Читать книгу Louisa of Prussia and Her Times - L. Muhlbach - Страница 21

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“Well, I am really anxious to know whether the minister will give me the money,” murmured Gentz; “his reply will indicate to me, if the letter to the king I intrusted yesterday to Menken, has made a favorable impression, and if I may hope at length for promotion and other favors. My God, I am pining away in my present miserable and subordinate position! I am able to accomplish greater things. I am worth more than all these generals, ministers, and ambassadors, who are so proud and overbearing, and dare to look down upon me as though I were their inferior. Ah! I shall not stoop so low as to knuckle to them and flatter them. I don’t want to be lifted up by them, but I will be their equal. I feel that I am the peer of the foremost and highest of all these so-called statesmen. I do not need them, but they need me. Ah, my God! somebody knocks at the door again, and John is not at home. Good Heaven, if it should be another of those noisy, impertinent creditors! I am indebted to Julia for all these vexations. Because her things are being sent away, every door in the house is open, and every one can easily penetrate into my room. Yes, yes, I am coming. I am already opening the door.”

He hastened to the door and unlocked it. This time, however, no creditor was waiting outside, but a royal footman, who respectfully bowed to the military counsellor.

“His royal highness Prince Louis Ferdinand,” he said, “requests Mr. Counsellor Gentz to dine with him to-morrow.”

Gentz nodded haughtily. “I shall come,” he said briefly, and then looked inquiringly at his own footman who had just entered the other room.

“Well, John, what did the minister reply?”

“His excellency requests Mr. Counsellor Gentz to call on him in the course of an hour.”

“All right!” said Gentz, and an expression of heart-felt satisfaction overspread his features. He closed the door, and stepped back into his study, and, folding his hands on his back, commenced pacing the room.

“He is going to receive me in the course of an hour,” he murmured. “I may conclude, therefore that the king was pleased with my letter, and that I am at last to enter upon a new career. Ah, now my head is light, and my heart is free; now I will go to work.”

He sat down at his desk and commenced writing rapidly. His features assumed a grave expression, and proud and sublime thoughts beamed on his expansive forehead.

He was so absorbed in his task that he entirely forgot the audience the minister had granted to him, and his footman had to come in and remind him that the hour for calling upon his excellency was at hand.

“Ah! to be interrupted in my work for such a miserable trifle,” said Gentz, indignantly laying down his pen and rising. “Well, then, if it must be, give me my dress-coat. John, and I will go to his excellency.”

A quarter of an hour later Counsellor Frederick Gentz entered the anteroom of Count Schulenburg-Kehnert, minister of finance. “Announce my arrival to his excellency,” he said to the footman in waiting, with a condescending nod, and then quickly followed him to the door of the minister’s study.

“Permit me to announce you to his excellency,” said the footman, and slipped behind the portiere. He returned in a few minutes.

“His excellency requests Mr. Gentz to wait a little while. His excellency has to attend to a few dispatches yet, but will very soon be ready to admit Mr. Gentz.”

“Very well, I shall wait,” said Gentz, with a slight frown, and he approached the splendidly bound books which were piled up in gilt cases on the walls of the room. The most magnificent and precious works of ancient and modern literature, the rarest editions, the most superb illustrated books were united in this library, and Gentz noticed it with ill-concealed wrath.

“These men can have all these treasures, nay, they have got them, and value them so little as to keep them in their anterooms,” he murmured, in a surly tone, forgetting altogether that the footman was present and could overhear every word he said. He had really heard his remark, and replied to it, approaching Gentz:

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Counsellor, his excellency does not undervalue these treasures, but appreciates them highly, and is always glad enough when the bookbinder delivers new volumes in gorgeous bindings. For this very reason his excellency has ordered the library to be placed in this anteroom, so that it also may gladden the hearts of other people, and those gentlemen who have to wait here may have something wherewith to while away their time.”

“They are permitted, then, to take the books down and read them?” asked Gentz.

The footman looked somewhat embarrassed. “I believe,” he said, timidly, “that would not be altogether agreeable to his excellency, for you see, Mr. Counsellor, all of these beautiful books are gilt-edged, and gilt edges suffer greatly if the books are read. You cannot even open the books without injuring them slightly.”

“And the gilt edges on this row of the books before me are as good as new, and perfectly uninjured,” said Gentz, gravely.

“Well, that is easily explained. They have not been disturbed since the bookbinder brought them here,” exclaimed the footman, solemnly. “No one would dare to handle them.”

“Does not his excellency read these books?”

“God forbid! His excellency likes books, but he has not got time to read much. But whenever his excellency passes through this anteroom, he pauses before his bookcases, and looks at them, and, with his own hands, frequently wipes off the dust from the gilt edges of the books.”

“Indeed, that is a most honorable occupation for a minister of finance,” said Gentz, emphatically. “It is always a great consolation to know that a minister of finance wipes off the dust from the gold. I should be very happy if his excellency should consent to do that also for me as often as possible. But does it not seem to you, my dear fellow, that it takes his excellency a good while to finish those dispatches? It is nearly half an hour since I have been waiting here.”

“I am sure his excellency will soon ring the bell.”

“Ring the bell?” asked Gentz, uneasily, “for whom?”

“Why, for myself, in order to notify me to admit you, Mr. Counsellor.”

“Ah, for you?” asked Gentz, drawing a deep breath, and turning once more to the books in order to while away the time by reading at least the titles, as he was not permitted to take down and open one of the magnificent volumes.

Time passed on in this manner, and Gentz was walking up and down near the bookcases, studying the titles, and waiting. The footman had withdrawn into the most remote window, and was waiting likewise.

Suddenly the large clock commenced striking solemnly and slowly, and announced to Gentz that he had been a whole hour in his excellency’s anteroom. And his excellency had not yet rung the bell.

At this moment Gentz turned toward the footman with a gesture of indignation and impatience.

“I am satisfied that his excellency has entirely forgotten that I am waiting here in the anteroom,” he said, angrily. “The dispatches must be quite lengthy, for I have been here now for an hour already! Hence I must beg you to inform the minister that I cannot wait any longer, for I am quite busy too, and have to return to my study. Please say that to his excellency.”

“But can I dare to disturb his excellency?” asked the footman, anxiously. “He has not rung the bell, sir.”

“Well, you must be kind enough to disturb him and tell him I must leave unless he can admit me at once,” exclaimed Gentz, energetically. “Go, sir, go!”

The footman sighed deeply. “Well, I will do so at your risk, Mr. Counsellor,” he said, in a low voice, stepping behind the portiere. He soon returned, a malicious smile playing on his lips.

“His excellency regrets that you cannot wait any longer, Mr. Counsellor,” he said. “His excellency being so busy that he cannot be disturbed, he requests you to call again to-morrow at the same hour.”

“So his excellency dismisses me after detaining me here in the anteroom for more than an hour?” asked Gentz, incredulously.

“His excellency is overwhelmed with unexpected business,” said the footman, with a shrug of his shoulders. “His excellency therefore requests you, Mr. Counsellor, to call again to-morrow.”

Gentz cast upon the footman a glance which would have shivered him like a thunderbolt if he had not been a man of stone. But being a man of stone, the thunderbolt harmlessly glanced off from him. With a peculiar smile, he assisted the enraged counsellor in putting on his cloak, handed him his hat with a polite bow, and then hastened to the door in order to open it to him.

At this moment the minister in his study rang the bell loudly and violently. The footman quickly opened the door leading to the hall, and, with a polite gesture, invited Gentz to step out. The latter, however, did not stir. He had hastily placed his hat on his head and was now putting on his gloves with as grave an air as if they were gauntlets with which he was going to arm himself for the purpose of stepping out into the arena.

The minister’s bell resounded even louder and more violently than before.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Counsellor,” the footman exclaimed, impatiently, “his excellency is calling me. Be kind enough to close the door when you leave. I must go to his excellency.”

He hurriedly crossed the room and hastened into the minister’s study.

Gentz now put on his gloves and approached the door. He bent one more glance full of anger upon the anteroom, and finally fixed his eyes upon the glittering books in the cases on the wall. An expression of malicious joy suddenly overspread his features. He drew back from the door, and hurriedly crossing the room, he approached the books. Without any hesitation whatever, he took down one of the largest and most richly ornamented volumes, concealed the book under his cloak, hastened back to the door, and left the house of the minister of finance with a haughty and defiant air.

Without nodding or greeting any one, he hastened through the streets back to his own house. At the door of the latter there stood two huge furniture-wagons, half filled with the sofas, arm-chairs, tables, and looking-glasses which heretofore had adorned his rooms, and which he was now going to lose with his wife.

The servants had not finished removing the furniture, and he had to pause in the hall in order to let them pass with the large silken sofa which had been the chief ornament of his own parlor. This greatly increased his anger; with furious gestures he rapidly ascended the staircase and went to his rooms. Every door was open—the apartments which he crossed with ringing steps, were empty and deserted, and finally he reached the door of his study, where his footman had posted himself like a faithful sentinel. Gentz silently beckoned him to open it, and entered. But when the servant was going to follow him, he silently but imperiously kept him back, and slammed the door in his face.

Now at last he was alone; now no one could see and watch him any longer; now he could utter the cry of rage that was filling his breast and almost depriving him of the power of speech; and after uttering this cry, he could appease his wrath still in some other way.

He threw his cloak and hat upon a chair, seized the splendidly bound and richly gilt volume from the minister’s library with both hands and hurled it upon the floor.

“Lie there, toy of a proud minister!” he exclaimed furiously. “I will treat you as I would like to treat him. I will abuse you as I would like to abuse him. There! take this! and this! and that!”

And he stamped with his heels upon the magnificent work, clinching his fists and swearing fearfully. [Footnote: Vide “Gallerie von Bildnissen aus Rahel’s Umgang,” edited by Varnhagen von Ense, vol ii., p 168.]

A loud and merry laugh was heard behind him, and upon turning round he beheld in the door one of his friends, who was looking at him with a radiant face.

“Herr von Gualtieri, you laugh, and I am furious,” exclaimed Gentz, stamping again upon the costly volume.

“But why, for God’s sake, are you furious?” asked Herr von Gualtieri. “Why do you perpetrate such vandalism upon that magnificent volume under your feet?”

“Why? Well, I will tell you. I was to-day at the house of Count Schulenburg-Kehnert; he had sent me word to call on him at ten o’clock, and when I was there, he made me stand for an hour in his anteroom like his gorgeous, gilt-edged books, which his footman told me he never opens because he is afraid of injuring their gilt edges.”

“And did he admit you after you had been in the anteroom for an hour?”

“No. When I had been there for an hour, he sent me word through his footman that he was too busy to receive me, and that I had better call again to-morrow. Bah! He wanted to treat me like those books of his, which he never opens; he did not want to open me either—me, a man who has got more mind, more knowledge, and information than all his books together. He made me wait in his anteroom for a whole hour, and then dismissed me!”

“And you allowed yourself to be dismissed?”

“Yes, sir, I did; but I took one of his splendid gilt-edged volumes along, in order to stamp on it and maltreat it, as I would like to maltreat him. Thus! and thus! To crush it under my heels. It does me good. It relieves me. At this moment this is the only revenge I can take against the miserable fellow.” [Footnote: Gentz’s own words. Vide “Rahel’s Umgang,” vol ii., p. 168.]

Herr von Gualtieri laughed uproariously. “Ah! that is an entirely novel jus gentium,” he exclaimed; “an exceedingly funny jus gentium. My friend, let me embrace you; you are a glorious fellow!”

With open arms he approached Gentz and pressed him tenderly, laughing all the while, to his heart.

Gentz was unable to withstand this kindness and this laughter, and suddenly forgetting his anger, he boisterously joined his friend’s mirth.

“You like my revenge?” he asked.

“Ah! it is admirable; it is the revenge of a genuine Corsican!” said Gualtieri, gravely.

“Of a Corsican?” asked Gentz, shrinking back. “That is an ugly comparison, sir. I do not want to have any thing in common with that Corsican, General Bonaparte. I tell you I am afraid that man will some day prove a terrible scourge for us.”

“And I adore him!” exclaimed Gualtieri. “He is the resuscitated Alexander of Macedon, the conqueror of the world, the master of the world. He alone has stemmed the tide of revolution in France. To him alone the French are indebted for the restoration of order and tranquillity in their country. The thirteenth of Vendemiaire is as heroic a deed, as great a victory, as the battles of Lodi and Arcole.”

“That may be,” said Gentz, morosely. “I am no soldier, and do not like battles and warfare. And what do we Germans care for the Corsican? Have we not got enough to do at home? Germany, however, is so happy and contented that, like the Pharisee, she may look upon republican France and exclaim: ‘I thank thee, my God, that I am not like this man.’”

“You are right,” replied Gualtieri. “We also stand in need of a revolution. In Germany, too, a guillotine must be erected—heads must fall, and death must hold its bloody harvest.”

“Hush, my friend, hush!” said Gentz, drawing back in dismay. “Did you merely come to me for the purpose of speaking of such dreadful matters, while you are well aware that I don’t like to hear anybody allude to bloodshed, murders, and similar horrors?”

“I merely wanted to try you a little in order to see whether you are still the same dear old childish coward,” exclaimed Gualtieri, laughing. “The same great child with the strong, manly soul, and the gentle, weak, and easily moved child’s heart. Now, let me know quickly what you wanted of the minister of finance, and I shall reward you then by telling you some good news. Well, then, what did you want of Schulenburg?”

“I had asked him to lend me five hundred dollars, and to appoint an hour when I might call for the money. He named ten o’clock, and I went to his house, merely to leave it an hour after in a towering passion and with empty hands. Oh, it is infamous, it is dreadful! It is—”

At that moment the door opened, and the footman entered.

“From his excellency. General von Schulenburg-Kehnert,” he said, delivering to Gentz a small sealed package and a letter. “The servant who brought it has left, as he said no reply was required.”

Gentz beckoned his servant to withdraw, and he then hastily opened the package.

“Twelve fifty-dollar bills!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “One hundred dollars more than I had asked for! That is very kind, indeed.”

“May be he does not give it to you, but merely lends it to you,” said Gualtieri, smiling.

“Lend it to me!” exclaimed Gentz, scornfully. “People don’t lend any money to me, because they know that I am unable to pay it back; people reward me, sir; they show their gratitude toward me in a substantial manner, but they are not so mean as to lend me what I ask for.”

“Does the minister tell you so in his letter?” asked Gualtieri, dryly.

“Ah! that is true. I have not yet read the letter,” said Gentz, breaking the seal. While he was reading it, a slight blush suffused his cheeks, and an expression of shame overspread his features. “Here, read it,” he murmured, handing the letter to his friend.

Gualtieri took it and read as follows:

“My Dear Counsellor,—You wished to see me, and I begged you to call at ten o’clock, although I was overwhelmed with business and hardly had any time to spare. Precisely at ten o’clock I was ready to receive you, for in all matters of business I am a very punctual man. However, after vainly waiting for you for half an hour, I resumed my work. I had to examine some very complicated accounts, and could not allow myself to be interrupted after once taking them up. Hence I had to ask you to wait, and when, after waiting for half an hour, like myself, you grew impatient and would not stay any longer, I sent you word to call again to-morrow. Now, that I have concluded my pressing business, however, I hasten to comply with your request. You asked me for five hundred dollars; here they are. Knowing, however, how precious your time is, and that you had to wait for half an hour through my fault, I take the liberty of adding one hundred dollars for the time you have lost to-day. Farewell, sir, and let me conclude with expressing the hope that you will soon again delight the world and myself with one of your excellent works.”