I have known nothing special concerning the Carbonari, since we were not brought into close relations with Italy. As to the secret societies of Germany, I remember that during our stay in Dresden I heard a Saxon magistrate, with whom I frequently had the honor of being in company, talk about them in a manner that interested me greatly, even while it alarmed me for the future. He was a man of about sixty, who spoke French well, and in whom German phlegm and the gravity of age were wonderfully blended. In his youth he had lived in France, and had even made a part of his studies at the college of Sorèze. I attribute the liking he displayed for me to the pleasure he experienced in hearing a country spoken of whose memory he seemed always to have cherished. I remember perfectly, even now, the profound veneration with which this excellent man spoke to me of one of his former professors of Sorèze, whom he called Dom Ferlus; my memory must have been very ungrateful had I forgotten a name which I heard him repeat so often.
My excellent Saxon was called M. Gentz, but he was not related to the diplomat of the same name attached to the Austrian chancery. He was of the reformed religion and very exact in the performance of his religious duties; and I can affirm that I have never known a man more simple in his tastes or more penetrated by his duties as man and magistrate. I would not venture to say what he really thought about the Emperor, for he seldom mentioned him; and if he had had anything unpleasant to say about him, it may readily be fancied that he would have chosen some other confidant. One day when we went together to examine the works His Majesty was erecting all along the left bank of the Elbe, I do not know how the conversation happened to turn on the secret societies of Germany, a subject which I knew absolutely nothing about. As I asked questions for my own information, M. Gentz said to me: "It must not be believed that the secret societies, which are multiplying in such an extraordinary way in Germany, have been protected by the sovereigns. The Prussian government views their increase with alarm, although, at present, it is seeking to turn them to account in order to give a national appearance to the war it is waging on you since the defection of General Yorck. Some of the unions now tolerated have been the object of lively persecutions, even in Prussia. For instance, it is not long since the Prussian government took severe measures for the suppression of the society called Tugendverein (union of virtue). It succeeded in breaking it up; but at the very moment of its dissolution three others were formed from it which were to be directed by the members of the Tugendverein, though taking the precaution of disguising themselves under different names. Doctor Jahn put himself at the head of the black knights, who have since given birth to a body of partisans known as the black legion, commanded by Colonel Lutzoff. The memory of the late Queen, which is still vivid in Prussia, exercises a great influence over the new direction impressed on its institutions; she might be called their occult divinity. During her lifetime she gave Baron Nostitz a silver chain which, in his hands, became the decoration, or rather the rallying-sign, of a new society to which he gave the name of the Louisa Union. Finally, M. Lang is the declared chief of an order of Concordists, which he has instituted in imitation of the societies of the same name established some time since in the universities.
"My duties as a magistrate," continued M. Gentz, "have more than once put me in a position to obtain exact information concerning these new institutions, and you may regard what I say on this subject as perfectly authentic. The three chiefs of whom I have just spoken appear to direct three societies; but it is very certain that the three make only one, since these gentlemen are pledged to follow the track of the Tugendverein in every point. They have divided Germany between them merely to render their influence more immediate by their presence. M. Jahn has reserved Prussia more particularly to himself, M. Lang the north, and Baron Nostitz the south of Germany. This latter personage, knowing what influence a woman may exert upon young adepts, has associated with him a very beautiful actress of Prague, named Madame Brede, and she has already made a very important conquest for the Louisa Union, and one which may become still more so in the future if the French experience reverses. The former Elector of Hesse, affiliated through the agency of Madame Brede, accepted, almost immediately after his reception, the grand mastership of the Louisa Union, and on the very day of his installation he placed in the hands of Baron Nostitz the funds necessary for the formation and equipment of a free company of seven hundred men intended to enter the service of Prussia. It is true that once provided with this sum, the Baron did not trouble himself about the formation of this company, a fact which has greatly dissatisfied the old Elector; but by means of address and intrigues, Madame Brede has succeeded in reconciling them. It has, in fact, been demonstrated that Baron Nostitz did not appropriate to his own use the funds with which he was intrusted, but merely gave them another destination than the arming of a free company. Nostitz is, beyond all contradiction, the most zealous, ardent, and able of the three leaders; I do not know him personally, but I know that he is one of the men who are most capable of exerting a great mastery over those who listen to them. It was thus that he captivated Stein, the Prussian minister, to such a point that the latter kept two of his secretaries at the disposal of Baron Nostitz, to draw up under his direction the pamphlets with which Germany is inundated; but I cannot too often repeat to you," added M. Gentz, "that the hatred vowed against the French by these different societies is merely an accidental thing, born of circumstances only; for their original object was the overthrow of governments as they exist in Germany; and their fundamental principle is the establishment of a system of absolute equality. This is so true, that it has been hotly debated among the adepts of the Tugendverein whether or not to proclaim the sovereignty of the people throughout Germany; they say openly that war ought not to be made in the name of governments, which, according to them, are only instruments. I do not know what will finally result from all these machinations; but it is certain that by dint of assuming importance, the secret societies create one which is not assumed. To listen to them, you would believe that they alone determined the King of Prussia to declare openly against France, and they make a boast of not stopping there. After all, that will probably happen to them which almost always happens in such cases; if they are considered useful, they will be promised wonders in order to turn them to advantage, and they will be dropped when they are no longer needed, for it is utterly impossible that reasonable governments should lose sight of the real aim of their institution."
Such is the sum, which I believe exact, not of all that M. Gentz told me about the secret societies of Germany, but of all that I remember, and I recollect that when I was allowed to give an account of it to the Emperor, His Majesty deigned to pay great attention, and even made me repeat certain details, a fact which contributed not a little toward impressing them on my memory. As to the Carbonari, there is every reason to believe them to be affiliated by secret ramifications to the German societies; but, as I have said already, I have not been in a position to obtain certain information concerning them. Nevertheless, I will attempt to reproduce here what I have been told about the reception of a Carbonaro.
The recital of this history, which is, perhaps, merely an invention, impressed me greatly; moreover, I give it here with all reserve, not knowing even whether some one else has not made use of it, seeing that I was not the only listener to this narration. I had it from a Frenchman who lived in the northern part of Italy, at the very period from which dates my conversation with M. Gentz.
"A French officer, formerly attached to General Moreau, a man of an ardent yet sombre and melancholy temperament, had left the service after the trial instituted at Paris against his general. He had not been involved in the conspiracy, but being unchangeably attached to republican principles, simple in his manners and possessing enough to live on though in a very modest way, this officer quitted France at the time the Empire was founded, and took no pains whatever to disguise his aversion for the head of an absolute government; in fine, although very peaceable in his conduct, he was one of those who are styled malcontents. After travelling for some years in Greece, Germany, and Italy, he settled in a small town of the Venetian Tyrol. There he lived in a very retired manner, having few communications with his neighbors, occupied with the study of the natural sciences, and paying no further attention, it might be said, to public affairs. He was in this position, which appeared mysterious to some persons, when the affiliations to the ventes, or lodges of the Carbonari, were making such astonishing progress in the majority of the Italian provinces and notably on the borders of the Adriatic. Several notable inhabitants of the region, ardent Carbonari conceived the project of enrolling in their society, the French officer, with whom they were acquainted, as well as with his implacable resentment against the chief of the imperial government, whom he regarded as a great man, indeed, but also as the destroyer of his dear republic.
"In order to avoid ruffling the presumed susceptibility of the French officer, it was resolved to organize a hunting party which should direct itself toward the places he was accustomed to select for his solitary excursions. This plan was adopted and carried out, so that the desired meeting took place and appeared wholly fortuitous. The officer did not hesitate to take part in the conversation of the hunters, several of whom he knew, and after various circumlocutions the conversation was brought around to the Carbonari, those new adepts of a sacred liberty. That magic word liberty had not ceased to live in the depths of the officer's heart; hence it produced on him all the effect that could have been expected; it awakened the enthusiastic souvenirs of his youth and made him tremble with long unwonted joy. When therefore it was proposed that he should augment the number of brethren by whom he found himself surrounded, they experienced no difficulty. The officer was received; the sacramental signs, the words of recognition, were made known to him; his oath was accepted; he pledged himself to be always and at all times at the disposal of his brethren and to perish rather than betray their secret. Thenceforward he was affiliated and continued to live as he had done in the past, awaiting a summons at any moment.
"The adventurous character of the inhabitants of the Venetian Tyrol differs in many respects from that of the inhabitants of Italy, but it resembles it by a natural suspiciousness which is common to both; and among them the descent from suspicion to vengeance is a swift one. Hardly had the French officer been admitted to the number of the Carbonari, than some among them censured this affiliation and regarded it as dangerous. There were some who even went so far as to say that the mere fact of being a Frenchman should have sufficed to exclude him, and that, moreover, at a time when the police was employing clever men to take all disguises, it was necessary that the firmness and constancy of the newly elected man should be subjected to other trials than the simple formalities to which they had confined themselves. The sponsors of the officer, they who had, so to say, coveted him as a brother, made no objections, so sure were they of the excellence of their choice.
"Things were at this standpoint when the tidings of the disasters of the French army at Leipsic reached the provinces bordering on the Adriatic, and redoubled the zeal of the Carbonari. Nearly three months had elapsed since the reception of the French officer without his having received any notification from his brethren, and he was thinking that the labors of Carbonarism amounted to very little. Then, he one day received a mysterious letter, in which he was enjoined to repair, on the following night, armed with a sword, to a wood which was indicated, to be there precisely at midnight, and wait until some one should come to seek him. Exact to the rendezvous, the officer repaired thither at the hour prescribed, and remained until daylight without having seen any person appear; whereupon he returned home, supposing that they had merely desired to make trial of his patience. This opinion was changed into conviction when, some days later, another letter having enjoined him to go in the same manner to the same place, he again spent the night in useless waiting.
"It was not the same with a third and similar appointment. The French officer kept it with the same punctuality, and without fatiguing his patience. He had been waiting several hours when, all of a sudden, instead of seeing his brethren arrive, he heard the clicking of swords that strike against each other. Carried away by a first impulse, he sprang in the direction whence the noise issued, and it seemed to recede as he advanced. He arrived, nevertheless, at a spot where a frightful crime had been committed; he saw a man, bathed in his blood, whom two assassins had just struck down. Quick as lightning, he sprang, sword in hand, upon the two murderers; but they had disappeared in the thick forest, and he was about to lavish his assistance on their victim when four gendarmes arrived upon the scene. The officer found himself alone, with a naked sword in his hand, close to the assassinated man. The latter, who was still breathing, made a last effort to speak, and expired in the act of designating his defender as his murderer. The gendarmes at once arrested him; two of them lifted the corpse, and the other two bound the officer's arms with cords and led him to a village about a league away, which they reached at daybreak. There he was conducted before the magistrate, interrogated and committed to prison.
"Imagine the situation of the officer, with no friends in the country, afraid to appeal to his own government to which his known opinions would have rendered him suspicious, accused of a horrible crime, seeing every proof against him, and, moreover, crushed beyond escape by the last words of the dying victim! Like all men of firm and resolute character, he looked his position in the face without flinching, saw that it was remediless, and resigned himself to his fate.
"Meanwhile a special commission had been appointed so as to preserve at least a show of justice. Led before the commission, he could only repeat what he had said to the magistrate who had questioned him at first; that is, to recount the facts as they had occurred, protest his innocence, and yet admit that all the appearances were against him. What could he answer when asked why, with what motive, he was alone at night and armed with a sword, in the depths of a wood? Here his oath as a Carbonaro impeded his words, and his hesitation was but an additional proof against him. And what could he reply to the deposition of the gendarmes who had taken him in the very act? Hence he was unanimously condemned to death, and led back to prison, where he was to remain until the day fixed for his execution.
"In the first place, a priest was sent to him; the officer received him with the greatest respect, but abstained from recourse to his ministry; next he was importuned by the visit of a confraternity of penitents. At last, the executioners came to lead him to the place of execution. As he was going thither, accompanied by several gendarmes, and between a long and double row of penitents, the funereal procession was interrupted by the unexpected appearance of a colonel of gendarmerie, whom chance had brought to the scene of action. This superior officer bore the name of Colonel Boizard, a name well known throughout upper Italy, and dreaded by all malefactors. The colonel ordered a suspension of proceedings that he might interrogate the condemned in person and learn the circumstances of the crime and the trial. When he was alone with the officer, he said to him: ‘You see that everything is against you, and that nothing can rescue you from death; still, I can save you, but on one condition: I know that you are affiliated to the sect of the Carbonari; tell me who are your accomplices in these underhand machinations, and you may have your life at that price.' 'Never.' — 'But consider . . .' 'Never, I tell you; have me taken to the place of execution.'
"Hence the road to the scaffold had to be resumed. The executioner was at his post. The officer mounted with a firm step the fatal ladder. Colonel Boizard sprang toward him and again begged him to save his life on the conditions he had named: 'No! no! never!' Then the scene changed, the colonel, the executioner, the gendarmes, the priest, the penitents, the spectators, all crowded around the officer: everybody wanted to embrace him; at last he was led in triumph to his dwelling. All that had happened was merely a reception; the assassins of the forest and their victim, as well as the judges and the pretended Colonel Boizard, had been playing their part, and the most suspicious of the Carbonari knew to what point their newly affiliated brother could push the heroism of constancy and the sacredness of an oath."
Such is very nearly the story to which I listened, as I have said, with the keenest interest, and I have thought I might be permitted to recall it here, yet without concealing from myself how much it must lose in being written down. Should it be accepted without reserve? That is what I dare not decide; but what I can certify is that the narrator said that it was true, and even declared that the details of it would be found in the archives of Milan, seeing that this extraordinary reception had been made at the time the object of a circumstantial report addressed to the Viceroy, whom fate had already condemned never to see the Emperor again.
