Royal Flash fp-2 Read online

  "Let me begin by asking you a question," says he. "What do you know of Schleswig and Holstein?"

  "Never even met 'em," says I. Rudi laughed aloud, and de Gautet gave his sidelong smile.

  Bismarck didn't show any amusement. "They are states," he said, "not persons. I shall tell you about them."

  And he began to explain what historians call "the Schleswig-Holstein question." I won't bore you with it here, because even diplomats agree that it is the most infernally complex affair that ever bedevilled European politics. Nobody has ever got to the bottom of it—indeed, Palmerston once said that only three people understood it: one was Pam himself, and he had forgotten it, another was a famous statesman, and he was dead, and the third was a German professor, and he had gone mad thinking about it. So there. But the nub was that the two states, which lay directly between Denmark and the German Confederacy, were nominally ruled by the King of Denmark, although most of the inhabitants were Germans. Both Germany and Denmark claimed Schleswig and Holstein, and the people living there were forever arguing about who they should belong to.

  That, then, was the famous question[25]—and of course, Bismarck knew the answer.

  "It is beyond dispute," says he, "that these two states are German by right. It has become of the first import that they should be German in fact."

  I couldn't see what the devil this had to do with me, and said so.

  "Be silent, and listen," he snarled. "You will see very soon. Now, answer me: in the intervals between your drinking and whoring and hunting, do you take any interest in politics?"

  "Well, I'm a Tory, I suppose. Haven't ever bothered to vote, mind you. Why?"

  "Gerrechter Herr Gott," says he. "This, gentlemen"—he glanced at the others—" is a specimen of the ruling caste of the most powerful country on earth—for the present. Incredible, is it not?" His eyes scornful, he turned back to me. "You know, in effect, nothing of affairs of state-your own, or any others. Very good. But even you, Mr Flashman, must be aware that of late, all over Europe, there have been storm clouds gathering. There is a dangerous sentiment of liberalism, fostered by so-called progressive groups of intellectuals, which is infecting the populaces of states. Discontent and disaffection have been created; everywhere there are movements for reform"—he spat the word out—"reform, that slogan of the shiftless by which they mean destruction of stability in the hope that they will find some pickings among the ruins. Reform! Yes, your own country has given in to it, as probably even you have heard—"

  "Should think I have. My guv-nor lost his seat in the House."

  "—and with what result? Concession has bred anarchy, as it always does. Are your masses satisfied? Of course not: they never are."

  "Not that he ever spent much time there, of course… ."

  "But as yet England has not reaped the full consequence of her statesmen's stupidity. It will come in time, just as it is coming all over Europe. We have been wasted and enfeebled by peace these thirty years past, until there is hardly a man in Europe—I except Metternich—with the vision to see beyond the borders of his own state, to look past the petty trivialities of his own domestic politics, at the dark picture of the continent. They blind themselves to what is happening all about them; they consider only how to safeguard their own miserable little countries, with no thought for the whole. They cannot see, it seems, that unless those who lead and rule Europe stand together for the preservation of order and government, they will be swept away piecemeal on a rising tide of revolution."

  He had worked himself into a mild passion by this time; his eyes were bright and he was crouched forward in his chair, hurling his words down the table at me.

  "Well," says I, "I grant you things are a bit slack, here and there, and my wife has remarked that good servants are getting damned hard to find. But if you think England's in for revolution, you're well off the mark. We leave that sort of thing to Frogs and niggers."

  "I am not interested in your imbecile observations. I tell you what is, in Europe, and what its consequences must be unless measures are taken to prevent it. Here, in Germany, we have the cancer in a malignant form: the liberal movements are afoot throughout the confederacy. As a member of the Prussian Diet I see them at work openly in Berlin; as a rural landowner I am aware of them even in the countryside. I see them sapping the strength of the German people. If such insidious doctrines have their way, in a loose, undisciplined confederacy such as ours, the result will be chaotic. Germany, and especially German unity, for which far-sighted men have laboured for generations, will receive a mortal blow, from which it might take a century to recover. That she cannot afford. The world is on the move: the great nations are already jockeying for position in the race for power which is sure to move with incredible swiftness, now that science and industry are providing the impetus. If Germany is to take her place among the leaders, she must have unity, she must have strength, she must have discipline"—his great fist smacked the table with each phrase—" she must submit herself to the guidance and government of a supreme authority, who will do for her what Napoleon did for France, what Washington did for America. These were not liberals, Mr Flashman; these were not progressive intellectuals. Germany must have her Napoleon, if she is to have her—"

  "Waterloo?" I was sick of all his bombast. Mind you, the moment I'd said it, I wished I hadn't, for he stopped dead and stared at me in silence with those blazing blue eyes. Then he sat back in his chair, and spoke quietly.

  "There will be no Waterloo. However, this is academic, and certainly wasted on a mind such as yours. I have said enough, I think, to explain to you the necessity for ensuring that the spread of liberal thought must be checked before it breeds revolution proper. For this, there must be measures, wherever possible, to buttress existing government, and to preserve order. Stability must be maintained wherever seditious influences are at work. And nowhere are they more in evidence than in Schleswig and Holstein."

  "I wondered when we should get back to them," says I, and glanced at the others to see how they had taken Bismarck's tirade. Young Rudi was blowing smoke rings at the ceiling, but de Gautet was all ears, and as for Kraftstein, he was pointing like a damned retriever, as though ready to bark in admiration. It occurred to me that if he found Bismarck's claptrap absorbing, there was probably no lack of other idiots in Germany who would do so too.

  "If you care to study the map of Europe above that bookcase," Bismarck continued, "you will see that at the eastern limit of Holstein, where it adjoins Mecklenburg, there is a small duchy called Strackenz. It, like Schleswig and Holstein, has ties both with Germany and Denmark; like them, also, it is riven internally by contending parties. Being a rural, backward province, it is of less apparent importance than its larger neighbours, but this is an illusion. In fact, it is the spark on the tinder; if the dissension between the contending parties in Strackenz were to erupt into disorder, this would undoubtedly be used by revolutionary elements as an excuse to foment unrest in the neighbouring provinces; Denmark and Germany could become involved—believe me, great wars have begun over smaller matters than Strackenz.

  "Is it plain to you that the peace must be kept in this little province? If it is, then given time, German diplomacy will ensure the incorporation of Schheswig and Holstein into the German confederacy, and the process of our national unification will have begun. But if in the immediate future anything should occur to plunge Strackenz into unrest, if the rival factions there should be given any crisis to exploit—then, my work will be ruined before it has been commenced."

  I can't say I gave a tuppenny damn about his work, or the building of a united German state, and I couldn't for the life of me see what all this had to do with me. Still, I could only listen. Bismarck was leaning forward again, staring at me and tapping the table.

  "Such a crisis is at hand. Here are the facts. Strackenz is ruled by a Duchess Irma, who has recently reached marriageable age. She is exceedingly popular with her subjects, being young and personable and there
fore supremely fitted to rule, in the eyes of superstitious peasants. It has been arranged that she should marry a prince of the Danish royal family, a nephew, in fact, of King Christian himself, one Prince Carl Gustaf. This informs you of the importance that Denmark attaches to even such a tiny province as Strackenz. The point is that the marriage will be hailed by the Danish faction in Strackenz, who are an unusually troublesome group—possibly because they are so far away from Denmark itself. And if they are contented, Strackenz will continue in peace. Its German population will know how to wait," he added with confidence.

  I confess I stifled a yawn, but he ignored it.

  "Politically, then, the match is not only desirable, but essential. Its stabilising influence apart, I am not without hopes of Carl Gustaf, with whom I am acquainted. He would make a popular consort and ruler in Strackenz."

  He hesitated, his eyes unwinking on mine, and I stirred impatiently.

  "Well, then," says I, "good luck to the happy couple, and God bless 'em all and Tiny Tim. Will you come to the point as far as I'm concerned—if I am at all, which I'm beginning to doubt."

  "Oh, you are," says he, nodding grimly. "I said there was a crisis in Strackenz. It is this as things stand, the wedding, which is to be solemnised in six weeks' time, cannot take place."

  "Can't it, now? Why not?"

  "Prince Carl Gustaf, who is in many ways an admirable young man, has nevertheless his share of young men's folly." Bismarck paused. "He has contracted a social disease, which makes it impossible that he marry, at least for the time being."

  "A what?"

  "A social disease."

  "You mean he's got a dose of clap?" I let loose a guffaw. "Well, that's damned inconsiderate of him. Bad luck on Countess what's-her-name, too. Still, boys will be boys, eh? But that makes things awkward, I agree. What are you going to do about it?"

  Bisinarck didn't reply for a moment. There was a dead silence in the room, an expectant silence that made me uneasy.

  "Well," says I at length. "What next?"

  Bismarck stood up abruptly, went over to a desk against the wall, and took a small object from it. He weighed it in his hand as he paced slowly back to the table.

  "If the wedding does not take place, Strackenz will explode. The Danish party will see to it; liberal agitators will whip up anti-German feeling with tales of a plot. But it is obviously impossible for Prince Carl to marry for several months, when his … condition has responded to treatment."

  He seemed to expect a comment, so I suggested the wedding be postponed.

  "On what pretext? If the real reason were known, the marriage could never take place at all, obviously. And the Strackenz pot would boil over. At the moment, no one knows of Carl Gustaf's malady except his own physician, and two highly-placed Danish ministers. The rest of Denmark, like Germany and Strackenz, suspects nothing amiss, and expects the wedding to go forward."

  "You say only three people know that this Prince has Cupid's measles? Then how do you… ."

  "I have my own sources. The three I mentioned, the Prince, and ourselves are the only people who know. Rest assured." He juggled the object in his hand. "The wedding must take place."

  "Well, he'll just have to marry her, clap and all, won't he? What else… ."

  "Out of the question," says de Gautet, speaking for the first time. "Humanitarian reasons apart, it would surely be discovered afterwards, and the ensuing scandal would have as disastrous an effect as a postponement of the marriage."

  "Well, then, talk sense," says I. "If the Prince can't marry her in six weeks, the wedding's off, ain't it? You'll have to think of something else."

  "We have," says Bismarck. "And the wedding will take place."

  "You're talking bloody nonsense," says I. "Anyway, what the hell do I care? What has all this to do with me?"

  Bismarck tossed down on the table the thing he had been holding. It slithered along the length of the wood and stopped in front of me. I saw it was a gold case, oval, and about four inches long.

  "Open it," says Bismarck.

  I touched the catch, and the thing sprang open. In it was a miniature, in very fine colour, showing a man in uniform, youngish, but with a completely bald head which gave him an unnatural look. He wasn't bad-looking, though, and it seemed to me I knew him… and then the case dropped from my fingers, and the room seemed to swim about me. For I did know him; saving the bald head, the face in the miniature was my own. It was all too familiar from my own mirror: the likeness was uncanny, exact.

  "Prince Carl Gustaf of Denmark," says Bismarck, and his voice seemed to be coming through a fog.

  I'm not often at a loss for words, but at that moment I sat stricken dumb. The enormity of the idea—for it was as plain as a pikestaff in an instant—was beyond reasonable comment. I just sat and gaped from them to the miniature and back, and Rudi's jovial laugh rang out.

  "Magnificent!" cries he. "I'd not have missed that moment for a dukedom! I wish you could have seen your face—your own face, I mean."

  "You will remember," says Bismarck, "that when we first met in London I was puzzled to remember where I had seen you before. I had not, of course-but I had seen the young Prince Carl when he visited Berlin. I realised then that you were doppelgängers, identical bodies, and regarded it as an interesting fact; no more. Three months ago, when I first learned of the Prince's indisposition, and that his response to treatment was too slow to make it possible that he be married on the required date, I remembered the fact again. I perceived that here lay a way out. At first, as you may appreciate, I rejected the notion as absurd. Then I applied myself to study it minutely, and saw that it was possible. Incredible, perhaps, but still possible. I planned it step by step, and saw that with proper care and preparation it was more than that—it was virtually certain of success. My decision taken, I set in motion the events that have brought you here to Schönhausen."

  At last I found my tongue. "You're mad!" I shouted, "You're a raving lunatic! You'd substitute me … for him … to … to … pose … to attempt the maddest, most ridiculous… ."

  "Silence!" he shouted, and came round the table, his face working with passion. "Do you suppose I have entered on this matter lightly? That I have not examined it, time and time again, before I determined on it? Do you imagine I designed the plan that has brought you here, and spent the time and money I have used, without being certain that I could complete the whole business?" He bent down, his face close to mine, and spoke rapidly and quietly. "Consider, if you have the intelligence, the minute thoroughness of the stratagem that has brought you this far. Planned, my English numbskull, with a care and precision that your slow wits cannot conceive."

  "Genius," says Kraftstein, jerking his head like a doll.

  "Only one thing was a matter of chance-your presence in England. It was the prerequisite, and by good fortune it was there. The rest—organisation." Bismarck took a breath and straightened up. "And as we have begun, so we will proceed."

  Well, I saw one thing: he was mad; they all were. And, by God, if they thought they were dragging me into their lunacy, they had got the wrong man.

  "I won't touch it," says I, "and that's flat. D'you think I'm as big a fool as you are? Good God, man, the thing's impossible; I wouldn't last five minutes as … a substitute for this poxed-up Danish fellow. And what then, eh?"

  Bismarck considered me a moment. Then:

  "Fill his glass, Kraftstein." He walked back to his seat, and stretched his legs.

  "It is, perhaps, unreasonable to expect you to accept the scheme without being convinced of its soundness. Tell me, why do you suppose it might fail?"

  There were about seven hundred answers to that, and I burst out with the first one that came to mind.

  "I couldn't get away with it! How could I pretend to be a Danish prince?"

  "Take my word for it that you could. The likeness, believe me, is astounding. No one would suspect the imposture for a moment."

  "But I don't speak Danish, dam
mit!"

  "But you have a gift for languages, remember? In the few weeks available, you can be given a smattering. No more than that will be necessary, for His Highness speaks German indifferently well, as you will before you take his place. You have a tolerable fluency as it is."

  "But … but … well, how the devil do you propose that I should take his place? Go to Denmark, I suppose, and present suitable references! Balderdash!"

  "You need not go to Denmark. I have been in constant communication with Prince Carl Gustaf. Naturally, he does not know of our plan, but he does have great faith in me. One of the ministers I mentioned is in my employ. Through him, all has been arranged. The Prince will set out from Denmark when the time comes with his retinue; he has been led to believe that I have found a way out of his difficulties. He is rather a simple fellow, although amiable, and supposes that I can arrange matters. In that belief he will come to Holstein, en route to Strackenz, and in Holstein the substitution will take place. The mechanics you may leave to me."

  It was like listening to some grotesque fairy-tale. The cool, precise way in which he told it was staggering.

  "But … but this retinue—his people, I mean… ."

  "The minister who is my agent will accompany the Prince. His name is Detchard. With him at your side, you need have no fears. And no one will suspect you: why should they?"

  "Because I'll give myself away in a hundred things, man! My voice, my actions—God knows what!"