he looked like the statue of the poet of the Revolution, Alexander Petöfi, which, in its square across the river, seems to have the nerves of the dead man in it.
“You pay us your cold tribute,” he cried, “but what do you know of the ardor, the passionate enthusiasm of a race as different from yours as the Latin from the Teutonic. Logic! We have as much as any men when our hearts are not on fire with our wrongs; but we would rather die, die, die—be crushed like an egg, if you will—than exist like slaves a generation longer.” He turned suddenly to Ranata, his face illuminated under its perpetual frown. “You—your Royal Highness”—he cried, “if you were our queen—you, who look born to sit on a throne as wisely as Maria Theresia,yet without her bigotry and obstinacy—you, who are so like Rudolf— Ah! Why not? Why not?”
“We will have our coffee in the next room,” said the Archduchess with cold severity, as she rose and led the way. “Úr Molnár, have you seen the river and Pest from the balcony?”