The Elixir of Immortality

by Gabi Gleichmann

Heindrich tried to discuss the issue with his father, but Hugo zu Biederstern wouldn’t hear of it. The old prince snapped sharply that a father had the privilege of determining who would be his daughter’s husband, and he added that it was entirely reasonable for Albertina to accept the age-old obligation of Austrian nobles never to marry for love. It was completely out of the question for a Biederstern to break tradition or ignore the practical realities of their aristocratic world.

  “I can assure you,” the prince advised his son with a look of distaste, “that anyone who fails to heed tradition isn’t worth his own weight in horse manure.”

  Heindrich lowered his eyes. A heavy silence settled around him. He felt profoundly disappointed at the cruelty of his fate. What pained him more than anything else in that moment was the fact that Mattias, of all people, would be the man to lead Albertina to the altar.

  Heindrich had stood in the shadow of the young heir of the Schwarzenberg line all his life. His own father was continually comparing him to Mattias, a young man wreathed in mystic glory even though he was only a couple of years older. Heindrich’s father never neglected an opportunity to taunt Heindrich by praising Mattias’s superiority in all matters. The old prince never knew how much this tormented Heindrich. This was a most singular lack of perception, considering that Hugo zu Biederstern had been treated in exactly the same condescending manner by his own father.

  Heindrich vowed to himself that he would banish every thought of Albertina and that he would never again address a cordial word to her.

  YEARS PASSED before he saw her again. She was standing in the lobby of the Burgtheater with her husband, Mattias Schwarzenberg. For a moment Heindrich stood as if turned to stone, but then he acknowledged the couple with a chilly smile. Then he ignored them.

  Heindrich never spoke Albertina’s name again. He saw no reason to do so. The loss of his true love to the chief rival of his youth was a continual torment. It marred his life. As he once acknowledged to his cousin August, it had destroyed all trace of tenderness in him and had instilled the need to achieve worldly success.

  IT WAS EXPECTED as a matter of course that the young prince would show his loyalty by actively supporting and protecting the social hierarchy that depended upon the emperor. But Heindrich had significantly more extensive political ambitions than that.

  For many years his father, Hugo zu Biederstern, had been a trusted counselor to His Majesty. In that capacity he was the very incarnation of a political ideal revered since the days of the patricians of the Roman Republic: a nobleman devoted to duty, tradition, and honor.

  Heindrich had a different motivation for engaging in politics. Vengeance was what moved him. He intended to surpass Mattias Schwarzenberg with his heroism and invaluable contributions to his emperor and the fatherland. He would rise to preeminence and make Albertina regret giving in to her father’s will and the centuries-old patriarchical tradition he represented.

  As a stalwart of the emperor’s Third Mounted Brigade in the campaign against Napoleon, Heindrich mocked death, and displayed a keen sense of strategy and decisive leadership. He became one of its most admired officers and was quickly promoted to the highest levels of command.

  During the victorious battle at Aspern-Essling just outside Vienna in May 1809, he seemed invulnerable. In a heroic fury he slew with his saber ten French soldiers who had leaped out of an ambush and were clustered around Archduke Karl. The Kaiser decorated him in recognition of his unparalleled courage. With his head held high Heindrich delivered an impromptu reply thanking His Majesty and swearing an oath of fealty. He declared emphatically that he was ready to shed every drop of his blood in the battle against the enemy. His powerful words impressed the generals gathered around him, and the emperor deeply appreciated the ardent devotion of the young prince whose family had always been closely allied with the Habsburgs.

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, on the day before the disastrous clash at Wagram, Heindrich caught a glimpse through his binoculars of Napoleon on horseback reconnoitering the terrain some two hundred yards ahead of his troops. Heindrich felt a deep revulsion for the presumptuous newcomer who had crowned himself emperor of France and murdered the last members of the Bourbon royal family, distant relatives of Heindrich’s mother. The tiny Corsican was anything but impressive. Nevertheless, Heindrich recorded in his diary that he had seen the new spirit of the times riding forth: “It was a remarkable feeling to see such an apparently insignificant individual sitting on a magnificent horse, looking out over the world and seeking to become its master.”

  Heindrich understood instinctively that Napoleon’s successful march through Europe marked the beginning of a new era. The feudal society that was the Biederstern family legacy would be thrust aside and replaced by constitutional regimes based on citizens’ rights, individual liberties, and economies based on trade. The way to the future had already been mapped out, and Heindrich’s own world was at risk of winding up in the dustbin of history. For that reason he was determined to use all of his powers to resist such changes. Napoleon had to be defeated at any price.

  TWO STRAY FRENCH BULLETS in the first skirmish of the battle that would devastate Austria put an end to Heindrich’s military career. The first of them smashed his knee and gave him a limp for the rest of his life. The second buried itself in his lower abdomen without causing serious damage.

  But the field physician shook his head with a look of concern. He was unable to dig out the bullet. He explained that it remained somewhere deep within Heindrich’s body.

  “There is a risk, although only a minimal one,” he added with some misgiving, “that the bullet may displace itself and take some unpredictable path within the lieutenant’s body.”

  Heindrich did not flinch. For hundreds of years his family had shed its blood for the Kaiser; he was an officer of the proud Austrian army and he had looked death in the eyes many times on the battlefield; he had nothing to fear.

  BY THE AGE of thirty Heindrich was a prominent politician in the capital and enjoyed his share of glory. During the Congress of Vienna of 1814, where his maternal uncle Prince Metternich hosted two emperors, four kings, numerous archdukes, and many princes at a gathering to reestablish order and a balance of power after the bloody Napoleonic Wars, Heindrich made a glorious intervention. He rose before their assembled majesties, shoulders erect and back straight in his spotless military uniform hung with decorations for bravery, and radiated self-assurance. His thinning hair made him look older than he was, and his eyes had the confident gleam of experience. He spoke with gravity and authority, and his message was uncompromising. To the delight of those assembled in that gilded ceremonial hall, he insisted that the aristocracy should once again be accorded the powers it had exercised in Europe before the French Revolution. Thunderous applause greeted this remark. He thanked Charles-Joseph Lamoral, the seventh Prince de Ligne, who was present in the room, for his inspiring reflections on conditions in Europe. Then he delivered a ferocious attack upon the ideals of the Enlightenment, which in his opinion had undermined the aristocracy’s natural right to power. He directed especially critical words against Nicolas Spinoza, ideologue of the French Revolution, and against the Jacobin leader Maximilien Robespierre, who had cried “compassion is treason” as they sent their king to the guillotine.

  HEINDRICH CIRCULATED in the uppermost reaches of society and was deeply involved in the glittering social life of the aristocracy. All found him a delightful individual, deeply cultured, and of the most reliable views. His voice was mild and he scrupulously avoided the temptation to condescend to others. His frankness made people adore him, and his courteous manner was most disarming. He won everyone’s goodwill, and it was rumored that he was a special favorite of the emperor.

  He appears briefly in the diaries of Archduchess Henriette. She sat at the very heart of Schönbrunn society and was a witness to every event of importance. Few other than Heindrich escaped her censure. He had saved her husband’s life in the war and, moreover, his el
oquence pleased her. Above all, she appreciated his manner of moving through the salons with impressive assurance. He always conducted himself with dignity and as a peer to all. The archduchess decided he was the right man to satisfy any expectations of life her niece Clementina might reasonably have.

  ———

  THE GIRL WAS TWENTY-ONE years old, a splendid youthful beauty, but she lived sequestered from worldly society under the close watch of the Lord, whose will she assiduously obeyed. The archduchess did not share her niece’s fervent faith and had no illusions about the girl. She dispatched the following words to Heindrich:

  Clementina is very pious but possesses no particular spiritual distinction. Her life is devoted to prayers and to the celebration of God. The responsibility for her upbringing has been assumed by the Carmelite sisters in their convent outside Vienna. Consequently, she is thoroughly imbued with notions of respect, reverence, and humility. On the other hand, she lacks warmth and passion—you will understand, my prince, what I mean. I am convinced not only that she will be adequate for the prince in his daily life but that she will also provide him a son to continue his line. The two of you appear predestined for each other. By taking her in marriage you will assure yourself a glorious future. You will both have the Kaiser’s eyes upon you.

  Heindrich was the scion of a noble family who figured among the church’s most ancient supporters. Even though his relatives and ancestors had been familiars of cardinals and archbishops for centuries, he was a relatively free thinker in matters divine. He enjoyed reading Voltaire but did not share the philosopher’s anticlericalism. On the other hand he considered—of course, without neglecting to fulfill his duties toward the church as required by his standing—that the Catholic faith was based on a number of childish fantasies, including the Immaculate Conception and the appearance in human form of the son of God. Clementina’s devout religious faith did not bother him in the least, however, and he accepted her piety without hesitation. Her devotion might even be considered a positive quality, for it reinforced the young woman’s otherwise relatively mediocre character.

  FEW MEMBERS of the nobility gave any credence to the myth of true love, and no one of that class was surprised when Heindrich married Clementina, despite their contrasting personalities and completely opposed views. Arranged marriages had always played an important role in the history of Austria. They were the means by which the state and the great fortunes had been consolidated. The arrangement united a princess and a blue-blooded prince and linked families counted among the country’s oldest and most tenaciously loyal to the crown, as proven by courage on the battlefield; the arrangement was seen as strengthening the empire and the position of the emperor.

  ALTHOUGH NO ONE SAID so, there was no doubt that Clementina’s close family ties with the archduchess were the deciding factor when Heindrich asked for her hand. The discreet prince never mentioned this to anyone.

  HEINDRICH WAS ONE of the country’s great practitioners of the intricate art of politics. Where other aristocrats saw only complications that they all, without exception, detested like the plague and instinctively avoided—just as their fathers had done—Heindrich always came up with brilliant solutions. He was especially gifted with insight into the factors shaping the evolution of society.

  It was during Vormärz, the period before March 1848 when revolutionary sentiment was growing, that the new demands of the middle class for economic and political freedom became a growing threat to government by the upper class.

  The more Heindrich studied the writings of Voltaire, Rousseau, and Tocqueville, as professionally indispensable to him as they were interesting, the more hatred he felt for the universalist ideals of the French Revolution.

  His idol was Joseph de Maistre, the misanthropic strategist of the reactionary restoration.

  Heindrich had a deep and lasting distrust of Jews, Freemasons, and liberals, whom he described as birds of ill omen and malicious parasites in the Austrian body politic. He prevailed upon Vienna’s chief of police to recruit informers throughout the city who would report directly to him. He instructed his spies to offer a stark choice to those suspected of allegiance to the ideals of the Enlightenment: inform upon their comrades or go to prison. The tactic quickly paid off, for rabble-rousers proved most willing to save their own skins by denouncing one another. Because he knew what everyone was thinking and saying, Heindrich could keep a vigilant eye on everything happening in the empire and mercilessly crush groups that threatened the state. His maneuvers to forestall political change within the Habsburg empire were considered invaluable.

  In just a few years Heindrich became one of the most powerful of the Kaiser’s men. He had only a very few friends he could rely on, but the compensation was that he had a mass of enemies who never disappointed him. He ably outflanked his predecessor, and his political career reached its zenith with his appointment to the post of minister of the interior and police.

  IN THE SPRING of 1841 Heindrich was deeply involved from early morning until late at night dealing with an espionage case that had shaken the foundations of the Austrian Empire. Someone had sold military secrets to the Russian czar’s ambassador in Vienna. The reports in question were extremely sensitive documents known to only a very few people. Among them were the detailed descriptions of plans for Austrian mobilization, military ciphers, military transport capabilities, the inventory of military provisions, plans for resupply, and details of the fortifications along the borders. It was clear that the traitor had to be someone high in the military command, but his identity was unknown.

  Heindrich had reason to suspect that this was not a matter of a single poisonous snake or a lone criminal eager to finance a life of luxury by selling out the fatherland, but that it was a widespread conspiracy, nothing less than a plot against His Majesty involving many individuals in the highest military circles and probably some very senior politicians.

  He immediately requested an audience and informed the Kaiser, who listened to his report and instructed him to hush up the affair.

  “The desires of His Majesty the Emperor,” replied Heindrich with an appropriately steely demeanor, “will of course be obeyed. We shall act quickly, discreetly, and without mercy. Nothing is more important to me than unraveling this affair. The security of the empire must be our primary concern. The traitors will be seized, come what may, and executed.”

  Heindrich investigated thoroughly, applying all his talent and dedication. He sat studying documents far into the night and formulated a carefully calculated strategy.

  ———

  BECAUSE HE WAS NEVER ABLE to sleep more than three hours at a time, Heindrich was in the habit of lying down after lunch for a half-hour nap on the broad sofa in his office at the Ministry of the Interior in Vienna.

  One morning he was suffering from a throbbing headache. He had felt extremely fatigued throughout the morning and found it almost impossible to concentrate. Despite this, he tried once again to review the top-secret accounts of the espionage affair. He sensed that he was on the track of something vital and a breakthrough was imminent. His fatigue eventually overwhelmed him and, contrary to his custom, he lay down before lunch to rest. He immediately fell asleep. He opened his eyes only a few minutes later. He sat up with a jerk.

  He saw it all clearly. He was certain of the identities of the traitor and his fellow conspirators. Heindrich had always been a man of calm and discipline, but now his body was quivering with excitement. He burst into laughter, for now it seemed so simple. The thought crossed his mind that in different circumstances he would have dismissed the whole thing as a bad joke. He quickly went to his desk and called in his secretary, who entered with an expectant look. Heindrich appeared very satisfied with himself. He cleared his throat; it was vital for his voice to be loud and distinct. He began to dictate an order of arrest. Just as he was about to pronounce the name of the traitor, his face stiffened and he stopped in mid-sentence. At that very instant Napoleon’s bullet concluded its
long random journey through Heindrich’s body and arrived at his heart. Death enfolded the Prince zu Biederstern before he could reveal his discovery.

  WHY DID my great-uncle tell us stories about Heindrich and the Biederstern family? What did we have to do with them?

  The Spinoza family had been Jews since time out of mind, perhaps due more to random circumstances than out of conviction, and we had the long-established and laudable tradition of crouching over holy scripture and eternally praising God, who in fact believed more in us than we did in him. Study and debate were our obsessions.

  The Biedersterns, on the other hand, were an exemplary noble family distinguished by their courage and heroism, certainly not by scholarly devotion. Already by the end of the thirteenth century they had consecrated their swords to the defense of the Habsburg emperor, and their only other preoccupation was the blue blood in their veins. Throughout the centuries they married other aristocrats, since in their eyes everyone else was insignificant.

  Our clan had never been accorded any rights, never had anywhere in the world to call home, and regularly had to flee over the mountains and across the seas, at risk everywhere except in our world of books. The Biedersterns had dwelt carefree in their magnificent castle, noble owners of vast estates and extensive hunting preserves, faithful supporters of a church that readily forgave their transgressions because of the glory of their family name.

  But the differences between our lives lay not only in customs, legends, and conventions; they were also expressed in our mentalities and relationships, our concepts of ourselves, the things that moved us and dominated our thoughts, and the dreams and memories we carried within us.

  ———

  WAS THERE in fact anything at all that linked the families of Spinoza and Biederstern?