ay

Gornell University Library
Ithaca, New York

 

LIBRARY OF

LEWIS BINGLEY WYNNE

A.B..A.M.,COLUMBIAN COLLEGE,'71.°73
WASHINGTON, D.C.

 

THE GIFT OF
MRS. MARY A. WYNNE
AND
JOHN H. WYNNE
CORNELL ‘98

1922
iii
 
NAPOLEON IN GERMANY

NAPOLEON AND
THE QUEEN OF PRUSSIA

An Historical Novel

BY
L. MUHLBACH, ,

R OF MARIE, ANTOIN! J BERLIN AND SANS-SOUC
K THE GREAT AND HIS FAMILY, ETC.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY

F. JORDAN

NEW YORK
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1899
Copvricr, 1867, 1893, I
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
CHAPTER
i.
II.
III.
IV.
Vv.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
Xx.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.

XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.

XXII.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV.
XXV.
XXVI.

XXVII.
XXVIII.

CONTENTS,

BOOK I.

Ferdinand von Schill,

The German Song,

The Oath of Vengeance,

In Berlin,

Quiet is the Giizen? 8 First Due
The Faithful People of Stettin,
The Queen’s Flight, .

Napoleon in Potsdam,
Sans-Souci, "
Napoleon’s Entry into Berlin,
Napoleon and Talleyrand,

The Princess von Hatzfeld,

The Suppliant Princes,

Triumph and Defeat,

The Victoria of Brandenburg Gate,

 

BOOK II.

The Treaty of Charlottenburg,
The Secret Council of State,
Baron von Stein,

The Queen at the Peasant’s Coltazs,
Count Pickler, ;
The Patriot’s Death,

Peace Negotiations,

The Slanderous Articles, .

The Justification, a
Countess Mary Walewska,

The Dantzic Chocolate,

 

BOOK III.

Tilsit.—Napoleon and Alexander,

Queen Louisa, . . : 7
dit

. 152
- 172
. 191

- 205

PAGE

11
19
32
39
45
54
64
70
82
93

- 108

118

. 122

132

. 187

144

161

181

197

218

- 228

235

. 246
lv

CHAPTER

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXTI.
XXXII.
AXXITI.
XXXIV.

XXXV.
XXXVI.
XXXVII.

XXXVI.

XXXIX.
XL.
XLI.
XLII.
XLITI.

XLIV.
XLV.
XLVI.
XLVII.
XLVIII.
XLIX.
A,

LI.
Ex,

Lill.
LIV.
LV.
LVI.
LVII,

CONTENTS.

Bad Tidings,
Queen Louisa and choleans,

 

BOOK IV.

Baron von Stein,

The Patriot,

Johannes von Miller,
The Call,

Financial Calamities,
Prince William,

The Genius of Prussia, .
A Family Dinner,

BOOK V.

French Erfurt,
The Conspirators,

The Festivities of Erfurt aiid Wiktwion:

Napoleon and Goethe,
The Chase and the Assassins,

BOOK VI.

The War with Austria,
Josephine’s Farewell,
Ferdinand von Schill,
Schill takes the Field,
Schill’s Death,

The Parade at Scioabnuan,
Napoleon at Schénbrunn, .
Frederick Staps,

An Execution,

BOOK VII.

Homeward Bound,

The Emperor Francis and Mettaauch:
The Archduchess Maria Louisa,

The Queen’s Birthday,

Louisa’s Death,

PAGE
252

. 261

274

» 280

289

. 800

309

- 318

326

« 335

347

. 358

367

. 376

381

. 390

396

- 408

419
427
435

. 440

448

. 456

466

» 472

478

. 487

499
NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
FERDINAND VON SCHILL.

Prorounp silence reigned in the valleys and gorges of
Jena and Auerstadt. The battles were over. The victorious
French had marched to Jena to repose for a few days, while
the defeated Prussians had fled to Weimar, or were wandering
across the fields and in the mountains, anxiously seeking for
inaccessible places where they might conceal their presence
from the pursuing enemy. .

A panic had seized the whole army. All presence of mind
and sense of honor seemed to be lost. Every one thought
only of saving his life, and of escaping from the conquer-
ing arms of the invincible French. Mere and there, it is
true, officers succeeded by supplications and remonstrances
in stopping the fugitives, and in forming them into small
detachments, with which the commanders attempted to join
the defeated and retreating main force.

But where was this main army? Whither had the Prince
of Hohenlohe directed his vanquished troops? Neither the
officers nor the soldiers knew. They marched along the high-
roads, not knowing whither to direct their steps. But as soon
as their restless eyes seemed to discern French soldiers at a
distance, the Prussians took to their heels, throwing their
muskets away to relieve their flight, and surrendering at dis-
cretion when there was no prospect of escape. In one in-
stance a troop of one hundred Prussians surrendered to four
French dragoons, who conducted their prisoners to headquar-
ters; and once a large detachment hailed in a loud voice a
few mounted grenadiers, who intended perhaps to escape
2 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

from their superior force, and gave the latter to und erstand,
by signals and laying down their arms, that they only wished
to surrender and deliver themselves to the French.

The Prussians had reached Jena and Auerstadt confident
of victory, and now had left the battle-field to carry the terri-
ble tidings of their defeat, like a host of ominously croaking
ravens, throughout Germany.

The battle-field, on which a few hours previously Death
had walked in a triumphant procession, and felled thousands
and thousands of bleeding victims to the ground, was now
entirely deserted. Night had thrown its pall over the hor-
rors of this Calvary of Prussian glory: the howling storm
alone sang a requiem to the unfortunate soldiers, who, with
open wounds and features distorted with pain, lay in endless
rows on the blood-stained ground.

At length the night of horror is over—the storm dies away
—the thick veil of darkness is rent asunder, and the sun of a
new day arises pale and sad ; pale and sad he illuminates the
battle-field, reeking with the blood of so many thousands.

What a spectacle! How many mutilated corpses lie pros-
trate on the ground with their dilated eyes staring at the sky
—and among them, the happy, the enviable! how many
living, groaning, bleeding men, writhing with pain, unable to
raise their mutilated bodies from the gory bed of torture and
death!

The sun discloses the terrible picture hidden by the pall of
night; it illuminates the faces of the stark dead, but awakens
the living and suffering, the wounded and bleeding, from
their benumbed slumber, and recalls them to consciousness
and the dreadful knowledge of their wretched existence.

With consciousness return groans and wuils ; and the dread-
ful conviction of their wretched existence opens their lips,
and wrings from them shrieks of pain and despair.

How enviable and blissful sleep the dead whose wounds
bleed and ache no longer! How wretched and pitiable are
the living as they lie on the ground, tortured by the wounds
which the howling night wind has dried so that they bleed
no more! Those poor deserted ones in the valley and on the
hills the sun has awakened, and the air resounds with their
moans and cries and despairing groans, and heart-rending
entreaties for relief. But no retief comes to them; no cheer-
ful voice replies to their wails. Hundreds, perhaps thon-
sands, had been placed in the ambulances, and, during the
sudden panic, the surgeons had left the battle-field with them.
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 3

But hundreds, nay thousands, remained behind, and with no
one to succor them!

From among the crowds of wounded and dead lying on the
battle-field of Auerstadt, rose up now an officer, severely in-
jured in the head and arm. The sun, which had aroused
him from the apathetic exhaustion into which he had sunk
from loss of blood and hunger, now warmed his stiffened limbs,
and allayed soniewhat the racking pain in his wounded right
arm, and the bleeding gash in his forehead. He tried to
extricate himself from under the carcass of his horse, that
pressed heavily on him, and felt delighted as he succeeded in
loosing his foot from the stirrup, and drawing it from under
the steed. Holding with his uninjured left arm to the saddle,
he raised himself slowly. The effort caused the blood to

' trickle in large drops from the wound in his forehead, which
he disregarded under the joyful feeling that he had risen
again from his death-bed, and that he was still living and
breathing. For a moment he leaned faint and exhausted
against the horse as a couch; and feeling a burning thirst, a
devouring hunger, his dark, flaming eyes wandered around as
if seeking for a refreshing drink for his parched palate, or a
piece of bread to appease his hunger.

But his eye everywhere met only stiffened corpses, and the
misery and horror of a deserted battle-field. He knew that
no food could be found, as the soldiers had not, for two days,
either bread or liquor in their knapsacks. Hunger had been
the ally that had paved the way for the French emperor—it
had debilitated the Prussians and broken their courage.

“T must leave the battle-field,” murmured the wounded
soldier; “I must save myself while I have sufficient strength ;
otherwise I shall die of hunger. Oh, my God, give me strength
to escape from so horrible a death! Strengthen my feet for
this terrible walk!”

He cast a single fiery glance toward heaven, one in which
his whole soul was expressed, and then set out on his walk.
He moved along slowly and with tottering steps amid the
rows of corpses, some of which were still quivering and moan-
ing, as death drew near, while others writhed and wailed with
their wounds. Unable to relieve their racking pains, and to
assist them in their boundless misery, it only remained for
him to sink down among them, or to avert his eyes, to close
his ears to their supplications, and escape with hurried steps
from this atmosphere of blood and putrefaction, in order to
rescue his own life from the clutches of death.
4 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

He hastened, therefore, but his tearful eyes greeted the
poor sufferers whom he passed on his way, and his quivering
lips muttered a prayer for them.

At length the first and most horrible part of this dreadful
field was passed, and he escaped from the chaos of the dead
and wounded. ‘That part, across which he was walking now,
was less saturated with gore, and the number of corpses scat-
tered. over it was much smaller. Here and there was the
wreck of a cannon besmeared with blood and mire, and empty
knapsacks, fragments of broken wagons and muskets, in the
utmost disorder and confusion.

“Spoils for the marauders,” whispered the wounded officer,
pressing on. “It seems they have not been here yet. God
have mercy on me, if they should come now and look on me,
too, as their spoil!”

He glanced around anxiously, and in doing so his eye be-
held an unsheathed, blood-stained sabre lying near his feet.
He made an effort to take it up regardless of the blood which,
in consequence of the effort, trickled again in larger drops
from his wounds.

“Well,” he said; in a loud and menacing voice, “I shall de-
fend my life at least to the best of my ability; the hateful
enemies shall not capture me as long as Iam alive. For-
ward, then; forward with God! He will not desert a faithful
soldier!”

And supporting himself on his sabre, as if it were a staff,
the officer walked on. Everywhere he met with the same
signs of war and destruction; everywhere he beheld corpses,
blood-stained cannon-balls, or muskets, which the fugitives
had thrown away.

“Oh, for a drop of water!” groaned the officer, while
slowly crossing the field; “my lips are parched!”

Tottering and reeling, with the aid of his sabre, and by his
firm, energetic will, and the resolution of his spirit, he suc-
ceeded once more in overcoming the weakness of his body.

He hastened on with quicker steps, and hope now lent
wings to his feet, for yonder, in the rear of the shrubbery, he
beheld a house; men were there, assistance also.

At length, after untold efforts, and a terrible struggle with
his pain and exhaustion, he reached the peasant’s house.
Looking up with longing eyes to the windows, he shouted:
“Oh, give me a drink of water! Have mercy on a wounded
soldier!”

But no voice responded; no human face appeared behind
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 5

the small green windows. Every thing remained silent and
deserted.

With a deep sigh, and an air of bitter disappointment de-
picted on his features, he murmured:

“My feet cannot carry me any farther. Perhaps my voice
was too weak, and they did not hear me. I will advance
closer to the house.”

Gathering his strength, with staggering steps he approached
and found the door only ajar; whereupon he opened it and
entered.

Within the house every thing was as silent as without; not a
human being was to be seen; not a voice replied to his shouts.
The inside of the dwelling presented a sorry spectacle. All
the doors were open; the clay floor was saturated here and
there with blood; the small, low rooms were almost empty;
only some half-destroyed furniture, a few broken jars and
other utensils, were lying about. The inmates either had fled
from the enemy, or he had expelled them from their house.

“There is no help for me,” sighed the officer, casting a de-
spairing glance on this scene of desolation. “Oh, why was it
not vouchsafed to me to die on the battle-field? Why did
not a compassionate cannon-ball have mercy on me, and give
me death on the field of honor? Then, at least, I should have
died as a brave soldier, and my name would have been honor-
ably mentioned; now Iam doomed to be named only among
the missing! Oh, it is sad and bitter to die alone, unlamented
by my friends, and with no tear of compassion from the eyes
of my queen! Oh, Louisa, Louisa, you will weep much for
your crown, for your country, and for your people, but you
will not have a tear for the poor lieutenant of your dragoons
who is dying here alone uttering a prayer for a blessing on
you! Farewell queen, may God grant you strength, and——”

His words died away; a deadly pallor overspread his fea-
tures, his head turned dizzy, and a ringing noise filled his
ears.

“Death! death!” he murmured faintly, and, with a sigh,
he fell senseless to the ground.

Every thing had become silent again in the humble house;
not a human sound interrupted the stillness reigning in the
desolate room. Only the hum ofa few flies, rushing with
their heads against the window-panes, was heard. Once a
rustling noise was heard in acorner, and a mouse glided
across the floor, its piercing, glittering eyes looked searchingly
around, and the sight of the bloody, motionless form, lying
6 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

prostrate on the floor, seemed to affright it, for it turned and
slipped away even faster than it had approached, and disap-
peared in the corner.

The sun rose higher, and shone down on the dimmed
windows of the house, reflecting their yellow outlines on the
floor, and illuminated the gold lace adorning the uniform of
the prostrate and motionless officer.

All at once the silence was broken by the approach of
hurried steps, and a loud voice was heard near at hand,
shouting:

“Ts there anybody in the house?”

Then every thing was still again. The new-comer was evi-
dently waiting for a reply. After a pause, the steps drew
nearer--now they were already in the hall; and now the tall,
slender form of a Prussian officer, with a bandaged head and
arm, appeared on the threshold of the room. When he be-
held the immovable body on the floor, his pale face expressed
surprise and compassion.

“ An officer of the queen’s dragoons!” he ejaculated, and
in the next moment he was by his side. He knelt down, and
placed his hand inquiringly on the heart and forehead of the
prostrate officer.

“He is warm still,” he murmured, “and it seems to me his
heart is yet beating. Perhaps, perhaps he only fainted from
loss of blood, just as I did before my wounds had been dressed.
Let us see.”

He hastily drew a flask from his bosom, and pouring some
of its contents into his hand, he washed with it the forehead
and temples of his poor comrade.

A slight shudder now pervaded his whole frame, and he
looked with a half-unconscious, dreamy glance into the face
of the stranger, who had bent over him with an air of heart-
felt sympathy.

“ Where am I ?” he asked, in a low, tremulous voice.

“ With a comrade,” said the other, kindly. “With a com-
panion in misfortune who is wounded, and a fugitive like you.
Iam an officer of the Hohenlohe regiment, and fought at
Jena. Since last night I have been wandering about, con-
stantly exposed to the danger of falling into the hands of
the enemy. My name is Piickler—it is a good Prussian
name. You see, therefore, it is a friend who is assisting his
poor comrade, and you need not fear any thing. Now, tell me
what I can do for you?”

“Water, water!” groaned the wounded officer, “ water!”
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 7

“You had better take some of my wine here,” said the
other; “it will quench your thirst, and invigorate you at the
same time.”

He held the flask to the lips of his comrade, and made him
sip a little of his wine.

“Now it is enough,” he said, withdrawing the flask from
his lips. “Since you have quenched your thirst, comrade,
would you not like to eat a piece of bread and some meat ?
Ah, you smile; you are surprised because I guess your wishes
and know your sufferings. You need not wonder at it, how-
ever, comrade, for I have undergone just the same torture as
you. Above all, you must eat something.”

While speaking, he had produced from his knapsack a loaf
of bread and a piece of roast chicken, and cutting a few slices
from both, placed them tenderly in the mouth of the sufferer,
looking on with smiling joy while the other moved his jaws,
slowly at first, but soon more rapidly‘and eagerly.

* Now another draught of wine, comrade,” he said, “and
then, I may dare to give you some more food. Hush! do not
say a word—it is a sacred work you are doing now, a work by
which you are just about to save a human life. You must
not, therefore, interrupt it by any superfluous protestations
of gratitude. Moreover, your words are written in your eyes,
and you cannot tell me any thing better and more beautiful
than what Iam reading therein. Drink! So! And here is
a piece of bread and a wing of the chicken. While you are
eating, I will look around in the yard and garden to find there
some water to wash your wounds.”

Without waiting for a reply, he hastily left the officer alone
with the piece of bread, the wing of the chicken, and the
flask. When he returned, about fifteen minutes later, with a
jar filled with water, the bread and meat had disappeared;
but instead of the pale, immovable, and cadaverous being, he
found seated on the floor a young man with flashing eyes, a
~ faint blush on his cheeks, and a gentle smile on his lips.

“ You have saved me,” he said, extending his hand toward
his returning comrade. “I should have died of hunger and
exhaustion, if you had not relieved me so mercifully.”

“Comrade,” said the officer, smiling, “ you have just re-
peated the same words which I addressed two hours ago to
another comrade whom I met on the retreat; or, to speak
more correctly, who found me lying in the ditch. The lucky
fellow had got a horse; he offered me a seat behind him.
But I saw that the animal was too weak to carry both of us;
8 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

hence I did not accept his offer, but I took the refreshments
which he gave to me, and with which he not only saved my
life, but yours too, You are, therefore, under no obliga-
tions to me, but to him alone.”

“You are as kind as you are generous,” said the other,
gently, involuntarily raising his hand toward his forehead.

“And I see that you are in pain,” exclaimed the officer,
“and that the wound in your head is burning. Mine has
been dressed already, and my shattered arm bandaged—for I
received both wounds yesterday in the early part of the
battle, and the surgeon attended to them while the bullets
were hissing around us.”

“J was wounded only when every thing was lost,” sighed
the other. ‘A member of the accursed imperial guard
struck me down.”

“JT hope you gave him a receipt in full for your wounds ?”
asked the officer, while.tenderly washing the wound with the
water he had brought along in the broken jar.

The other officer looked up to him with flashing eyes.

“T gave him a receipt which he has already shown to God
Himself,” he said, “provided there is a God for these ac-
cursed French. My sword cleft his skull, but I fell together
with him.”

“Your wound here in the forehead is of no consequence,”
said the officer; “the stroke only cut the skin. Let us put
this moistened handkerchief on it.”

“Oh, now I am better,” said the other; “now that the
wound burns less painfully, I feel that life is circulating
again through all my veins.”

“ And what about your arm?”

“A lancer pierced it. I hope he was kind enough not to
touch the bone, so that the arm need not be amputated.
It is true, it pains severely; but, you see, I can move it a
little, which proves that it is not shattered. Now, comrade,
do me still another favor—assist me in rising. ”

“Here, lean firmly on me. There! I will lift you up—now
you are on your legs again. Lean on me still, for you might
become dizzy.”

“No,I shall not. I feel again well and strong enough to take
the burden of life on my shoulders. Thank God! I am able
to stand again. For, however crushed and trampled under
foot we may be, we will submit to our fate manfully, and
stand erect. The conqueror and tyrant shall not succeed in
bending our heads, although he has broken our hearts. Ah,
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 9

oe that was a terrible day when all Prussia sank in
ruins!”

“You were in the thickest of the fray? The regiment of
the queen’s dragoons fought at Auerstadt, I believe ?”

“Yes, it fought at Auerstadt, or rather it did the same as
all the other regiments—it deserted. Only a few squadrons
complied with the urgent exhortations of the king, who led us
against the squares of the enemy near Hassenhausen. His
own horse was shot; we officers stood our ground, but the
dragoons ran away.* Ah, I wept with rage, and if my tears
could have been transformed into bullets, they would not
have been directed against the enemy, but against our own
cowardly dragoons. The battle would have been won if our
soldiers had not disgracefully taken to their heels. All
shouts, orders, supplications, were in vain; the soldiers were
running, although no enemy pursued them; the panic had
rendered them perfectly crazy.”

“And do you really believe, comrade, that we owe the loss
of the battle exclusively to the cowardice of the soldiers?”
asked the officer. “Did our generals do their duty? Ah,
you look gloomy, and do not reply. Then you agree with
me? Let us, however, speak of all these things afterward,
but first of ourselves. ”

“Yes, first of ourselves!” exclaimed the other, starting
from his gloomy reflections. “Count Pickler, you were kind
enough to tell me your name, when you relieved an unknown
sufferer in so humane a manner, and thereby saved his life.
Now permit me to tell you my name, too, so that you may
know at least who will always revere your memory with at-
fection and gratitude. I am Second-Lieutenant Ferdinand
von Schill. You see, it is a very humble name; still I had
solemnly vowed that it should not be unknown in the battles
that were to be fought.”

“And I see it written on your brow, comrade, that you will
at some future time make up for what fate has now pre-
vented you from accomplishing,” said Count Piickler, kindly
offering his hand to Lieutenant von Schill. “ Yet now let
us not think of the future, but of the present. We are dis-
abled, and will be helpless as soon as the wound-fever sets in;
and we may be sure that that will be to-night. We must,
therefore, find a place of refuge; for, if we remain here, with-
out assistance, and without food, we shall surely be lost.”

“You are right; we must leave this house,” said Schill;

* Historical.
2
10 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“we must try to reach a city or village. Come, let us go.
You are armed, and I have got a sabre, too. Let us go, but
previously let us swear that we will not surrender to the
French, but rather die, even should it be necessary to com-
mit suicide! You have a knife, and when you cut some
bread for me, I saw that it was very sharp. Will you give it
to me?”

“What for?”

“T want to stab myself, as soon as I see that I cannot
escape from the enemy!”

“And I? What is to become of me?”

“ Before killing myself, I will stab you with my sabre.
Will that content you?”

“Tt will. Be careful, however, to hit my heart; do not
merely wound, but kill me.”

“Ah, I see that we understand each other, and that the
same heart is pulsating in our breast!” exclaimed Schill, joy-
fully. “ Let us die, rather than be captured by the enemy
and depend on the mercy of the Corsican tyrant! Now,
comrade, let us go! For you areright; the wound-fever will
set in toward evening, and without assistance we shall be
lost. ”

“Come, ” said Pickler, “ place your uninjured arm in mine.
It seems fate has destined us for each other, for it has ruined
your right arm and my left arm; thus we can walk at least
side by side, mutually supporting ourselves. I shall be your
right hand, and you will lend me your left arm when I have
to embrace anybody. But, it is true, no one will now care for
our embrace; every one will mock and deride us, and try to
read in the bloody handwriting on our foreheads: ‘ He is also
one of the vanquished Prussians!’ ”

“Comrade, did you not tell me a little while ago, that it
would be better for us to attend to our own affairs, before
talking about other matters?”

“Tt is true; let us go!”

And, leaning on each other, the two officers left the house,
THE GERMAN SONG. 1k

CHAPTER II.
THE GERMAN SONG.

It was a sunny morning in autumn; the two wounded
officers were inhaling the bracing air in long draughts, and
their eyes were wandering over the transparent sky and the
picturesque landscape.

“And to think that my eyes would never more have seen
all this, if you had not had mercy on me!” said Schill, with
a grateful glance at his companion.

“Ah, my friend,” sighed Pickler, mournfully, “we shall
not always behold the sky and this beautiful, silent scene,
but it may easily happen that we shall see much misery to-
day, and that you will curse your eyes for being compelled
to perceive it! Still you are right—it is better to live, even in
anguish and distress, than to die in anguish and distress; for
he who lives has still a future before him, and is able to strive
in it for revenge and compensation for the past. Let us de-
scry our immediate future from the nill yonder, and there de-
cide on the direction we shall take.”

They walked toward the neighboring hill. Frequently they
had to stop on the way; frequently they sank down exhausted;
but their will and youthful energy overcame their weakness,
and finally they reached their destination: they stood on the
summit, and were able to survey the whole country for miles
around.

“Yonder, where that dreadful smoke is rising, is the
battle-field of Auerstadt!” said Schill, after a long pause,
during which they had taken breath.

“ Yes, and beyond those hills is Jena,” said Ptickler, sadly.
“Those are two melancholy names for a Prussian ear, and,
like Ulysses, I should like to close mine so as not to hear that
siren voice of death any more; for, I tell you, whenever I hear
those two names, I am driven to despair, and would like to
throw myself into that abyss!”

“ My friend, it seems to me we are already in the abyss,
and our first and most earnest endeavors should be directed
toward saving us from it,” said Schill, shrugging his shoul-
ders. “Our first step should be to get safely through the
enemy’s lines, in order to escape from the dangers to which a
12 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

collision with the French would expose us. Whither shall we
turn now? Have you formed already a definite plan, count?”

“ Being disabled from active service by my wounds, I shall
repair to my estates in Silesia, and remain there till I have
recovered. And you, comrade—will you permit me to make
you an offer ? Ifyou have not yet come toa different decision,
you ought to accompany me, and stay at my house till your
wounds are healed. I have splendid woods, and facilities for
angling on my estates; and if you like hunting and fishing,
Iam sure a sojourn at my house will afford you plenty of
amusement. ”

“But you forget that my right arm is wounded, count,”
said Schill, with a melancholy smile; “hence, I shall be but
a poor companion for you, and ought not to accept your
kind offer. I confess, moreover, that my mind is too restless,
and my heart too deeply grieved, to enjoy the peace and quiet
of country life. I must remain in the noise and turmoil of
the world, and see what will become of poor Prussia. I in-
tend going to Kolberg; the fortress is strong and impregna-
ble; it will be an insurmountable bulwark against the enemy,
and I have several intimate friends at the fortress. I will
stay with them till I am well again.”

“Our paths, then, will soon be different. You will go to
the north; I, to the east. But, for a few days, we shall still
remain together, for the wound-fever will compel us to ad-
vance very slowly. Let us look out now for a dinner, and for
a place where we may safely sleep to-night .”

“And, it seems to me, I see a prospect of obtaining both.
Yonder,” said Schill, pointing with his left hand to a small
point on the horizon. ‘‘ Do you perceive that steeple? There
1s a village, and consequently there are men; and, as it is sit-
uated northeast, it is in the right direction for both of us.”

“You are right; we will direct our steps thither,” exclaimed
Count Pickler. “May Fate be propitious to us, and keep
the French out of our path!”

They walked down the hill on the opposite side, and then
commenced crossing, arm in arm, the stubble-field that lay
stretched out before them. All around them nothing what-
ever was stirring—not a sound, not even the chirping of a
bird, or the humming of a beetle, interrupted the profound
silence; neither a house, nor any trace of human life, was to
be seen anywhere.

“Tt is as still here as the grave,” whispered Count Piickler.

“Death probably has already stalked across this field on its
THE GERMAN SONG. 13

way to Jena and Auerstadt, ” said Schill, “and for this reason
all Nature seems to hold its breath lest it should return. ”

“ But it will not return very soon, for I should think Death
itself must be exhausted by the terrible work it had to per-
form on the battle-field. Comrade, now that we know our
destination, and have arranged our affairs, we may converse
w little about the dreadful events which occurred yester-
day. You were at Auerstadt. Do you know that at Jena wo
had no knowledge whatever of the battle that was going on
at Auerstadt, and were informed of it only in the evening,
after we had been completely routed? We did not hear the
reports of your guns!”

“So it was with us, too. At Auerstadt we did not know
that a battle was being fought at Jena; the roar of our own
artillery prevented us from hearing yours. Only when the
king had sent off several orderlies to order the Prince of
Hohenlohe and General Riichel to cover our retreat, we
learned, from the chasseur who returned first, that a battle
had been fought also at Jena, and that Hohenloheand Riichel
were unable to afford us any assistance. I cannot describe to
you the dismay produced by this intelligence. Every one
thought only of saving himself; there was no longer any
obedience, sense of honor, or bravery. The generals were too
confused to issue orders, and the soldiers too frightened to
listen to their officers. ”

“ And the king ?”

“The king was evidently determined to die. His face was
livid, his lips were quivering; wherever the bullets rained down
most murderously, thither he spurred his horse. He had two
horses killed, but remained uninjured. It seems Fate was
too unmerciful toward him: it had decreed that the King of
Prussia should not die, but learn in the stern school of suf-
fering and experience what Prussia needs. ”

“ And the Duke of Brunswick—the commander-in-chief ?”

“ Ah, you do not yet know the terrible fate that befell him?
A bullet passed through his head; it entered on the right side,
and came out on the left. This happened in the early part
of the battle; the duke was brought back to Auerstadt in a
fainting condition; his wound was dressed there, and then
he was carried by some soldiers to Blankenburg. ”

“The duke is not yet dead, then, notwithstanding this ter-
rible wound ?”

“No,” said Schill, solemnly, “God would not let him die
without reaping the fruit of what he had sown. For his
14 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

mental blindness God punished him with physical blindness.
The ball destroyed both his eyes.”

“Dreadful!” muttered Count Pickler.

“You pity him?” asked Schill, harshly. “ You had better
pity the thousands who are lying on the bloody battle-fields
of Jena and Auerstadt, and accusing the duke of having
murdered them! You had better pity Prussia’s misfortunes
and disgrace, which have been brought about by the duke!
For, I tell you, the indecision, vacillation, and timidity of the
duke were the sole causes of our terrible disaster. All of us
felt and knew it. None of the younger officers and generals
had any doubt about it; every one knew that those old gen-
tlemen, who had outlived their own glory, and still believed
that they lived in the days of Frederick the Great, were un-
equal to the occasion, to the present time, and to the present
war. Because we were aware of this, we made the utmost
efforts to bring about a change of commanders. We elected
a deputation of officers, and sent them to General Kalkreuth,
for the purpose of laying our complaints and prayers before
him, and of imploring him to induce the king to deprive the
duke of his command, and to intrust it to younger and more
resolute hands. The deputation consisted of none but skil-
ful, prominent, and highly-esteemed officers, who boldly de-
clared it to be their firm conviction that the king was in
danger of losing his crown and his states, if the Duke of
Brunswick should remain at the head of the army.” *

“ And what did General Kalkreuth reply to them?”

“The general asked, in a harsh tone, for a further explana-
tion of their words, and the officers gave it to him. They
censured the duke’s idea of establishing a camp at Weimar,
and dwelt contemptuously on the reasons that might have
induced him to do so. They proved, by referring to the
whole proceedings of the duke, that he knew neither what
he was doing nor what he wanted to do; neither where he
was, nor whither he was going; and they added that, in con-
sequence of this deplorable state of affairs, the whole army
was filled with the most startling and discouraging rumors.t
But their prayers, their remonstrances, their angry denunci-
ations, and predictions, were unavailing. General Kalkreuth
could not make up his mind to represent the dangers of the
situation to the king, although he himself was just as well
satisfied of its critical character as all the younger officers of

* Vide Frederick von Gentz’s writings, edited by G. Schlesier, vol. ii.
+ Ibid., vol. ii., p. 315. 2 e Pees Bene
THE GERMAN SONG. 15

the army. And thus we were defeated, disastrously defeated
and routed, in spite of all warnings of our consciousness of
the danger, and of all predictions. ‘This time it was not the
inexperience and impetuosity of youth, but the antiquated
method and slowness of age, that brought about our ruin.”

“Yes, you are right,” sighed Count Piickler; “our old gen-
erals are the cause of our misfortunes.”

“Do you know, for instance,” asked Schill, indignantly,
“why we lost the important defile of Késen? In consequence
of the night-sweat of General von Schmettau!”

“Ah, you can jest even now!” said Piickler, sadly.

“T do not jest, by any means; on the contrary, I am in
dead earnest! The Duke of Brunswick had ordered the gen-
eral, on the day before the battle, to start early next morning
with his division, and occupy the defile of Késen. His ad-
jutant, Lieutenant von Pfuel, went repeatedly to his head-
quarters to remind him of the urgent necessity of setting out,
and to implore him to rise from his bed. ‘ But, sir,’ replied
the old general, ‘let me wait at least until my night-sweat is
gone; I understand it isa very chilly morning!’* The old
general did not rise until nine o’clock, and started at ten with
his division toward Koésen. When he reached the defile he
found that Marshal Davoust had caused it to be occupied by
a regiment of infantry scarcely an hour before. That night-
sweat of the old general has become the death-sweat of many
brave Prussians, and the gray hairs of the old chieftain will
now cause the hair of our youth to turn gray with shame and

rief,”

ons Oh, it is a terrible disgrace for us, and I hardly know how
we are to bear it in a manly and dignified manner,” said
Count Pickler, gloomily. “In these hours of melancholy only
we feel the full extent of our ardent love for our country; now
only we perceive the indissoluble ties that attach our hearts
to it! JIshould like to pour out my blood in tears for this
crushed, disgraced, and yet so dearly-beloved country, and I
feel that if we do not rise speedily from our degradation, I
shall die of despair!”

“You will not die,” said Schill, gravely, “for all of us who
love Prussia, and are devoted to her honor, must not think of
dying at the present time; all of us must assist Prussia in ris-
ing again from the dust, so that she may once more boldly meet
the tyrant, and take revenge for herself and for Germany!
For Prussia is Germany now, because she is the only power

* Vide Foérster’s ‘‘ Modern History of Prussia,” vol. i., p. 757.
16 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

in Germany that has resisted and braved the Corsican con-
queror. But God wanted first to arouse her from her arro-
gance and vanity, and make the weakness of her leading
men known to her, that she might rise after a noble regenera-
tion and with redoubled strength. Life springs from death,
and Prussia had to fall so low as to break her old decrepit
limbs that were still kept together by her glory from the
Seven Years’ War; and then the young, vigorous soldier of
the new century will arise and draw the sword to deliver his
subjugated country, and avenge its desecrated honor!”

«Then you hope still fora change for the better?” asked
Count Pickler, mournfully.

“T base my hopes on the propitious star of Prussia,” ex-
claimed Schill, enthusiastically, “on the future, on the wrath
aud grief which will awake now in all Prussian hearts, arousing
the sluggards, strengthening the vacillating, and urging the
timid. I base my hopes on the tears of Queen Louisa, which
will move Heaven to help us and awaken avengers on earth.
And, for ourselves, comrade, with our wounds, with our dis-
grace, we must be like the spirits of vengeance that sweep
across the heath in the howling storm of diversity, and
awaken the sleeper who would give way to dreams of peace
and inaction. Prussia must not make peace in her present
calamitous condition; she must fill the hearts and minds of
all with longings for war, till the whole nation arises in its
rage and expels the enemy from thecountry! My friend, we
have now witnessed the downfall of Prussia, but henceforth
we must exert ourselves in order to witness also her regen-
eration. We ourselves must be the—”

“Hush!” said Pickler, hastily. “Just look there, and
then take your sabre.”

They were’ now near a field-path leading to a small wood
which a slender youth had just left, and was hastily approach-
ing them. As yet, however, he was so far from them that they
were unable to distinguish his features or his dress, and to dis-
cern whether he was an armed soldier or a peaceable wanderer.

“Tt is, doubtless, a French soldier, and his comrades are
lying in ambush,” murmured Piickler, placing his hand on
his sword.

“Tf he wants to attack us, he had better say his death-
prayers,” said Schill, calmly. “There are two of us, and each
has one uninjured arm.”

The youth had meanwhile drawn nearer, and they saw that
he did not wear any uniform.
THE GERMAN SONG. 1?

“ He is very young,” said Pickler, “andacivilian. He has
apparently not yet seen us. That bush yonder is concealing
us from his eyes. Let us stoop a little, and, as the path lies
beyond, he may pass by without noticing us.”

They knelt down behind the bush, but, while doing so, took
their swords, and prepared for an attack. Then they held
their breath and listened.

Profound silence reigned around, and nothing was to be
heard but the quick steps of the wanderer, who drew nearer
and nearer. Suddenly this silence was interrupted by a fresh
and youthful voice, singing the air of a popular song.

“ Ah, he sings,” murmured Schill. “He who can sing to-
dey, must be very harmless, and it is not worth while to kill

im.” :

“Hush! hush! let us listen to his song. He is now sing-
ing words to the melody. Just listen!”

The voice resounded nearer and nearer to the two listeners,
and they could understand the words he was singing:

O Hermann! for thy country’s fall

No tears! Where vanquished valor bled
The victor rules, and Slavery’s pall

Upon these hills and vales is spread.
Shame burns within me, for the brave
Lie mouldering in the freeman’s grave.

No voice! where sturdy Luther spoke
Fearless for men who dared be free!

O would that Heaven’s thunder woke
My people for their liberty!

Must heroes fight and die in vain?—

Ye cowards! grasp your swords again!

Revenge! revenge! a gory shroud

To tyrants, and the slaves that yield'
Eternal honor calls aloud

For courage in the battle-field.
Who loves or fears a conquered land
That bows beneath the despot’s hand ?

And whither flee? Where Winkelried
And Tell and Ruyter bravely broke
Oppression’s power—their country freed—

All—all beneath the usurper’s yoke!
From Alpine fountains to the sea
The patriot dead alone are free.

My people! in this sorrowing night,
The clanking of your chains may be
The sign of vengeance, and the fight
Of former times the world may see,
When Hermann in that storied day
As a wild torrent cleft his way.

No idle song, O youth! thy boast.
In self-born virtue be as one
Who is himself a mighty host
By whose sole arm is victory won.
No blazoned monument so grand
As death for the dear Fatherland.
18 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

To die! how welcome to the brave!
The tomb awakes no coward fear
Save to the wretched, trembling slave
Who for his country sheds no tear.
To crown me with a fadeless wreath
Be thine, O happy, sacred death !

Come, shining sword! avenge my dead!
Alone canst thou remove this shame.

Proud ornament ! with slaughter red
Restore my native land its fame,

By night, by day, in sun or shade,

Be girt around me, trusty blade.

The trumpet on the morning gale !
Arm! forward to the bloody strife!
From loftiest mountain to the vale
Asks dying Freedom for her life.
Our standard raise, to glory given,
And higher still our hearts to Heaven.*

* This is one of Arndt’s soul-stirring, patriotic hymns, published in 1806. It is
difficult to render into readable English this species of German heroic verse so as to
preserve its ya All the thought of the original is however expressed in the
translation. The only change of any importance is the transposition of the seventh
stanza.

Keine Thrine, Hermann, fiir dein Volk ?
Keine Thrane, und die Schande brennet,
Und der Feind gebietet, wo die Freien
Siegten und fielen ?

Keine Stimme laut, wo Luther sprach ?
Alle Donner, die der Himmel sendet,
Sollten rufen: Volk erwache! feiges;
Greife zum Schwerte.

Rache! Rache! heissen, blut’gen Tod
Sklavenfiirsten und dem Knecht der fliehet!
Minnerwort gefiirchtet und gepriesen,
Mannliche Tugend!

Ach wohin ? wo Winkelried erlag,
Wilhelm schlug, und Ruyter tapfer siegte ;
Auf den héchsten Alpen, in den tiefsten
Siimpfen ist Knechtschaft.

Auch du, Hermann’s, auch du, kiihnes Volk ?
Auf ! Erwache ! Schiittle deine Ketten,

Dass die Schmach die Welt vernehme, bald auch
Blutige Rache !

Lieder helfen hier and Miler nicht.

Miler ? Tief im Herzen sei das Denkmal,
An dem Thurm der selbstgebornen Tugend
Hebe dich, Jiingling !

Und voran geworfen ktihn die Brust,

Und empor das Auge zu dem Himmel,

Hoch die Fahne ! Hoch zum Himmel! Héher
Flammende Herzen.

Tod, du siisser, ftir das Vaterland,

Siisser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen |

Was das Lied nicht luset, lost das Schwert,
Blinkend Heil, umgiirte meine Hiiften !
Vor der Schande kannst du Tapfre retten,
Zierde der Tapfern !
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 19°

Just when the youth had sung the last verse in a ringing
voice, he had reached the bush. And now there arose above
it two pale heads, wrapped in white, blood-stained handker-
chiefs, and sang in enthusiastic tone the last verse of the song
they had heard:

Was das Lied nicht léset, lost das Schwert!
Blinkend Heil, umgiirte meine Htiften |
Vor der Schande kannst du Tapfre retten,
Zierde der Tapfern !

CHAPTER III.
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE,

SPEECHLESS with surprise, the youth had listened to the
song, and fixed his large eyes steadfastly on the two officers,
whose uniforms and wounds revealed to him the melancholy
fute that had befallen them during the last few days.

When the two were silent, he approached them with an air
of profound respect.

“ Bravo, officers of Auerstadt or Jena,” he said, with a voice
trembling with emotion, “permit a poor young wanderer
to present his respects to you, and to thank you, in the name
of the German fatherland, for the wounds on your foreheads.
Such wounds are also an ‘ ornament of the brave.’” *

“ And such words are an ornament of a noble heart,” ex-
claimed Schill, offering his hand to the youth.

He took it with a joyful gesture, and, quickly kneeling
down, imprinted a glowing kiss on the feverish hand of the
wounded officer.

“My God!” exclaimed Schill, surprised, “what are you
doing? How can a man kiss another’s hand and kneel before
him? Rise!” :

“Tam no man,” said the youth, deeply moved. “JI am
but a poor boy, who has not yet done any thing for his coun-
try, and, perhaps, never will be able to do any thing for it,
but who ieels the most profound respect for those who were
more fortunate than he. I, therefore, kiss your hand as
Catholics kiss the hands of their saints and martyrs. For
are you not at the present hour a martyr of German liberty?
Hence, sir, give me your hand, too. Let me press my poor

* An allusion to the last line of the original song.
20 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

lips on it, also. It is the only way for me to manifest my
profound respect for you.” ;

“No,” said Count Pickler, fcelingly, “you shall not kiss
my hand, but my cheeks and my lips. Let me embrace you,
young man, let me embrace you for the boon you have con-
ferred on us by your words. Come, sir!”

The young man uttered a joyous cry, and, rising quickly,
threw himself with youthful impetuosity into the count’s
arms.

“T will and must have my share in the embrace,” exclaimed
Schill, smiling; “did not you before expressly request me,
comrade, to lend you my left arm for every embrace? Well,
then, here it is.”

He quickly wound his left arm around the necks of the
others, and pressed them firmly to his heart. When they
withdrew their arms again, tears were glistening in the eyes
of the officers as well as in those of the youth.

“Grief and adversity cause men easily to fraternize,”’ said
Schill, “and therefore we shall be brethren henceforward.”

“You will be my brethren?” exclaimed the young man,
joyfully. “You will permit the poor boy to call two heroes
brethren?”

“Teroes!” said Pickler, sighing. “Then you do not
know, my friends, that we were disgracefully defeated and
trampled under foot in yesterday’s battle?”

“T know that, but know also that the duck of battles is not
the true standard for the bravery of warriors. Yow at least
did not run, and, like true heroes, you bear your wounds on
your foreheads; your mothers, therefore, will proudly bid you
welcome; your betrothed or your wives will embrace you with
rapturous tears, and your friends will be proud of your valor.”

“Does it not seem almost as though he had heard our
mournful and despondent words, and wished to comfort us?”
asked Schill, turning to the count. “His blue eyes appar-
ently do not behold only our physical wounds, but also those
which cause our hearts to bleed, and he wishes to apply a
balm to them by his sweet, flattering words.”

“He wishes to console the poor defeated, and reconcile
them to their fate,” said Ptickler, nodding kindly to the youth,

“You have a better and more generous opinion of me than
I deserve,” he said, sadly bowing his head so as to shake its
exuberant mass of long, fair hair. “I simply told you what I
thought, and what every one who looks at both of you will and
must think.”
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. ai

“Would to God you spoke the truth, young man!” said
Count Pickler, mournfully. “Believe me, however, but tew
will think like yourself; a great many will rejoice at seeing
us defeated and humiliated.”

“Instead of bewailing us, they will deride us,” exclaimed
Schill; “instead of weeping with us, they will revile us!”

“Who will dare to do so?” exclaimed the youth, in an out-
burst of generous anger. “Do you forget, then, that you are
in Germany, and that you have shed your blood for your
country? Your German brethren will not deride you; they
will not rejoice at your sufferings; they will hope with you
for a better and more fortunate day when you will get even
with that insolent and hateful enemy, for the battles of Jena
and Auerstadt.”

“Pray to God, my young friend, that that day may speedily
dawn!” said Count Pickler, heaving a sigh.

“Pray!” ejaculated the young man, impetuously. “In
times like ours it is not sufficient to pray and to hope for di-
vine assistance; we ought rather to act and toil, and, instead
of folding our hands, arm them either with the sword or with
the dagger.”

“With the dagger?” asked Schill. “The dagger is the
weapon of assassins.”

“Was Mceros an assassin because he wanted to stab Diony-
sius the tyrant?” asked the youth. “Was he not rather a gen-
erous and high-minded man, whom our great Schiller deemed
worthy of becoming the hero of one of his finest poems?
When the fatherland is in danger, every weapon is sacred,
and every way lawful which a bold heart desires to pursue,
to deliver the country.”

“ Well, I see already that your heart will choose the right,
and not shrink back from dangers,” said Pickler, kindly.
* But, in the first place, tell us which way you are now going
to take, that we may know whether we shall be allowed to
accompany you or not.”

“JT come from Erfurt, where my parents are living,” said
the young man; “last night I was at Weimar, and now I am
going to do what I have sworn a solemn oath to my father to
do. Iam on my way to Leipsic.”

“ And may I inquire what you are going to do in Leipsic?”

The young man was silent, and a flaming blush mantled
for a moment his delicate, innocent face. “ According to my
father’s wishes, I shall become there a merchant’s appren-
tice,” he said, in a low and embarrassed voice.
22 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ What! Feeling so generous an enthusiasm for the father-
land and its soldiers, you want to become a merchant ?” asked
Schill, in surprise.

The youth raised his blue eyes to him; they were filled
with tears.

“T am ordered to become a merchant,” he said in a low
voice. “ My father is a pious preacher, and hates and detests
warfare; he says it is sinful for men to raise their weapons
against their brethren, as though they were wild beasts,
against which you cannot defend yourself but by killing them.
My mother, in former days, became familiar with the horrors
of war; she fears, therefore, lest her only son should fall
prey to them, and wishes to protect him from such a fate.
With bitter tears, with folded hands, nay, almost on her
knees, she implored me to desist from my purpose of becoming
a soldier, and not to break her heart with grief and anguish.
My mother begged and wept, my father scolded and threat-
ened, and thus I was obliged to yield and be a dutiful son.
Three days ago my father administered the sacrament to me,
and I swore an oath to him at the altar to remain faithful to
the avocation he had selected for me, and never to become a
soldier !””

He paused, and the tears which had filled his eyes rolled
like pearls over his cheeks.

“Poor friend!” murmued Pickler.

“Poor brother!” said Schill, indignantly. “To be doomed
to wield the yardstick in place of the sword! How can a
father be so cruel as to make his son take such a pledge at
the present time?”

“My father is not cruel,” said the youth, gently; “his only
aim is my happiness, but he wishes to bring it about in his
own way, and not in mine. It behooves a son to yield and
obey. Accordingly, I shall not become a soldier, but God
knows whether it will be conducive to my happiness. Many
a one has already been driven to commit a crime by his de-
spair at having chosen an unsuitable uvocation. But let us
speak no more of myself,” he added, shaking his head indig-
nantly, as if he wanted to drive the tears from his eyes; “let
us speak no more of my petty, miserable grief, but of your
great sorrow, which all Germany shares with you. You
know now every thing concerning my affairs, and it only re-
mains for me to mention my name. It is Staps; ‘ Frederick
Staps’ will be my firm one day, if I should live to see it. ”

“ Your name is Frederick, like that of Prussia’s great king,”
 

THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 23

said Schill, comfortingly, “and who knows whether you will
not one day become a great soldier like him?”

“Bat I have told you already that I have sworn at the altar
never to become a soldier,” said Frederick Staps, sighing.
“T shall never break the oath I have sworn to my father,
nor the one either which I have sworn to myself!”

“The oath that you will become a good and honest man, I
suppose ?” asked Pickler.

“It is unnecessary to take such an oath, because that is a
matter of course,” said Frederick Staps, quickly. “I swore
another oath, but nobody but God must know it. When the
time has come, you shall be informed of it. Do not forget
my name, and when you hear from me one day, remember
this hour and the tears you saw me shed for being compelled
to choose an avocation that is repugnant to me.”

“ Avid in order to remember us, you must know who we
are,” exclaimed Count Piickler, stating his name.

“And my name is Schill,” said the lieutenant. “ We fought
at Auerstadt and Jena, and are now wandering about, and
seeking for a place where we may spend the coming night.”

“You will find it in the village in the rear of the wood,”
said Frederick Staps. “Come, I will guide you back to the vil-
lage and to the country parson, to whom I have on my way
just presented my father’s respects. He is a good and generous
man. You will be kindly received and nursed by him and
his wife; and if French soldiers should come to his house,
he would not betray, but conceal you.”

“Oh, what delightful words you have just uttered!” ex-
claimed Schill, joyously. “ Blessed be your lips which have an-
nounced to us that we shall be saved, for, let me tell you, we
should prefer death to French captivity!”

“T understand that,” said Frederick Staps, quietly. “Come,
I will guide you thither.”

“ And we accept your offer, as friends ought to accept that
of a friend,” said Count Piickler. “ We do not say: ‘ We cause
you trouble and loss of time; let us therefore try to find our
way alone;’ but we say: ‘In these days of affliction we are all
brethren, and we must rely on each other’s assistance.’
Come, therefore, brother, and be our guide.”

They walked slowly toward the small wood from which
Staps had issued. : ;

“You stated you had been in Weimar, and spent a night
there,” asked Count Piickler. ‘“ How does the place look—
what do people say, and who is there?”
24 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Tt looks like a pandemonium,” replied Staps. “ Noth-
ing is to be heard but curses, shouts, threats, and screams:
nothing to be seen but faces pale with terror, and fleeing from
the pursuing soldiers. The streets are crowded with men,
wagons, and horses. The inhabitants want to leave the city;
they know not whither to escape, and are forced back at the
gates by French soldiers making their entry, or by vehicles
filled with wounded.”

“ And how is it at the palace? The duchess has fled from
the wrath of the conqueror, I suppose?”

“No, the duchess has remained to beg Napoleon to have
mercy on her state and her husband. ”

“ But is Napoleon already in Weimar?”

“Yes; hecame over from Jena this morning. The duchess
received him at the foot of the palace staircase, and did not
avert her eyes from his angry and haughty glances, but looked
at him with the proud calmness of a noble German lady.
‘You have not fled, then?’ asked Napoleon, harshly. ‘Then
you do not fear my anger at the senseless and hostile conduct
of your husband?’ The duchess looked quietly at him. ‘You
see, Sire, I have remained because I have confided in your gen-
erosity, and wished to intercede for my husband and my
people.’ Napoleon looked at her during a long pause, and
her quiet dignity seemed to impress him very favorably.
“That was well done,’ he said at last, ‘and for your sake, and
because you have reposed confidence in me, I will forgive
your husband.’* I do not know what occurred afterward, for
I left the palace when Napoleon had retired to the rooms
reserved for his personal use. My cousin, who is lady’s maid
of the duchess, told me what I have just related to you.”

“And you did not hear any thing about our king and his
consort?”

“ Both are said to be on the way to Magdeburg, where they
will remain, if the pursuing enemy will permit them. Na-
poleon’s hatred and wrath are not yet satiated, and his latest
bulletin is written in the same vulgar guard-room style as all
the recent manifestoes in which he dares to revile the noble
and beautiful queen.”

“Then another bulletin has appeared?”

“Tt was just distributed among the troops when I left
Weimar. A soldier, whom I asked for his copy, gave it to
me. Do you wish to read it ?”

* Napoleon’s own words.—Vide ‘‘ Mémoires de Constant,” vol. iv., and “ Hi
of Napoleon,” by * * * r, vol. fi, p. 105. ‘ , istory
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 25

“Read it to us,” said Count Piickler. “Let us rest a little
in the shade of these trees, for I confess I feel greatly ex-
hausted, and my feet refuse to carry me any farther. And
how do you feel, comrade?”

“Do you believe,” asked Schill, in a faint voice, “do you
believe that I should not have given vent to my anger at the
impudence of that Corsican who dares to revile our noble
queen, if I had had sufficient strength to speak? Let us sit
down and rest. See, there isa splendid old oak. Let us take
breath under its shade.”

They walked toward a large oak, which stood at the en-
trance of the wood, and the foot of which was overgrown
with fragrant green moss. Assisted by Staps, the two officers
seated themselvs, and the roots, covered with soft turf, served
as pillows to their wounded heads.

“Oh, how delightful to rest on German soil under a Ger-
man oak!” sighed Schill. ~“I should like to lie here all my
lifetime, looking up to the rustling leaves, and dreaming!
Amid the stillness surrounding us, it is almost impossible to
believe that we witnessed yesterday such wild strife and blood-
shed. Is all this reality, or have we had merely an evil, fever-
ish dream?”

“Touch your forehead; try to raise your right arm, and
you will see that it is reality,” said Pickler, laughing bitterly,
“and if you should have any doubt, let our young friend read
the latest bulletin issued by our ¢riumphator. But will you
promise not to interrupt him, nor to be angry at what we are
going to hear?”

“J promise you to be perfectly calm, for my weakness com-
pels meto beso. Read, friend Staps. But, pray, let us have the
German translation, for it would be a violation of the peace-
ful silence of the forest, and of the sacredness of the German
oak, if we should use here the language of our enemies.”

Frederick Staps sat down opposite the officers, on the
trunk of a fallen tree. Drawing a paper from his bosom, he
unfolded it, and read as follows:

“The battle of Jena has effaced the disgrace of Rossbach,
and decided a campaign in seven days. Since the ninth of
October we have proceeded from victory to victory, and the
battles of Jena and Auerstadt have crowned all. The Prus-
sian army is dispersed—almost annihilated. The king is wan-
dering about without shelter, and the queen will now regret
with bitter tears that she instigated her husband to this
senseless and unjust war. Admirable was the conduct of our
26 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

whole army, soul-stirring the enthusiasm of the brave soldiers
for their chieftain and emperor. When there was any mo-
mentary difficulty to overcome, the shout of ‘Long live the
emperor!’ resounded, animating all souls, and carrying away
all hearts, ‘The emperor saw at the most critical moment of
the battle that the enemy’s cavalry threatened the flanks of
the infantry. He galloped up to order new manceuvres, and
the front to be transformed into a square. At every step he
was hailed by shouts of ‘Long live the emperor!’ The sol-
diers of the imperial guard were jealous of all the other corps
who participated in the battle, while they alone were inactive.
Several voices were already heard to shout, ‘Forward!’ The
emperor turned and asked, ‘ What is that? He must assuredly
be a beardless youth who wishes to anticipate me as to what
I ought to do. Let him wait until he has commanded in
twenty battles; then he may claim to be my adviser.’ The
whole guard replied to this rebuke by the unanimous shout
of ‘Long live the emperor!’ and rushed toward the enemy,
when, at length, the order was given to charge. The results
of this battle are from thirty to forty thousand prisoners,
three hundred fieldpieces, and thirty standards. Among the
prisoners there are more than twenty generals. The losses
of the Prussian army are very heavy, amounting to more than
twenty thousand killed and wounded. Our losses are esti-
mated at about twelve hundred killed and three thousand
wounded. ” *

Profound silence ensued when Staps had read the bulletin.
The two officers were still lying on the ground, and their
dilated eyes gazing at the roof of foliage above them.

“And we must quietly listen to that,” said Schill, after a
long pause; “and our hearts do not break with grief and
rage! heaven does not grow dark, and earth does not open to
swallow up the degraded, in order to save them compassion-
ately from the sense of their humiliation! These words will
be read by the whole of Europe, and all will know that this
insolent conqueror may dare with impunity to speak in insult-
ing terms of our queen, the purest and best of women!”

“He is the master of the world, and will issue many more
bulletins of this description, und speak in such terms of many
more princes and princesses,” said Count Piickler. “He has
the power to do so. We needs only stretch out his hand, and
kingdoms fall to rnins—nations are at his feet, and ery implor-
ingly: ‘ Let us be your slaves, and lay your hand on us as our

* Fifth bulletin of the Grand Army.
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. Q7

lord and master!’ It is useless to resist him. Let us, there-
fore, submit.”

“No,” exclaimed Schill, rising, “no, let us not submit.
When a whole nation arouses itself, and shakes its lion’s
mane, there is no hand, even though it were an iron one,
that could hold and subdue it.”

“But our nation will not rise again—it has been crushed,”
said Piickler, mournfully. “It is sleeping the sleep of death.”

“No, it has not been crushed. No, it will not die!” ex-
claimed Schill, in an outburst of generous rage. “It is only
necessary to instill genuine vitality into its veins, and to
awaken it from its lethargy by soul-stirring exhortations, as
our young friend here encouraged and strengthened us an
hour ago by his noble song. Oh, sing again, friend Staps!
Purify the air—which is still infected by the words of the
imperial bulletin—purify it by another German song, and
let the native oak, which has listened to our disgrace, now
hear also manly words. Sing! and may your voice reach our
poor soldiers who are closing their eyes on the battle-field;
and may it breathe the consolation into their ears, ‘ You die
for Germany, but Germany does not die—she lives, and will
rise again !’”

“Yes, I will sing,” said Frederick Staps, enthusiastically,
“but I wish that every note issuing from my breast would
transform itself into a sword, and strike around with the
storm’s resistless fury!”

“In that case all of us, and yourself, too, would be the
first victims,” said Pickler, with a melancholy smile.

“Of what consequence are our lives, if they are given up
for the fatherland?” exclaimed Staps, fervently. ‘Oh, be-
lieve me, I could, like Mucius Scevola, lay my hand on the
red-hot iron,and not wince, but sing jubilant hymns, if I
thought that my torture would be useful to my country.
Now, I can only sing, only pray, only weep. But who knows
whether I shall not become one day a modern Mucius Scevola,
a modern Meros, and deliver the world from its tyrant?”

And suddenly raising his voice, with a radiant face, he
began to sing:

Frisch auf ! Es ruft das Vaterland
Die Manner in die Schlacht.
Frisch auf | Zu dimpfen Trug und Schand |
Heran mit Macht, mit Macht !
Heran und braucht den Mannerleib,
Wozu ihn Gott gebaut:

Zum Schirm der Jungfrau und dem Weib,
Dem Saugling und der Braut !
28 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Denn ein Tyrann mit Ligenwort

‘Und Strick und Henkerschwert,

Uebt in dem Vaterlande Mord,

Und schandet Thron und Heerd,
Und will, so weit die Sonne scheint
Der einz’ge Kénig sein ;
Ein Menschenfeind, ein Freiheitsfeind,
Spricht er: die Welt ist mein !

Verhiit’ es Gott und Hermann’s Blut !
Nie werde solches wabhr !
Erwache, alter deutscher Muth,
Der Recht und Licht gebar !
Erwache !| sonder Rast und Ruh,
Schlag’ Jeden der dir droht,
Und ruf’ ihm deutsche Losung zu:
‘* Sieg gelt’ es, oder Tod 1” *

“ Victory or death!” shouted the two officers, raising their
hands and eyes toward heaven.

“ When will the Germans sing and act in this manner?”
asked Count Pickler, sadly.

“When we have awakened them!” exclaimed Schill, joy-
fully. “For that is now our only task: to arouse the Ger-
mans, and to remind them of their duty and honor. Every
one ought to raise his voice for this purpose, and toil for it.
The time is past when the nation was separated from the
army,and when the civilian hated the soldier. All these sep-
arate interests we buried yesterday on the battle-fields of Jena
and Auerstadt. Heaven permitted our army to be defeated
for the purpose of teaching us that its heart was demoralized
and its vitality entirely gone. But Bonaparte, who believes
his successes to be due solely to his own energy and sagacity,
is, after ‘all, nothing but the scourge that God uses to chastise
us. And, after chastising us sufficiently, the scourge will be
cast aside, and lie on the ground, trampled under foot and
despised, while we shall rise and become again a glorious nation.
But, in order to bring about this change, it is necessary to
arouse the Prussians, and fan the flames of their patriotism.
Every Prussian must feel and know that he is a soldier of the
grand army which we shall one day place in the field against
the so-called grand army of Napoleon, and, when the call of
‘Rally round the flag! resounds, he must take up the sword,
and proudly feel that the holy vengeance of the fatherland is
placed in his hands.”

“But suppose there is no one to utter the cry of ‘ Rally
mound the flag!’ how are the people to appear and take up
arms?”

“We are there, and we shall exhort the people to arms!”

* “Victory or death!" A very popular hymn of that period.
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 29

said Schill, energetically. ‘“ Henceforth, we must not wait
until the generals call us; we ourselves must be generals, and
organize armies—every one after his own fashion—according
to his influence. We must travel over the country, and enlist
recruits. As we have no standing army, we must form inde-
pendent corps, and, by means of raids, harass and molest the
enemy. The strongest lion succumbs when stung by many
bees. Every Prussian must turn conspirator, and prevail on
his neighbor to join the great conspiracy; secret leagues and
clubs must be instituted everywhere, and work and agitate
until we are united like one man, and, with the resistless
power of our holy wrath, expel the tyrant who enslaves us!”

“Yes, you are right; we must not give way to timid de-
spondency, but hope and dare every thing. Every one must
become a general, and enlist troops, to attack the enemy
whenever and wherever he can!”

“T shall also enlist my troops, and lead them against the
enemy,” exclaimed Staps, with sparkling eyes. “But my
troops will not be made of flesh and blood. They will be
the songs I sing, and one day I shall march out with them,
and challenge the tyrant to mortal combat! Yes, you are
right in saying, ‘ Every one must fight after his own fashion,
and according to his power and influence;’ let me fight, too,
after my fashion !”

“ Go and fight, and may the blessings of all the brave follow
you!” said Schill, placing his hand on the head of the youth,
© Let us take here, under the German oak, a solemn oath that
we will devote our fortunes, our lives, and our sacred honor,
to the fatherland!”

“Yes,” exclaimed Piickler and Staps, “we will take that
oath!”

“ Let us,” said Schill, “ then swear to strive for nothing but
to deliver Germany from the grasp of the tyrant.”

“ We swear,” continued Schill, “to regard ourselves from
this hour as soldiers of the grand army one day to battle for our
liberties—to leave nothing undone in enlisting fresh troops
—that our life shall be nothing but an inexorable and never-
flagging struggle against the usurper—that we will rather die
than submit. We vow vengeance against him, and deliver-
ance to the fatherland !”

When all had repeated this oath, Schill said, solemnly,
“The German oak has heard our words, and they are regis-
tered on high; now, my friends, iet us go and enter into’ a
new life—a new future. Let us take care of the body, in
30 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

order to impart strength to the mind to carry out its schemes.
Come, let us go!” ;

They passed on, and soon reached the village, guided hy
Staps to the parsonage. ;

The clergyman joyfully received the officers; his wife pre-
pared her best rooms for them, and pledged herself, like her
husband, to protect them at the risk of her life, if French
soldiers should arrive, and search the house for wounded
Prussians.

“Now you are safe, and I can go,” said Frederick Staps,
when he was again alone with his friends, their host having
withdrawn to prepare every thing that was necessary for the
comfort of his guests. “I cannot stay here any longer, for
I have promised my father to proceed without delay to
Leipsic, and I must keep my pledge to him, as I shall keep it
to you. Farewell, friends; may God protect you, and may
your deeds fill the world with your glory, so that the poor
merchant’s apprentice in Leipsic may also hear of it!”

“V'he poor merchant’s apprentice is also a soldier of our
grand army of the future,” said Schill; “we have enlisted
him, and he will go and fulfil his duty to his fatherland.”

“Yes, you may depend on it he will do his duty,” exclaimed
Staps, “and you will hear of him one day. Farewell, and,
please God! we shall meet again!”

“ Yes, we shall meet again,” said the two officers, cordially
shaking hands with the youth, and taking leave of him.

Staps left the room hastily. When he turned round once
more at the door, and greeted the friends with a nod, they
saw that his eyes were filled with tears.

The clergyman’s wife now entered to serve up the dinner
she herself had prepared, and there was added a bottle of old
Hock from the wine-cellar.

“Tn the first place, however,” said the clergyman to Schill,
“TI must see and dress your arm, sir; I am quite experienced
in dressing wounds, having taken lessons in surgery in order
to assist our poor peasants in case of injuries, and render it
unnecessary for them to pay large doctors’ bills. Let me,
therefore, be your surgeon, too.”

Schill gratefully accepted his kind offer, and after his wife
had brought every thing necessary for dressing a wound, the
clergyman examined Schill’s arm, and removed the coagulated
blood from it.

“It isa very deep flesh-wound,” he said, “ fortunately the
bone is uninjured.”
THE OATH OF VENGEANCE. 31

“Then I shall soon be able to use my arm again?” asked
Schill, joyfully.

“ Not for a few weeks yet, unless you wish to run the risk
of losing it entirely. Mortification might set in after the
wound has commenced ulcerating. Hence, you must be very
cautious, and live as quietly as possible. Your hands are now
already burning, and your fever will be very severe. Unfor-
tunately, I have brought up my wine in vain. Both of you,
gentlemen, will not be able to drink it to-day, nor to-morrow,
nor the day after to-morrow either. For the first three days
your fever, as I stated already, will be very serious.”

This prediction was fulfilled. For three days the officers
were unable to rise from their couch. They were delirious,
and unaware of the danger menacing them. A French regi-
ment had come to the village to spend the night, and four of
its officers established their headquarters at the parsonage.

But as soon as the French troops had been descried in the
neighborhood of the village, the clergyman, assisted by his
wife and servants, had removed the wounded, and prepared a
safe refuge for them in the hay-loft of his barn, far from the
dwelling-house. He himself remained with them, and, while
his wife received the French officers, and informed them that
her husband was not at home, the good old man was sitting
in the hay-loft beside his guests, nursing them with the kind-
ness of a father and the skill of an experienced physician.
He had locked the door of his asylum, and a loaded gun and
unsheathed sword were within his reach, in order forcibly to
drive back the French, in case they should try to penetrate
into this hiding-place.

But the danger passed, and the fever abated. Four days
afterward the two Prussians were strong enough to continue
their journey. The clergyman himself drove them in his
carriage to the neighboring town, where they bought two
horses and departed—not together, however, but by different
routes. Count Pickler took the road to Breslau; Ferdinand
von Schill turned toward Kolberg.

Before parting, they cordially shook hands once more.

“Let us remember the oath under the German oak,” said
Schill.

“ Yes,” replied Pickler. “ We shall not desert the father-
land, but serve it with our whole strength, and after that is
exhausted, we know how to die.”
32 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

CHAPTER IV.
IN BERLIN.

Tus utmost uneasiness and suspense prevailed in Berlin.
Several rumors had already reached the capital. It was re-
ported that, on the 14th of October, a battle had taken place
between the Prussians and French forces. To-day was the
18th, and no news had been received; nothing definite was
known about the result of the battle. But the people said,
if it had been favorable to the Prussians, the couriers, to
whom joy would have lent wings, would have reached the
capital long since; and this continued silence and incertitude
seemed to the inhabitants of Berlin more discouraging than
any positive intelligence, however disastrous it might be.

No one had the heart to work longer—no one could be
prevailed upon to follow his usual avocation; all felt para-
lyzed by asecret terror; and hastened into the street, as
though they hoped some decisive news would fly through the
air and put an end to this dreadful suspense.

All Berlin seemed to have met in the streets on the morn-
ing of this 18th October, and the people hastened in vast
crowds toward the house of the governor of the capital; they
consisted to-day not only of the lower classes of society but
the noblest and best had united with them. Men of mind
and education, the representatives of art and science, were
to be seen among them. ‘There was no distinction of rank or
position—every one felt that he was united with his fellow-
citizeus by the same care, anxiety, and affection; every one
knew that all the thousands surrounding him entertained the
same wishes and apprehensions, and thus social distinctions
were unnoticed. The high-born and the rich, the poor and
the lowly, all felt only that they were Prussians—that they
were Germans; all were animated by one desire; to learn
what had been the result of the battle, and whether the
Prussians,’ faithful to their ancient military glory, had de-
feated the enemy, or, like the other nations, succumbed to
Napoleon.

Thousands hastened, therefore, to the residence of the
IN BERLIN. 33

governor of Berlin, Count von Schulenburg, and called vocif-
erously for him. When the count appeared on the balcony
and asked what the crowd wanted, hundreds of voices shouted
in thundering chorus: “ We want to know whether the army
has fought a battle, and whether it was defeated!”

Count Schulenburg shrugged his shoulders, and amid the
silence that ensued his ringing voice was heard to say: “I
have not yet received any definite intelligence; but so soon
as [have it, I shall deem it incumbent upon me to commu-
nicate it to the citizens of Berlin.”

The governor returned with tottering steps into his house.
For a moment the people remained silent, and seemed still to
listen to the words they had just heard; but suddenly a loud,
powerful voice shouted: “If the governor does not know
any thing, perhaps Professor Lange does. He has established
a newspaper for the special purpose of communicating to us
the latest news from the seat of war; let us go to his house
and ask him what the Telegraph says.” *

“Yes, yes, let us go to his house and ask him what the
Telegraph says!” yelled the crowd. “Where does Professor
Lange live? Who can guide us to him?”

“T cau do so,” said the same voice that had spoken before.
“ Professor Lange lives at 22 Leipsic Street.”

“Come, come, let us go to Professor Lange! Let us hear
what the Telegraph says!” shouted the crowd, and hastened
across the Opera Place and Gensdarmes Market down Char-
lotte Street to the residence of the journalist.

“The Telegraph / the Telegraph!” yelled the people. “We
want to know what the Telegraph says! Professor Lange,
give us the news from the seat of war!”

A window on the first floor was hastily opened, and the
pale, frightened face of a gentleman looked out. “ What do
you want to see me for?” asked a tremulous and hollow voice.
“Why do you mention the Telegraph?”

“We want newsfrom the army! We want to know whether
it is true that we have lost a battle!”

“God forbid!” said the gentleman at the window. “I have
not received any news whatever for the last three days; I
know only one thing, and that is, that Cabinet Counsellor
Lombard, who was at the headquarters of the army in Wei-
mar, returned last night to Berlin, and is now at his resi-

*The Telegraph was a journal founded by a certain Professor Lange, on the day
when the Prussian army left Berlin. In his prospectus he spoke in the most fulsome
terms of the “invincible army of Frederick the Great,” and promised to publish al-
ways the latest news from the seat of war.
34 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

dence. Counsellor Lombard, therefore, would be the man to
whom you ought to apply.” :

“ Lombard! Lombard!” shouted the crowd, accompanying
the name with bitter imprecations. When this name was
heard, all faces turned gloomy, and every voice assumed an
angry and threatening tone. ‘

“Lombard is to blame for every thing!” grumbled a few
here and there, and “ Lombard is to blame for every thing!”
was repeated louder and louder. The excitement was as
when a storm, sweeping over the sea, lashes its waves, until,
rising higher and higher, they foam with fury.

“Lombard sides with the French!” reiterated the surging
mass. “ He has secretly informed the enemy of all the oper-
ations of our army, and if the Prussians are defeated, he
will be glad of it. We will go to Lombard, and he must tell
us all he knows. But woe to him if the news should be bad!”

And the multitude with savage yells hastened down the
street, back to the Linden, and toward the residence of Cabi-
net Counsellor Lombard.

All the window-blinds of his house were closed, as they had
been for the last two weeks, since this well-known favorite of
Minister von Haugwitz had repaired to the headquarters of
the army at Weimar. But Professor Lange had stated, per-
haps for the sole purpose of diverting the general attention
from himself, and of directing it toward the unpopular cabinet
counsellor, that Lombard had returned, and the people be-
lieved him.

“Lombard! Lombard!” shouted hundreds of voices. Eyes
which had hitherto looked only sad and anxious became
threatening; many a fist was lifted up to the closed windows,
and many an imprecation uttered.

“Tf a disaster has taken place, it is Lombard’s fault,” cried
one of the crowd.

“Tfitis his fault, he shall and must atone for it,” exclaimed
another.

“He has no heart for Prussia’s honor,” said a third. “He
isa German-Frenchman, and would not object if the whole of
Prussia should become a French province. If he knew how
to do it, he certainly would not shrink from it, even should
he bring captivity and distress upon the king and the queen!”

“He has already done much mischief,” shouted another.
“The Russian army which was to support ours ought to have
been here long ago, but he detained the dispatches in which
the king informed the czar that our army had advanced
IN BERLIN. 35

against the French. It is his fault that the Russians have
not yet arrived.”

“It is his fault that the Russians have not yet arrived!”
roared the wild chorus, and the furious men began to rush
toward the house. Many armed themselves with stones,
hurled them at the walls and broke the windows; others
commenced striking with vigorous fists at the closed door.

“Open the door! open the door! We want to see Lom-
bard! He shall account for what he has done!” exclaimed
the enraged men. “ Woe to him if it be true that we have lost
a battle! Woe to him if a

“Silence! silence!’ suddenly thundered a loud, imperious
voice. ‘See, there is a courier!”

“A courier! A courier!” and all rushed back from the
house into the street; every eye turned toward the horseman,
who approached at full gallop.

As if obeying a military command, the multitude made
way for him, but at every step they closed behind him, and,
pressing him on all sides, his progress was exceedingly
slow.

But the courier, with his gloomy mien and pale cheeks,
looked like a bearer of bad news, and when the people had
scanned his features, they murmured, “ He brings bad news!
A disaster is written on his forehead!”

“ Let me pass,” he said in an imploring voice; “in the name
of the king, let me pass!” And as he spurred his horse, the
bystanders fell back in alarm.

“<*Tn the name of the king! the king, then, is still alive?”

“Yes, the king is alive!” replied the courier, sadly. “I
have dispatches from him for the Governor of Berlin and
Cabinet Counsellor Lombard.”

“ And what do these dispatches contain?” asked a thousand
voices.

“T do not know, and even though I did, I am not at liberty
to tell you. The governor will communicate the news to the
inhabitants of Berlin.”

“Tell us the news!” demanded the people.

“T cannot do so; and, moreover, I do not know any thing
about it,” replied the courier, who had now reached Lombard’s
house, and whose horse was again so closely surrounded that
it was scarcely able to move its feet.

“Do not detain me, my friends, I beseech you—let me dis-
mount here,” said the courier. “TJ must deliver my dispatches
to Cabinet Counsellor Lombard.”

 
36 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Oh, let him deliver his dispatches. We can afterward
compel M. Lombard to communicate their contents.”

“Yes; let him deliver his dispatches,” said all; “ Lombard
shall presently tell us what they contain.”

The crowd stood back on both sides of the door, and busy
hands were ready to assist therider in dismounting. But
before he had been able to do so, a voice from the rear was
heard: “ Ask him where the queen is at present!”

“Yes, yes, where is the queen? where is the queen?”

“The queen?” said he. “I passed her fifteen minutes ago
near the city and delivered dispatches to her, too. The
queen? Look there!” And he pointed to the Brandenburg

ate.
F A carriage, drawn by six horses, was seen rapidly ap-
proaching.

“The queen! Itis the queen!” joyfully shouted every one,
and the thousands who had been amoment before so anxious
to learn the news, and to call Lombard to account, rushed
toward the carriage. Meantime the courier, whose presence
seemed to be entirely forgotten, dismounted, and rapped
softly at the door. It was at once opened in a cautious man-
ner, and a voice whispered: “ Take your horse into the house.
You can afterward ride through the garden, and out of the
back gate to the governor’s residence.”

The door was hastily thrown open, and closed as soon as the
courier had entered with his horse. No notice was taken of
this movement, for every one thought only of the queen, and
looked anxiously through the closed coach windows.

“The queen! It is the queen!” exclaimed the people,
greeting the beloved lady in the most rapturous manner.
All arms were raised in sign of respect, and every voice
uttered a welcome of “ Long live the queen!”

The carriage window was lowered, and Louisa’s beautiful
face appeared; but she looked pale and afflicted; her eyes,
generally so radiant, seemed dimmed and tearful; yet she
tried to smile,and bowed repeatedly to her enthusiastic
friends, who rushed impetuously toward her, and, in their
exultation, forgetful of the rules of etiquette, seized the reins
and stopped the horses.

“We want to see our queen! Long live our Queen Louisa!”
cried thousands of voices. Those who stood nearest the
carriage, and beheld her countenance, fell on their knees in
the fervor of their love, and eyes that never before had wept
were filled with tears; for she seemed as an angel of sorrow
IN BERLIN. 37

and suffering. She rose, and, leaning out of the coach door,
returned the affectionate greetings of her faithful subjects,
and, weeping, stretched out her arms as if to bless them.

“Long live the queen! Long live Louisa!” they cried, and
those who held the horses, in order to stop the carriage,
dropped the reins, rushed toward the coach door, threw up
their hats, and joined in the welcome cry. The coach-
man, profiting by this movement, drove onward. The peo-
ple, whose desire had been satisfied in having seen their
queen, no longer resisted, and permitted the carriage to roll
away.

Louisa closed her coach window, and, sinking back upon
the cushions, exclaimed in a heart-rending tone, “Alas! it is
perhaps the last time that they thus salute me! Soon, per-
haps, I shall be no longer Queen of Prussia!” She buried
her face in her hands, and sobbed aloud.

“Do not weep,” whispered Madame von Berg, the queen’s
intimate friend, who was sitting by her side, “do not weep.
It may be a dispensation of Providence that the crown shall
fall from your head for a moment, but He will replace it
more firmly, and one day you will again be happy.”

“Oh, it is not for the sake of my own majesty, and for my
little worldly splendor, that I am lamenting at this moment,”
said the queen, removing her hands from her face. “I should
gladly plunge into obscurity and death if my husband and
my children were exempted from humiliation, and if these
good people, who love me, and are attached to their king,
should not be compelled to recognize a foreigner as their
master, and bow to him!”

“ Even though the people should be subjugated at present,”
said Madame von Berg, solemnly, “they will rise one day and
avenge their disgrace!”

“Would you werea true prophetess!” exclaimed Louisa.
“T hope the people will remain faithful to us in adversity,
and never forget their love for their king! Yes, I will hope
for that day, and pray that it may come speedily. I will
weep no more; but remember that I am a mother, and shall
see my children again—not to leave them, but to hasten with
them to my husband, who is waiting for me at Kistrin. In
half an hour we must continue our journey.”

Just then the carriage drove past the main guard-house.
The soldiers presented arms, and the drums beat.

A melancholy smile overspread the queen’s features. “Do
you remember what Prince Louis Ferdinand said to his
38 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

mother, on the eve of his departure to the army?” she
asked in a low voice. ;

“No, your majesty, I do not remember, and it is possible
that I never heard of it.”

“The princess believed a defeat of our army to be utterly
impossible,” said the queen. “She thought Prussia was so
strong a bulwark that the proud assault of the French empire
would bein vain. ‘ You are mistaken,’ exclaimed Prince Louis
Ferdinand; ‘you think nothing will change, and the drums
will always be beaten when you ride out at the gate? On the
contrary, I tell you, mamma, one day you will ride out of the
gate, and no drums will be beaten!’ The same will happen
to us, my dear—we will often ride out of the gate, and no
drums will be beaten. But here is our house, and I must
hide my tears. I will show a smiling face to my children.”

The queen’s carriage stopped for the first time at the door-
steps of the palace without meeting there the ladies and gen-
tlemen of the court, the high dignitaries and functionaries
who had formerly never failed to wait on her. She had come
without being expected, but on this day of anxiety and terror
the announcement of her arrival would have made no differ-
ence; for every one thought only of himself, and was occupied
with his own safety. Only a few faithful servants, therefore,
received her, and bade her welcome with tearful eyes.

“Where are my children?” exclaimed the queen, anxiously.
“Why are they not here to receive their mother ?”

“Your majesty,” said the palace-steward, in a low voice,
“a courier, sent hither by the king, arrived last night, unfor-
tunately having failed to meet with your majesty on the road.
The royal princes and princesses set out two hours ago to
Stettin, and thence to Grandenz. Such were his majesty’s
orders.”

The queen suppressed the cry of pain which rose to her
lips, but a deadly pallor overspread her cheeks. “In half an
hour I shall set out,” she said faintly. “Pack up only the
most indispensable articles for me; in half an hour I must
be ready to enter my carriage. I shall, perhaps, overtake my
children in Stettin.” And she retired to her room, struggling
to conceal the emotions that so violently agitated her.
QUIET IS THE CITIZEN’S FIRST DUTY. 59

CHAPTER V.
QUIET IS THE CITIZEN’S FIRST DUTY.

THE people in the meantime, gathering in still greater
numbers in the broad street under the Linden, returned to
the house of Lombard, und saw, to their great disappoint-
ment, that the courier was no longer there.

“Now, we want to know the news contained in the dis-
patches, and Counsellor Lombard must tell us,” shouted one
of the men standing in front of the house; he then com-
menced hammering the door with his powerful fists. Others
joined him, and to the measure of this threatening music the
crowd yelled, “The dispatches! the dispatches! Lombard
must come out! He must tell us what the dispatches con-
tain! We want to know whether our army has been de-
feated, or has won the battle!”

When no voice replied, nor door nor window opened, the
mob, whose anger grew more menacing, seized once more
their former weapons, the stones, and hurled them at the
house. “He shall not escape from us! We will stay here
until he makes his appearance, and replies to our questions!”
they cried. “If he do not come to us, we will go to him and
compel him to hear us!”

“Fortunately, you will not tind him at home,” whispered
Lombard, who was listening at the door. “ Every thing is in
good order,” he added in a low voice. “The dear enraged
people will have to hammer a good while before breaking
these bolts. By that time I shall be far from here, on the
road to Stettin.”

The cabinet counsellor glided away with a sarcastic smile
to the back gate. There stood his wife, weeping piteously
and wringing her hands.

M. Lombard, who had hitherto only smiled, now laughed
outright. “Truly,” he said, “it is really worth while to make
a scene in consequence of this demonstration of the people!
My dear, I should think our family ought to know how to
manage them! Your father has shaved those stupid fiends
40 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

enough, and my father pulled the wool over their eyes,* and,
as good children of our parents, we ought to do so too.”

“Oh, Lombard, just listen,” wailed his wife, “they are,
knocking at the door with heavy clubs; we must perish if
they succeed in forcing it open and entering the house. ‘They
will assassinate you, for you have heard their imprecations
against you.” a

“ Ma chére,” said Lombard, composedly, “this is not the
first time that I discover that the people despise and persecute
me. I knew it longago. These blockheads will never for-
give me for being a Frenchman, and for having, consequently,
a predilection for France and her heroic emperor. And not
only they, but the so-called educated and high-born classes
also, hate me intensely. Throughout all Europe I have been
branded as a traitor in the pay of Napoleon. Conspiracies
were got up everywhere to bring about my removal. All the
princes of the royal house—nay, the queen herself, united
against me.t But you see, my dear, that they did not suc-
ceed after all in undermining my position, and the howling
rabble outside will have no better success. Indeed, the fellows
seem to be in earnest. Their blows shake the whole house!”

“They will succeed in breaking in,” said his wife, anxiously;
“and then they will assassinate all of us.”

“They will do no such thing, for they do not come for
spoils, but only for news,” said Lombard. “And then, my
love, they know just as well as I the German maxim: ‘The
people of Nuremberg do not hang anybody unless they have
got him! but they will not get me, for there comes my faith-
ful Jean across the yard.— Well, Jean, is every thing ready ?”
he said to the approaching footman.

“Yes,” he replied. “The carriage with four excellent
horses is waiting for you, sir. I ordered it, however, not to
stop at the garden gate, but a little farther down, in front of
another house.”

“That was well done, my sagacious Jean. But I hope you
did not forget either to place several bottles of Tokay wine
and some roast fowl in the carriage for me? The ill-man-
nered rabble outside will not permit me to-day to lunch at
_ Hence I must make up my mind to do so on the
road.

*Lombard’s father was a hair-dresser, and his wife’s father a barber. Lombard
liked to jest about his descent, particularly at the dinner-table of some prince or
minister, He always alluded to his father in the following terms: “ Feu mon pere
de poudreuse mémoir

yoy .
+ Lombard’s own Words.—Vide Gentz’s Diary in his ‘‘ Miscellanies,” edited by G.
Schlesier, vol. iv.

 
QUIET IS THE CITIZEN’S FIRST DUTY. 41

“T have not forgotten the wine nor the roast pheasant,
your excellency.”

“You have packed up a pheasant!” exclaimed Lombard.
“Tf the noisy gentlemen outside there knew that, they would
be sure to assert that the Emperor Napoleon had sent it to
me asabribe. Now, Jean, come, we will set out. The street
1s quiet, I suppose ?”

“Perfectly so. All those who have legs have gathered in
front of the house.”

** And all those who have fists are hammering at the door,”
wailed Mde. Lombard. “Make haste, Lombard—make haste
lest it be too late!”

“You are right. I must go,” said Lombard, quietly.
“ Now listen to what I am going to tell you. So soon as you
hear my carriage roll away, be kind enough to repair to the
balcony of the first floor and address the people. Their
surprise at seeing you will cause them to be silent for a
moment.”

“But, good Heaven! what am I to say to them?” asked
Mde. Lombard, in dismay.

“You are to say to them, ‘ My husband, Cabinet-Counsellor
Lombard, is not at home. He has gone to the governor of
Berlin, Count von Schulenburg-Kehnert, and the bearer of
dispatches has accompanied him.’ Your words will have the
same effect as though a pistol were discharged among a num-
ber of sparrows—all of them will fly away. You see, my
dear, there is a very impressive and dramatic scene in store
for you, and my father, de poudreuse mémotre, and your father,
the barber, would rejoice in their graves if they could see you
haranguing the people from the balcony. Farewell, my
dear, and manage the affair as skilfully as possible.”

He embraced her hurriedly, and was about to leave the
garden, leaning on his servant’s arm, and as fast as his gouty
feet would permitit; but his wife suddenly held him back.

“JT cannot go to the parlor,” she said in terror, convulsively
clinging to Lombard. ‘ Remember, that they are continually
hurling stones at our house. Suppose a stone should be
thrown into the window and strike my head?”

“ My dear,” said Lombard, laughing, “I do not believe any
stone passing through the window would be immediately
dangerous, for you have a hard head, as I have found out
often enough. Farewell, aud do as I have told+you, unless
you want the rabble to penetrate into your room. Farewell!”

He disengaged himself rather roughly, and hastened, as
42 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

fast as his aching and stiffened feet would permit, to the
street contiguous to the garden.

His wife waited until the departure of the carriage an-
nounced to her that her husband had gone. At the same
time the voices outside shouted with redoubled fury, “‘ Lom-
bard! We want to see Lombard!” And their blows thun-
dered louder than ever at the door.

Mde. Lombard sighed; and, commending her body and
soul to God, she proceeded to comply with her husband’s in-
structions, and went to the balcony.

Lombard had prophesied correctly; profound silence en-
sued when the wife of the cabinet counsellor appeared;
hence, every one was able to understand her words, and no
sooner had she uttered them, than the crowd dispersed, as
her husband had told her.

“To the governor! Let us go to the governor!” they
cried, as they moved up the Linden; but they were attracted
by a carriage, drawn by six fiery horses at full gallop. It
was the queen, who was about to leave the capital. She
looked even paler and sadder than before, and greeted her
friends on both sides with a heart-rending, melancholy smile.
But they had not time to greet even the queen, or to be sur-
prised at her speedy departure, as they rushed toward the
house of the governor, Count Schulenburg.

At his residence, also, the windows were covered up, and
the gate of the court-yard closed. Buta large white hand-
bill, containing a few lines in gigantic letters, was posted on
the side wall. Thousands of piercing eyes were fixed on the
paper, and an imperious demand was made to the fortunate
man who stood close to the handbill: “Read! Read aloud!”

“T will read it!” answered a loud, powerful voice. “Be
quiet, so as to be able to hear me!”

Profound silence reigned immediately, and every one heard
distinctly the words, which ran as follows:

“The wing has lost a battle. Quiet is the citizen’s first
duty. I request all the inhabitants of Berlin to maintain
good order. The king and his brothers are alive.”

The vast multitude burst into a wail of despair; and when
silence ensued, every one seemed paralyzed and stared mourn-
fully at his neighbor. Suddenly the side-gate of the count’s
court-yard opened, and a carriage, followed by a large bag-
gage-wagon, made its appearance.

At first, the people timidly stepped back, and looked on
wonderingly. But no sooner had they recognized in it the
QUIET IS THE CITIZEN’S FIRST DUTY. 45

governor of Berlin, Count von Schulenburg-Kehnert—no
sooner had they discovered that his carriage contained a large
number of trunks:and boxes, and that the wagon was also
filled with baggage, and had satisfied themselves that the
governor intended to leave the capital at this hour of terror,
than attempts were made to prevent him from setting out.
The people stopped the horses, and cried, in tones of exas-
peration, that it did not behoove the governor to leave the
city while it was in danger, and the inhabitants without ad-
vice and protection.

Count Schulenburg rose in his carriage. Stretching out
his arms in an imperious manner, he demanded silence.
When the clamor had ceased, he said, in a conciliatory tone:
“ My friends! duty calls me hence, for the orders of the king
must be obeyed. But you shall not say that I have left the
city of Berlin without adequate protection, and that I did
not devote my particular attention to its welfare. I have
appointed my son-in-law, the Prince von Hatzfeld, civil gov-
ernor, and he will zealously provide for the security and in-
terests of the people of the capital. Forward, coachman!”

The coachman was about to comply with his master’s orders,
but some of the crowd still dared to resist, and refused to let
the horses proceed.

“The governor must stay here!” they shouted; “it is in-
cumbent on him not to desert the inhabitants of Berlin, but
to assist them in the hour of danger!”

“In the hour of danger ?” asked the count, with a wonder-
ing air. “ Why, I leave my whole family here—my children
and grandchildren! Would I do so if the enemy threatened
the city ?”

No one could combat this argument, and reply to the gov-
ernor’s question. The men, therefore, dropped the reins and
fell back, when the coachman whipped the horses into a

allop.
: They gazed after the escaping count, and looked sadly at
each other, asking anxiously: “What shall we do now?
What shall we do when the French come ?”

“ We will meet them sword in hand and drive them back!”
exclaimed a young man, with a noble face.

“Yes, we will do so,” saidanother. “ There are no soldiers
here; hence we ourselves must look out for our own defence.
We will form volunteer companies, occupy the gates, and
patrol the streets.”

“Our army being defeated, a new one has, of course, to be
44 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

organized,” said another. “We must do this; we must hand
in our names, and enlist. Let every one who thinks and
feels like myself, follow me to the new governor. We will
apply to him for permission to organize ourselves for the de-
fence of the city. Come!’ Many hastened with ardent im-
petuosity from all parts of the crowd to join him. Others,
seized with admiration and respect, opened a passage, through
which the quickly-gathered company of more than three
hundred young men marched to the residence of the Prince
von Hatzfeld.

But he did not admit the deputation of these brave men.
He sent word to them, by his adjutant, that they would re-
ceive his definite reply at alater hour. At present he wished
them to go home, and avoid, above all, any riotous proceed-
ings in the streets.

The reply which the Prince yon Hatzfeld had promised to
the deputation soon appeared on handbills posted at all the
street corners. It was as follows: “It would be improper
to conceal from the inhabitants of Berlin that French troops
may shortly occupy the capital. This unexpected event
cannot fail to produce a most painful impression among all
classes. Only the most implicit confidence in those who take
upon themselves the arduous task of alleviating the inevitable
consequences of snch an event, as well as of maintaining or-
der, which has become more desirable than ever, will be able
to avert the terrible fate which the slightest resistance, or any
disorderly conduct, would bring upon the city. The course
recently pursued by the inhabitants of Vienna, under similar
distressing circumstances, must have taught those of Berlin
that the conqueror only respects quiet and manly resigna-
tion after such a defeat. Hence I forbid all gatherings and
clamor in the streets, as well as any public manifestation of
sympathy in relation to the rumors from the seat of war.
For quiet submission is our first duty; we should only think
of what is going on within our own walls; it is the highest
interest to which we ought to devote our whole attention.”
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN. 45

CHAPTER VI.
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN.

THE hope of the queen had not been fulfilled. Her chil-
dren had left Stettin an hour before she reached the city.

“T shall immediately continue my journey,” said she, reso-
lutely.

“ Your majesty, I beseech you to remain here,” said Madame
von Berg. “You have scarcely had any sleep for the last
three nights; last night you did not leave the carriage at all,
and hardly took any food. Oh, think of the king, of your
children, and economize your strength! Take some rest.”

“Rest!” repeated the queen, with a melancholy smile.
“There will be, perhaps, no more rest for me on earth! My
heart is filled with grief—how, then, can I sleep? But you
have reminded me of my husband, of my children, and you
are right; I must live for them. Therefore, I will stop here
for an hour and take some refreshment, in order not to give
way under the heavy burden weighing down my mind.
Come, we will alight and go into the house.”

Madame von Berg made a sign to the footman to open the
coach door, and followed Louisa into the royal villa, to the
rooms usually occupied by their majesties during their visits
to Stettin. “ When I was last in this room,” whispered the
queen, “ the king and the crown prince were with me. There
was nothing but joy in my heart. I was a happy wife, a
happy mother, and a happy queen! And, to-day, what am
I?” She heaved a profound sigh, and, sinking down on the
sofa, pressed her face upon the cushions. “Into what an
abyss I have been hurled from my heaven!” she murmured
in alow voice. “Once a happy sovereign—now a poor, flee-
ing woman, who can excite only pity. Oh, mother, mother,
God be praised that you do not behold my distress!” She
clasped her hands, and her trembling lips whispered prayers
to heaven. Her large blue eyes were raised with an expres-
sion of fervent supplication, and tears rolled like pearls over
her cheeks. She sat a long while pondering over her misfor-
tunes, and shuddering at the prospects of the future.
46 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA

Finally, Madame von Berg ventured to approach and arouse
her from her meditation.

“Your majesty,” she said, in an imploring voice, “you
promised to take rest, for the sake of the king and of your
children. Remember the burden of care weighing down the
heart of his majesty. Remember that his grief would be
more intense if he should see your eyes reddened with weep-
ing, and find you prostrated in your distress.”

“He shall not seeit,” said Lousia. ‘In his presence I will
conceal my tears, and seem hopeful and courageous. Let
me, therefore, now at least, pour out my overwhelming sor-
row, for tears are the only consolation of the afflicted. When
I am with my husband once more, I shall try to smile, and
only weep in secret. Are you now satisfied, my faithful
friend °”

“Your majesty had graciously promised me to take some
refreshment, but the footman has long since announced’that
dinner is ready.”

“Come, Caroline, we will eat,” said the queen, rising has-
tily, and laying her hand on her friend’s shoulder.

She kept her word, and did eat a little, trying to become
more cheerful by conversing with Madame von Berg about
her children and her approaching reunion with her hus-
band.

“ Believe me, Caroline,” she then said gravely, “it is not
vanity and longing for worldly splendor that causes me to
bewail our present trouble. For my part, I would gladly lead
a private life, and be contented in retirement and obscurity,
if I could only see my husband and my children happy at
my side. But the king is not allowed to be as other men
are—merely a husband and father; he must think of his
people, of his state, and of his royal duties. He is not at
liberty to lay down his crown any more than we to destroy
voluntarily the life we have received from God. ‘ With it or
on it, said the heroic mothers of Sparta to their sons, when
delivering to them the shield with which they went into battle.
And thus the king’s ancestors, who have bequeathed the crown
to him, call from their graves: ‘ With it, or buried under it!’
It is the inheritance of his fathers, which he must leave to
his children; he must fight for it, and either triumph or per-
ish with it. That is the reason why I weep, and see nothing
but years of disaster and bloodshed in store for me. Prussia
must not make peace with Napoleon; she must not, in hypo-
critical friendship, give her hand to him who is her mortal
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN. 4”

enemy. She must remain faithful to the alliance which her
king has sworn on the coffin of Frederick the Great to main-
tain; and France will resent this constancy as though it were
a crime. But, in spite of her anger, we must not recede; we
must advance on our path if we do not wish to lose also our
honor, and if history is not tou mention the name of Frederick
William III. in terms of reproach. Germany hopes that
Prussia will save her—the whole of Europe expects us to do
our duty to the fatherland, and this duty is to wage war
against the tyrant who wants to subjugate Germany, and
transform her into a French province—to resist him as long
as we have an inch of territory or a drop of blood in our
veins! See, my friends, such are the thoughts that move my
heart so profoundly, and cause me to weep. I clearly foresee
the great misfortunes that will crush us in case we should
proceed on the path which we have entered, but I am not
allowed to wish that Prussia should turn back, for we may be
permitted to be unfortunate, but never to act dishonorably.
And I know these to be the king’s views, too—he—but hark,
what is that ?”” she interrupted herself. “Did it not sound
as if a noisy crowd were approaching? ‘The tumult draws
nearer and nearer! If they are French soldiers, I am lost!”
She rushed to the window, and looked anxiously down on the
street. A vast multitude approached, yelling with rage, and
threatening with their hands a pale, trembling man walking
between two others who had seized him, and whose eyes
closely watched every motion he made. That man was Cab-
inet-Counsellor Lombard, who, on his escape from Berlin, had
safely reached Stettin.

Just as he was about entering his carriage, in order to leave
the latter city, a few of the bystanders recognized and de-
tained him. ‘Those who were in the streets soon gathered
around and curiously looked on during his altercation with
the men who had stopped him.

Suddenly one of them turned to the crowd and exclaimed
in aloud voice: “Do not permit this fellow to depart. It
is Lombard, the Frenchman, the traitor; he bas assuredly
come to Stettin in order to prevent the queen from continu-
ing her journey, or to inform the enemy whither she is going.
Let us arrest him, that he may not betray her!” -

“Yes, yes, arrest him; do not release him until long after
the queen’s departure,” cried the people. Threatening men
surrounded the traitor on all sides, and anxiously scanned

his pale, cowardly face.
48 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Tet me go, kind friends, let me go!” begged Lombard,
and now all his arrogance and haughtiness had disappeared.
“ You do me the greatest injustice; I am a faithful servant
of the king, and have come to Stettin in order to wait on
her majesty, and to offer my services to her.”

“He lies! he lies!” said those who had recognized him.
“Let us go with him to the royal villa; the queen is there.
If she wants to see him, she will order him to be admitted;
if not, he shall witness her departure.”

“Yes, he shall witness her departure,” exclaimed the rest
approvingly; “let us go to the royal villa |” ;

Dragged, pushed, and carried along, Lombard arrived,
followed by thousands, at the royal residence, which was
situated at the lower end of Broad Street, near the parade-
grounds. |

The carriage and horses stood in front of the house, and
every thing was ready for the queen’s departure. But Lonisa
was still at the window, and looked from behind the curtains
down on the vast mass which filled the whole street. Sud-
denly she uttered a low cry; and hastily placing her hand on
her friend’s shoulder, she pointed to the street. “Look,”
she whispered, trembling, “look! there is the evil demon
who has done so much to bring about the present calamities
of our country; it is Lombard, my most dangerous, nay, I
must say, my only enemy! He hates me, because he knows
that I distrusted him, and asked the king for his dismission.
He has dealt treacherously with Prussia—I know and feel it,
and felt convinced of it long before this time. The presence
of this man proves that some new calamity is menacing me,
for he is plotting my ruin. I wonder what brought him
here?”

“Let me go!” cried Lombard just then, in a loud and
ringing voice. “Let me go! I will and must see the queen !”

“See me?” said Lousia, in terror. “No, I will not see
him; I have nothing to do with him.”

In her excitement, and anxious to see what would occur,
she came forth from behind the curtain, and appeared in full
view at the window. The people greeted her with loud
cheers, and then turned their eyes again toward Lombard.
He had also seen her, and now raised his hands ina suppliant
manner, saying: “Oh, I beseech your majesty, call me up to
your room! I have come to offer my services and to com-
municate important news. Grant me an audience !”

But she did not stir; she had apparently not heard his
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN. 49

words, and her eyes, usually so gentle, now looked gloomy
and angry.

“The queen does not call him !” exclaimed hundreds of
voices on the street. ‘She does not want to have any thing
to do with him! He is a traitor.”

“What have I done, then, kind friends, that you should
call me a traitor?” asked Lombard. “State the crimes you
charge me with, so that I may justify myself !”

“We will state them to you !’”? said the men who had de-
tained him and who were wealthy and highly-esteemed mer-
chants of Stettin.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Grunert, and Mr. Pufahl, state his crimes
to him, and prove to him that he is a traitor !”

“We will; be quiet and listen!” replied Mr. Grunert.

“The people are going to sit in solemn judgment over
him,” whispered the queen; “they will ferret out his crimes
and punish him for them !”

Breathless silence reigned now. A chair was brought from
one of the adjoining houses, and Lombard compelled to
mount on it, so that every one might be able to see him. It
was a strange sight, that of his tottering, feeble form, with a
pale and terror-stricken face, rising above the crowd, whose
eyes were all turned toward him, and who cast glances like
daggers at him.

“ He is a traitor, and I will prove it to him,” repeated Mr.
Grunert, closely approaching Lombard. “In 1803, when the
king sent him to Brussels to negotiate with Bonaparte, about
an honorable peace between Prussia and France, he allowed
himself to be bribed. He exercised an influence humiliating
and disadvantageous to us; but Bonaparte bribed him by
paying him the sum of six thousand Napoleons d’or. Deny
it if you can |”

“J deny it,” replied Lombard. “It is true, I suffered my-
self to be duped by that monster fora moment. When I saw
Bonaparte in 1803 in Brussels, he managed to inspire me
with confidence in his magnanimity and greatness of char-
acter. But the deception did not last long, and soon I per-
ceived that this incarnate fiend would not stop in his career
until he had destroyed all existing thrones and states.* But
I deny ever having received money from him—lI deny ever
having accepted any presents from him. And the best
proof of it is that I have not any property whatever, but I
am as poor as a church mouse. My wife has scarcely a

*Lombard’s own words.—Vide Gentz's ‘‘ Miscellanies,” vol. ii., p. 194.
50 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

decent parlor for the reception of her friends; and as for
myself, 2 plain arm-chair and a tobacco-pipe were always the
goal of my wishes.” :

“You are poor, because you squander at the gaming-table
and in secret orgies what you obtain by your intrigues,” said
Grunert, sternly. “ Your poverty does not absolve you, for
it is the direct consequence of your dissipated life. You are
a traitor. It was owing to your machinations in the interest
of Napoleon that our army, last year, when it ought to have
taken the field with the Austrian and Russian forces against
France, was placed so late on the war-footing, and finally
returned to its garrisons without having drawn the sword.
You are to blame for the disgraceful treaty of Vienna, for
Count Haugwitz is merely a tool in your hands. You rule
over him. You laughed and rejoiced when the treaty of
Vienna had been concluded, for you are a descendant of the
French colony of Berlin, and you have no heart for the honor
of Germany and Prussia.”

“He is a traitor!” cried the people; “do not let him go!
Detain him! He shall not betray the queen !”

The crowd approached Lombard in the most menacing man-
ner, and were about to drag him from his chair, but Grunert
and Pufahl warded them off, and protected him with their
broad and vigorous bodies.

“You do not yet know all he has done,” exclaimed Mr.
Pufahl, in a powerful voice. “I will tell you about the last
and most infamous instance of his treachery. It is his fault
that we lost the battle of Jena—his fault alone.”

“What am I to hear?” whispered Louisa.

Perfectly beside herself, she approached closer to the
window, and listened in breathless suspense to every word
that was uttered.

“Well, let me tell you what Iombard has done,” added
Mr. Pufahl. “In the middle of last month our king sent
Lieutenant-Colonel von Krusemark with an autograph letter
to St. Petersburg, in which he informed the czar that he in-
tended to declare war against France, and requested the
latter to send him the assistance that had been agreed upon
between them. Lientenant-Colonel von Krusemark was ac-
companied by a single footman only, whom he had taken inte
his service for this special purpose, and who had been warmly
recommended to him. During the whole journey the colone)
kept the dispatches on his bare breast. Jt was only when he
had arrived at St. Petersburg that he laid them for a little
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN. 51

while upon the table, in order to change his dress, and deliver
them immediately to the czar. The servant was engaged in
arranging his clothes. M. von Krusemark went for a minute
into an adjoining room, and when he returned, the footman
had disappeared with the dispatches. All the efforts made
by Krusemark and the police to recover the important papers
were fruitless. They found neither them nor the servant.
Krusemark, therefore, had to send a courier to Berlin, and
ask for new instructions. This caused a delay of several
weeks, in consequence of which the Russian army was unable
to be here in time to join our troops and assist them in at-
tacking the French. We would not have lost the battle of
Jena, if the king’s dispatches had been delivered to the Em-
peror of Russia at an earlier moment, and if his army had set
out in time for the seat of war. We would not have lost the
battle, if the dispatches had not been stolen. Now listen to
what I am going to tell you: That footman had been recom-
mended by Lombard to Lteutenant-Colonel von Krusemark,
and was a near relative of the former!”

“He is a traitor !” cried the people, “it is his fault that
we lost the battle of Jena! But he shall atone for it!
Woe to the traitor !”

“ Oh, your majesty!’ exclaimed Madame von Berg, in terror,
“just see! the furious men are dragging him from his chair.
They will assassinate him. Have mercy on him and save his
life !”

“Yes,” said the queen, stepping back from the window,
“yes, I will protect him, but I will also protect myself.”

And hurrying across the apartment, she opened the door
of the anteroom, where the major of the garrison of Stettin
and a few staff-officers were assembled.

“Major,” said she, in a commanding voice, “hasten down-
stairs, and arrest Cabinet-Counsellor Lombard. Take him to
the guard-house, where you will detain him until the king
sends you further orders. I will report in person to his
majesty what I commanded you to do.”

It was high time to interfere, in order to save Lombard’s
life. The enraged people had already thrown him down,
and, regardless of the supplications of the two merchants,
commenced belaboring him unmercifully, when the major
appeared with a few soldiers and police officers. .

“ Order ! order !” he called in a loud voice. “ Order, in the

name of the queen !”
The noise immediately died away; and those who had
52 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

already seized Lombard turned around and stepped respect-
fully aside to let the major pass. ;

“In the name of the queen,” he repeated, placing his hand
on Lombuard’s shoulder, and assisting him to rise, “I arrest
you, Cabinet-Counsellor Lombard! You will accompany
me to the guard-house.”’

But Lombard, unable to stand, had sunk down on the
chair, half dead with terror.

“You see, sir, 1 am unable to accompany you,” he groaned,
faintly, “I cannot walk.”

“My soldiers will carry you, then,” said the major; mak-
ing a sign to them, he added, “Take the prisoner in your
arms, and carry him to the guard-house.”

Amid the loud applause of the crowd the order was im-
mediately obeyed. The soldiers seized Lombard, and started
off with him. <A large number followed, laughing and de-
riding him, and congratulating each other that their queen
would now be able to continue her journey uninterruptedly,
as the traitor had been arrested.

After reaching the guard-house, M. Lombard was locked
up in one of the common cells, but the major dared not
condemn the influential and powerful friend of Minister
von Haugwitz to lie on the hard bench of the criminals, and
to eat the ordinary prisoner’s fare. He, therefore, sent to
the first hotel in Stettin, and requested the landlord to
furnish Lombard with bedding and food, and to send both
immediately. But the soldiers returned without having
obtained either one or the other.

“ Well, will the landlord send the articles ?” asked the major.

“No, sir,” was the reply; “the landlord declined doing
so. He said, he would not furnish a traitor with any thing,
no matter what price he offered him.”

The major tried in vain to look angry. The reply pleased
him just as much as the chastisement inflicted on Lombard
by the people had pleased him previously. __

“Then go to another landlord,” he said, “and make the
same request of him. If he should also decline complying
with it, go toa third. In short, go and find a landlord who
is willing to send bedding and food to Cabinet-Counsellor
Lombard.”

The people, who had gathered in front of the guard-house,
heard the words of the soldiers as well as the renewed order
of the major, and accompanied them to find a landlord will-
ing to furnish bedding and food for the traitor.
THE FAITHFUL PEOPLE OF STETTIN. 53

An hour elapsed before they returned, still accompanied
by the crowd, whose numbers had vastly increased. ‘The
major was in Lombard’s cell, and had left orders for the
soldiers to report to him there. He anticipated, perhaps, the
answer they would bring buck to him, and wished the prisoner
to hear it.

He who had hitherto sat at tables laden with delicacies and
slept only on silken beds—the epicurean and sensual spend-
thrift—lay on the hard wooden bench, groaning with pain
and terror, when the soldiers entered his cell. The major
stood at the window, and drummed on the panes.

“Well,” he suid, “do you at length come, and bring bedding
and food for M. Lombard? But why did you tarry so long,
you lazy fellows? Did you not know that until your return
he would have to lie on the bench here like a common felon ? ”

“ We could not return at an earlier time, sir,” replied they.
“We have gone from hotel to hotel; we have informed all
the landlords in Stettin of your orders, and requested them
to furnish Cabinet-Counsellor Lombard with bedding and
food. But all of them made the same reply—all of them
answered: ‘Tell the major that I shall not comply with his
orders. I will not furnish a traitor with any thing!”

“Oh !” groaned Lombard; “then they want me to die with
my sick, bruised body on the hard boards here!”

“No !” exclaimed the major, “I will obtain another couch
for you. I will immediately go to the governor and procure
an order from him that will compel the hotel-keepers to fur-
nish you with the necessary articles.”

Half an hour afterward he returned to Lombard, who had
meanwhile vainly tried to sleep.

“Now, sir,” said the major, “your wishes will soon be ful-
filled. The governor has ordered the proprietor of the hotel
Zum Krenprinzen, under pain of severe punishment, to fur-
nish you with all necessaries, and I have sent some of my
men to him with this written order. They will doubtless
speedily return.”

A few minutes later, in fact, the door opened, and the sol-
diers carried a bed into the cell; two others followed with
smoking dishes.

“Well,” said the major, “then the landlord of the hotel
that I sent you to has no Innger refused to give you the re-
quired articles? The governor's order had a good effect.”

“Yes, sir, it had a good effect. But the proprietor of the
hotel Zum Kronprinzen sends word to you, that inasmuch as
54 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the governor had issued so stringent an order, nothing re-
mained for him but to obey; but as soon as he should be
compelled no longer to furnish M. Lombard with any thing,
he would smash the dishes and plates from which the cabinet
counsellor had eaten, and burn the bedding on which he had
slept.”

ML Lombard had apparently not heard these mortifying
words. Assisted by his footman, who had been sent for, he
hastily rose, and sat down at the table to dinner.

In the evening the major repaired with a few officers to
the hotel, and inquired for the landord.

He came in, somewhat confuséd, and convinced that the
major would censure him for his conduct. The latter, how-
ever, went to meet him, and, with a kindly smile, offered him
hishand. “Sir,” he said, “these gentlemen and I have taken
it upon ourselves to express to you, in the name of all our
comrades, our delight at the brave and manly reply you made
to-day, when compelled to furnish Lombard, the traitor, with
food and bedding. The officers of the garrison have resolved
to board with you, for we deem it an honor to be the guests
of so patriotic 4 man.”

 

CHAPTER VII.
THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT.

Lovisa waited till Lombard had been carried away amid
the jeers of the people; then, accompanied by her friend, she
hastened down-stairs in order to continue her journey. Many
persons were still assembled in the street, who, instead of fol-
lowing Lombard, had preferred to see the queen once more.
They received her with enthusiastic cheers, and heartily
wished her a safe journey.

“ Give our best wishes to our king, and tell him that we will
be faithful to him as long as we live!” exclaimed a voice from
the crowd.

“We thank the queen for ordering the traitor to be ar-
rested!” exclaimed another. “Now we need not have any
fears for her, and know that she is able to continue her jour-
ney without incurring any danger whatever.”

Louisa greeted her subjects smilingly, and lowered the
windows of the carriage for the purpose of returning their
salutations, and of being seen by them.
THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT. 55

“Yes,” she said, when the carriage rolled through the gate
into the high-road, “ yes, I hope the prophecy of these good
men will be fulfilled, and that | shall safely reach my destina-
tion. Now that Lombard has been arrested, I am satisfied of
it, for he had followed me in order to inform the enemy of
my whereabouts; I feel convinced of it. But the judgment
of Heaven has overtaken him, and he has received his pun-
ishment. Oh, how dreadful it must be to stand before the
people with so bad a conscience, so pale and cowardly a face,
and to be accused by them! Weare able to bear up under
the greatest afflictions when our soul is free from guilt!
And therefore I will meet the future courageously and pa-
tiently, hoping that God will have mercy on us. Hence-
forth there will be but one duty for me, and that is, to be a
faithful mother, and a comforter to my husband in his mis-
fortunes. Oh, Caroline, my heart, which was lately, as it were,
frozen and dead, is reawakening now—it is living and throb-
bing with joy, for I shall see my husband and my children!
If all should forsake us, love will remain with us, and he
whose heart is full of love will not be forsaken by the Lord.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes. Profound peace was
depicted on her handsome face; her brow was calm and
cloudless, and a sweet smile played on her lips. Grief had
not yet marked this noble and youthful countenance with its
mournful yet eloquent traces, and its handwriting was not
yet to be read on her expansive forehead.

“Oh,” whispered her friend to herself, contemplating the
beautiful slumbering queen, “oh, that grief might pass away
from her like a dark cloud—that no thunderbolt burst forth
from it and strike that beloved head! But Iam afraid the
lightning will at last blight all the blossoms of her heart.
O God, give her strength, nerve her in her sufferings, as Thou
hast blessed her in her happiness! She is sleeping; let her
slumber be peaceful and refreshing, so that it may invigordte
her mind!” Madame von Berg leaned cautiously, in order
not to disturb the queen, into the other corner of the carriage,
which rapidly drove along the high-road.

‘he journey was continued uninterruptedly from station
to station; in every town and village the people, as soon they
had recognized her, hastened to procure fresh horses for her,
and crowds gathered everywhere to cheer her on her way.
She had already passed through Frankfort, and stopped in
the village of Rettwein in front of the superintendent’s house.
The footman entered and asked in her name for another set
56 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

of horses. The superintendent looked at him uneasily and
gloomily. “I will get them directly,” he said; “I will go
myself to the stable and harness them, in order not to detain
the queen unnecessarily.” He left the house hastily, and the
footman returned to the carriage.

Louisa had risen and contemplated with a melancholy air
the deserted landscape. For the first time since the begin-
ning of her journey she was not welcomed on her arrival.
Nobody seemed to know or care that it was the queen who
was seated in the carriage. Only a few tow-headed peasants’
children, in ragged, dirty dresses, rushed toward the superin-
tendent’s house and stared at her, without saluting or thank-
ing her for her kindly nods.

“We shall frequently ride out of the gate, but no drums
will be beaten,” murmured she, with a faint smile, and sank
back on the cushions.

Time passed, and no horses made their appearance. The
queen glanced uneasily at her watch. “ We have been here
nearly an hour,” she said; “this long delay renders me un-
easy.”

She rose once more and looked again out of the coach win-
dow. The same silence prevailed. The children were still
in front of the house, with their fingers in their mouths star-
ing at the carriage. Ata distance the dull lowing of the cows
in their stables and the barking of dogs were to be heard.
No human being, except the few children, was to be seen;
even the superintendent did not make his appearance,although
he knew that the queen was waiting at his door. Just then,
however, a laborer, in a long blouse, with heavy wooden shoes,
came out of the house and remained at the door, staring with
his small blue eyes at the royal carriage.

“T do not know why,” murmured Louisa, uneasily, “but
this silence frightens me; it fills my heart with a feeling of
anxiety which I cannot well explain. It seems to me us
though every thing around me were breathing treachery and
mischief, and some great danger were menacing me. Let us
set out—we must leave this place. Why do not the horses
come ?”

“Will your majesty permit me to call the footman, and ask
him to hurry up the postilion?” said Madame von Berg,
leaning out of the window.

“Tell them to make haste,” she said to the approaching
footman. “Her majesty wishes to continue her journey im-
mediately.”
weruwower

THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT. 57

“The horses are not yet here,” exclaimed he anxiously;
“the superintendent promised he would fetch and harness
them himself, and he does not return.”

Some one set up a loud, scornful laugh, which reached the
queen’s ears. She bent forward and looked uneasily at the
laborer who was standing at the door with folded arms. The
footman turned, and asked him, indignantly, why he laughed.
The man looked at him with twinkling eyes. “ Well,’ he
said, “I laugh because you are looking for horses, and have
been waiting here for an hour already. But they will not
come, for the superintendent has driven two of them through
the back gate into the field, and then mounted the third, and
rode off!”

The queen uttered a low cry, and placed her hand convul-
sively on her heart; she felt there a piercing pain, depriving
her of breath, and turning her cheeks pale.

“Then the stable is empty ?” said Madame von Berg.

“Yes, and there is not a hack even in the whole village;
the peasants have taken them all to Kiistrin, lest the French
should take them.”

“ Are the French, then, so near ?”

“The superintendent said this morning he had seen them
at Barwalde, two miles from our village.”

“Let us start—let us set out without a minute’s delay,”
said Louisa, anxiously grasping her friend’s arm. “The
superintendent is a traitor, and has left the village in order
to inform our enemies that I am here. Oh, Caroline, we
must escape, and if I cannot do otherwise, I shall pursue my
journey on foot!”

“No, your majesty, there must and will be some expedient,”
replied Caroline, resolutely. “ Permit me to alight for a mo-
ment, and speak to the postilion who drove us hither.”

“T shall alight with you,” exclaimed the queen, rising and
trying to open the coach door.

Madame von Berg wished to keep her back. “What,” she
exclaimed in dismay. “Iam sure your majesty will not—”

“Speak personally to the postilion? Yes, I will. Heisa
human being, like all of us,and at this hour happier and
more enviable than we are. Perhaps he will have mercy on
his sovereign !”

She hastily left the carriage, and ordered the footman to
conduct her to the postilion, who, during the last hour, had
fed and watered his horses, and was just about to ride back
with them to his station. He hastened to obey the order,

5
58 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

and approached the queen, who stood trembling near the
carriage by the side of Madame von Berg. __

“Speak to him first,” said Louisa to her friend.

“You have heard that we cannot get any other horses,”
said Madame von Berg. “Her majesty wants you, therefore,
to drive us to the next station.” a

“That is impossible, madame,” said the postilion; “my
horses are exhausted, and I myself am so weary that I am
almost unable to stand, for I have been on horseback for
three days. We had to take fugitives to Kiistrin all the
time.”

“Tf you drive us thither rapidly and without delay, you
shall be liberally rewarded; you may depend on it,” replied
Madame von Berg.

“ All the rewards of the world would not do me any good,
inasmuch as neither I nor my horses are able to continue the
journey to Kiistrin,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
“T would gladly comply with your request, but I cannot.”

“You cannot?” asked the queen, in her sonorous voice,
“have you any children ?”

“Yes, madame, I have children. Two boys and a girl.”

“Well, suppose you should hear that your children were in
Kiistrin, that some great danger was menacing them, and
that they were anxiously crying for their father. What would
you do then ?”

“I would gallop with lightning speed, not caring if the
trip killed my horses, could I only reach my children!”

“Well,” said the, queen, with a gentle smile, “although
you are a father, and love your children so ardently, yet you
are cruel enough to refuse your assistance to a mother who
wishes to hasten to hers? I beseech you take me to them, for
they are looking with anxiety for me.” As she uttered these
words her eyes filled with tears, and her lips trembled.

The man was silent, and gazed with an air of surprise at
Louisa’s beautiful face. “ Madame,” he said, after a pause,
“pray enter the carriage again. I will take you to Kistrin
—you shall be with your children in an hour. But I tell you,
madame,” he added, turning to Madame von Berg, “I do not
go for the sake of the reward you have promised me, and I
will not take any money. I go because it would be infamous
not to reunite a mother and her children. Now, make haste.”
He turned round without waiting for a reply, and began to
prepare for the journey.

The queen gazed after him witn beaming glances, and then
THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT. 59

raised her eyes to heaven. “I thank Thee, my God,” she
murmured, ‘Give me strength that I may still believe in
the human heart, and that such a discovery as I have made
to-day as to the treachery of one man may not harden my
heart! Come, Caroline, let us enter; in an hour we shail
be with my children; oh, in an hour, I shall see the king!”
An expression of delight overspread her face like sunshine,
and she hastened to the carriage with light, elastic steps.

The postilion whipped the horses. The village was soon left
behind, and they proceeded rapidly toward their destination.

“How fast the kind-hearted man drives!” said Louisa.
“He does not do so for the sake of the queen, but because
he thinks of his children, and commiserates a mother’s heart.
Oh, I confess, my heart was painfully moved by the discovery
of the superintendent’s treachery, but the all-merciful God
sends me this excellent man. I shall ever remember him,
and, please God, I will reward him for his kindness, by taking
care of his children.”

“But I trust your majesty will also remember the traitor,
and cause him to be punished,” said Madame von Berg, in-
dignantly. “Te has committed a great crime against his
queen and against his fatherland, and ought to be called to
account,”

“Tf he has deserved it, let God punish him,” said Louisa,
gently. “I shall try to forget him, and I beg you not to say
any thing about it to the king. I am afraid, my dear, we
should have much, very much to do, if we were to punish all
those who betray us. The superintendent was the first faith-
less subject we met, but he will not be the last. Let us for-
get him. But what is that? Why does the postilion drive
so fast? It seems as if the carriage had wings. What does
it mean ?”

In fact, they dashed along the road like an arrow, and, as
though this were not sufficient, the anxious voice of the foot-
man was heard shouting, “Forward, postilion! Forward, as
fast as possible!”

“There is something wrong, and I must know what it is!”
exclaimed the queen. She rose from her seat, and opened
the front window. “Tell me honestly and directly,” she
said to the footman, “ why does the postilion drive so rapidly?”

“Tf your majesty commands me to do so, I must tell the
truth,” replied he. “We are pursued by French chasseurs.
They are galloping behind us on the high-road. I can al-
ready distinguish their uniforms.”
60 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“And shall we be able to escape them?” asked Louisa,
with the semblance of perfect calmness.

“We hope so, your majesty. If the horses can run fifteen
minutes longer, we are safe, for then we shall be in Kistrin.”

“Tell the postilion that I shall provide for the education
of his children, if we reach Kistrin in fifteen minutes,” re-
plied the queen.

She then sank back fora minute like a bruised reed. A
heart-rending scream escaped her, and she raised her hand in
despair. Presently she again became composed and looked
back from the window, soas to be able to see the approaching
danger.

Like lightning they proceeded along the high-road, but the
chasseurs gained upon them, and the distance rapidly de-
creased. ‘The queen’s piercing eyes could already distinguish
the faces of her enemies. She heard the loud shouts and oaths
with which they sought to increase their speed. She leaned
back, and a fearful pallor overspread her cheeks, but she was
still calm.

“ Listen to what I tell you, Caroline,” she said, in a grave,
solemn voice, “I cannot survive the disgrace of being taken
prisoner by the French. I will not adorn, as a modern Cleo-
patra, the triumphal entry of the modern Augustus. To live
and to die honorably is my motto. I prefer death to ignomini-
ous captivity. Tell it to my husband and mychildren. And
now to the will of God I commit myself. The moment that
a French soldier extends his hand toward me, this friend will
deliver me!”

She drew a small dagger from her bosom, and grasped it
firmly and resolutely.

“What are you going to do?” exclaimed Caroline, in terror.

“ Hush!” replied the queen, “my resolution is irrevocable.
Sooner death than the disgrace of ridicule! Let us see what
is going on.”

She leaned once more out of the carriage, which was still
dashing along with the utmost rapidity. The chasseurs were
fast approaching. The panting and snorting of the foaming
horses were already heard—the flashing, triumphant eyes of
the soldiers distinctly seen. Every second brought them
nearer and nearer. Louisa withdrew her head. Her right
hand firmly grasped the dagger. In breathless exhaustion,
and as pale as though dying, she awaited her fate.

Suddenly they rolled with great noise over a paved street—
they stopped—and Louisa thought it was an angel’s voice,
THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT. 61

when she heard the words, “There is Kiistrin! We are
saved |”

She started up, and looked once more out of the winaow.
Yes, she was saved. The chasseurs were galloping off again,
and close at hand was the first gate of the fortress of Kiistrin.
She had constantly looked back toward the pursuing enemy,
not toward her destination, and now that she was saved, it
seemed to her a miracle, for which she thanked God from the
bottom of her heart.

They passed through the gate, but could only drive at a
slow pace. An immense chaos of vehicles loaded with bed-
ding, furniture, trunks, cases, boxes, and bags, obstructed the
passage. Shrieks, lamentations, and oaths, resounded in the
wildest confusion. All the inhabitants of the suburbs and
neighboring villages had fled hither with their movables, to
seek protection behind the walls of the fortress.

‘he queen had again concealed the dagger in her bosom, and
looked up to heaven with eyes full of fervent gratitude.

“Tam saved!’ she whispered; “I shall see again my hns-
band and my children. Life is mine again!”

The passage became wider. They were able to advance
more rapidly, and soon reached the market-place. A general
in uniform was just crossing it. When he was passing near
her, the queen joyfully exclaimed:

“ Kéckeritz! Where is the king?”

“Oh, Heaven be praised that your majesty has arrived! The
king is here. He is standing among the generals in front of
the house yonder.”

They stopped. The coach door opened, and the pale, mel-
ancholy face of the king looked in. Louisa stretched out
her arms toward him. “Frederick! my dear, dear husband!”
she exclaimed, and, encircling his neck with her arms, im-
printed a kiss on his lips. Hedid not utter a word, but drew
her with an impetuous motion into his arms and carried her
into the house, regardless of the rules of etiquette, through the
crowd of generals, who bowed and stepped aside. She clung
tenderly to him and supported her head with a blissful smile
on his shoulder. He now placed the beloved burden slowly
and cautiously into an easy-chair; then crossed the room and
opened the door leading into an adjoining chamber.

“Come, come, your mother is here!” said he, abruptly, and
two boys ran immediately into the room, with a loud, joyous
exclamation. . ;

“My sons, my beloved sons!” cried Louisa, stretching out
62 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

her hands toward them. They rushed to her, clasping her in
their arms and kissing her. The queen pressed them to her
heart, shedding tears, half of grief, and half of happiness at
being reunited with her family. Not a word was spoken;
only sighs and sobs, and expressions of tenderness, interrupted
the silence. The king stood at the window, looking at his
wife and sons, and something like a tear dimmed his eyes,
“JT would gladly die if they could only be happy again,” he
murmured to himself; “but we are only in the beginning of
our misfortunes, and worse things are in store for us!”

He was right; worse things were in store for them. Day
after day brought tidings of fresh disasters. The first was,
that Erfurt had capitulated on the day after the battle of
Jena—that the French occupied it, and that a garrison of
four thousand men had surrendered at discretion. Then
came the news that the French, who had not met with the
slightest resistance, and were driving every thing before them,
had crossed the Elbe, and were moving on Potsdam and Ber-
lin. The royal couple learned at the same time that Count
Schulenburg had left Berlin with the troops without permis-
sion, and solely on his own responsibility, and that he had
forgotten in his hurry to remove the immense quantity of arms
from the arsenal. Another day dawned and brought even
more disastrous tidings. The French were reported as ap-
proaching the fortress of Kiistrin by forced marches!

A panic seized the garrison. Most of the officers and pri-
vates, and the whole suite of the king, declared loudly,
“Peace only can save us! Further resistance is vain, and
will increase our calamities. Submission to the conqueror
may save what remains.” Minister von Haugwitz used this
language, and so did Generals von Kéckeritz and von Zastrow,
and so thought the commander of Kiistrin, though he did
not utter his sentiments.

The king listened to all these supplications and suggestions
with grave and gloomy composure. He did not say a word,
but looked sometimes with an inquiring glance at the pale
face of the queen. She understood him, and whispered with
a smile: “Courage, my husband, courage!” And he nodded
to her, and said in a low voice: “I will have courage to the
bitter end! We cannot remain here, for the report that the
French are approaching has been confirmed. Let us go to
Graudenz!”

Louisa laid her hand on the king’s shoulder, and looked
tenderly into his eyes. “ Whither you go, I go,” she said,
THE QUEEN’S FLIGHT. 63

“even though we should be compelled to escape beyond the

sea or into the ice-fields of Siberia; we will remain together,

a & long as I am with you, adversity cannot break my
eart.”

Frederick kissed her and then went to make the necessary
arrangements for their departure, to give his final orders to
the commander of Kiistrin, M. von Ingelsheim: “Defend
the fortress to the last extremity, and capitulate under no
circumstances whatever.”

The queen seemed calm and composed so long as her hus-
band was at her side. But when he had-withdrawn, she burst
into tears; sinking down on a chair, she buried her face in
her hands and sobbed aloud.

“You are weeping!” whispered a soft, sweet voice. “Oh,
dear mother, do not weep,” said another, and two heads
leaned on her shoulders—the heads of her oldest sons. She
took her hands from her face, and shook the tears from her
eyes. She kissed her sons, and, placing both of them be-
fore her, gazed at them a long time with an air of melancholy
tenderness.

“Yes,” she said, and while she spoke her voice became
firmer, and her face radiant—“ yes, I am weeping; nor am
I ashamed of my tears. I am weeping for the downfall of
my house—the loss of that glory with which your ancestors
and their generals crowned the Hohenzollern dynasty, and
the splendor of which extended over the whole of Prussia—
nay, over all Germany. That glory has, I say, departed for-
ever. Fate has destroyed in a day a structure in the erection
of which great men had been engaged for two centuries.
There is no longer a Prussian state, a Prussian army, and
Prussian honor! Ah! my sons, you are old enough to com-
prehend and appreciate the events now befalling us; at a fu-
ture time, when your mother will be no more among the liv-
ing, remember this unhappy hour. Shed tears for me, as I
do for the ruin of our country! But listen,” she added, and
her eyes beamed with enthusiasm, “do not content yourselves
with shedding tears! Act, develop your strength. Prussia’s
genius, perhaps, will favor you. Then deliver your nation
from the disgrace and humiliation in which it is at present
grovelling! Try to recover the now eclipsed fame of your
ancestors, as your great-grandfather, the great elector, ince
avenged, at Fehrbellin, the defeats of his father against the
Swedes. Let not the degeneracy of the age carry you away, my
sons; become men and heroes. Should you lack this ambition,
64 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

you would be unworthy of the name of princes and grand-
sons of Frederick the Great. But if, in spite of all etforts,
you should fail in restoring the former grandeur of the state,
then seek death as Prince Louis Ferdinand sought it!”

CHAPTER VIII.
NAPOLEON IN POTSDAM.

THE unheard-of and never-expected event had taken place;
the son of the Corsican lawyer, the general of the Revolution,
had defeated the Prussian army, compelled the royal family
to flee to the eastern provinces, and now made his triumphal
entry into their capital! On the afternoon of the 24th of Oc-
tober he arrived in Potsdam; the royal palace had to open its
doors to him; the royal servants had to receive him as rever-
entially as though he had been their sovereign!

Napoleon was now master of Prussia as well as of all Ger-
many. But his classic face remained as cold and calm in
these days of proud triumph as it had been in the days of ad-
versity. His successes seemed to surprise him as little as his
early misfortunes had discouraged him. When ascending the
broad carpeted staircase, he turned to Duroc, bis grand mar-
shal and beckoned him to his side. ‘Just notice, grand mar-
shal,” he said, in so loud a voice that it resounded through
the pulace, “just notice the strange coincidence. If 1 re-
member rightly, it is just a year to-day since the fine-looking
Emperor Alexander of Russia arrived here in Potsdam, and
paid a visit to the queen. Please ask the steward who re
ceived us at the foot of the stairs, whether it is not so.”

Duroc went away, and soon returned with the answer that
his majesty had not been mistaken; it was just a year to-day
since the Emperor of Russia arrived in Potsdam.

A faint smile overspread Napoleon’s face. “TI will occupy
the same rooms which Alexander then occupied,” he said,
passing on.

Duroc hastened back, to give the necessary orders. Napo-
leon walked down the corridor with ringing, soldier-like foot-

-steps, followed by his marshals, and entered the large por-
trait-gallery of the Prussian monarchs, who looked down on
him with grave eyes.

The emperor paused in the middle of the hall and glanced
NAPOLEON IN POTSDAM. 65

over the portraits with a gloomy air. “All those men had a
high opinion of themselves,” he said, in a sullen tone; “ they
were proud of their high birth and of their royal crown, and
yet death has trampled them all in the dust. I will now take
upon myself the task of death: I will annihilate this Prussia
which dared to take up arms against me, and who knows
whether this gallery of Prussian kings will not close with
Frederick William III.? Nothing on earth is lasting, and
sovereigns now-a-days fall from their thrones as over-ripe
apples from trees. The crown of Prussia fell to the ground
on the battle-fields of Jena and Auerstidt!”

The portraits of the Prussian rulers looked down silently on
the triumphant conqueror, and neither his scornful voice, nor
the haughty glances with which he contemplated them, dis-
turbed their tranquillity. Nota voice answered these arro-
gant and insulting words; the marshals stood silent and
respectful, and still seemed to listen to the voice of the oracle
which had just announced to the portraits of the royal ances-
tors of the present king the downfall of their house. But
Napoleon’s brow, which had momentarily beamed with proud
thoughts, was again clouded. Joining his hands on his back,
he crossed the hall to the large central window, from which
there was a fine and extensive view of the lawn, with its old
trees and splendid statues, and beyond, of the Havel and its
hilly banks. He gazed gloomily at this landscape, then
turned and looked again at the pictures, but only for a mo-
ment, as though he would threaten them once more, and
make them feel again the angry glance of him who had come
to dethrone their descendant and appropriate his crown.
Then he fixed his eyes on the portrait of a handsome woman
whose large blue eyes seemed to gaze at him, and her crimson
lips to greet him with a winning smile. Quite involuntarily,
and as if attracted by the beauty of this likeness, he approached
and contemplated it long and admiringly.

“Truly,” he said, “that is a charming creature. That lady
must have been wondrously lovely, and at the same time sur-
hassingly graceful and high-spirited.”

“Sire,” said Duroc, who had followed him and overheard
his words, “sire, she is still wondrously lovely, and, as your
majesty says, surpassingly graceful and high-spirited. It is
the portrait of Queen Louisa of Prussia.” :

A dark expression mantled Napoleon’s face, and, bending
an angry glance on Duroc, he said, “It is well known that
you were always foolishly in love with the Queen of Prussia,
66 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

and, according to your statement, one might believe there
was no woman in the whole world so beautiful as she is.” He
turned his back on the painting and stepped to the next one:
“And this, then, doubtless, is Frederick William III. ?”

“Yes, sire, it is the portrait of the reigning king.”

“Of the reigning king?” repeated the emperor, with a
scornful smile. “It is a very good-natured face,” he added,
looking at the full-sized portrait; “‘ and as I behold his gentle,
timid air, I comprehend that he allows himself to be directed
by advisers, and follows the will of others rather than his own.
But this little King of Prussia is taller than I thought!”

“Sire, he is about as tall as the Grand-duke of Berg,” said
Duroc.

“As Murat?” asked Napoleon. “It never seemed to me
that he was as tall as that. Isnot Murat of my own height?”

“No, sire, he is higher than you!”

“You mean he is taller than I,” said Napoleon, shrugging
his shoulders. “Height of stature is of no consequence.
Frederick II. was much smaller than his yrand-nephew, and
yet he was the greatest of Prussia’s kings. We will afterward
pay him a visit at Sans-souci. Until then, adieu, gentlemen.
Come, Duroc, conduct me to the rooms of the Emperor
Alexander !”’

He greeted the marshals with a quick nod, and then fol-
lowed Duroc into the long suite of halls and brilliant rooms
which, only a year ago, had been newly decorated and fur-
nished with royal magnificence for the reception of the czar.

“These kings and princes ‘by the grace of God’ live here
very pleasantly,” muttered Napoleon in an undertone; “they
know better how to build and furnish their residences than to
preserve them to their children. Well, I am a good architect,
and have come to reconstruct the royal palace of Prussia. Do
you think, Duroc, those ingrates will thank me for it?”

“They will see that the lion must have his share,” said
Duroc, “and they will, doubtless, be thankful if any thing is
left to them. Sire, here we are in the czar’s bedroom! The
steward told me every thing was arranged in it precisely the
same as in the days when the Russian emperor was here.
Nobody has slept in this bed since.”

“I must sleep in it,” said Napoleon, quickly, “and I be-
lieve I shall sleep in the royal Prussian palace, and in the
bed of the Russian emperor, as comfortably as I did in the
Tuileries and in the bed of Louis XVI.”
NAPOLEON IN POTSDAM. 67

He threw his small three-cornered hat with a contemptuous
gesture on the bed, which was surmounted by a velvet canopy,
embroidered with gold, and then, his arms crossed behind
him, commenced slowly pacing the room. Duroc dared not
disturb him, and turned toward the paintings and engravings
hanging on the walls. The emperor walked along while
gravely and musingly; his brow grew more clouded, and he
pressed his lips more firmly together. Suddenly he paused
before Duroc, and, being alone, spoke to him no longer in
the tone of a master, but with the unreservedness of a friend.

“Legitimacy is a terrible power, Duroc,” said he, hastily;
“it is what I cannot vanquish with all my cannon. Sover-
eigns and princes know it full well, and that is the reason of
their obstinacy. They oppose their ancestors to my victorious
eagles, and when, by virtue of my right as conqueror, I enter
their palaces and take possession of them, I find there the
proud company of their forefathers, who seem to look scorn-
fully down on me, and tell me, ‘You are after all but an in-
truder and usurper, while we are and shall remain here the
rightful owners.’ I am sick and tired of playing this part of
usurper. I shall overthrow all dynasties, expel all legitimate
sovereigns—and there shall be no other throne than mine. I
shall be at least the first legitimate monarch of the new
era!”

“And expelled princes will sit in some nook of your im-
mense empire,” said Duroc, laughing, “and sing to the people
the same song of legitimacy; and it will be listened to as one
of the fairy stories of childhood, in which they believe no
more.”

“But they shall believe in my legitimacy!’ exclaimed Na-
poleon, quickly. “I will be the first of the Napoleonic sover-
eigns.”” His brow was clouded again. “But it is true,” he
murmured, “in order to found a dynasty, I need ason. I
must have legitimate children. It will be no fault of mine if
circumstances compel me to divorce Josephine; for I will not,
like Alexander of Macedon, conquer exclusively for the benefit
of my generals. I need an heir to my empire.”

“Sire, you have one in the son of the empress, noble King
Eugéne.”’

“No,” exclaimed the emperor, gloomily, “the son of the
Viscount de Beauharnais cannot be heir tomy throne. My
blood does not flow in his veins. Oh, why did the young
Napoleon die! I had destined him to succeed me, because he
68 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

was of my blood, and ascion of my family.* Poor Josephine!
if her tears and prayers could have saved the child’s life, I
should never have thought of taking another wife.”

“What!” exclaimed Duroc, in dismay, “your majesty
thinks of repudiating the empress!”

“My heart never will repudiate her,” replied Napoleon,
drawing a sigh. “I shall always love her, for she deserves it.
She is generous and high-minded, good and graceful. I never
loved another woman as I love her—and never shall. Judge,
therefore, what a cruel blow it will be to my heart, should I
be compelled to separate from her.”

“Tf you should, sire,” said Duroc, in a voice quivering
with emotion,—“if you repudiate the empress, you would
thereby sign your own death-warrant, and Josephine would
not survive it.”

“She will have to survive it like myself,” exclaimed the
emperor, impetuously. “I shall suffer no less—nay, I shall
suffer more than she, for she never loved me as I love her.
Her tears will fall for the lost splendor of the throne—not for
her husband. But IJ shall bewail the beloved wife.”

“No, sire,” said Duroc, almost indignantly, “you are un-
just. The empress loves you—you alone. She accepted the
crown reluctantly and with tearful eyes, and will not weep
when she loses it. She will mourn for her husband only,
whom she adores, and not for the crown which adorns but also
oppresses her brow.”

“Ah, what a warm advocate the empress has!” exclaimed
Napoleon, smiling. “Do you really believe that she loves me
so cisinterestedly?”

“Sire, Iam convinced of it, and so is your majesty. The
empress loves in you her dear Bonaparte, and not the em-
peror. She loves you more ardently than any other woman
could do. Sire, permit an old, well-tried friend and servant
to warn you. Do not banish Josephine from your heart, for
she is your guardian angel.”

Napoleon did not reply immediately, but looked melancholy
and abstracted.

“Tt is true,” he said, after a long pause, “ Josephine
brought success; until I married her every thing around me
was forbidding and dark. She appeared like a sun by my
side, and we rose together.”

*The oldest son of the King of Holland, Napoleon’s brother, and of Hortense,
Josephine’s daughter, had been declared Napoleon’s successor and adopted son. He
died of croup, in 1805, in his seventh year.
NAPOLEON IN POTSDAM. 69

“Sire, all will darken again, if you suffer your sun to set.”

“Ah, bah! these are nothing but fantastic dreams!” ex-
claimed Napoleon, after a brief silence. “I am the architect
of my fortune—I alone. Josephine did not assist me in
erecting my edifice; she only adorned it with her smiling
grace. I shall do what fate and my people have a right to
expect of me, but I do not say that it must be done immedi-
ately. I have time enough to wait; for as yet I do not stand
on the pinnacle to which Iam aspiring. My plans are not
yet accomplished. I hope that I shall not die at so early an
age as my father. I need ten years more to carry out my
purposes. A sovereign ought not to set too narrow limits to
his wishes; but mine—they are boundless. Like the con-
queror of Darius, I must rule the world, and I hope that my
desire will one day be fulfilled. Nay, I feel convinced that I
and my family will occupy all the thrones of Europe. Then
it will be time for me to have a wife who will give an heir to
my empire, and a son to my heart. Until then, my friend,
keep the matter secret; do not mention what I have told you.
The portraits of the old kings, with their surly faces, have
impressed me very disagreeably, and it is in deflance of them
that I say, 1 will one day have a wife—a daughter of the
Casars—who will think it an honor to bear a son to the mod-
ern Cesar! When the time comes, however, I shall remind
you of this hour, and then request you, in the name of the
confidence which I have reposed in you, to prepare my poor,
beloved Josephine for the blow that is menacing her and my-
self, and which I then shall ward off no longer. But a truce
to these matters! Let us go to Sans-souci. Come!”

“Sire, before your majesty has dined?”

“Ah, you are hungry, then? You would like to dine?”

“Sire, I believe all the gentlemen entertain the same desire.
None of us have tasted food for eight hours.”

“ight hours, and you are already hungry again? Truly,
this German air exerts a bad effect upon my brave marshals.
Like the Germans, you want to eat all the time. Well, let it
so. be; as we are in Germany, I will comply with your wishes.
Let us dine, therefore, and afterward go to the country-
palace of Frederick II. Be kind enough to issue your orders,
grand-marshal. Let the horses be ready; we shall set out as
soon as we have dined. ‘Tell Roustan to come to me!”

Napoleon was now again the sovereign, and it was in this
capacity that he dismissed Duroc, who left the room with a
70 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

respectful bow. Roustan, who had already heard the order in
the anteroom, glided past him to assist Constant in the em-
peror’s toilet.

 

CHAPTER IX.
SANS-SOUCI.

Duroc hastened once more through the rooms and halls to
the corridor, where the palace-steward came to meet him.

“Dinner is ready, grand marshal,” he said.

“ And have you set another table in the adjoining room?”

“Your orders have been punctually obeyed.”

“ Be good enough, then, to conduct me to the large dining-
hall.”

The steward bowed in silence, and led the way. All the
marshals and generals were already assembled when Duroc
entered.

“Gentlemen,” he said, smiling, “his majesty is now occu-
pied with his toilet, and Roustan has assured me that it would
last half an hour. We have half an hour, therefore, to take
our dinner.” Followed by the others, he went into the next
room. A table had been set there, and appetizing odors in-
vited them to sit down to it.

“Now, steward, have every thing served up as quick as
possible. We have but twenty minutes left.” During that
time there reigned profound silence, only now and then in-
terrupted by a word or a brief remark. The marshals con-
tented themselves in making the viands disappear, and empty-
ing the bottles. Duroc, who had frequently cast anxious
glances at the large clock, now rose hastily. “Gentlemen,”
he said, “our time is up, and we must be ready for the em-
peror’s dinner. I will go to his majesty, and conduct him to
the dining-hall. I hope all of you have eaten well, so as not
to need much of the official repast to which we are going.
The emperor has graciously ordered us all to dine with him.
Be so kind as to repair to the hall.”

When Napoleon entered, a few minutes later, preceded by
Duroc, he found all the marshals assembled. The dinner
commenced, and he, it seemed, was no less hungry than his
generals, for not only did he eat his soup with the utmost
rapidity, but when he saw one of his favorite dishes placed
SANS-SOUCI. val

near him, he smiled and ncdded kindly to the grand marshal,
who was standing at his right, and presented him a glass of
wine.

“See how attentive these dear Germans are!” hesaid. “If
I am not mistaken, this is my favorite dish, frocassée a la
Marengo.”

“Yes, sire, I sent the bill of fare hither last night by the
courier who announced your majesty’s arrival, and I am glad
to see that it has been punctually attended to.”

“So these German cooks know already how to prepare a
Sricassée & la Marengo? Who has taught them this?”

“Your majesty; your majesty is now the cook and butler
for all Germany—everybody has become familiar with your
favorite dishes.”

The emperor smiled. Placing a piece of bread on his fork,
he dipped it into the dish, and repeated this several times;
and when the grand marshal placed before him a silver plate,
filled with a portion of the same, he commenced to eat rapidly.
Aware of his habit, his attendants had taken care that the
pieces of meat were sufficiently small, and the whole dish not
too hot. He began to eat the meat with a fork, and the
sauce with a spoon, but he seemed to regard both as too in-
convenient; for he laid them aside, and, after the fashion of
the Turks, used his delicate white hands, adorned with dia-
mond-rings.* Scarcely twelve minutes had elapsed when he
rose. The grand marshal immediately presented to him a
golden basin and a napkin to wash his hands.

Napoleon’s guests had done well in dining beforehand; for,
as the servants did not attend to them so quickly as to their
master, and as they, moreover, were not able to eat so fast as
he, they would assuredly have risen hungry from the table. t

* Constant, for many years Napoleon's devoted valet de chambre, gives in his
reminiscences a detailed account of the emperor’s habits, and writes as follows about
his mode of dining: ‘tThe great rapidity with which the emperor was accustomed
to eat was ere very injurious to his health. One of +he immediate effects of
this habit was, that he did not eat very cleanly. He liked ti ase his fingers instead
of a fork, and, indeed, instead of a spoon. Great care was taken always to placea
favorite dish before him. He partook of it in the manner above described, dipping
his bread into the sauce, which did not prevent the other guests from eating of the
same dish, or at least such as wished to do so, and there were few who did not. I
have even seen some who pened to regard this favorite dish as a way of doing
homage to the emperor. apoleon’s favorite dish was a sort of chicken-fricassée,
called, in honor of the conqueror of Italy, ‘fricassée ad la Marengo.'”*—Constant,
Mémoires, vol. ii., p. 56.

+The guests invited to the imperial table always dined beforehand. The em-
peror, in the haste with which he ate, did not notice that the others had no time to
doso. Once, when he departed from the table, and Eugéne, his stepson, rose imme-
diately after him, Napoleon turned to him, and said: ‘* But you have had no time

toeat?” ‘Pardon me,” replied the prince, ‘‘I dined beforehand.’’—'‘Mémoires de
“Constant,” vol. ii., p. 55.
72 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“To horse, gentlemen!” exclaimed Napoleon. “Let us
ride over to Sans-souci, and do homage to the manes of the
king who was a philosopher and a great general at the same
time.”

The streets of Potsdam were deserted as the emperor and
his brilliant suite rode through them. All the windows were
closed; the citizens were nowhere to be seen; only a crowd of
idle boys followed the imperial cavalcade. The soldiers of the
grand French army alone greeted the emperor with joyous
cheers outside of the city, where they were encamped. Pots-
dam thought, perhaps, of its king, who had immortalized it,
and was sad and ashamed that those whom Frederick the
Great had routed in so glorious a manner at Rossbach now
made their triumphal entry into his capital.

Napoleon’s brow was gloomy; this silence of the population
was disagreeable and oppressive. It seemed to him to bea
sign of the hostile spirit of the Prussians; and as he was rid-
ing slowly, his head slightly bent forward, along the avenue
toward Sans-souci, he muttered: “This is a malicious and
infamous trick! The haughty nobility will still oppose me,
but I will crush them. They must not succeed, however, in
making me angry, but I shall chastise those who have induced
the citizens to remain at home, and not to greet me.” And,
thoughtfully, he rode on toward the country-seat of Frederick
the Great.

No one was at the palace to welcome him but the castellan,
a venerable man, who, with a few aged servants in faded
liveries, received the all-powerful conqueror at the open fold-
ing-doors of the hall leading to the terrace. Napoleon looked
at’ him with a rapid, piercing glance. ‘“ You lived in the
period of Frederick II.?” he asked hastily.

“Yes, sire, we were fortunate enough to serve the great
king,” said the castellan, in faultless, fluent French. “Hence,
the honorable task has been intrusted to us to watch over his
sacred resting-place, and to protect it from injury.”

“The name of the great king is a sufficient protection for
this house,” said Napoleon. “My soldiers have a profound
respect for true greatness; they will not dare to desecrate this
sanctuary. Be my guide, my friend. Let me see the sitting-
room of your king!”

“Of the present king, sire?” asked the castellan.

Napoleon smiled. “TI think there is but one king in Sans-
souci,” he said, “and that is Frederick II. Conduct me to
SANS-SOUCI. %3

his sitting-room!” and rapidly crossing the semicircular mar-
bie hall, he walked toward the side-door which the castellan
opened.

“Sire,” he said, solemnly, “this is the king’s sitting-room ;
it is still furnished precisely as when he lived init. It has
undergone no change whatever.”

Napoleon entered; his marshals followed him. None of
them uttered a word; every one seemed involuntarily to tread
lightly, as if he feared to disturb the silence reigning in this
room, sacred by its great reminiscences. The emperor walked
rapidly into the middle of the room; there he paused with
folded arms, and his large dark eyes glided slowly from object
to object. The marshals moved softly around, and, on con-
templating the old-fashioned furniture, their ragged silken
covers, the plain desk with the inkstand placed near the win-
dow, the large easy-chair, shrouded in a ragged purple blanket,
smiled disdainfully and whispered to each other that this was
a room entirely unfit for a king, and that one might purchase
better and more tasteful furniture of any second-hand dealer
in Paris. Napoleon, perhaps, had overheard their words, or
at least noticed their whisperings, for he bent an angry glance
on them. “Gentlemen,” he said, “this is a place which de-
serves our profound respect. Jere lived one who was a greater
general than Turenne, and from whose campaigns we all
might derive instruction. Alexander the Great himself would
have admired Frederick’s battle of Leuthen.”

The aged castellan, who was standing at the door, raised
his head, and with a kind glance seemed to thank Napoleon
for the tribute he had paid to the manes of the heroic dead.

The emperor’s eyes were now fixed on the large clock placed
on a gilded pedestal. It was a masterpiece of the period of
Louis XV., and adorned in the most brilliant roccoco style.
The large dial, with the figures of colored enamel, rested in a
frame and case of splendidly-wrought gold, and this was sur-
mounted by a portrait of the Emperor Titus, with the inscrip-
tion, “ Diem perdidi.”

“Ts that the clock which the king caused to be purchased
from the heirs of the Marquise de Pompadour?”

“Yes, sire, itis. It has always stood in this room, since
he purchased it. Frederick the Great prized it very highly,
and consulted it exclusively until his death. And it seemed
to know that he liked it, for when he closed his eyes, the
clock stopped and never went again.”

6
U4 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, “since the death of
Frederick the government of Prussia, it seems, really did not
know the time any more. And what about that ragged old
easy-chair? Did the king use it, too?”

“Sire,” said the castellan, solemnly, laying stress on every
word he uttered—“ sire, the great king died in that chair; his
head rested on the pillow now lying on the seat, and he was
covered with that blanket.”

The emperor rapidly approached; the marshals followed his
example and walked toward it on tiptoe. He stood before it;
his arms folded, his lips compressed, contemplating it. Be-
hind him stood the marshals, whose indifferent countenances
and curious glances contrasted strangely with the pale face of
their master. Not far from them, near the door, stood the
white-haired castellan; his hands clasped, and his head bowed
mournfully on his breast.

Suddenly the room was filled with light; the sun, which
had hitherto been hidden by clouds, burst forth and shone
brilliantly; golden beams fell upon the easy-chair of Fred-
erick the Great, and surrounded it, as it were, with a halo.

“This, then, is the death-bed of the great king,” said Na-
poleon, musingly. “The gods did not permit him to fall on
the battle-field. Disease and age vanquished the hero of the
Seven Years’ War, and he died not amid the triumphs of his
soldiers, but solitary and alone! May Providence, in His
mercy, preserve us from such a fate!” And turning quickly
to the castellan, he asked, ‘‘ Were you present when the king
died?”

“Yes, sire, I was; for I was his valet de chambre.”

“Tell me the last words he uttered.”

“Sire, he spoke repeatedly, but so inaudibly and rapidly
that we did not apprehend him. The last words which we
were able to understand were: ‘Give me back my soldiers of
the Seven Years’ War! I am tired of ruling over slaves!’ ”

“Strange, strange,’ murmured Napoleon; “he was tired of
ruling over slaves! as though it were possible to rule over free
men! Ah, T should like to have known this king, who was
such an autocrat, and yet despised slaves! who wielded the
sword as skilfully as the pen! to whom the booming of the
cannon sounded as melodious as the notes of his flute—who
made verses with Voltaire, and won battles with Schwerin and
Ziethen! He was able to do every thing, and we have not
seen his equal!”
SANS-SOUCI. 75

i Oh, sire,” murmured the marshals, “your majesty for-
gets—

= Silence, gentlemen!” he exclaimed, in an angry voice,
pointing with his outstretched arm to the easy-chair, “do not
flatter me in ¢his room. I wish I had known Frederick the
Great, for I believe we should have understood each other.”

“Sire,” said the castellan, “it is true, his majesty did not
know you; nevertheless, he dreamed of you.”

Napoleon hastily turned toward him and asked: ‘“ What?
He dreamed of me? Tell me all about it. Approach!”

The castellan, obeying the sign made to him, advanced a
few steps slowly and hesitatingly.

“Sire,” he said, “it was a few years after the Seven Years’
War. I had just entered the king’s service, and was on duty
during that night; that is to say, I slept in the anteroom,
and had received strict orders to awaken the king at a fixed
hour in the morning, and to enter his bedroom during the
night as soon as he called me, or if I should hear any noise.
Suddenly i heard the cry, ‘Fire, fire!’ I rushed immediately
into the bedroom, but no fire was to be seen. My master lay
on his couch, groaning, breathing heavily, and evidently
under the influence of bad dreams. I, therefore, took the
liberty to awaken him. ‘Ah,’ said he, heaving a deep sigh, ‘I
am glad you awakened me; I had a weird, terrible dream, and
I will relate it to you. I dreamed I was standing on the ter-
race of Sans-souci, and around me I beheld my state and all
my palaces close together, and behind them I thought I could
descry the whole world, with all its cities and countries; it
was spread out before my eyes like a painting of wondrous
beauty, and I was rapturously gazing at it. All at once the
sky grew dark; black clouds passed over it; profound dark-
ness covered the beautiful world, and dreadful shrieks and
groans resounded through the air. But from the midst of the
black clouds a bright, dazzling star burst like a rocket, and
set fire to every thing, until all countries were in ruins, and
all cities burned down. And as I saw that, I cried in m:
anguish, “ Fire! fire!” Fortunately, you came and awakenec
me.’ That, sire,” said the castellan, drawing a deep breath,
“that was the dream. The king went on to say: ‘The
dream, I am sure, is a portentous one, and some remarkable
event will doubtless happen in the course of this night.
Write down every thing I told you, and remember the date
and year!’ I did as his majesty ordered me; I wrote down
76 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the date, the year, and even the hour in which the dream
occurred.”

“Was the dream really a portentous one? Did any remark-
able event occur in that night?”

“Yes, sire, a very remarkable event occurred in that night,
but his majesty did not hear of it; he died too early.”

“When did he have that dream?” asked Napoleon, fixing his
eyes on the old man, who composedly bore the searching gaze.

A pause ensued. The castellan replied: “Sire, Frederick
the Great had that dream on the 15th of August, 1769.”

“On my birthday!” ejaculated Napoleon.

“On the 15th of August, 1769,” repeated the old man, “at
three o’clock in the morning.”

“The hour of my birth,” muttered the emperor to himself.
After a short pause he turned again toward the castellan, and
a strange, sarcastic smile played on his lips.

“The star fell from the sky, and set fire to all the palaces
and countries?” he asked.

The castellan nodded.

“And you believed that the dream referred to me, and that
I am the fallen star?”

“Sire, I only related what the king had dreamed, and in
what night and in what hour he had the remarkable dream.
His majesty spoke frequently about it, and all his friends
heard of it. But nobody was able to interpret it. He died
without obtaining the solution.”

“But you have solved it,’’ said Napoleon, sneeringly. “I
am the fallen star, and you think I have come to fulfil that
dream?”

“Sire, I—”

“T shall burn down your palaces and scourge your country,”
added he, harshly. “Why did you irritate me? I did not
commence the war; since you desired it, I gave it to you.
But tell your friends and the good citizens of Potsdam that
the dream of their king will not be entirely fulfilled. It may
be that I shall be compelled to destroy royal palaces, but the
house of the citizen and the cabin of the peasant will not feel
my wrath, nor will I lay waste your fields. Tell the good
denizens of this city—tell them not to be afraid of me; for
never shall I assail their rights and privileges, nor interfere
with their interests. And now, gentlemen, let us proceed!”
He quickly crossed the room, and entered the adjoining
apartment.
SANS-SOUCI. U7

i Sire, this is the reception-room of Frederick the Great,”
said the castellan, who had followed. “ On that table lies the
full suit in which his majesty gave his last audience—his
uniform, his order of the Black Kagle, his hat and sword.”

Napoleon hastened to the table, and seized the sword.
“Ah, the sword of Frederick II.,” he exclaimed,with sparkling
eyes. “He often wielded it with a victorious hand, and that
hat covered a head adorned with the laurel-wreath of the poet
and the great general! These are trophies that I prefer to
all the treasures of Prussia. What a capital present for the
Invalides, especially for those who formed part of the army of
Hanover! ‘They will be delighted, no doubt, when they see
in our possession the sword of him who beat them at Ross-
bach! And as my dear brother, Frederick William III., has
conferred the order of the Black Eagle on me, I suppose he
will permit me to take this decoration as a souvenir of the
greatest king of the house of Hohenzollern. What about the
bell that is placed beside the hat?”

“Sire,” said the castellan, mournfully and hesitatingly, “it
is the bell which the king used during his whole reign to call
the gentlemen waiting in the anteroom, and the footmen at
night.”

“That bell shall stand henceforward in my cabinet and on
my desk,” said Napoleon. “Grand marshal, order all these
things to be packed up and to be sent immediately to Paris,
and add to them also the clock in the other room—the clock
that was so faithful to the great king as to stop at his death,
and to refuse to mark the time for any one else. I will wind
it up, and the clock of Frederick the Great must strike again
for me. Conduct us to the other rooms, castellan.”’

The old man cast a long and melancholy look on the
precious relics that were about to be taken from him, and
took leave of them with a profound sigh. He then conducted
the party to the other rooms. He showed them the library,
where Frederick, during the last years of his life, had spent
every hour when uot occupied with government affairs, long-
ing for no other society than that of his books. He then took
them to the rooms in which Voltaire had lived, and showed
the emperor a paper on which the king had written verses
that Voltaire had corrected and revised. Napoleon contem-
plated every thing with the greatest attention, and then
caused himself to be conducted to the fine long hall, in which
Frederick, accompanied by his dog, used to take his daily
78 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

walk when the weather was too bad for him to do so in the
open air. The walls of this hall were adorned with many
paintings and engravings—all, however, did not apparently
belong to the period of Frederick; for there were among them
paintings and engravings representing his last hours, and his
lonely nocturnal funeral.—Others again depicted the scene of
young Frederick William II. standing by the corpse of his
great uncle, and swearing with tearful eyes, his hand placed
on the head of Frederick, that he would be a just and good
ruler to his people.

“And what does this picture represent?’ asked Napoleon,
pointing to an engraving by the side of the above-mentioned
painting.

“Sire,” said the castellan, in confusion, “it is a copper-
plate, representing the king’s tomb. It does not properly
belong here, but has been placed here temporarily. The
artist sent it hither with the request to place it somewhere in
Sans-souci, and I hung it up in this place until my master
disposes of it in some other way.”

“But what about this one?” asked the emperor, whose
piercing eves were fixed on another engraving. ‘There is
the tomb of Frederick; two men, in full uniform, are stand-
ing by its side; a beautiful lady is with them, and all three
are raising their hands in an odd manner. Ah, ah, now I
comprehend: that is last year’s scene, when the Emperor
Alexander took leave of the king and queen at the grave of
Frederick the Great, and swore eternal friendship to them as
well as eternal enmity to France? That is what this engrav-
ing represents, I suppose?”

“Yes, sire, it is,” said the castellan, timidly.

Napoleon, with a flashing glance, called his marshals to his
side. “Behold there, gentlemen, one of those theatrical
scenes with which people here in Prussia were declaiming
against me, while I was silent, but arming against them,”
said he with a sneer. “If the King of Prussia does not fulfil
the other oaths he has taken more faithfully than this one, I
pity his people; but he has incurred the retribution of the
gods, who insist on it that men shall fulfil their promises or
they will be crushed. We have seen enough of the place
where Frederick the Great passed his life; let us pay a last
visit to him in his tomb. Where is it?”

“Tn Potsdam, sire, in the church close to the palace.”

“Very well. Come, gentlemen. And you, castellan, do
SANS-SOUCI. 79

not forget that the dream has not been altogether fulfilled.
The ‘fallen star’ is only a devouring fire to the kings who bid
him defiance, but not to the people who obediently submit.”
He nodded, stepped from the hall into the anteroom, and
then into the vestibule, where the horses were ready for him
and his suite.

The old man gazed mournfully after the brilliant cavalcade.
“He looks like a marble statue,” he muttered, “and I believe
that he has no heart in his breast. Every thing in him is
made of stone. If he had a heart, he would not dare to come
hither and appropriate with a rapacious hand the sacred relics
of our great king. I must really go and see whether his com-
mands to that effect will be carried out or not.” And he left
the hall with youthful alacrity, hastening through the apart-
ments back to the reception-room.

Yes, the commands had been obeyed! The hat and sword,
the order of the Black Eagle, and the bell, had disappeared.
The old castellan uttered a groan, and proceeded to the sit-
ting-room. His anxious eyes glanced at the spot where the
clock had stood. That was also gone. But he heard men
talking and laughing in the anteroom, and when he hastened
hither, he saw some of the emperor’s servants, who, in com-
pliance with the orders of the grand marshal, were engaged
in packing up the relics in a basket, and jesting at what they
called the strange and insignificant spoils which the emperor
had obtained here. The white-haired servants of Frederick
the Great were standing close by, and witnessing with tearful
eyes the removal of treasures so sacred on account of the
reminiscences connected with them. The men were just en-
gaged in placing the clock on the other articles in a basket.
The castellan approached hurriedly and placing his hand on
the dial, said in a low voice, “Farewell! The eyes of Fred-
erick the Great have often gazed at you. Huis eyes were also
stars, but not fallen stars, and they did not scorch and burn,
but rendered the people happy. Farewell, faithful clock,
that stopped with grief in the last hour of my king! When
his last hour comes, announce it loudly and joyously, and com-
mence going again, for the worst time will be over then, and
the fallen star will cease burning. Farewell, and strike that
hour as soon as possible!” *

*The clock remained in Napoleon's possession and accompanied him to St.
Helena. It stood on the mantelpiece in his small parlor, aud is mentioned in his

will. He bequeathed it to his son, the Duke de Reichstadt, in the following words :
“The clock which always awakened me in the morning; it belonged to Frederick
80 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Looking even more gloomy than on leaving the city, the
emperor rode with his suite again through the deserted, silent
streets of Potsdam. The brilliant cavalcade moved as slowly
and solemnly as a funeral procession toward the church, the
lower vault of which contained the coffin with the remains of
Frederick. The sexton and his assistants, bearing the large
bunch of keys and a blazing torch, conducted the emperor
through the dark and silent corridors, and opened the heavy,
clanking iron doors leading into the vault. Napoleon en-
tered. For a moment he stood still on the threshold and
gazed in surprise at its plain, gloomy vault, the walls of which
were not adorned with trophies, nor with any decorations
whatever, and at that humble wooden coffin, which stood so
bare and solitary in the:middle of the sombre room. Behind
him were his marshals, who looked at the strange scene with
an air of curiosity and astonishment.

“Ah,” said Napoleon, gently turning his head toward them,
and pointing with his right hand to the coffin, “a man must
have distinguished himself by many great deeds, and obtained
immortal glory, to need thus no earthly pomp and splendor!”

He approached closely to the coffin; folding his arms on his
breast, his lips firmly compressed, he gazed long and stead-
fastly at it. The blaze of the torch shed a bright light on
his face, and as his pale head alone was distinctly visible in
the darkness, the beholders might have believed one of the
marble statues of the Cesars on the terrace of Sans-souci, had
descended from its pedestal in order to pay a visit to the dead
king.

After a long pause Napoleon’s eye resumed its wonted brill-
iancy. He pointed with a strange smile at the dust covering
the lid of the coffin. “Dust without and dust within! that
within was a great king and a hero; yet that without is more
lasting than the oaths which the Emperor Alexander swore
here a year ago, with Frederick William and the beautiful
Louisa. Even the kiss which Alexander imprinted at that
time on the coffin of Frederick is no longer visible; dust has

II., and I appropriated it in Potsdam.” The bell he also bequeathed to his son.
Many conflicting statements have been made concerning the sword Napoleon took.
It was certainly not the sword which Frederick had worn to the last. The latter had
a leathern scabbard which, in several defective places, had been repaired with seal-
ing-wax because Frederick found this to be Jess expensive than to have it repaired
by a harness-maker. The king had taken this sword along, when, in September,
1806, he repaired with the queen to the headquarters of the army ; it accompanied
him during his flight, and was safely brought back by him. It was afterward at the
“ Kunstkammer” 4n Berlin. The sword which Napoleon sent to Paris had been
presented to Frederick by Peter III. of Russia, who, it is well known, was an ardent
admirer of the great king. Bliicher, in 1814, brought it back from Paris.
SANS-SOUCI. 81

covered it, and equalized every thing.” Thus speaking, he
drew lines with his hand; without knowing it, perhaps, his
finger traced a large Vin the dust of the royal coffin. He
then hastily left the dark vault to return to the palace.*

The emperor paced the room a long while, his hands
clasped on his back; he then rang the bell impetuously, and
sent for the chief of his cabinet, M. de Menneval.

“ Be seated,” said he, as soon as that functionary made his
appearance; “take my pen, I will dictate to you my eigh-
teenth bulletin.” +

M. de Menneval sat down at the desk. Napoleon walked
slowly up and down, and dictated in a loud, stern voice as
follows: ‘The emperor arrived in Potsdam on the 25th of
October, and took up his residence at the royal palace. He
visited on the first day Sans-souci and the environs of Pots-
dam, spending some time in the rooms of Frederick IL.,
where every thing is still in the same condition as at the time
of his death. In the arsenal at Berlin, five hundred cannon,
several hundred thousand pounds of powder, and several
thousand muskets, were found in excellent condition. It has
been noticed as a singular coincidence that the emperor ar-
rived in Potsdam on the same day and at the same hour, and
occupied the same rooms, as the Emperor of Russia during
the latter’s visit—a visit last year which has had such fatal
consequences for Prussia. Since that moment the queen has
forgotten to take care of her domestic affairs, and of the most
important duties of the toilet, in order to occupy herself with
politics, gain power over the king, and spread everywhere the
evil influence which possesses her. The result of that famous
oath which was taken on the 4th of November, 1805, is the
battle of Austerlitz, and the speedy evAcuation of Germany by
the Russian army in the manner prescribed by France.
Forty-eight hours afterward that oath at the coffin of Fred-
erick the Great was made the subject of a copper-plate, which
is to be found in all the shops, and even causes the peasants to
laugh. On it is represented the handsome Emperor of Rus-
sia; by his side the queen, and opposite him the king, who
lifts up his hand over the coffin; the queen, wrapped in a
shawl, like lady Hamilton, as seen on the London copper-

* One of Horace Vernet’s most beautiful paintings represents this visit of Napo-
leon paid to the grave of Frederick the Great. . ; :

+Napoleon wrote or dictated all his bulletins without consulting any one in re-
gard to them. After being dictated, the bulletins were, however, submitted to
Talleyrand, who took good care to make no alteration.
82 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

plates, places her hand on her heart, and seems to look at the
Emperor of Russia. It is incomprehensible how the Berlin
police could permit the circulation of so base a satire. At all
events, the shade of Frederick cannot have contemplated this
scandalous scene but with indignation and disgust. His mind,
his genius, his wishes, belong to the French nation, which he
esteemed so highly, and of which he said that, if he were its
king, no cannon should be discharged in Europe without his
permission. On his return from Sans-souci the emperor
visited also the tomb of Frederick the Great. The remains
of this great man are reposing in a wooden coffin, covered
with one of copper, and in a vault devoid of drapery, trophies,
or any thing that might remind the beholder of his heroic
deeds. The emperor has presented the Hotel des Invalides at
Paris with the sword of Frederick, with his insignia of the
order of the Black Eagle, as well as with the stands of colors
used by the king’s lifeguards in the Seven Years’ War. The
veterans will receive with reverent awe every thing that be-
longed to one of the greatest generals known in history.” *

CHAPTER X.
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN.

THE city of Berlin had not exhibited for many years so fes-
tive and lively a spectacle as on the morning of the 27th of
October. An immense crowd was moving across the Palace
Place, Broad Street, and the Linden, toward the Brandenburg
Gate, and forming in line on both sides of the street. Thou-
sands of boys and youtlis climbed the linden-trees, that stand
in two rows in the middle of this thoroughfare, causing the
trees to move to and fro under their heavy burden, and gazed
with eyes full of curiosity from their lofty position on the
bustle reigning beneath. Through the crowd hundreds of
busy figures were gliding, standing still here and there, and
addressing the people in low and impressive tones; now and
then, however, they did not content themselves with mere
words, but to some handed pieces of money, and whispered,
“Drink the emperor’s health, in order that your throats may
be prepared, when he makes his entry, to shout in stentorian
tones, ‘ Vive 7’ Lmpereur!’”

* Goujon, “Collection des Bulletins de Napoléon,” vol. xvii., Bulletin xviii.
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN. 83

These liberal aherents of Napoleon were agents of the
French police, already fully organized in Berlin—the hire-
lings of General Clarke, who was now governor of the capital,
and treated the subjugated inhabitants with all the haughti-
ness and scorn of a triumphant conqueror.

Many tears were shed in the city during these days—many
imprecations uttered, but only secretly and in a low voice, for
the people could not venture to provoke the anger of the vic-
tor, but had to bear whatever burdens he imposed on them.
The odds were too heavy; the army was defeated; the king
with his court had fled; the higher functionaries had either
concealed themselves or loudly declared their willingness to
take the oath of allegiance to the Emperor of the French, and
to serve him as their master.

What remained, therefore, for the poor inhabitants of Ber-
lin but tosubmit? All had deserted them; even the governor
had escaped, and his lieutenant, the Prince von Hatzfeld,
seemed to have no other task than to admonish them to be
quiet and obedient, and to implore them to undertake, utter,
and even think nothing that might be distasteful to the new
French government; but to bow willingly and cheerfully to
every thing that the conqueror might demand.

The citizens, therefore, had bowed to their fate; they had
submitted silently, and now hastened to the Linden and the
Brandenburg Gate to witness the entry of the emperor.
Not only the citizens and the people generally desired to
witness this entry—the higher classes, and even the ladies,
were anxious to do so. Every one felt that a great histor-
ical event was to transpire, and eagerly desired to behold the
celebrated man who was hated and admired at the same time;
who was cursed as an enemy, and yet glorified on account of
his heroic deeds. The streets and trees were filled with
spectators; and the windows of the splendid buildings, from
the ground-floor up to the attic, were crowded, and even the
roofs had been opened here and there for the purpose of ob-
taining more room.

The Linden exhibited a most imposing and brilliant spec-
tacle; still it seemed as though the crowd were to celebrate a
funeral pageant, and as though they had come as mourners
for such an occasion. Nowhere joyous faces were to be seen—
nowhere were heard outbursts of mirth, or those gay, amusing
remarks with which the populace of Berlin seldom fail to
season a festival. The faces of the people were grave and
84 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

gloomy; and the ladies, standing at the open windows, were
not festively adorned, but wore black dresses, and black veils
fell from their heads.

Suddenly the bells on all the steeples commenced ringing,
and the booming ef artillery announced to the spectators, who
had patiently awaited this moment from eleven o’clock in the
morning till four in the afternoon, that the emperor was ap-
proaching the Brandenburg Gate from Charlottenburg. The
thousands assembled maintained a breathless silence; even the
trees did not move, for the restless boys who had climbed them
seemed petrified with astonishment at the extraordinary spec-
tacle. ‘The men, who were now entering the gate, were not
such soldiers as the people of Berlin had hitherto been accus-
tomed to see. They were not fine-looking, neat young men
in handsome uniforms, with bright leather belts, stiff cravats,
and well-powdered pigtails, but soldiers of strange and truly
marvellous appearance. ‘Their complexion was dark-brown,
and their eyes flashing as dagger-points. Instead of wigs and
pigtails, they wore gaudily-colored turbans; instead of ciose-
fitting uniforms, wide red trousers and dark jackets, richly
embroidered with gold; curved sabres were haaging at their
sides, and their small, vigorous, and agile forms harmonized
perfectly with their splendid Arabian steeds, on which these
sons of the desert, the emperor’s Mamelukes, were mounted.

Behind them came another corps. It consisted of tall,
-broad-shouldered men, looking as formidable as Cyclops, with
bearded, bronzed faces; their heads covered with high bear-
skin caps; their breasts veiled by large leather aprons, reach-
ing down to their knees; on their shoulders enormous
hatchets, flashing in the sun like burnished silver. And
behind these sappers came the famous grenadiers of the guard,
infantry as well as cavalry; next, the riflemen of Vincennes,
in their green uniforms; and, finally, the bands playing
merry airs. The drum-major hurled his enormous cane with
its large silver head into the air, and the soul-stirring notes
of the “ Marseillaise” resounded through the spacious street.
Hitherto nobody in Berlin had been permitted to play or sing
this forbidden melody, with which France had formerly ac.
companied her bloodiest orgies; only secretly and softly had
the people hummed it into each other’s ears; the most strin-
gent orders, issued by the police, had banished it from the
concert-halls as well as from the streets. The emperor, per-
haps, was aware of this, and it was probably for this reason
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN. 85

that he had ordered it to be played; or, perhaps, the son of
the revolution, on making his entry into the capital of a
“king by the grace of God,” wished to remind the people, by
this hymn of the terrorists, that it was unnecessary to be born
under a royal canopy in order to wear a crown and to be the
anointed of the Lord.

But no one listened to this proscribed and fearful melody.
All the thousands in the streets, on the trees, at the windows,
and on the roofs, were paralyzed with amazement, and looked
wonderingly at the new order of things. They who had
hitherto seen and known only proud officers, mounted on
horseback, staring at every citizen with supercilious glances,
and chastising their men for every trifle—they who had always
received the impression that army officers were exalted person-
ages, to whom they had to bow, who never ought to walk on
foot, or carry any burden whatever—now saw before them the
officers of the imperial guard differing but slightly from the
privates, and not only on foot, like them, but carrying heavy
knapsacks on their backs; and, what caused still greater as-
tonishment, here and there kindly chatting with their men
during the march.

But suddenly there arose a tremendous commotion between
the pillars of the Brandenburg Gate, and the host of marshals
and generals, resembling a star-spangled avalanche, entered
the city. Nothing was to be seen but golden epaulettes,
orders glittering with diamonds, embroidered uniforms, and
long white ostrich-plumes. Not on them, however, were the
eyes of the crowd fixed; they gazed only at that grave, pale
man, who rode by himself at the head of the dazzling suite.
He wore no orders, no golden epaulettes, no ostrich-plumes.
Plain and unpretending was his green uniform with its white
facings; unadorned was his small three-cornered hat. He sat
carelessly and proudly on his magnificent charger, which,
prancing and rearing, seemed to greet thecrowd. ‘The rider’s
features were as immovable as if made of stone; his eyes
occasionally, however, bent a piercing glance on the multi-
tude, and then gazed again into vacancy—the living emperor
was transformed once more into one of the marble triumpha-
tors of ancient Roman history. He acknowledged, in a cold
and indifferent manner only, the constantly-repeated shouts
of “ Vive ?Empereur!” with which the boys in the trees,
the hired men in the streets, and the agents of the police,
saluted him at every step. To him these cries seemed to be
86 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the usual and indispensable musical accompaniment to the
step of his horse; he did not take notice of it when he heard
itin his progress; he missed it only when it did not rend
the air.

The emperor rode on, moody, quiet, and cold; but scrutiniz-
ing and vivid were the glances which the marshals and the rest
of his suite cast in all directions. They seemed to be anxious
to observe the inhabitants, and to greet the lovely women who
were adorning the windows of the houses like garlands of
flowers. But those beautiful women did not return their salu-
tations, and the victorious generals saw what they had rarely
seen—that the ladies did not accept their homage—that they
looked down on them with grave, mournful mien—nay, that
most of those charming faces were bathed in tears, not such
as well from joy, but from grief and anger.

Napoleon had taken as little notice of the jubilant cheers
of the crowd as of the tears of the ladies. He rode on, ab-
sorbed in his reflections, toward the royal palace. The bells
of the cathedral—in the lower vaults of which the remains of
the royal family were reposing; in the upper halls of which
the solemn wedding ceremonies of the kings and princes and
princesses of Prussia had always been celebrated—greeted
with joyous notes the triumphant enemy, and the doors of the
palace opened to him. In the brilliant halls in which
formerly the submissive vassals and functionaries of the king
had done homage to their sovereign, were now assembled the
same persons, as well as the officers and cavaliers of the court,
to receive the French emperor as their sovereign and master.
There were in those halls seven ministers of the king, the
members of the municipality of Berlin, with the two burgo-
masters; the high dignitaries of the clergy of both confessions,
and the officers of the different tribunals; the members of the
royal household, headed by the king’s master of ceremonies,
Count von Neale. And all these gentlemen had come to pre-
sent their respects to the man who had routed their army,
driven their king and queen from the capital, and trans-
formed their city into a French prefecture.

The broad folding-doors opened, and the grand marshal
walked through the halls, crying in a ringing voice, “His
majesty the ‘emperor!’ A profound and solemn silence en-
sued. The eyes of all were turned toward the door by which
the emperor was to enter. He appeared on the threshold, as
impassive as ever. But the silence continued; the shouts
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN. 87

of “ Vive ? Hmpereur !” which had greeted Napoleon in the
streets, had not penetrated within the white hall, where the
statues of the Hohenzollerns were standing. But this silent
greeting, which might seem too much to the ancestors of the
king, did not satisfy the little soul of the proud conqueror.
The grand marshal approached to introduce the master of
ceremonies, Count von Neale, and to inquire whether the lat-
ter would be allowed to present the several dignitaries to his
majesty.

“Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, “you are the Count von Neale,
whose daughter is so enthusiastic and warlike an Amazon.*
The women of Berlin, headed by your queen, were bent upon
having war; behold the result! You ought to keep your
family in bounds, sir; you ought not to permit your children
to indulge in such senseless military tirades. Assuredly, I do
not want war—not that I am distrustful of my own strength,
but because the blood of my subjects is too precious to me,
and because it is my first duty to shed it only for their honor
and security. The population of Berlin is only a victim of
the war, while the instigators of the hostilities between France
and Prussia have escaped. But I will humiliate and impover-
ish the court-aristocracy, who dared to oppose me, and make
them beg their bread in foreign lands.”

The Count von Neale, pale and trembling, stammered a
few unintelligible words and intended to withdraw, withered
and crushed by the emperor’s anger. But the searching eyes
of Napoleon were firmly and steadfastly fixed on him, and, as
if guessing his innermost thoughts, he said, in a cold, dis-
dainful voice, “Remain and do your duty!” The Count von
Neale, therefore, was obliged to stay; he had to introduce to
the emperor the officials and dignitaries, after the chancellor
had previously presented to him the seven ministers of Prussia.

The persons ordered to appear at this audience had formed
in line on both sides of the white hall, and the emperor
walked slowly across the wide apartment, while the Count von
Neale, who was immediately behind him, announced in a loud
voice the names and positions of those standing in the first
line.

“Sire,” he said, pointing to two gentlemen, adorned with
costly golden chains, standing in front of the line, “sire, the

*The French police had captured, a few days previous to the commencement of
the war, aletter, written by the young Countess von Neale, containing the following

assage: ‘Napoleon does not want war ; he must be compelled to wage it.’ Napo-
eon had read this letter.
88 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

two burgomasters and the members of the municipality of
Berlin.”

“TI know these gentlemen,” said Napoleon, and his face
assumed a milder air. “ Both of you belonged to the deputa-
tion that wished to present to me at Potsdam the keys of Ber-
lin. You assured me at that time that the rumors which had
been circulated with regard to this city were entirely un-
founded; that the citizens and the mass of the people had
been opposed to the war, and that there was not one sensible
man who had not clearly foreseen the dangers threatening the
country. I have now seen at my entry that you were right;
the good people of this city are not to blame for this war, and
only a handful of old women and young officers brought about
this mischief. The visit of the Emperor Alexander is the
cause of the events which have proved so disastrous to Prus-
sia; and next, the change which that visit produced in the
feelings of the queen, who, from a timid and modest lady,
was quickly transformed into a restless and warlike Amazon.
She suddenly insisted on having a regiment of her own, and
on being present at the meetings of the council of state; she
directed the affairs of the government so skilfully as to bring
it in a few days to the verge of ruin. I shall assuredly know
how to distinguish those who instigated the war from those
who tried to avoid it. I shall chastise the former and reward
the latter. Had your king not been so weak—had he not
allowed himself to be led by a faction which, oblivious of the
true welfare of the state and of the sovereign, did their best
to exasperate him against me, he would not be where he is.
But my enemies endeavored to intimidate him, and managed
to frighten him by all sorts of demonstrations. You, gentle-
men of the municipality, ought to have taken steps to inform
the king correctly of the opposition of the citizens of Berlin
to a war with France. You will take care now to preserve
good order in the capital.”

“Sire,” ventured the first burgomaster, in a timid and
humble voice, “‘ your majesty has seen to-day, from the enthu-
siasm of the citizens, what spirit is animating them.”

The emperor bent a rapid, inquiring glance on him, and
seemed not to have heard his words. “ Asa matter of course,”
said Napoleon, in a loud and angry voice, “no more windows
must be broken by the mob! You have to see to it that such
brutalities do not occur again. My brother the King of
Prussia ceased to be king on the day when he did not cause
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN. 89

Prince Louis Ferdinand to be hung for instigating the mob
to break the windows of his ministers.”

Napoleon walked on without giving time to the burgo-
master for a reply or justification; and when the Count von
Neale presented to him the members of the tribunals, his
brow was serene, and his face assumed the gentle, winning air
which always exercised so irresistible an influence on those on
whom the sunshine of his imperial kindness shed its rays.

The emperor conversed with these gentlemen about the
peculiarities of the administration of justice in Prussia, and
listened to their replies and explanations with polite attention.

“Your administration of justice seems to contain many ex-
cellent features,” said he, musingly. “Your laws have a
splendid foundation of equality, and cannot be arbitrarily
perverted and abused to shield wrong and injustice. I am
astonished that, with this code of Frederick II. in your hand,
you were not able to render harmless and silence forever all
those seditious and revolutionary spirits that recently infested
Berlin, and now have made Prussiaso unhappy. But, instead
of suppressing this agitation in time, you looked on idly, while
miserable scribblers and journalists, influenced by women,
constantly added fuel to the fire. I have been told of a con-
temptible journal in this city which is said to have preached
war against France with a rabid fanaticism. You ought to
have silenced the madman who edited it. Why did not you
do so?”

“Sire, the laws of our country do not permit us to suppress
the free expression of opinion, and the discussion of public
affairs. So long as the periodicals, newspapers, and other
publications, do not attack the existing laws, or incite the
people to riots, high-treason, or sedition, we are not allowed
to interfere with them. Every citizen has the right to utter
his opinion publicly and frankly, provided he does so in a
decent and lawful manner.” .

“That is to say, you have a free press,” exclaimed Na-
poleon, “and grant to every outsider the right of speaking of
things, about which he does not know any thing. . With a
free press no monarchy can be maintained, especially in times
of danger and convulsions. You see whither your so-called
free discussion of public affairs has carried you! Your jour-
nalists preached war, and nothing but war; they irritated the
people, and made the king believe that they were the organs
of public opinion, while, in fact, they were but the echoes of

7
90 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the officers of the guard, and of the foolish women who were
bent on having war. Your queen has used the newspapers as
a weapon to exasperate and excite her husband. Like Marie
Antoinette of France, and Marie Caroline of Naples, Louisa
of Prussia has become the evil genius of her country. The
Turks are perfectly right in keeping their women imprisoned.
It is the best that can be done.” He nodded to the gentle-
men, and, passing on, allowed the Count von Neale to present
to him the dignitaries of the Church.

“The members of the clergy, I believe, ought to be content
with me,” said Napoleon, with a smile, which embellished his
features as with a sunshine of grace and sweetness. “It was
I who restored the Church in France; hence, I need not tell
you how important and indispensable I believe religion and
the Church to be for the welfare of nations. Great tasks and
great duties are intrasted to the hands of the clergy. En-
deavor to fulfil them faithfully, gentlemen. Above all, avoid
meddling with politics. Pay exclusive attention to your own
affairs, and do as the gospel commands you: ‘Render unto
Cesar the things which are Cesar’s.’”

He turned toward Mr. Erman, counsellor of the supreme
consistorial court, and dean of the French congregation, and
cast a piercing glance on the venerable, white-haired clergy-
man.

“You, above all, sir, should not forget those words,” said
Napoleon, in aloud voice. “For you are a Frenchman, and
it is your duty, therefore, wherever you may be, to educate
faithful and devoted subjects to your country. You might
have done a great deal of good in this city by your command-
ing talents and eloquence. You ought to have opened the
eyes of the population as to their true interests and the misery
that necessarily would be entailed on them by a war against
France. You failed to do so; you were silent while the
fanatical war-faction was clamoring; and while the reckless
pranks of the officers of the guard were intimidating good
and sagacious patriots. I know very well that you are not to
be blamed for those excesses, but you ought to have tried to
prevent them. I know the faction whose fanaticism against
France has done so much mischief. I know that the queen
was at the head of it. As Marie Antoinette once gained over
to her side the lifeguards at that celebrated banquet, Louisa
did the same with the officers of the Prussian guard. She is,
therefore, responsible for the savage war-cries and the crazy
NAPOLEON’S ENTRY INTO BERLIN. 91

arrogance of the officers. This woman, who has become as
fatal to her people as was Helen to the Trojans—this woman
is the only cause of the disasters of Prussia!”

His voice rolled like thunder through the hall; his eyes
flashed fire, and all the beholders, seized with dismay, turned
pale and cast down their eyes. Only old Counsellor Erman’s
face betrayed no fear or anxiety. He looked at the emperor
with a grave and almost angry air, and his voice interrupted
the ominous stillness which had followed Napoleon’s words.

“Sire,” he said, loud enough to be heard by every one,
“your majesty says that the queen is the only cause of the
disasters of Prussia—that she brought about the war, and ex-
cited and instigated the evil passions of the reckless! Sire,
that is not true! The queen is as generous as she is virtuous!”

The assembly felt as if thrilled by an electric shock—all
fixed their eyes timidly and anxiously on Napoleon—every one
held his breath to hear his reply, and felt already in advance
the most profound compassion for the unhappy old man who
would be crushed with the victor’s wrath. But the emperor
was silent. Only for a moment his eyes flashed—and his
glances seemed to pierce through the old man. Napoleon
said nothing. He seemed not to have heard Erman’s words,
but turned with perfect composure toward the Catholic clergy, |
to converse with them about the interests of their Church.
He appeared, however, wearied; passed in a more hurried
manner to the rest who were introduced to him, and evidently
hastened to finish the audience. He then greeted the assem-
bly with a nod and left the hall, followed by the grand
marshal and his two chamberlains.

For an instant all remained immovable. Every one felt as
if a brilliant meteor had flitted past him, and as if his vision
were too much dazzled to be able to see any thing else. ‘Then,
however, all turned their eyes once more to Erman, who stood
at his place, calm and smiling, and looked almost compassion-
ately at those who had hitherto called themselves his friends,
but were not courageous enough now to approach him, and
avoided meeting his glances. He then quietly turned, and,
followed by the other clergymen, walked toward the door.
But those who had stood before him had also commenced
leaving the hall, and in consequence the passage was crowded.
Erman suddenly saw himself in the midst of the throng, that
slowly moved onward, but it was apparently no mere accident
that the crowd was densest around him. Some hastily seized
92 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

his hand; others whispered to him: “Flee! conceal your-
self!” Others again gazed at him with eyes full of tenderness
and emotion, and murmured: “We thank you in the name
of all the faithful!’ But constantly the low words of “ Flee!
conceal yourself!” were repeated. But the venerable man
looked with a calm, proud smile at those who surrounded him,
and said in aloud and firm voice, “I will not flee! I will
not conceal myself!”

Just at the moment when Erman, followed by his timid
friends and secret admirers, was about to cross the threshold,
a loud voice was heard to exclaim, “ Counsellor Erman!”

“Here I am,” he replied, turning around, as well as all the
rest.

A low murmur of horror pervaded the assembly; their faces
turned pale, and their brows were clouded. The moment so
much feared had apparently come—Erman could not escape,
or conceal himself; for he who had called out his name was
none other than Duroc, the emperor’s grand marshal, who had
evidently been sent by his master. Those who hitherto had
been so anxious to leave the hall, and thronged so eagerly
round the courageous old man, now stood still, and the grand
marshal walked through the opened ranks directly toward
him. Every one seemed to hold his breath to listen, and even
to stop the pulsations of his heart, to hear the order for Er-
man’s arrest.

The grand marshal now stood before Erman, who had seen
him coming, and advanced a step to meet him. Duroc
bowed, and said in a loud voice, “His majesty the emperor
has ordered me to invite Counsellor Erman, of the supreme
consistorial court, to dine with him to-morrow at noon. His
majesty desires me to tell you that he is anxious to make the
acquaintance of a man who is so faithful and courageous a
servant of the royal family, and endowed with sufficient mag-
nanimity and boldness to defend the absent and accused. His
majesty has instructed me to assure you that, far from dis-
approving your conduct, he highly esteems and admires it,
for the emperor knows how to appreciate every thing that is
high-minded and noble.”
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND. 93

CHAPTER XI.
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND.

NAPOLEON was rapidly pacing his cabinet. His face was
pale and gloomy; his lips firmly compressed, as they always
were when he was angry, and his eyes flashed with rage. He
held two papers in his hand: one of them was in writing, the
other contained printed matter; and, whenever his eyes
glanced at them, he clinched his small hand, adorned with
diamonds, and crumpled the papers.

The emperor’s anger, which fille] with trembling and dis-
may every one who had to approach him in such moments,
had no effect, however, on the man who stood in the middle
of the room supporting one of his hands on the table covered
with maps and papers, and with the other playing with the
lace frill protruding from his velvet waistcoat. His small,
twinkling eyes followed calmly and coldly every motion Na-
poleon made. Whenever his anger seemed to increase, a
scarcely perceptible, contemptuous smile played on the lips of
this man, and a flash of hatred, and, withal, of scorn burst
from his eyes. But this never lasted longer than a moment;
his pale and sickly face immediately resumed its impenetrable
aspect, and the smile of a polite courtier reappeared on his
lips. This was Talleyrand, first minister of the emperor—
Talleyrand, who had originally served the Church as a priest,
then the republic as a minister—who had deserted and be-
trayed both to become minister of the empire, and to combat
and deny all the principles he had formerly advocated and de-
clared to be necessary for the welfare of France.

“Talleyrand,” exclaimed Napoleon, in an angry voice,
standing still in front of the minister, “I will set a rigorous
example. JI will trample upon this haughty Prussian aristoc-
racy that still dares to brave me—I will let it feel the conse-
quences of continued opposition to me! What audacity it
was for this Prince von Hatzfeld, while I was approaching
with my army, and already master of Prussia, to continue
sending information to his fleeing king and to the ministers,
and to play the spy! Ah, Iam going to prove to him that
his rank will not protect him from being punished according
to his deserts, and that I have traitors and spies tried and
94 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

sentenced by a court-martial, whether they be of the common
people or the high-born. Both of us have seen times when
the heads of the nobility were knocked off like poppies from
the stalks; and we will remind this aristocracy, which relies
so confidently on its ancient privileges, of the fact that such
times may come for Prussia too, unless those high-born gen-
tlemen desist from their arrogant conduct, and submit to me
humbly and obediently. Cause the Prince von Hatzfeld to
be arrested immediately: order a court-martial to meet within
twenty-four hours, to try the traitor and spy. This letter
will be proof sufficient; nothing further is necessary to pass
sentence of death upon him.”

“And will your majesty really carry out the sentence?”
asked Talleyrand, in his soft, insinuating voice, and with his
polite smile.

Napoleon flashed one of his fiery glances at him. “ Why
do you put that question to me?” he said, harshly.

“Sire, because I believe excessive rigor might not accom-
plish the desired purpose. Instead of humiliating and pros-
trating the aristocracy, it might bring about the reverse, and
incite them to sedition and insurrection. Sometimes leniency
does more good than severity, and, at all events, in applying
either, the character of the nations to be subdued ought to be
consulted. The Italians are easily restrained by severe meas-
ures, for they are, on the whole, cowardly and enervated ; and,
when the straw-fire of their first impetuosity has gone out, they
feel enthusiastic admiration for him who has placed his foot
on their neck, and is crushing them. But the Germans area
more tenacious and phlegmatic nation. They resemble the
white bulls I have seen in Italy, who fulfil with proud com-
posure their daily task. When the driver urges them buta
little with the iron point of the stick, they work more actively
and obediently; but when he wounds too deeply, their phlegm
disappears, and they rush in fury against him who has irri-
tated them too much.”

“And you believe that the German white bull is already
irritated?’ asked Napoleon, morosely.

“Yes, sire! It is time to appease him, if he is not to grow
savage and furious. The execution of Palm has stirred up a
good deal of ill feeling, and it would be prudent to counter-
act it as much as possible. Your majesty may menace and
frighten the supercilious and arrogant aristocracy of Prussia;
but when they are trembling and terrified, then exercise clem-
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND. 95

ency and forbearance, which is the best way of subduing the
refractory.”

The emperor made no reply, but crossed the room re-
peatedly. He then stood still once more closely in front of
Talleyrand, and looked him full in the face.

“T hold to my decision,” he said coldly. “I must have the
Prince von Hatzfeld immediately arrested, and the court-
martial must meet within twenty-four hours for the purpose
of trying him as a traitor and spy.” He stepped to his desk,
and hastily wrote a few words on a piece of paper. He him-
self, having folded, sealed, and directed it, rang the bel.
“Take this,” he said to the officer who had entered the room.
“Send immediately an orderly with this letter to Governor
Clarke. He must have it in five minutes.”

When the officer had withdrawn, Napoleon turned once
more toward Talleyrand. “ Let no one dare talk to me about
mercy,” he said, “for I shall grant it to no one—neither to
you, nor to the prince’s wife, of whose beauty Duroc once in-
formed me. If the Germans resemble the Italian bulls, I will
break off their horns, and extract their teeth—then they will
be powerless. Not a word, therefore, about mercy, either for
the aristocracy, or for the journalists. These miserable scrib-
blers must be mada to tremble, and lay their pens aside.
What language that miserable writer has dared to use against
me in this paper—what sarcasms and sneers he has taken the
liberty of uttering against me! And the King of Prussia did
not have him arrested! this weak-headed government per-
mitted the libeller quietly to pursue his infamous course!”

“Sire, the editor of this paper, called The Telegraph, 1 am
told was one of the intimate friends and followers of Prince
Louis Ferdinand.”

“ And, consequently, also one of the friends of the queen!”
added Napoleon, quickly. “That woman has disdained no
expedient to wage war against me; she hates me intensely,
and with more energy than her feeble husband. I will pay
her for this hatred, and she shall feel what it is to provoke
my anger. Yes, I will humiliate her. She may now, per-
haps, repent with tears what she has done. She is already a
fugitive. Iwill drive her into the remotest corner of her
country, and compel this proud queen to bow before me in the
dust, and beg me on her knees for mercy! But I will not
have mercy upon her; I will be inexorable! My anger shall
crush her and her house, as it has crushed whosoever dared
96 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

oppose me. Woe unto those who have been her willing tools;
they shall atone for having served her hatred against me!—
Is any thing known about the fellow who edited this paper,
and wrote these wretched articles?”

“Sire, the editor isa certain Professor Lange, one of the
most zealous royalists, and especially an ardent admirer of the

ueen.”
ae Then he has fled with her, I suppose, and she will in-
stigate him on the way to pen new slanders, which, by virtue
of the licentiousness of the press, he will utter against me?”

“No, sire, he has not fled, but kept himself concealed here;
our police, however, ferreted out his whereabouts and arrested
him. It remains for your majesty to decree what is to be
done with him.”

“He shall be a warning example to the German scribblers,
and remind them of the penalty incurred by those who stir up
resistance against me by their insults and sneers. I will
silence these libellers once for all, and destroy their con-
temptible free press by the executioner’s axe. The punish-
ment inflicted upon Palm seemed not sufficient—let M. Lange,
then, be another warning to them. Let him die as Palm
died!”

“Your majesty, then, will give to the sentimental Germans
another martyr, to whom they will pray, and whose death will
increase their euthusiasm? Sire, martyrs are like fools.
‘One fool makes many others,’ and thus we might say also,
‘One martyr makes many others.’ Suppose you have this M.
Lange shot to-day, because he isa faithful adherent of the
queen, and has written in accordance with her views—to-
morrow pamphleteers will spring up like mushrooms—there
will be more libels against your majesty, written by those
having a vain desire of dying for their beautiful queen, and
in the hope that she would shed tears for them, as she did for
M. Lange.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, scornfully, “you are strangely
inclined to mercy and reconciliation to-day. It seems a sickly
fever of leniency has seized you. Then you think I ought to
pardon this miserable pamphleteer instead of punishing
him?”

“Sire, I believe this fellow will be much more severely pun-
ished if we do not make him a martyr, but only use him as a
tool as long as it suits us. As this Professor Lange is so well
versed in writing pamphlets, and sending libellous articles
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND. 97

into the world, let him continue his trade; only let him be
ordered to point his weapons against the queen, instead of
your majesty, and to revile her as zealously as he reviled you.”

“And do you believe he will stoop so low as to eat his own
words, and to convict himself of lying? I was told he had
hitherto glorified Louisa of Prussia, and abused me, with an
almost frantic enthusiasm.”

“Sire, let us threaten him with death—let us offer him
money. He will succumb to fear and avarice. I know these
journalists. They are cowardly, and always in pecuniary
trouble. Lange will turn his poisoned arrows against the
queen, and the admirer will become her accuser.”’

Napoleon, frowning, looked musingly at the floor. “What
a miserable race these men are!’ he muttered. “One must
devour them in order not be devoured by them. Well, then,”
he added, in a loud voice, “you may try it. Let us turn the
weapons which the fanatical queen has sharpened against us,
against herself. But the accusations must be grave and well-
founded. The eyes of this foolish nation must be opened.
We must show to it that this woman, whom it worships as a
chaste Lucretia, as a beautiful saint, is nothing but a very
pretty lady with a well-developed form, endowed with little
mind, but much coquetry, and who, so far from being a saint,
has a very human heart, and has had many an adventure. It
M. lange is willing to write in this strain, I will pardon
him.* Tragedy must be sometimes transformed into a farce,
that the stupid people may laugh at what they were originally
inclined to weep for. Ah, that Queen of Prussia was bent
upon waging war against me! She shall have it. We will
wage war against each other; let it be a mortal combat. Did
the Prussian ambassador accept our terms?”

“Sire, he was undecided yesterday; but he will not be to-
day.”

“Why not?”

“Sire, a courier has just arrived, and I came to commu-
nicate to your majesty the news. He is from Stettin, and in-
formed me that that fortress has capitulated. Our hussars
took possession of it.”

*Talleyrand’s prediction was fulfilled. Threats of et punishment, and
promises of ample rewards, transformed the editor of the Telegraph into as enthusi-
astic an admirer of Napoleon as he had formerly been of Queen Louisa ; and, after
having hitherto written nothing but fulsome eulogies, he now did not shrink from
publishing the most shameless libels against her. The immediate consequence was,
that the Telegraph lost in a single day most of itssubscribers. But Lange continued

ublishing slanderous articles against Louisa, for the French government paid him

or it.

 
98 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The emperor smiled. ‘ Well,” he said, “when hussars
take fortresses, new military tactics will have to be invented,
and the walls of fortresses might just as well be razed. But
you are right. The fall of Stettin is a most important event,
and the government will have to make up its mind to accept
our terms. We ought not, however, to accelerate the peace
negotiations too much. The terms which we have offered to
Prussia are tolerably favorable; if more couriers of this de-
scription should arrive, we ought to render the terms more
onerous, and the peace more humiliating. Try to delay the
definite settlement with the Prussian ambassador; it is not
necessary for us to sign the treaty so soon. Let us await
further news.”

Just then the door opened, and the valet de chambre ap-
peared, announcing a courier just arrived, who desired to
deliver to his majesty dispatches from the Grand-duke of
Berg. Napoleon made a sign to him. The door opened, and
the courier, in his dusty and bespattered travelling-costume,
entered the room.

“Where is the grand-duke?” asked the emperor, quickly.

“Sire, in Prenzlau.”

‘Ah, in Prenzlau!” exclaimed Napoleon. “The gates have
opened to him, then! Give me your dispatches, and then go
and take rest. I see you stand in need of it!”

“Sire, I have been ten hours on horseback, and have just
dismounted.”

“ Breakfast shall be served you. Apply for it to the valet
de chambre in the anteroom. Go!”

The courier had not yet closed the door of the cabinet after
him, when Napoleon opened the dispatches, and rapidly
glanced over their contents. With a proud, triumphant
smile he turned toward Talleyrand. “I was right in saying
that we ought to delay the definite conclusion of peace,” he
said; “we shall now be able to impose more onerous con-
ditions on Prussia, and she will have to submit to them.
The Grand-duke of Berg has sent me excellent news. The
corps of the Prince von Hohenlohe has capitulated near
Prenzlan. The Prussian army exists no more. Ten thou-
sand men, with three hundred and twenty-five officers, about
two thousand horses, and fifty-four field-pieces, have been
captured by our forces. Ten thousand men! Now, if ever I
should live to see the disgrace of such a surrender of any of
my own corps, I would make peace with the enemy for the
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND. 99

sole purpose of recovering my captured troops, and of having
the miserable officers shot who entered into such a capitula-
tion. ‘Ten thousand men, and three hundred officers!
Truly, my brother the King of Prussia is unlucky, and I am
sure the beautiful queen will bitterly repent of her hatred
against me.”

“Sire,” said Talleyrand, with a malicious smile, “it is said
there is but one step from hatred to love. Who knows
whether the gods, in order to punish the queen for her au-
dacity, will not cause her to take this step? Who knows
whether her intense hatred is not even now but the mask
which conceals her love and admiration for your majesty?
Beware of approaching this beautiful Helen, lest your own
hatred should run the risk of being transformed into love.”’

“ Ah,” said Napoleon, angrily, “were my heart capable of
such a change, I should tear it with my own hands from my
breast in order to smother its desires. Though she were the
most beautiful woman in the world, and offered her love to
me, I should turn away from her, and hurl my contempt and
hatred into her face. She has offended me too grievously, for
it is she who has destroyed all my plans, and instigated her
husband to assume a hostile attitude. France and Prussia
are destined to be friends, and a war against Prussia is for
France equivalent to chaining her right hand. If Prussia
had remained my faithful ally last year, if she had not joined
the third coalition, our united armies at that time would have
seen not only Germany at our feet, but all Europe. Yet the
queen would not have it thus; childish and passionate, like
all women, she did not consult her reason, but only her feel-
ings; and, as her haughty heart could not bear the idea of
accepting the friendship and alliance of an emperor who had
not been born under a royal canopy, she preferred exasperat-
ing her husband against me, and plunging Prussia into mis-
ery, distress, and disgrace. Jor this capitulation of Prenzlau
is a disgrace, and if I am glad of it as an enemy, because it is
advantageous to me, it causes me to blush as a soldier, because
it disgraces the whole military profession. Ah, there is jus-
tice in Heaven, and a Providence is directing our affairs on
earth.”

“ Ah, your majesty believes in such things?” asked Talley-
rand, with a sneer. ‘“ You believe there is a God who makes
it His business to direct the world and mankind, and to dab-
ble in the trade of princes and diplomatists?”
100 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ Ag I have not been ordained a priest like you, and never
have served the Church, I may be allowed to believe in God,”
said Napoleon, smiling. “ Yes, I believe in Providence, and
I believe it was a dispensation of Providence that those
arrogant officers of the guard, who thought it was only nec-
essary to show themselves in order to drive away the French,
and who went so far in their madness as to whet their
swords on the doorsteps of the house of our ambassadors,
should now be duly humiliated and chastised. For the guards
of Potsdam and Berlin are among the captured of the corps
of the Prince von Hohenlohe, and they will soon arrive in
Berlin. A royal prince also, the brother of Prince Louis
Ferdinand, is among the prisoners.”

“Your majesty is right,” said Talleyrand, “we are able now
to impose more rigorous terms on Prussia. If your majesty
permit, I will immediately enter into negotiations concerning
this point with M. de Lucchesini. He is at present awaiting
me.”

“Inform him of the latest news; that will render him sub-
missive. You know my intentions, and know, too, what I
expect Russia todo. The king offered Baireuth to me in-
stead of the contribution of one hundred million francs which
I had asked for. Such a substitution is out of the question
now. Besides, we shall add the following conditions: Prus-
sia, in case Russia declares war against Turkey, will ally her-
self with France, and march her whole army against the
emperor of Russia.”’

“Ah, sire, you are bent, then, on breaking the heart of the
beautiful Louisa?” asked Talleyrand, laughing cynically.

“Tt is my reply to the oath she and her husband took with
Alexander at the grave of Frederick II. Go, and inform
Lucchesini of the latest news and of my conditions.”

“Your majesty promised to be so gracious as to receive this

forenoon the ambassadors of the petty German princes, who
have been begging for an audience since yesterday morn-
ing.”
“Tt will not by any means hurt these petty dignitaries to
practise a little the virtue of patience,’ said Napoleon,
harshly. “TI shall admit them to-morrow, in order to get rid
at length of their complaints. Do you still remember that
I instructed you several months since to draw up the necessary
reports for the formation of a new state in Northern Ger-
many, between the Rhine and the Elbe?”
NAPOLEON AND TALLEYRAND. 101

“Sire, I carried out your order at that time, and delivered
to you the report concerning this state.”

“Yes, it is in my hands, and it is time for us to carry ont
my views in regard to it. You drew it up with the pen, and
I executed and illustrated it with the sword. Both of us,
therefore, have done our duty. To-morrow I will inform the
ambassadors of these petty princes of our views as to this new
state, in order that they may evacuate their own. Go to Luc-
chesini. I will take a ride, and pay a visit to my gardens in
Charlottenburg.”

Talleyrand bowed, and left the cabinet. In the large hall
contiguous to it, he saw Grand-marshal Duroc, who was stand-
ing at the farthest window. Talleyrand hastened to him as
fast as his limping leg would permit, and drew the grand
marshal, who had come to meet him, back into the window.
““M. Grand marshal,” he said, in a low voice, “I am about to
turn traitor and to disclose to you a secret of the emperor.
My life is in your hands; if you should inform his majesty
of what I am about to do, I must perish. Will you do so?”

Duroc smiled. “ Your excellency,” he said, “I am a good
patriot, and as I know how indispensable your life is to the
welfare and happiness of France, I shall take cure not to
undertake any thing against you; I should, on the contrary,
always deem it incumbent upon me to protect the life of your
excellency, and to attend to your welfare whenever an occasion
offered. You may, therefore, safely communicate your secret
to me. I would die sooner than betray you.”

“T thank you,” said Talleyrand, bowing. “ Listen, then;
the emperor has issued orders to arrest the Prince von Hatz-
feld, and to have him tried by a court-martial.”

“Tmpossible!’”’ ejaculated Duroc, turning pale. “The
Prince von Hatzfeld has always been a zealous and warm ad-
herent of France, and it was precisely on account of this that
he was in high disfavor with the court party. The inhabi-
tants of Berlin also reproach him with having prevented
them from defending themselves, and with having intention-
ally failed to remove the arms from the arsenal. What, then,
may he have done that he should be tried by a French court-
martial?”

An imperceptible smile passed over Talleyrand’s astute fea-
tures. “He has written a letter to the king,” he said,
“which, if need be, may be construed as the letter of a traitor
and spy, especially since an opportunity is desired to set an
102 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

example, and to intimidate the haughty aristocracy, because
they avoid coming hither and doing homage to the conqueror.”

“Tf that be the intention,” sighed Duroc, “the Prince von
Hatzfeld is lost. The emperor will be inexorable.”

“Ts it necessary, then, to have some one put to death in
order to frighten the others?” asked Talleyrand. “But you
are right. The emperor will have no mercy. The court-
martial will assemble to-morrow.”

““To-morrow!’’ said Duroc, sadly.“ Oh, into what distress
it will plunge the family! The young princess loves her hus-
band passionately; she expects to become a mother in a few
months, and is to lose the father of her child before it sees
the light!”

Again a smile overspread Talleyrand’s face. He inclined
closer to the grand marshal and placed his small, emaciated
hand on Duroc’s vigorous arm. “My friend,” he said, in a
low voice, ‘‘ you must try to save the prince!”

“J?” asked Duroc, wonderingly.

Talleyrand nodded. “Yes, you! You have long known
the family; you have, on your various missions to Berlin,
been repeatedly at Hatzfeld’s house, and, as a matter of course,
the young princess in her distress and despair will apply to
you for advice and assistance. You must procure her an in-
terview with the emperor, and she will thus obtain an oppor-
tunity to implore his majesty on her knees to have mercy on
her husband. The whole aristocracy, then, in her -person
will humbly kneel before the emperor, and they will all be
pardoned in the person of the prince. My dear sir, you must
at all events procure the princess an interview with Napoleon.”

“But did you not tell me that the emperor was determined
not to pardon the prince, and that the court-marital will as-
semble to-morrow?”

“T did. I might have added that the emperor, when I
begged him to have mercy on Hatzfeld, angrily rejected my
application, and told me he would not permit any one te
renew it. He was very emphatic about it. Even Duroc, he
said, should not dare to conduct the princess to him, and
thus enable her to implore his mercy.”

“Well?” exclaimed Duroc.

“Well,” said Talleyrand, composedly. “I believed I might
conclude precisely from this peremptory order, that he wished
to indicate to me that he was inclined to pardon the offender
in this manner.”
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD. 103

“What!” said Duroc, smiling, “ the emperor orders us not
to admit the Princess von Hatzfeld; he says he will not par-
don the prince, and you conclude from all this that he will
grant her an‘ audience and the pardon of her husband?”

“Certainly,” said Talleyrand. “What is language given
us for, unless to veil our thoughts? Whenever I have to deal
with sagacious and prominent men, I presume that their
thoughts are just the reverse of what their words express.
Only simpletons, and men of no position, say what they mean.
Try it, by all means. Procure the princess an interview with
the emperor, and leave the rest to her eloquence and beauty.”

“ But I cannot go to her and offer her my intercession. It
would look as though the emperor had sent me; and if he
then should pardon the prince, it would be generally believed
to be a mere coup de thédtre.”

“You are right. We must avoid by all means letting the
affair assume such a character,” said Talleyrand, smiling.
“Tf the princess really loves her husband, and if she really in-
tends to save him, she will naturally first think of you; for
you are acquainted with her and her family, and are known
to be the emperor’s intimate and influential friend. It will
be but natural for her to invoke your intercession.”

“Tf she does so, I will try, to the best of my power, to be
useful to her, for I have spent many pleasant hours at the
prince’s house, and it would be agreeable to me to do hera
favor. But I am afraid you are mistaken. The emperor
never takes back his word, and if he has said that he will have
no mercy, and not admit the princess, that will be the end
of it, and all endeavors of mine will be in vain.”

“Try it at least,” said Talleyrand. “Perhaps you may ac-
complish your purpose. But you have no time to lose, for,
as I have told you already, the court-martial is to assemble to-
morrow. What is to be done, must be done, therefore, in the
course of to-day.”

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD.

Granp-MARSHAL Duroc was pacing his room in great
agitation. Evening was drawing nigh, and still he had not
received any intelligence from the Princess von Hatzfeld.
104 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Yet her husband had been arrested in the course of the fore-
noon and taken to the palace, in one of the rooms of which
he was locked up and kept under strict surveillance. The
news of his arrest had spread rapidly through’ Berlin, and
cast a gloom over the whole city. Everywhere in the streets
groups of pale and grave men were to be seen, who whispered
to each other this latest dreadful event, and vented their
anger in secret imprecations.

All were convinced that the Prince von Hatzfeld must die;
every one felt it to be a new humiliation inflicted upon him-
self personally, that one of the most respected and distin-
guished men in Prussia was to be charged with felony, and
tried as a common spy. No one doubted that the court-
martial would pass sentence of death upon him; and that
Napoleon would show no mercy, nor feel any compassion,
could be read in his stern and melancholy air when, followed
by his suite, he rode through the streets to Charlottenburg.

All the reproaches heretofore uttered against the Prince
von Hatzfeld were forgotten; the people forgave his weak-
ness, his cowardice, his predilection for France. At this
hour, when he was menaced by the universal enemy and op-
pressor they only remembered that he was a German, and that
the anger of the conqueror ought to make him a martyr of
the German cause. They whispered to each other that Na-
poleon had selected the prince merely for the purpose of
intimidating the opposition by an example of severity, and of
frightening the royalists. “He is lost!’ they said, mourn-
fully. “The emperor will not pardon him, for he intends to
punish in the prince’s person ourselves, who love the king
and would like to send him information concerning the enemy
and his armies.”’

“The Prince von Hatzfeld is lost!’ said Duroc, also, as he
was uneasily and sadly pacing his room. “Yes! This time
Talleyrand, in spite of all his sagacity, has been mistaken.
The emperor does not intend to pardon the prince, for he
has selected Davoust, Rapp, and Clarke as members of the
court-martial, and they have no mercy on those whom their
master has accused. ‘The princess does not think of coming
to me and of invoking my intercession. And even if she did,
I should not be able to assist her. All my supplications
would be in vain. The emperor has resolved on the prince’s
‘sie from policy, not in anger; hence nothing can save

im.”
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD. 105

Just then the door opened, and the footman hastily
entered. “Grand marshal,” he said, “there is a veiled lady
outside, who insists on seeing you. I have vainly requested
her to give me her name; she will only mention it to your ex-
cellency, and—”

Duroc did not longer listen to him. He himself hastened
into the anteroom, and, offering his arm to the lady, con-
ducted her into his cabinet.

“Go down-stairs, Jean,” he hurriedly said to his footman—
“go down-stairs, hasten into the Palace Place, and when you
see the emperor approaching in the distance, return and in-
form me of it.”’

Jean slipped out of the door, and Duroc locked it after
him. “Well, madame,” he then said, “speak! We are
alone.”

The lady hastily removed the veil from her face, and
showed her beautiful, pale features bathed in tears.

“The Princess von Hatzfeld!” exclaimed Duroc, success-
fully feigning an air of great surprise.

“Yes, it is I,” she said, breathlessly and with quivering
lips. “TI come to beseech you to assist me! You must do so—
you must not desert me! My husband has been arrested! He
is charged with having secretly informed the king of the
operations of the French army. He is accused of being a spy.
Oh, merciful Heaven! he will die, for the emperor is bent on
having him executed; he desires to crush and ruin us all!
Do you understand it is my husband?—he whom others
charged with being a traitor to his country, because, in his
generous exertions to avoid bloodshed, he always admonished
the inhabitants to be patient and submissive—he is charged
now with having betrayed the emperor, and is to be executed
as a spy! They have dragged him from my side and taken
him away. I fainted with grief and despair. Oh, I hoped—
I wished it were death that prostrated me! But God would
not let me die; He preserved my life, that I might try to save
my husband. The physician advised me to remain, and en-
deavor to take rest. Duroc, how can I take rest while the
life of my beloved husband isin danger? I rose from my
couch, for the thought flashed through my mind, ‘Duroc will
assist me in saving him!’ And now I am here, and beseech
you, have mercy on a wife’s despair! Duroc, help me, so
that I may save the prince! You have a kind and generous
heart, and the emperor loves you! Implore him to have

8
106 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

mercy on my husband! By all that is dear to you, I beseech
you, beg for him!” And quite beside herself, pale and in
tears, the young princess was about to kneel down before
Duroc, but he quickly raised her up, and, bowing deeply,
kissed her cold, trembling hands.

“T thank you, princess, for having thought of and believed
in me,” he said. “But Iam afraid that your faith will be
in vain.”’

“Pray for my husband,” she said, sobbing. “You see, I
shall die if I lose him. Have pity on my youth, and on my
unborn child! Implore the emperor to have mercy on the

rince!”’

“You believe the emperor would listen to me?” asked
Duroc, sadly. “Then you do not know him; you do not
know what he is when he isangry. I have been in more than
twenty battles; bullets have hissed all around me; death was
at my side, and I did not tremble, but I tremble when the
emperor is angry. When I behold his marble face—his flash-
ing eyes—when his voice resounds like the roll of thunder, I
comprehend how women faint and flee. I myself feel then
what I never felt in the battle-field—lI feel fear!”

“Then you will not assist me!” exclaimed the princess,
wringing her hands. “ You will not do any thing for him?
And yet he is innocent. My noble husband never committed
the crime with which he is charged. He is no spy—no
traitor—and yet he is to die! I have no friend, and the only
man who I had hoped would aid me deserts me, because he is
afraid of his master’s frown!”

“No,” said Duroc, “I do not desert you, I only tell you
what the emperor is in his wrath; I only tell you that the
tempestuous ocean is pleasant, and the thunder mild, com-
pared with him in such a mood. , However, I would gladly
expose myself to it if I could be useful to you and to your
husband. But it is a vain hope. The emperor would not
listen to me; he would interrupt me, and order me to be
silent. My intercession would irritate him even more, and,
instead of delaying the terrible catastrophe, I should be likely
to accelerate it.”

“Well,” exclaimed the princess, wringing her hands, “if
you yourself dare not speak and beg for him, let me. Iam
not afraid of the emperor’s anger, and when a woman clasps
his knees and implores his mercy, he will at least listen, and
his heart may be softened. I beseech you to grant me this
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD. 107

favor—conduct me to the emperor! Let me implore him to
pardon my husband!”

“You are right, it is perhaps the only way to save his life.
Napoleon has a generous heart; your tears, perhaps, will
touch him, for he cannot bear the sight of a weeping woman,
and genuine grief always moves his heart. But just because
he is conscious of his weakness, he will avoid seeing you, and
give stringent orders not to admit any one. You must, at
present forget your rank. You must not insist that the foot-
men announce you, and open the folding-doors, but you must
make up your mind to appear, without any regard to eti-
quette, before the emperor, and oblige him to grant you an
audience.”

“Do you not see that I am nothing but a poor, unhappy
woman, begging for mercy?” said the princess, with a melan-
choly smile. “Would I have come to you if I thought still
of the rules of etiquette? Give me an opportunity to see the
emperor, and, though it were in the open street, and thou-
sands standing by, I should kneel down before him, and, like
a beggar-woman, ask for the alms of his mercy—for my hus-
band’s life is in his hands!”

“Well, if such be your feelings, princess, I hope to be able
to procure you access to him. We must act as generals do in
the field, and try to outwit the enemy—we must deprive the
emperor of the possibility of avoiding an audience. After
his return from Charlottenburg and when once in his rooms,
all will be in vain; he will admit no one, and close his ears
against all supplications of mine. Hence you must meet him
at the moment when he enters the palace. You must—”

A rapid knock at the door interrupted him, and Duroc
hastened to open it. “Is it you, Jean?” he asked.

“Yes, M. Grand marshal, it is I,” said the footman, “I
come to inform your excellency that the emperor is just rid-
ing up the Linden with his suite. He will be here in a few
minutes.”

“Allright. Go now, Jean.”

“Let us go, too,” said the princess, quickly approaching
the door. “Give me your arm, M. Grand marshal; I am
trembling so, 1 might sink down before appearing in the
presence of the emperor!”

“Come, princess,” said Duroc, compassionately, “lean
firmly on me. Heaven will give you strength, for you have a
noble and fearless heart. Come! 1 will conduct you to the
108 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

foot of the staircase, which the emperor will have to ascend
in order to reach his rooms. You may accost him there.
God and love will impart strength to your words!”

With rapid steps they crossed the suite of rooms and stepped
into the so-called Swiss hall, where the orderlies and soldiers
of the guard on duty that day were assembled. The bearded
warriors looked surprised at the grand marshal—whose face
was graver than they had ever seen it in battle—and at this
lady, hanging on his arm, as beautiful and pale as a lily.
Duroc, who generally had a smile and a pleasant word for the
soldiers of the guard, the faithful companions of so many
battles, took no notice of them. He hastened with the prin-
cess through the hall into the corridor, and down the broad
winding stairs opening immediately into the second court-
yard of the palace. He then conducted her across through
the inside portal to the splendidly-carpeted principal staircase
in the rear of the vestibule.

“ Await the emperor here,” said Duroc, drawing a deep
breath. “He will go up this staircase, and he cannot, there-
fore, avoid meeting you. But he has a sharp eye, and if he
should see you from afar, he might, divining your intention,
turn around and go the other way. Ascend as far as the first
landing. The emperor cannot see you there before he mounts
the first steps, and then he will not turn back.”

The princess hastily ascended the steps, which she had so
often done with a joyous heart, and in a brilliant toilet, when
repairing to the festivals of the royal court. Duroc followed
her, and told the sentinel posted at the staircase and present-
ing arms to the grand marshal, that the lady had received
orders to wait there for the emperor, who—

Just then the drums rolled, and the guard in the court-
yard was called out.

“The emperor!” whispered the princess, sinking down on
her knees, clasping her hands and praying silently.

“The emperor!” said Duroc, hastening down-stairs into the
second court-yard.

Napoleon rode in at that moment, and Duroc, glancing un-
easily at him, saw that his mien was even gloomier than pre-
vious to his ride; he saw that flashes of anger darted from his
eyes, ready to wither the first being that should come near
them. On riding up the Linden to-day, he had again missed
the wonted music of “ Vive ’Empereur!” and noticed that
the people, standing here and there in groups in the street,
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD. 109

when he passed them, had frowned instead of greeting lim
with the usual cheers. This want of respect, this visible de-
fiance had darkened his countenance and embittered his soul.
Just as he alighted from his horse, and threw the bridle to
Roustan, the Mameluke, the grand marshal, pale, panting,
and in visible emotion, stepped up to him. Napoleon noticed
it, and his angry glance intimidated Duroc.

“You want to inform me that Berlin is seditious?” he
asked, in a stern, hard voice. “I am not astonished at it.
This city seems to he inclined to such movements. But I am
about to set it a terrible example; I will show Berlin in what
manner I punish rebels, and will cure its seditious tendency.”
Striking his boots with his riding-whip, as was his habit
when out of humor, he crossed the court-yard in the direction
of the staircase.

“No, sire,” said Duroc. “Berlin ig not seditious. I only
intended to implore your majesty’s noble and generous heart
to grant me a favor.”

The emperor looked at him with some surprise, and, ad-
vancing rapidly, he set foot on the first step of the staircase,
his eyes directed to the grand marshal. “ Well, what is it?”
he asked, ascending the second step, and turning to Duroc,
who was walking behind him.

“Sire, have mercy on the unhappy Princess von Hatzfeld!
I beseech your majesty to grant her an audience.”

“No, no,” exclaimed the emperor, “do not say a word
about that! Ido not wish tosee her, I— But what is this?”
he interrupted himself, for he had now reached the first land-
ing, and beheld the princess. She had knelt down, and,
stretching out her clasped hands, fixed her large azure eyes
on him with a most heart-rending, suppliant air.

Napoleon’s brow grew darker than before, and with an
angry air he asked, “What does this mean, M. Grand mar-
shal? Who is this lady?”

“Sire, it is the Princess von Hatzfeld,” replied Duroc, in
alow voice. “She implored me to procure her an interview
with your majesty. Sire, pardon me for having conducted
her hither, that she herself might beg your majesty for this
audience. JI counted on your generous heart, which will for-
give the wife who comes to implore your mercy for her hus-
band.”

“Have you not been told that I have expressly forbidden
this affair to be mentioned to me?’ exclaimed the emperor,
110 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ina threatening voice. “'The court-martial alone has to judge
the prince and I will and must not influence its verdict.”

“Oh, sire,” exclaimed the princess who was still on her
knees, “have mercy on me!—have mercy on my unhappy
husband!” Tears choked her voice, and ran in torrents over
her pale face.

Napoleon seemed to be moved by this piteous spectacle;
his eye became milder, and his frown disappeared. “ Ma-
dame,” he said, bending over her, “rise. A lady in your cir-
cumstances ought to kneel before God only. In consideration
of your condition, I grant you an interview. Grand marshal,
follow me, with the princess.” He quickly ascended the stair-
case, and, without looking round, walked across the halls and
rooms to his cabinet. Breathless, scarcely touching the floor
with her feet, and strengthened by her profound emotion, the
princess walked behind him by the side of Duroc.

“The emperor now enters his cabinet,” whispered Duroc.
“You have reached your destination.”

“My God, have mercy on me!’ sighed the princess, and
raised her eyes imploringly to heaven. She was now in the
cabinet, and Duroc withdrew to the door. Napoleon stood in
the middle of the room; the brightly-burning fire shed a
light over his whole figure, and rendered prominent his stern
features.

“Sire,” exclaimed the princess, falling on her knees, “I
beseech you have mercy on my husband! Mercy, sire,
mercy!”

“Mercy!” ejaculated Napoleon, harshly. “Do you know
the crime of which your husband stands accused ?”

“Sire, I know only that he worships your majesty; I there-
fore do not believe in his guilt,” exclaimed the princess.

“He has acted the part of a miserable spy,” added Na-
poleon, raising his voice. “ After he had already sworn to me
the oath of obedience and fealty, he mailed a letter to the
King of Prussia, in which he reported to him the number,
the spirit, and movements of the French troops. That is the
act of a traitor and a spy, and as such he will be found guilty
by the court-martial to-morrow.”

“Sire, it is impossible! My husband cannot have done
any thing of the kind. Oh, believe me, your majesty, he is
innocent! He has been slandered in order to bring about his
ruin; but he is innocent—assuredly he is innocent! He never
wrote such a letter; he cannot have written it!”
THE PRINCESS VON HATZFELD. 111

The emperor quickly walked to his desk, and took from it
a paper, which he handed to her. “Here is the letter,” he
said. “Do you know your husband’s handwriting?”

The princess fixed her eyes, dimmed by tears, on the paper
she held in her trembling hands. She then uttered a cry, so
piercing and heartrending, that Duroc, who was standing at
the door, felt the tears starting into his eyes. Napoleon him-
self could not help shuddering.

“Tt is his handwriting!” muttered the princess, dropping
the paper upon the floor. Her quivering lips had now no
longer the strength and courage to repeat her prayer—her
head fell on her breast, and she uttered only low groans and
sobbed.

The emperor seemed to be touched by her wordless yet elo-
quent grief. His manner, which had hitherto been stern,
becaine gentle and kind, and he looked down with an expres-
sion of compassion on that kneeling, despairing form. He
stooped, picked up the letter, and placed it in the hands of
the princess. ‘“ Madame,” he said, “here is the letter. Do
with it what you please. For this letter is the only thing
proving his guilt.”

The princess looked up to him with a joyous, surprised
glance. The emperor smiled, and pointed silently to the fire-
place. She rose hastily from her knees, rushed toward the
fire, and. threw the paper into it.

“Tt is burning! It is burning!” she joyfully shouted.
“My husband is saved! My husband is free!” and uttering
a scream, she tottered back, and fell in aswoon at the em-
peror’s feet.

Duroc rushed to her aid, and, raising her in his arms, was
about to carry her out of the room; but the emperor himself
rolled an easy-chair toward her, and assisted Duroc in placing
her on it.

“Now, call Roustan,” said Napoleon, “he will help you to
remove the fainting lady. But quick, lest she awake and
thank me! Conduct her to her husband, who is here at the
palace. Let her personally announce to him that he is free,
and tell him that he is indebted for his release solely to her
intercession. Make haste!”

Roustan entered as soon as Duroc called him, and both of
them carried the princess on the easy-chair out of the room.
The emperor gazed musingly after them, and a sarcastic smile
played on his lips. “Well,” he said to himself, “I believe
112 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

this scene will be an excellent match to the oath at the grave
of Frederick the Great. It will form a glorious subject for
an engraving—one that will be more honorable to me than
was the oath to the beautiful queen. Artists will be delighted
to publish such an engraving, and the good city of Berlin will
say that I am a great man, and know how to forgive injuries.”

Just then Talleyrand, who had the right to enter the em-
peror’s cabinet at any time, without being announced,
appeared on the threshold.

“Ah, Talleyrand,” exclaimed Napoleon, “if you had come
a little earlier, you would have witnessed a very touching
scene. The Princess von Hatzfeld was here.”

“T know it, sire. Ihave just met the poor fainting lady
in the anteroom, and Duroc described to me in a few words
what had taken place. How lucky it was that there was a fire
in the room!”

The emperor bent a piercing glance upon Talleyrand, but
the minister’s face was perfectly calm and impenetrable. Not
the slightest approach to a sneer was visible in it.

“This proof of generosity will win the hearts of all to your
majesty,” added Talleyrand. “ People will forget Palm; they
will only think of Hatzfeld, and praise you as a modern
Cesar. When the letters his enemies had written to Pompey
were shown to Cesar, he refused to read them, and threw
them into the fire (there is always a fire burning in the right
place and at the right moment), saying, ‘Although I am sure
to master my anger, yet it is safer to destroy its cause.’
Your majesty has followed Cesar’s example, and, if you have
no objection, sire, I shall induce Professor Lange to give
an enthusiastic and eloquent account of this sublime scene
to the inhabitants of Berlin.”

“Then you have already gained him over to our side?”
asked Napoleon. “The ardent champion of the queen has
been converted?”

“ He has, sire, thanks to his fear of death, and to the five
thousand francs which I offered him, and which had the same
effect upon him as a basilisk’s eye on the bird. These Ger-
man journalists, it seems, are even more needy than ours, for
they can be had for less.”

“Five thousand francs,” said Napoleon, musingly, “and
for that sum he sells his honor, his fealty, and his conscience!
Ah, what miserable creatures men are, after all, and how
right are those who despise them!”
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES. ' 113

“Sire, will you permit me to enter and make my report?”
asked Duroc, looking in at the door.

“Come in, grand marshal. And now tell me, how is the
poor princess? Has she recovered from her swoon?”

“Yes, sire, she was still unconscious when we carried her
into her husband’s room. He uttered a loud cry, rushed to
her, and clasped her in his arms. She was awakened by his
kisses and his anxious and tender ejaculations. <A torrent of
tears burst forth, and, encircling his neck with her arms, she
exclaimed, ‘You are saved! You are mine again! the em-
peror has had mercy on me!’”

“Poor woman! She was really in despair, but behaved
very nobly and with a great deal of tact, and I am pleased
with her.”

Talleyrand scarcely smiled, as he muttered to himself:
“Yes, the emperor is right in being pleased with her, for the
poor little lady really took the sentimental farce for a tragedy,
and neither she nor Duroc looked behind the scenes.” *

CHAPTER XIII.
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES.

THe hour when Napoleon was to give audience had come,
and the ministers of the petty German princes, who had
hitherto vainly implored Talleyrand to procure them admission
to the emperor, were at length to accomplish their purpose,
and to receive from the mouth of the conqueror himself the
decision of their fate. He was in his cabinet pacing with
rapid steps, while Talleyrand was standing at the desk, and
with a pencil entering a few notes in his memorandum-book.

* This occurrence is strictly historical, but it is commented upon by the French
and German historians in a widely different sense. The French historians, without
exception, treat it as a touching proof of the emperor’s generosity. So does Thiers
in bis ‘‘Histoire du Consulat et de Empire,” vol. vii., p. 148; and the Duchess
d’Abrantes, in her ‘‘Mémoires,” vol. xi., p. 240; as well as Constant, in his ‘‘Mé-
moires,”’ vol. iii., p. 380. But the German historians treat it as a well-calculated in-
trigue, in order tointimidate the nobility by an act of severity, and to conciliate
them by the subsequent generosity displayed by the emperor.—Vide ‘‘ Mémoires
dun Homme @’Etat.”’ vol. ix., p. 316 ; Schlosser’s ‘‘ History of the Nineteenth Cen-
tury,” vol, vi., p. 232; Haeusser’s “‘ History of Germany,” vol iii., p. 42. The view
taken by the German historians is supported by the letter of the Prince von Hatz-
feld, which formed the sole basis of the charges preferred against him, and which
the French take care not to lay before their readers. The incriminated passage was
as follows: ‘Officially I know nothing of the French army, but that I saw yesterday
a requisition upon the municipality of Potsdam, signed by D’Aultanne. The French
say their army is eighty thousand strong. Others state the number at only fifty
thousand. The horses of the cavalry are said to be greatly exhausted.”
114 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“No,” said the emperor, sullenly, “I shall have no mercy
on these petty German princes, and their miserable whining
shall not shake my resolution. Frederick II., who uttered
the most cutting sarcasms against these petty sovereigns,
would have done much better if he had destroyed these grubs
in the tree of royalty—if he had made a new crown from their
small coronets. As he failed to do so, I shall not imitate the
example set by him, and my brother Jerome shall wear the
crown which shall make him a German king.”

“Your majesty, then, will adopt the plan of a new king-
dom in Northern Germany, which I had the honor to draw
up?”

“Yes, but I shall somewhat extend the boundaries, which
are too narrow as proposed by you. How much of Hesse, for
instance, did you incorporate with the new kingdom?”

“Sire, the entire northern part of Hesse, so that the cities
of Marburg and Hersfeld would form the southern boundary
of the new kingdom, and that Cassel would be a good capital
for the new king.”

“And you would leave Hanau and Fulda to that perfidious
elector?” saked Napoleon. ‘‘ No, no, you are too generous.
The Elector of Hesse and his whole family deserve to be an-
nihilated, and I am not willing to have mercy on him or on
the other petty tyrants. Brunswick, Nassau, Cassel, are all
friends of England; they never will be faithful allies of ours;
it is best, therefore, to depose them.”

“The elector has already sent hither two ambassadors,
whom he has authorized to give us the most fervent assurances
of unwavering fealty,” said Talleyrand, smiling.

“T know the promises of these legitimate princes!” ex-
claimed Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. “I know what
they are worth. So long as they are in prosperous circum-
stances, their heart is full of haughtiness and malice. There
are, in their eyes, no rights of man—only rights of princes;
no subjects—only slaves. But no sooner are calamities ap-
proaching than they grow discouraged, and in their cowardice
they degrade themselves before their people so far as to flatter
them in the most fulsome and abject manner, making prom-
ises to them which they are neither able nor willing to fulfil.
I have been told that these loquacious Germans, in their im-
potent wrath, have called me the ‘Scourge of God!’ Well,
then, they shall be right. To these petty princes who are
playing the part of great sovereigns, and perverting the réle
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES. 115

of royalty and of the throne into a miserable faree—to these
caricatures of sovereignty—I will be a ‘scourge of God!’ I
will scourge them to death! Who are now waiting in the
anteroom ?”

“Sire, there are the two ambassadors of the Elector of
Hesse, M. de Malsburg and M. de Lepel; Chancellor von
Miller, ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar; M. de
Miiuchhausen, ambassador of the Duke of Brunswick; and,
finally, a deputation of Poles, who have come to do homage
to your majesty.”

“J shall bid the Polish ambassadors welcome,” exclaimed
Napoleon, emphatically, “and make to these gentlemen many
promises representing the most brilliant prospects. An in-
surrection in Poland just now would be highly conducive to
the success of my plans. I will try to bring it about by all
the means at my disposal, and accomplish my purpose.
Hence, I will even go in person to Warsaw to fan the en-
thusiasm of the Poles.”

“Sire,” said Talleyrand, “that will be throwing down the
gauntlet to the Austrian government, and if it intends to pre-
serve its Polish provinces, it will have to take it up.”

“We must take care that Austria does not regard as a
gauntlet the bone that I mean to throw to the Poles,” said
Napoleon. “ You will instruct my ambassador at Vienna to
dispel carefully all such suppositions and apprehensions, by
repairing to the Emperor of Austria and assuring him that I
do not intend to fulfil the promises which I am making to
the Poles; that, on the contrary, in case a rising should take
place in Poland, I will take care not to let it reach Galicia,
but to confine it to the Polish provinces of Russia and Prussia,
provided the Emperor Francis maintain his present neu-
trality. Send instructions to-day to this effect to my minister
in Vienna. And now I will receive the ambassadors.”

“Whom will your majesty admit first?”

“Introduce in the first place the gentlemen from Hesse,”
said Napoleon, entering the small reception-room contiguous
to his cabinet. Talleyrand crossed this room and entered the
adjoining audience-hall, in which the plenipotentiaries had
already waited for an hour. He beckoned the two ambassa-
dors of Hesse to approach, and introduced them, by virtue of
his position as minister of foreign affairs, into the reception-
room, where the emperor was waiting for them.

“Sire,” he said, “the ambassadors of the Elector of Hesse.”
116 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Napoleon returned only a careless nod to their deep obei-
sances, and went to meet them.”

“T admire the Elector of Hesse, because he dares to remind
me of himself,” said the emperor, sternly. “He has been
intriguing against me too long to suppose that I would deal
leniently with him. I formerly made friendly offers to him, .
and requested him to join the Confederation of the Rhine.
Then it was time for him to prove his friendship and attach-
ment to me, and to stand by me asa faithful ally. But at
that time he still hoped that I would succumb in the struggle
with Prussia; the tirades of the officers of the Prussian guard
resounded in his ears like the music of a triumph already
obtained over me, and drowned the voice of France. But he
would not side openly with Prussia either; he would remain
neutral until he could distinctly see which side would be vic-
torious. Equivocal in his words and actions, he thought only
of the safety of his person and his riches, and not of his coun-
try, his people, and his honor! Let him now receive the
punishment due to his duplicity. I shall take possession of
his states and appropriate his crown. The Elector of Hesse
has ceased to reign.”

“Sire,” said M. de Lepel, in a timid, suppliant voice, “the
elector dares to appeal to the generosity of your majesty.
Marshal Mortier, with his forces, occupies Cassel and the Hes-
sian states, and declares them to be French possessions. The
elector and his crown-prince only escaped imprisonment by
flight.”

“They have been but too lucky to be allowed to escape,”
exclaimed Napoleon, angrily. “It is really time to make a
rigorous example for once, and to prove to the sovereigns,
who regard war as a game of hazard, that it may become
very serious, and that they may lose their crown and life
by it. That would induce them to weigh well the vonse-
quences of war in their councils of state before taking up
arms.”

“Sire, the elector, our master, repents of what he has done,
and acknowledges that he was wrong,” said M. de Malsburg,
humbly. “His highness is ready to bow to every thing, and
to submit to any conditions your majesty may be pleased to
impose on him.”

“What does that mean?” asked Napoleon. ‘ What does
your elector mean by conditions? I do not remember
having imposed any conditions on him, for those which I
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES. 117

offered six months ago were annulled by the events that have
since taken place.”

‘But the elector hopes that your majesty, nevertheless, will
remember them, and show favor instead of deserved punish-
ment. Your majesty, by so sublime an act of generosity,
would forever attach our master and his whole house to the
French empire. You would have no more faithful and de-
voted servant in Germany than the Elector of Hesse.”

“Sire,” said Talleyrand, approaching suddenly, “T am free
to intercede for the Elector of Hesse, who is so humbly im-
ploring your majesty to have mercy on him!”

“Sire, have mercy on our unfortunate master, who is wan-
dering about in foreign lands, solitary and deserted!” ex-
claimed M. de Malsburg, in a tremulous voice.

“Have mercy on our state, and on our people, who are
devoted to their legitimate sovereign,” said M. de Lepel.
“Sire, our soldiers have been disarmed and disbanded; our
treasury seized, and a French governor-general is carrying on
the administration of our country in the name of your maj-
esty; and still the sovereign and the people hope that Na-
poleon will have mercy on them—Napoleon, who is called the
Great, not only because he knows how to conquer states, but
to be generous. Sire, the sword of the conqueror builds only
visible thrones that may perish; but the magnanimity of the
conqueror builds in the hearts of men thrones that are im-
perishable.”

“Ah, I should not like to count too much on the throne
erected in the heart of the Elector of Hesse,” said Mapoleen,
shrugging his shoulders.

“Sire, will not your majesty listen at least to the promises
which these gentlemen are authorized to make in the name of
the elector?” asked Talleyrand.

“Well, what are they?” asked Napoleon. “ What else have
you to say to me in the name of your sovereign?”

“Sire, the elector is ready to submit at discretion to your
majesty,” said M. de Lepel. ‘“‘ Above all, he will hasten to
join the Confederation of the Rhine. Besides, he is ready to
pay a contribution—to surrender the fortresses in his states
to the French, and to incorporate twelve thousand men with
the French army. He only implores your majesty, in con-
sideration of all these sacrifices, to leave him his sovereignty,
and the possession of his titles, honors, and hereditary states.”

“No,” ejaculated the emperor. “No; he has forfeited his
118 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

sovereignty; he is unworthy of being a prince. There is no
dynasty in Germany which has been a more persistent enemy
to France than that of Hesse-Cassel. Your master disdained
to grasp the hand which I offered to him; the sword has de-
cided now between him and me. Fate urges me to inflict
upon him the punishment he has deserved by his misdeeds.
Do not tell me the Hessian people sympathize with the fate of
the elector, and that they are fondly attached to their legiti-
mate sovereign. It is not true! The people of Hesse are
cursing the elector, and they are right in doing so. He sold
the blood of his subjects to England for many years, so that
she might wage war against us in both hemispheres. To this
trade in human beings he is indebted for the riches which he
has amassed, and with which he has now fled from his coun-
try. Can you deny this, gentlemen? Can you deny, further,
that the elector bitterly reproached one of his generals, who
commanded the troops sold to England in America, with hav-
ing held back his men, and with not having Jed them merci-
lessly enough into the fire? Do not the Hessians know that
the elector upbraided him in this manner only because he
received twenty-five ducats for every soldier who was killed in
battle? Well, why do you not speak? Tell me that this is
untrue—tell me that thonsands of mothers are not weeping
for their sons who have fallen in America, and whose graves
they will never behold—that able-bodied men were not com-
pelled by thousands to leave their country as sold slaves, and
that the imprecations of those leaving did not unite with the
curses of those remaining, in order one day to become at the
throne of God a terrible accusation against him who ruined
his states and his people, and enriched himself with the blood
and tears of his subjects. Why do you not speak? Dare to
say again the Hessian’ people love their sovereign, and long
for his return? Speak!”

His voice rolled like thunder; his eyes darted fiery glances
at the two gentlemen, who were standing before him, pale
and dismayed, and who dared not look in the face of the em-
peror. Even Talleyrand, by an involuntary instinct of fear,
had withdrawn several steps to the door, and his face, usually
so calm and imperturbable, was betraying some apprehensions
lest this terrible storm might be discharged on him, too, and
some of its bolts hurled at his head.

The two envoys endeavored to utter a few words, but they
spoke in so low a voice that no one understood them. ‘They
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES. 119

felt that the eyes of Napoleon were still fixed on them, render-
ing them confused and incapable of making any reply.

A smile, as a sunbeam, flashed through the clouds on the
emperor’s face, and his glance became milder. “I see at least
that you are unable to deny the truth,” he said. “Go home,
gentlemen! Tell your master his career is finished, and that
he has ceased to reign. Tell the people of Hesse, however,
that they shall be happy and prosperous henceforward. De-
livered from those cruel and infamous compulsory services
which the elector was in the habit of imposing upon his sub-
jects, the people will now be able to devote their exclusive
attention to the culture of their fields; their taxes shall be
diminished, and they shall be ruled in accordance with gener-
ous and liberal principles. Tell the people of Hesse what I
have said to you! Gol”

He waved his hand imperiously toward the door and turned
his back to them. With drooping heads, pale and trembling,
MM. de Lepel and de Malsburg left the room. Napoleon
stepped to the window, and was vigorously drumming a
march on the rattling panes.

“Sire,” said the feeble voice of Talleyrand behind him,
“sire, the ambassador of the Duke of Brunswick.”

“The Duke of Brunswick?” asked Napoleon, quickly turn-
ing to the gentleman who was standing by the side of Talley-
rand, and who bowed deeply as soon as the emperor fixed his
eyes upon him. “The Duke of Brunswick?” repeated Na-
poleon. I do not know any Duke of Brunswick. It may
be that I shall remember him after a while. Let the dear
duke wait until then. I have to attend to more important
matters than to quarrel about antiquated and lost titles.
Who else desires an audience?”

“Sire, the ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar,” said
Talleyrand.

“Introduce him,’ commanded Napoleon, “and in the mean
time, sir, explain to me,” he said to M. de’ Miinchhausen—
“explain to me who is the Duke of Brunswick.”

“Sire, he is a mortally wounded, a blind old man, who im-
plores your majesty to permit him to die quietly in his capi-
tal, and sleep in the tomb of his ancestors,” said the ambas-
sador, deeply affected. “But in order to die calmly, he
implores your majesty to give him the assurance that you will
not deprive his son of the inheritance of his ancestors, and
that you will not avenge upon the son the misfortunes of the
120 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

father. Sire, the dying Duke of Brunswick sends me to
recommend his family and his state to your majesty.”

“The ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar,” said Talley-
rand, entering with M. de Miiller. os

The emperor greeted with a rapid nod the envoy of Wei-
mar, and then turned once more to that of the unhappy Duke
of Brunswick.

“JT know of no Duke of Brunswick,” said Napoleon, sternly.
“Tis name and titles have been buried on the battle-field of
Auerstiidt. What would he who sent you have to say if I
were to inflict on the city of Brunswick that subversion with
which, fifteen years ago, he threatened the capital of the great
nation which I command? * The Duke of Brunswick has dis-
avowed the insensate manifesto of 1792; one would have
thought that with age reason had begun to get the better of
his passions, and yet he has again lent the authority of his
name to the follies of hot-headed youth, which have brought
ruin upon Prussia. To him it belonged to put women, court-
iers, and young officers, into their proper places, and to make
all feel the authority of his age, of his understanding, and
position. But he had not the strength to do so, and the
Prussian monarchy is demolished, and the states of Brunswick
are in my power. Tell him that I shall show him that con-
sideration which is due to an unfortunate general, justly cele-
brated, struck by that fate which may reach us all; but that
I cannot recognize a sovereign prince in a general of the
Prussian army. After his conduct toward France he cannot
expect me to exercise toward him a ridiculous and undeserved
generosity.”

The ambassador of Brunswick withdrew, sighing, and with
tearful eyes.t The emperor looked gloomily at him till he
had disappeared.

* When the Duke of Brunswick, at the head of the army of the King of Prussia,
took the field against the French, he said, in a manifesto to his troops, ‘‘ We will
conquer and burn the rapacious city of Paris.”

+Assoon as M. de Miinchhausen returned to Brunswick and communicated to
the unfortunate duke the utter failure of his mission and Napoleon’s threatening re-
ply, the mortally wounded old man left his capital and state, in order not to run the
additional risk of being taken prisoner by the French. On leaving his palace, carried
on a litter by his faithful servants, he was heard to wail in a low voice, ‘* Quelle
honte ! quelle honte /*” and the tears burst from the sockets of his ruined eyes. The
Duke of Brunswick had pone, by way of Celle, Hamburg, and Altona, to Ottensen. a
village on Danish soil. ut since the day on which he had been compelled to leave
the gee of his ancestors and his state as a fugitive, he would take no food: he
would not support the burden of life any more—death by starvation was to deliver
him from his sufferings. It was in vain that his servants and his faithful physician
implored him to desist from this fatal purpose ; he remained immovable. Eniy ance
the supplications of his physician succeeded in persuading him to eat an oyster.
Formerly oysters had been a favorite dish of the duke, and they excited his appetite
even now. But scarcely had he tasted it when he repented of his weakness, and his
THE SUPPLIANT PRINCES. 121

“And now, Talleyrand, I will go to greet the envoys of
Poland,” he said, taking his hat, and advancing a few steps.
But at that moment his eyes, as if accidentally, seemed to be-
hold M. de Miller, who was standing by the side of Talley-
rand. “Ah, I forgot the ambassador of the Duchess of
Weimar. Well, perhaps it would have been fortunate for you
if I had forgotten you. For when remembering you, I must
remember the arrogance and obstinacy of that little duke who
dared to oppose me and endeavored to frustrate my will.”

“Sire,” said M. de Miiller, “the duke believed that his
honor, his duty, and his rank required him not to act con-
trary to military fealty. He was connected with Prussia by:
virtue of military treaties of long years’ standing; hence, he
believed it incumbent on him to adhere to them even when
the King of Prussia, to the profound personal regret of the
duke, entered into open hostilities against France.”

“Ah, bah! treaties!” ejaculated Napoleon. “TI tell you,
your duke had not his senses about him when he dared to
oppose me. This is a good time for any prince to lose his
states 1n a moment. You have just seen how I have acted in
the cuse of the Duke of Brunswick. I shall have no mercy on
those who oppose me and dare to bid me defiance! I will
drive these wolves back into the swamps of Italy, whence
they.came!” Throwing his hat with an angry gesture on the
floor, the emperor added in a loud voice, “ Like this hat, I
will crush them, so that no one in Germany will ever think
of them. I feel realiy tempted to treat your prince in the
same manner!”

“Sire, your majesty, however, condescended to lend a
favorable ear to the prayers of the Duchess of Weimar,” said
the ambassador, in a timid voice.

“It is true,” said Napoleon, “the duchess is a noble lady;
“if I pardon her husband, it is only for her sake, and because
she is a sister of a princess closely related tome. But you
ought not to rely too much on my forbearance and generosity.
If the duke persists any longer in his resistance—if it be true
that he has not yet left the Prussian service—I take back the
promise I gave the duchess, and your duke shall learn what it
is to oppose me!”

fixed purpose to die of hunger returned as intensely as ever. He spit out the oyster
and cried, ‘‘Man, what are you doing? You give me my eyes to eat!" Hencefor-
ward it was impossible to shake his determination. Hedied after long, excruciating
sufferings, on the 10th of November, 1806, at Ottensen. His remains were brought
back to Brunswick on the 10th of November, 1810, by his son and successor, Duke
Frederick William, so famous as commander of the Corps of Vengeance.
122 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Sire,” said M. de Miiller, “the duchess sent me hither in
order to inform your majesty that her husband has left the
Prussian service, and will return to Weimar to occupy himself
only with the welfare of his own state. She ventures now to
remind your majesty of your promise to forgive the duke and
leave him in possession of his inheritance.”

“Well, if that be so, I shall fulfil my promise,” said Na-
poleon, in a milder voice. “TI shall not deprive your master
of his sovereignty; but, as a matter of course, he will have to
submit to some sacrifices. I shall communicate my wishes
concerning this point to my minister, M. de Talleyrand, and
he will inform you of them. Do not fail to give the duke
distinctly to understand that he is indebted for his state and
political existence solely to the respect I feel for his wife and
her sister, the Margravine of Baden.” The conqueror nodded
to the envoy and walked toward the door leading into the
audience-hall. Talleyrand quickly picked up the emperor’s
hat from the floor, and carrying it to him, said, “Sire, you
have lost your hat.”

Napoleon smiled. “Well,” he said, “now-a-days, when so
many lose their heads and their crowns, a man may be par-
doned for once losing his hat. Come, accompany me to the
good, enthusiastic Poles!”

CHAPTER XIV.
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT.

ScarcELy had the emperor crossed the threshold of the
audience hall, when it resounded with cheers and the con-
stantly-repeated shout of “ Vive ’Empereur!” He thanked
the envoys of Poland for these greetings, and quickly ap-
proached them. They presented a magnificent spectacle in
their national costume, adorned as it was with gorgeous em-
broidery and diamonds. “Introduce these gentlemen to me,
Talleyrand,” he said; “I will cherish in my memory the
names of those whom henceforth I shall regard as friends!”

When Talleyrand presented them in succession, Napoleon
listened to each of their high-sounding old aristocratic names
with a kindly nod and a gracious air, which delighted the
hearts of the Poles.
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT. 123

“Sire,” said the Count of Dombrowsky, a silvery-haired
man of seventy years—“sire, in bending our knees before
your majesty, we represent all Poland, which is exclaiming,
‘God save Napoleon the Great!—the liberator of nations!’ ”

“God save Napoleon the Great !—the liverator of nations!”
echoed the others, kneeling down and extending their arms
toward the emperor.

“ Liberator of nations!” repeated Napoleon, smiling. “No
one can liberate nations unless they do so themselves.”

“But, in order to liberate themselves, the nations stand in
need of a noble and high-minded chieftain!” exclaimed the
old count. “Sire, the Polish nation trusts in you; it is on
its knees, praying your majesty that you may become the
liberator whom it has so long looked for. The great Napoleon
has arisen upon France like a sun—he has come, seen, and
vanquished the universe! O invincible Cesar! In seeing
you, all my wishes and those of my countrymen are fulfilled!
Already we consider our country as saved, for in your person
we worship the wisest and most equitable of legislators. You
will redeem us! You will not permit Poland to be dismem-
bered. Oh, sire, Poland puts her trust in the redeemer of
nations! Poland puts her trust in Napoleon the Great, who
will raise her from her degradation!”

“Poland puts her trust in you,” repeated the Poles; and,
in the enthusiasm of their patriotism, forgetful of etiquette,
they crowded around Napoleon, and, again kneeling, kissed
his hands and the hem of his garment.

Napoleon smilingly allowed them to do so, but his eyes as-
sumed a graver expression. ‘“‘ Rise now, gentlemen,” he said,
“T have received through you the homage of poor, weeping
Polonia, but now let me receive also in you the brave sons of
this unhappy land, and speak to the men of Poland. Rise!”

The Poles rose, and looked with beaming eyes and in
breathless suspense at the emperor, whose face exhibited the
austere regularity of a.statue of ancient Rome.

“Tt would afford me the liveliest pleasure to see the royal
throne of Poland restored,” he said, “for it would also secure
the independence of the adjoining states, which are now
threatened by the unmeasured ambition of Russia. But words
and idle wishes are not sufficient. When the priests, the
nobility, and the citizens, make common cause—when they
are determined to conquer or die—then they will triumph,
and may count on my protection.”
124 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Sire, the nobility, priests, and citizens, are already united
and resolved,” exclaimed Count Dombrowsky. “ We are only
waiting for our liberator to proclaim our independence.”

Napoleon assumed a very serious air. “I cannot proclaim
your independence before you are determined, sword in hand,
to defend your rights as a nation.”

“Sire, we are so determined!” unanimously shouted the
Poles.

The emperor received this interruption with a gracious
smile and added: “You have been upbraided with losing
sight of your genuine interest, and of the welfare of your
country, during your long-continued domestic dissensions.
Taught by your misfortunes, be harmonious, and prove to the
world that the whole Polish nation is animated by one
spirit.”

Pe Sire, we will prove it to the world,” exclaimed the Poles,
lifting up their hands, as if taking a solemn oath.

The emperor turned his stern eyes slowly and piercingly
from one to another. THe apparently wished to greet them
all, and to read the innermost recesses of their hearts. Then
he said, in a loud voice, “ The restoration of Poland requires
blood—blood, and again, blood!”

“Sire, we are joyously ready to shed ours for the sacred
cause of the fatherland,” exclaimed Count Raczinsky. ‘‘ We
wish to know only, or at least hope, that it will not be in
vain. Sire, Poland is extending her arms toward you; she is
beckoning you with a passionate love; she is longingly calling
to you, ‘Great Cesar, come to my aid, that the sun may once
more beam upon me—that you may disperse the long night of
my torture, and that a happy day may again dawn for me!’
Oh, sire, will you listen to the supplications of Poland?—will
you come to her and break her chains?”

“No,” said Napoleon, “I will not go to weeping Poland,
shaking her chains, and only wailing and complaining instead
of acting, but I will go to the men and heroes of Poland, who
have thrown off their fetters, and shed their blood for their
country! Go home and tell this to your countrymen, and ask
them when I shall come!”

“Sire, they will say as we say now, ‘God save Cxsar! We
clash our swords, and dance the sacred war-dance, that he
may come and let us see his face!’ ”

“As soon as it is time,” said Napoleon, significantly. “Go,
my friends, and tell your countrymen so. The time for weep-
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT. 125

ing is past—that for action has come. Improve it, and be
wise. Return home as fast as you can, for I should like to be
with you before the present year has expired. Farewell!”

He greeted them in so winning a manner that, charmed
with his affability, they again enthusiastically shouted, “ Long
live Napoleon the Great, the liberator of nations!” Amid the
cheers of the sanguine Poles, Napoleon returned to the small
reception-room, accompanied by Talleyrand, whom he had
beckoned to follow.

“Well,” asked he when they were alone, “what do you
think of it? Will the Poles rise?”

“T am convinced of it, sire! Your words were like the
steel striking the flint, and kindling the tinder of their
national ardor. It will burn, sire—burn so brightly that
Russia, Austria, and Prussia, may be badly injured in their
Polish provinces.”

“Certainly not Austria,” said Napoleon, quickly; “for the
rest, we shall know how to extinguish the fire as soon as it
burns too extensively. Forward your dispatch to our ambas-
sador in Vienna to-day. He is to assure the Emperor of Aus-
tria in the most emphatic manner that I do not intend
permitting the Polish insurrection to spread too far, and that
his Galician provinces, at all events, shall not be endangered.
—Well, Duroc, what do you bring?” continued he, when the
door opened, and the grand marshal entered with a letter in
his hand.

“Sire, I bring two messages at the same time. In the first
place, a new envoy of the King of Prussia has just arrived;
he is the bearer of this letter which the king, who is now at
Graudenz, has addressed to your majesty.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, “he is at Graudenz, which is
still closer to the boundary of his states. But I will drive
him to the last town on the frontier. The queen must learn
what it is to provoke a war!” He took the letter, which
Duroc handed to him, and opened it hastily.

“Sire,” said Duroc, “the bearer of that letter, Major von
Rauch, asks the favor of an audience, in order to lay before
your majesty the wishes and requests of his king, who has
orally communicated them to him.”

Napoleon turned to Talleyrand. “Receive him first,” he
said; “then report to me, and we shall see whether I can
grant him an interview. But, waita moment! Let us first
see what is in the king’s letter.” He broke the seal and un-
126 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

folded the paper. When about to read it, he raised his eyes
toward Duroc.

“Sire, Prince Augustus of Prussia has just arrived as a
prisoner of war, escorted by a detachment of our soldiers.
The Grand-duke of Berg sends him to your majesty as a
trophy of your victory. Colonel de Gerard accompanies
him.”

“Did the prince behave as a brave soldier?” asked Na-
poleon.

“Sir, Colonel de Gerard states that even our own men ad-
mire his heroism. The prince had separated himself with a
battalion of grenadiers from the corps of the Prince von
Hohenlohe, and was marching along the Uker. Our dragoons
were pursuing him, but he repulsed them repeatedly, and
would have succeeded in escaping, with his soldiers, if the
impassable character of the ground had not detained him.
He got into a marshy country, intersected by many small
canals, which greatly impeded him. The horses sank into
the mud, and their riders had to alight and lead them. The
prince also was compelled to wade through on foot. He was
leading his charger by the bridle, and just as he felt firm
ground under him, and was about mounting, the horse broke
from him and plunged into the Uker to save its own life.
Our dragoons succeeded then in overtaking and capturing the
prince; and the Prussians, seeing that their leader was taken,
also surrendered. The grand-duke reports this affair at
length to your majesty, because he knows that you honor
bravery in an enemy, and because this living trophy would no
doubt assume a higher value in your eyes.”

“Where is the prince?” asked Napoleon, quickly.

“Sire, he is in the anteroom, and awaits whatever dis-
position your majesty may make of him. Sire, he humbly
requests your majesty to permit him to repair to his parents,
to recover from his wounds.”

“T will see him. Admit him at once.”

“Sire, would not your majesty graciously permit him to
arrange his toilet a little?” asked Duroc. “The prince is not
dressed sufficiently well to appear before your majesty.”

“No matter,’ said Napoleon. “Bring him in immedi-
ately.” He waved his hand to Duroc, and then looked
again at the letter which he still held in his hand.

Talleyrand, who was standing near him, fixed his subtle
eyes on the emperor’s face. He saw that it brightened up
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT. 127

with proud satisfaction, and that graually a cold, disdainful
smile played on his lips.

“T shall be able to impose very rigorous conditions upon
the new Prussian envoys,” said Talleyrand to himself; “the
king seems to submit very humbly, for the pride of a triwm-
phator is beaming on the emperor’s forehead.”

Just then Napoleon threw the letter impetuously on the
table. “Read it, Talleyrand,” he said, carelessly. “It is
always instructive to see how small these men are in adversity,
and how overbearing in prosperity. And such men desire to
be sovereign princes, and wear a crown!”

Talleyrand was extending his hand toward the letter when
the door opened, and the grand marshal entered.

“Sire,” he exclaimed, “ Prince Augustus of Prussia.”

“Let him come in,” said Napoleon, sitting down slowly and
carelessly in the easy-chair, covered with purple velvet, which
was standing in the middle of theroom. He beckoned Talley-
rand to come to him.

At this moment there appeared on the threshold the tall,
slender form of Prince Augustus of Prussia. Duroc was
right; the prince was not in very courtly trim to appear be-
fore the emperor. His uniform was torn and bespattered; he
had but one boot, and that covered with mire; the other had
stuck in the marshy ground near Schénermark, and he had
replaced it by a heavy wooden shoe, such as those worn by
German peasants; his right arm was in a linen bandage,
flecked with blood, and an oblique wound, covered with a
broad black plaster, was on his forehead. Such was the mis-
erable condition in which the nephew of Frederick the Great
appeared in the brilliant halls of the royal palace of Prussia
before the conqueror of his country and of his house, who re-
ceived him, seated, and scarcely nodded in return to the stiff
military salutation of the prince. Napoleon looked sternly at
the prisoner, and his lips betrayed the anger seething in his
breast. The prince, however, apparently did not notice this,
nor feel uneasy and irritated at the singular situation in
which he found himself; his eyes met those of the emperor
calmly and fearlessly; he did not bow his head, but carried it
erect; not a trace of fear or sorrow was to be seen in his
youthful countenance; a faint smile indeed was playing on
his red, full lips when he glanced over the room, and again at
Napoleon, behind whom Talleyrand and Duroc were standing
in a most respectful attitude.
128 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“You are a brother of Prince Louis Ferdinand, who was
killed at Saalfeld?” asked the conqueror, in a harsh voice.

“Yes, sire, I am a son of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia,”
was the grave reply.

““A nephew of Frederick II.,” exclaimed Napoleon. “A
nephew of the heroic king who loved France so well, that his
heart and opinions were those of a Frenchman.”

“Sire,” said the prince, calmly, “ history teaches, however,
that the great king was not always the friend of that coun-
try, and that his love for it did not prevent him from waging
war against it. His enmity against France gained him no
less glory than his friendships for its poets and savants.

“Ah, you refer to Rossbach,” said Napoleon, shrugging his
shoulders. “We have expunged that name with the names of
Jena and Auerstadt, and the monument that once stood on
the battle-field of Rossbach is now on the way to Paris—a
trophy of our victorious army.” *

The prince bent his head alittle. “It is true,” he said,
“the goddess of victory is very fickle. The future therefore
consoles those who have succumbed in the present.”

The emperor cast an angry glance on the prince, who met
it with a bold, unflinching air.

“JT see you are, both by birth and sentiment, a brother of
Prince Louis Ferdinand,” said Napoleon. “ Like him, you
belonged to the hot-headed young men who would have war
at any price. Hard blows were required to moderate your
war-fever. I hope you are cured of it now. Your brother
has expiated his mad arrogance on the battle-field of Saalfeld.
It is your fate to return as a prisoner of war in the most
pitiful plight to the capital of Prussia, which you left a few
weeks since with such foolish hopes of victory. You ought
to have listened in time to reason, and not to the siren voice
of the queen, who, in a manner so disastrous to Prussia, in-
veigled all the young men to plunge into the Charybdis of
war, and—”

* On the day after the battle of Jena, the emperor said to General Savary, while
riding across the battle-fleld of Rossbach, between Halle and Merseburg: ‘Gallop
to the left in this direction ; about half a mile from here you will find the column
erected by the Prussians in memory of that battle.’ Savary advanced in the
direction indicated, and found the small column in the middle of a corn-fleld. Wav-
ing his handkerchief, General Savary made a sign that he had succeeded in discover-
ing the monument, and Napoleon galloped with his suite across the plain to con-
template it. The storms of half a century had beaten upon it, and it was difficult to
decipher the numerous inscriptions with which it was covered. The division of Gen-
eral Suchet just passing the spot, the emperor ordered them to have the monument

removed and sent to Paris. The pieces were put into a caisson, and the orders ex’
ecuted.—‘“ Mémoirs odu Duc de Rovigo,” vol. ii., p. 293.
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT. 129

“Sire,” said the prince, interrupting him in an almost
threatening voice—" sire, no reflections on the queen, if you
please! Having conquered us, you are at liberty to humiliate
and abuse the vanquished, if your majesty derive pleasure
from such a triumph, but the noble and unhappy queen
should not be dragged into a quarrel of men. We do not
claim the excuse of having been inveigled by her, and her
exalted virtue does not deserve that charge.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, scornfully, “like all young
men, you seem to belong to the enthusiastic admirers of the

ueen.”’

“Sire, that proves that the young men of Prussia are still
imbued with respect for virtue. It is true we all adore the
queen as our tutelary saint; she is the radiant pattern of our
mothers, our wives, and daughters; she is the ideal of all—
and those who have once been so happy as to have seen and
spoken with her, bow to her in love and admiration.”

“Had all of you bowed less to her, Prussia would not now
lie humiliated in the dust,” said the emperor, harshly.
“Prussia and France are destined by Nature to be friends,
and J, who never have sought war, but always regarded it
only as a deplorable necessity, was greatly inclined to offer my
hand to Prussia in peace and friendship. But your queen
and your officers of the guard were bent on having war, and
believed they would win laurels by waging it. Now you have
it with all its terrors. What has it brought upon you? You
have lost a brother by it, and you yourself had to lay down
your arms at Prenzlau.”’

“Sire,” said the prince, in generous pride, “I request your
majesty not to confound me with those who concluded the
capitulation of Prenzlau. I did not capitulate; I was taken
prisoner, sword in hand, but I did not surrender it volun-
tarily.”

ma yee man,’ said Napoleon, in grave, cold calmness,
“beware of being plunged into deeper distress by your haughty
spirit. The Prussian princes are not now in a position to
utter high-sounding words. Your king is fully aware of this.
Listen attentively to what I tell you: he has begged me for
peace in the most submissive manner; he is imploring me to
grant him my friendship, and calls himself happy because I
am dwelling in his palaces.”

“Sire, that is impossible,” exclaimed the prince, carried
away by his impulsive temper.
130 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders, and then turned his head
a little aside toward his minister. “M. Talleyrand, please read
to us the letter,’ he said; “I merely glanced over it.—Owing
to the portentous events of the last days, you are, prince,
without direct news from the king. You may, then, derive
from this letter some information concerning his situation
and sentiments. Read, M. Minister! And you, prince, take
a seat.”

He pointed to one of the chairs standing near the door.
Prince Augustus, however, did not accept this gracious in-
vitation. He bowed, and said, smiling, “ Your majesty will
permit me to stand, for my costume is hardly in harmony
with gilt chairs, and I believe it behooves a poor vagabond
like myself to stand humbly at the door. Moreover, Prussian
etiquette requires us to stand in listening to the words of our
sovereign.”

“Read, Talleyrand,” said the emperor, and leaning back
carelessly, he tried to discover in the prince’s face the impres-
sion which the king’s letter would make upon him. ‘Talley-
rand read as follows:

“ Monsieur mon Frére: When I begged your imperial
majesty to grant me peace, J consulted my reason, but I have
now consulted my heart. In spite of the terrible sacrifices
which you have imposed on me, sire, I desire most anxiously
that the treaty, which has already been secured by the ap-
proval of the main points, will entitle me soon to resume my
amicable relations with your imperial majesty, which the war
interrupted fora moment. It is an agreeable duty for me,
monsieur mon frére, to manifest, by a proof of confidence, my
sincere desire to cultivate your friendship; and I believe I do
this by stopping the further advance of the Russian troops,
without waiting for the definitive conclusion of peace.

“Twas anxious that your majesty should be received and
treated at my palaces in a manner agreeable to you. I have
zealously taken such steps as were necessary for that purpose,
and, according to my power, in the situation in which IJ am
now, I hope my endeavors have been successful. In return,
your majesty will permit me to recommend my capital and
the province of Brandenburg to your generosity. This prov-
ince, so little favored by Nature, is, as it were, a creation of
my immortal ancestor. I hope, sire, you will regard it asa
monument he erected to himself; and the numerous points in
which your majesty resembles that great man, I trust, will be
TRIUMPH AND DEFEAT. 131

an additional inducement for you to order his work to be
treated in a magnanimous manner.

“ Besides, I should like to request your majesty kindly to
exempt the district of Halberstadt and the duchy of Magde-
burg from the cruel losses you are imposing on me. Such an
order I should regard as a precious guaranty of your personal
feelings toward me, and you may depend upon it, sire, I
should zealously strive to reciprocate these feelings in the
most cordial manner. I pray God to take you in his Holy
keeping, and remain, monstewr mon frére,

“Your majesty’s obedient servant,
“ FREDERICK WILLIAM.”

While the letter was being read, Napoleon did not avert his
eyes for a single moment from the countenance of the prince.
He saw that he blushed with indignation at first, and that
gradually a profound grief overshadowed his noble features.

“Well, was I not right?” asked Napoleon, when Talleyrand
had concluded. ‘“ Does not your king submit to all my con-
ditions? Does he not bid me welcome to his palaces?”

“Sire,” said the prince, mournfully, “it does not behoove
me to censure the words of my king. When he has spoken,
I must be silent. I only dare to observe that your majesty
may see from this letter that the queen does not meddle with
government affairs. Had she done so, your majesty, no
doubt, would not have received this letter of Count Haug-
witz.”

“Of Count Haugwitz?” asked Napoleon. “Of the king,
you mean?”

“Sire, the king lent to this letter only his name and hand-
writing; Count Haugwitz furnished the words and the spirit
it breathes.”

“Then you believe that the queen does not share the views
of her husband?” asked the emperor, hastily. “ You believe
she would still insist on the further continuation of the war if
her opinion were consulted?”

“Sire, I only take the liberty to state that she would not
have written such a letter.”

“JT know it very well!” exclaimed Napoleon. ‘ Your queen
hates me; she would die rather than beg my friendship; she
would bury herself under the ruins of her throne rather than
put an end to this war and call me her brother. But I will
bend that haughty soul—I will crush her heart, and make her
repent of what she is doing. I will—but,” he suddenly inter-
132 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

rupted himself, “what is the matter with you! You turn
pale! You are tottering, prince!”

The emperor arose and advanced a few steps; but the prince
motioned him back. “It is nothing,” he said faintly, “ only
a momentary weakness—that isall. I have not taken rest for
several days and nights, and loss of blood has exhausted my
strength. Besides—why should I shrink from confessing it—
Iam hungry, sire; I have eaten nothing for the last twenty-
four hours.”

“ Poor young man,” said Napoleon, compassionately, as he
approached the prince, “I deplore your misfortunes. Person-
ally you have not deserved them, for I know you have fought
bravely, and are worthy of a better fate than that of a prisoner
of war; but will you give me your word of honor that you will
not attempt to escape or participate again in this war against
me?”

“Sire,” said the prince, pointing at his wounded right
arm, “sire, I believe I must give you my word of honor. I
am your prisoner, and shall not attempt to escape.”

“Then go to your parents. I permit you to remain at the
house of Prince Ferdinand until you have recovered from your
wounds. I will not deprive your mother any longer of the
pleasure of embracing her brave son. Go, then, to her!”
The prince bowed and was about to withdraw.

“Well, prince, have you not a word of thanks for me?”
asked Napoleon, kindly.

The prince smiled mournfully. “Sire,” he said, bowing
deeply, “sire, 1 thank you for treating me so leniently.”

CHAPTER XV.
THE VICTORIA OF THE BRANDENBURG GATE.

WitHout waiting for further permission to withdraw, the
prince hastily opened the door and went out. For a moment
he sat down in the anteroom, for his feet were trembling so as
to be scarcely able to support him, and such a pallor over-
spread his cheeks that Colonel Gerard, who had been waiting,
hastened to him in dismay, and asked whether he would per-
mit him to call a physician. Prince Augustus. smilingly
shook his head. “The physician of whom I stand in need is
in my mother’s kitchen,” he said, ‘“‘and your emperor has
THE VICTORIA OF THE BRANDENBURG GATE. 133

permitted me to seek him.” Just then the grand marshal
entered the room, and, making a sign to Gerard, whispered a
few words into his ear.

“Your royal highness is delivered from the burden of my
company,” said the colonel to the prince when Duroc had
withdrawn. “Permit me, however, to conduct you to the
ee that is to convey you to the palace of Prince Ferdi-
nand.”’

In the court-yard below, an imperial carriage was waiting,
and Colonel Gerard himself hastened to open the door to assist
the prince in entering. But the latter waved his hand dep-
recatingly, and stepped back. ‘I am unworthy of entering
the imperial carriage,” he said. “See, even the coachman,
in his livery, looks elegant compared with me; and all Berlin
would langh, if it should see me ride in the emperor’s mag-
nificent coach. Let me, therefore, walk off quite humbly and
modestly and enter the first conveyance I meet. Farewell,
colonel, and accept my thanks for the great attention and
kindness you have manifested toward me.”

The prince kindly shook hands with him and then hastily
walked across the court-yard of the palace toward the place in
front of it—the so-called Lustgarten. He crossed this place
and the wide bridge, built across an arm of the Spree, with-
out meeting with any vehicle. But the fresh air, and the
sense that he was free, agreed with him so well that he felt
strong enough to proceed on foot to his father’s palace.

“No one recognizes me in this miserable costume,” he said,
gmiling—‘no notice will be taken of me, and I will be able
to reach my home without being detained.” And he walked
vigorously across the Opera Place toward the Linden. This
neighborhood, generally so lively and frequented, was strangely
deserted—no promenaders—none of the contented and happy
faces, formerly to be met with on the Opera Place and under
the Linden, were to be seen to-day. Only a few old women
were mournfully creeping along here and there; and, when
the prince passed the guard-house, he saw French soldiers
standing in the front, who looked arrogantly and scornfully
at the Prussian officer, and did not think of saluting him.

“ Ah, my brother,” muttered Prince Augustus to himself,
“your prophecy has been quickly fulfilled! The drums are
no longer beaten when we ride out of the gate and pass the
guard-house. Well, I do not care. I would gladly do with-
out such honors, if Prussia herself only were honored—if—”
134 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

A noise, proceeding from the lower end of the Linden, in-
terrupted his soliloquy. He advanced more rapidly to see
what was going on. ‘I'he shouts drew nearer and nearer, and
a dark, surging crowd was hastening from the entrance of the
Linden through the Brandenburg Gate. Soon the prince was
able to discern more distinctly the character of the multitude
approaching. They were French soldiers, marching up the
street, and on the sidewalk, as well as in the middle of the
Linden; the people and the citizens belonging to the national
guard accompanying them—the latter in the brilliant uniform
which they had put on with the consent of the French author-
ities, who, now that there were no Prussian troops in Berlin,
had permitted them to mount guard together with the
French. But the people and the national guard did not ac-
company the French soldiers quietly; on the contrary, the
bewildered prince distinctly heard the sneers, the derisive
laughter, and jeers of the crowd; even the boys in the tree-
tops were casting down their abusive epithets. When the
procession drew nearer, and the people surrounded the prince,
he discovered the meaning of these outbursts of scorn and
derision.

A strange and mournful procession was moving along in
the midst of the splendidly uniformed French soldiers. It
consisted of the captured officers of the Prussian guard, who
had been obliged to walk from Prenzlau to Berlin, and whom
the French grenadiers had received outside of the city limits
and escorted by the walls tu the Brandenburg Gate, so that,
in accordance with the emperor’s orders, they might make
their entry through that way. Two months before, they had
marched out of the same gate in full uniform, proud and ar-
rogant, looking down superciliously on the civilians, whose
humble greetings they scarcely condescended to return. Two
months before, General von Riichel had been able to exclaim:
“A Prussian officer never goes on foot.” The Prussian guard
had really believed that it would be scarcely worth while to
draw their swords against the French—that it would be suf-
ficient merely to march against them. But now the disastrous
days of Jena had taught the officers how to walk—now they
did not look down scornfully from their horses on poor civil-
ians, and faith in their own irresistibility had utterly dis-
appeared. They marched with bowed heads, profoundly
humiliated, and compelled to suppress the grief overflowing
their hearts, Their uniforms were hanging in rags on
THE VICTORIA OF THE BRANDENBURG GATE. 135

emaciated forms, and the colors of the cloth and the gold-lace
facings were hidden beneath the mud that covered them.
Their boots were torn, and robbed of the silver spurs; and, as
in the case of Prince Augustus of Hohenzollern, many wore
wooden shoes. But in spite of this miserable and heart-rend-
ing spectacle, the populace had no pity, but accompanied the
melancholy procession with derisive laughter and insulting
shouts!

“Just look at those officers,” exclaimed a member of the
national guard, approaching the soldiers—“look at those
high-born counts! Do you remember how proud they used
to be? How they despised us at the balls, in the saloons, and
everywhere else? How we had always to stand aside in the
most submissive manner, in order not to be run down by
them? They will not do so again for some time to come.”

“No,” cried the crowd, “they won’t hurt anybody now!
Their pomp and circumstance have vanished!”

“Just look at Baron von Klitzing!” exclaimed another.
“See how the wet rim of his hat is hanging down on his face,
as though he were a modest girl wishing to veil herself.
Formerly, he used to look so bold and saucy; seeming to be-
lieve the whole world belonged to him, and that he needed
only to stretch out his hand in order to capture ten French
soldiers with each finger.”

“Yes, yes, they were tremendous heroes on marching out,”
shouted another; “every one of the noble counts and barons
had already his laurel in his pocket, and was taking the field
as though it were a ballroom, in order to put his wreath on his
head. Now they have come back, and the laurels they have
won are not even good enough to boil carps with.” A roar of
laughter followed this hit, and all eyes turned again in rid-
icule toward the poor officers, who were marching along,
mournfully and silently, with downcast yet noble bearing.

Filled with anger and shame, Prince Augustus pressed
through the crowd. He could not bear this disgraceful scene;
he had to avert his head in order not to see the unfortunate
Prussian officers; he hurried away, that he might hear no
more the cruel taunts of the populace. The ranks became
less dense, and this terrible procession passed by—the street
was once more unobstructed. The prince rushed onward
regardless of the direction he was taking, crushed as he was
by the disgrace and wretchedness brought upon Prussia. He
was again suddenly in front of a large gathering. He looked
136 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

about him wonderingly and in dismay. Without knowing it,
he had gone down to the large square in front of the Branden-
burg Gate, where was a dense crowd.

But the thousands here did not utter sneers or praises—
they were sad and silent; there was no malicious sparkle in
their eyes as they rushed in one direction to the Brandenburg
Gate.

The prince beheld an inclined scaffold erected near the
lofty Grecian pillars of the gate, and reaching up to the cast-
iron goddess of victory, standing in her triumphal car, and
holding the reins of her horses. He saw the ropes, pulleys,
and chains, attached to her form, and it seemed to him as if
they were around his own breast, and choking his voice. He
had to make an effort to utter a word, and, turning to a man
standing by, he asked in a low voice, “ What is going on here?
What are they doing up there?”

The man looked at him long and mournfully. “The
French are removing the ‘Victoria’ from the gate,” he said,
with suppressed anger. “They believe the state no longer
suitable to Berlin, and the emperor is sending it to Paris,
whither he has already forwarded the sword and clock of
Frederick the Great.”

The prince uttered a groan of despair. At that moment a
loud French command was heard by the gate, and as if the
“Victoria” were conscious, and obedient to the orders of the
emperor, a tremor seemed to seize the goddess. She rose as
the horses began to descend, and her figure bent forward as if
greeting Berlin for the last time. A loud noise resounded
above the heads of the crowd—the “ Victoria” had glided
safely to the ground. The prince uttered a cry, and, as if
paralyzed, closed his eyes. When he opened them again the
beautiful pillars of the Brandenburg Gate had been deprived
of their ornament, and the “ Victoria,” with her triumphal
horses, stood deposed from her lofty throne.

Prince Augustus raised his tearful eyes to heaven and whis-
pered, “Oh, my brother, I envy you your death, for it was
nae permitted you to behold the humiliation and sorrow of

russia!”
BOOK ILI.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
THE TREATY OF CHARLOTTENBURG.

QueEN Louisa was pacing her room in great excitement.
At times she stood still at the window, and looked anxiously
into the street as if expecting the arrival of some one. But
that street—the main one in Osterode, in which city the royal
couple had spent the last few days—remained silent and de-
serted. Large snow-flakes were falling from the cheerless,
lead-colored sky, and the November storm was now sweeping
them into little mounds, and again dispersing them in clouds
of white dust. The queen beheld nothing but this winter
scene; she sighed and returned to her room to pace it as
rapidly as before.

But she was constantly drawn to the window, gazing into
the street and listening breathlessly to any noise that reached
her ears. “If he should not come,” she muttered anxiously,
“or if too late, all would be lost, and the cowards and bab-
blers would be able once more to persuade my husband to
yield to their clamor for peace. Heaven have mercy on our
unhappy country and on ourselves!”

Suddenly she started up, and leaned closer to the window
in order to see better. Yes, she had not been mistaken. In
the lower part of the street a carriage was to be seen. The
storm prevented her from hearing the noise of the wheels, but
she saw it—it drew nearer and nearer, and finally stopped in
front of the house. The queen stepped back, and, drawing
a deep breath, she raised her eyesto heaven. “I thank Thee,
my God! Thou hast had mercy on my anguish,” she whis-
pered with a gentle smile. She then walked slowly and
faintly across the room toward the divan and sank down on
it. “Ah,” she muttered, “this eternal anxiety, this un-
relieved suspense and excitement are consuming my strength
—nay, my life. My feet are trembling; my heart stands en-

19
138 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

tirely still at times, and then beats again as violently as if it
would burst from my breast. But, no matter! I am quite
willing to die if I only live to see the deliverance of my coun-
try and the preservation of my house.”” She dropped her head
on the cushions and gazed with dilated eyes at the sky. But,
on hearing a low rap at the door, she slowly rose and called
out in her full, sonorous voice, “Come in!’ The door
opened, and Madame von Berg entered.

“Well, Caroline, he has arrived, I suppose?” asked the
queen.

“No, your majesty,” said Madame von Berg, smiling, “ they
have arrived. The two ministers, Baron von Stein and Count
von Hardenberg request your majesty to grant them an
audience.”

“Hardenberg!” exclaimed Louisa joyfully, and her pale
face brightened. “Oh, let them come in—immediately!”

The queen quickly left the divan and walked toward the
door. But Madame von Berg hastened to reach it before her
and opened it. “Come in, gentlemen,” she said; ‘her
majesty is waiting for you!”

“Yes, I am waiting for you,” exclaimed Louisa, meeting
them, and with a sweet smile extending both her hands.

The ministers bowed and kissed her hand. Madame yon
Berg had in the mean time locked the door leading into the
small anteroom, and withdrew softly by the opposite door.

“Then you received the message the king sent you?” asked
the queen, turning toward Baron von Stein. “And you did
not hesitate a moment to come here? And you, count,”
added she, turning toward Hardenberg, ‘“‘ yon did the same as
this faithful friend? Having heard that the decisive moment
had come, you did not hesitate to offer your services to your
king? Oh, I thank you, gentlemen; I thank you in the
name of my husband, of my children, and of our country!
In these days of danger and distress, when all are wavering
and fearful, it does my heart good to meet with unswerving
fealty and devotion. Ah, so many have proved faithless and
deserted us!” ‘

“ But so many also have remained faithful, your majesty,”
said Hardenberg, “so many have proved true and loyal!”

The queen gazed at him long and mournfully. “Few,”
she said, “alas, very few! You say so only in your magna-
nimity, because you do not care to make your loyalty appear
as something extraordinary. But, look around in Prussia—
THE TREATY OF CHARLOTTENBURG. 139

look at our fortresses! Everywhere treachery and cowardice
—everywhere perfidy! I will not speak to you of Stettin, of
Kistrin, of Spandau, of Anclam, and Erfurt! You know
already that we have lost them. But have you learned the
dreadful tidings we received yesterday? Do you know that
Magdeburg has surrendered?”

“Magdeburg!” ejaculated Stein and Hardenberg, at the
same time.

Louisa nodded sadly, and her eyes filled with tears. “It
was our last bulwark,” she said, “and it is gone, too! I have -
wept much since yesterday. Now I will be calm, and force
my grief back into my heart. But as Mary, Queen of Eng-
land, said at the capture of Calais, ‘If my heart were opened,
you would find on it the name of Magdeburg in bloody
letters!” * :

“Tt is true,” said Hardenberg, gloomily, “it is a great dis-
aster. A fortress so well supplied with every thing, and a
garrison of more than ten thousand men!”

“If your majesty will permit me, I ask, how did this intel-
ligence impress the king?” said Baron von Stein.

“He bore it with resignation, and that calm courage which
never leaves him in these days of affliction,” said Louisa,
quickly. “ But his so-called friends and advisers, Messrs. von
Haugwitz, Kéckeritz, Voss, and Kalkreuth, received the
heart-rending news with secret satisfaction. [read it in their
faces, notwithstanding the sadness they assumed. They re-
gard the fall of Magdeburg as an ally of their intentions and
schemes. They desire peace with France—peace at any price
—and hope that the king will now approve their views.
Hence, Minister von Stein, Madame von Berg had to give a
letter to the courier yesterday, in which I urged you to com-
ply with the king’s orders, and to come here immediately.
Hence, Count von Hardenberg, Jam glad that you have come
too. Oh, I know very well what it must have cost your noble
heart to come without being expressly requested; but you did
so for the sake of the crushed and prostrate fatherland—I
know it very well—and not for Prussia, not for us, but for
Germany, on whose neck the tyrant has placed his foot, and
which he will strangle unless the good and the brave unite
their whole strength and hurl him off.”

“T came here,” said Hardenberg, “ because I remembered
that hour when your majesty permitted me to give an oath of

# Louisa’s own words.—Vide ‘“ Queen Louisa,” p. 316.
140 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

unwavering fealty and devotion—that hour when you con-
descended to accept my hand for our league against France,
and when you vowed to exert yourself to the best of your
ability to maintain the policy Prussia had entered into, and
not to suffer her king ever to accept the perfidious friendship
of France!”

“TI have never forgotten that hour,’ said the queen,
gravely. “He who joined us in taking that pledge at the
solemn moment you refer to, Prince Louis Ferdinand, has
sealed his vow with his death: he is sleeping on the field of
honor. But I feel convinced that he is looking down on us
from heaven; and, if it be given to the spirits of the blessed
to influence the affairs of mortals, he will instil his ardor into
our breast, and assist us in reaching the true goal. But what
is that goal? and what the true way? My short-sighted eye
is not able to discern it. When I behold the tremendous suc-
cesses of the conqueror, I am _ perplexed, and ask myself
whether it be not evident that God will make him master of
the world, and whether, consequently, it be not in vain to
struggle against him? Oh, my soul is at times engaged in
terrible contlict with itself, and gloomy doubts frighten it.
But I feel now that we are on the eve of the crisis, and that
the present day will decide our whole future. Grand-Marshal
Duroc will reach this city to-day; Colonel von Rauch, who
preceded him, has already arrived. He delivered to the king
the treaty of peace, which M. de Zastrow and Lucchesini con-
cluded with Talleyrand at Charlottenburg. Napoleon has al-
ready signed it. Only the king’s signature is wanting, and,
as soon as he affixes it, we are the friends and vassals of the
emperor of France, and must either lay the sword aside, or, if
he should command us to do so, draw it against Russia, our
present ally. A stroke of the pen will determine the future
of Prussia and the fate of my children. Now, help me and
all of us!—now, advise me as to what ought to be done! Tell
me your honest opinion as freely and sincerely as though you
were standing before God! Count von Hardenberg, pray,
speak first! Do you believe it to be necessary for the welfare
of Prussia, of my children, and, above all, of my husband,
that the king should approve the treaty?”

“Your majesty is aware that I never advised the king to
form an alliance with France,” said Hardenberg, ‘“‘and that
my most sacred conviction will ever prevent me from doing

- so. But, in order to pass an opinion on the treaty of Charlot-
THE TREATY OF CHARLOTTENBURG. 141

tenburg, I ought to know its provisions, and your majesty is
aware that the king has not permitted me of late to take part
in the negotiations. I do not know what the treaty con-
tained.”

“Nor I either,” said Baron von Stein, when the queen
turned toward him with an inquiring glance. “ But I know
those who concluded it; I know that M. de Lucchesini and
M. de Zastrow believe no sacrifice, no humiliation too great,
if they can thereby succeed in making peace with France. I
know that Talleyrand is wily enough to profit by their weak-
ness, their cowardice, and lack of true honor; and I know,
finally, that if Napoleon signs a treaty of peace with Prussia
now, it cannot but be advantageous to him, and humiliating
to Prussia.”’

“TI will tell you what the treaty contains,” said a grave
voice behind them.

“The king!” exclaimed Louisa, rising quickly and hasten-
ing to him.

He greeted her cordially, and gave her his hand. “I
wished to see you in your cabinet,” he said, smiling, “and
thus overheard the last words of the secret council which is
held here.”

Louisa blushed slightly; the king noticed it, and shook his
head a little. “It is quite agreeable to me,” he said, turning
toward the two ministers, “that the queen informs herself of the
state of our affairs and of politics generally, consulting men
in whose loyalty and devotion she reposes confidence. We
must know our fate accurately and thoroughly, in order to
look it courageously in the face, and decide on such measures
as are most conducive to our welfare. Moreover, the queen
has hitherto bravely shared all our dangers and hardships; it
is, therefore, but just that she should take part in our con-
sultations.”’

“Oh, my king and husband,” exclaimed Louisa pressing
his hand against her bosom, “I thank you for your kindness
and generosity. J thank you for not sending me back into
the narrow sphere of woman; for permitting me to look be-
yond the threshold of my apartments, and to have a heart for
the calamities of our country.”

The king nodded kindly to her, and then turned to the two
ministers, who had respectfully withdrawn toward the door.
“T invited you to come here, M. Minister von Stein,” he
said, “that you might participate in a meeting of the cabinet,
142 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

at which our course in regard to the treaty of Charlottenburg
is to be decided. I am glad that you have come. And,”
added he, addressing Hardenberg, “I am glad also that you
are here. I like men who, conscious of their worth, are not
irritated at being seemingly neglected. I know how to appre-
ciate the fact that you are standing by us in these times of
adversity, and not looking out only for your own quiet and
comfort. I am fully aware that you are not pursuing this
course from selfish motives, and that you are rich enough to
live without any public position—richer, perhaps, than your
king! Well, the queen requested you to give her your
opinion about the treaty of Charlottenburg, and I came in
and interrupted you.”

“Your majesty heard that these gentlemen assured me they
were ignorant of the contents of the treaty,” said the queen,
fixing her beaming eyes on the calm, grave face of her hus-
band; ‘“‘your majesty, on entering the room, were kind
enough to say you would communicate the contents to us.”

“T will do so, to keep the gentlemen posted,” said the
king—“ not, however, as king, but as a friend, whom you,
Louisa, will authorize to take part in the deliberations of
this secret council of state. Hence, let us proceed without
any regard to etiquette. I did not want to preside over, but
merely to attend your consultation, and to tell you what you
are ignorant of. Resume your seats, therefore.”

“And you, dear husband!” asked the queen, sitting down
again on the divan, “will you be so kind as to take a seat by
my side?”

The king nodded, and sat down by her side, while the
ministers took seats opposite. “ Listen, then, to the terms of
peace,” said the king. “The Emperor Napoleon demands
the whole territory situated on the right bank of the Vistula,
from the point where the river enters the Prussian states, to
its mouth. Besides, he demands the surrender of the for-
tresses of Kolberg, Hameln, Nienburg, Glogau, and Breslau;
the cession of the whole of Silesia, on the right bank of the
Oder, with the greater part of the section of this province
lying on the left bank of that river. He, moreover, de-
mands the city and fortress of Graudenz; he requires all the
Prussian forces to withdraw to Kénigsberg and its environs,
and that the Russian troops shall evacuate our states immedi-
ately. After all these conditions have been complied with in
the most scrupulous manner, either side is to be at liberty to
THE TREATY OF CHARLOTTENBURG. 143

ie hostilities ten days after giving due notice there-
of.

The queen, no longer able to suppress her agitation, uttered
acry, and turned toward her husband with glowing cheeks
and flashing eyes. “And what does he offer us in return for
all these humiliations?’’ she asked. “ How is he going to re-
ward us for selling to him our provinces, our fortresses, and
our honor?”

“Tn return,” said the king, slowly, laying stress on every
word—*“in return, he holds out to us the prospect of march-
ing soon as his ally against Russia, and of supporting the
Ottoman Porte. A second note, which Talleyrand drew up
in the name of his master, and communicated to our envoy,
was added. This note stated that, inasmuch as France,
owing to constantly renewed wars, as well as her allies, Spain
and Holland, had lost their most flourishing colonies in Asia
and in the West Indies, and were compelled, for the fourth
time, to fight in their own defence, justice and reason au-
thorized tho emperor to seek compensations on this side of
the seas for the losses he and his allies had suffered, and to
look for these compensations in those countries which, by
virtue of his victories, he had the power to dispose of in such
a manuer as he deemed best. The greatest evil which Prussia
had brought about by the last war, for which she alone was
responsible, was the fact that the Ottoman Porte had been
deprived thereby of its independence; for, owing to the in-
sulting and threatening demands of the Emperor of Russia,
two princes, who had been justly banished from the posses-
sions of the Sultan, had been placed at the head of the govern-
ment of the Danubian principelities, so that Moldavia and
Wallachia were at present nothing else than Russian prov-
inces. ‘Accordingly,’ concludes Talleyrand’s note, ‘so long
as the Sultan should not have recovered the legitimate
sovereignty over these provinces, the emperor would not con-
sent to give up any countries which the fortune of war had
placed in his hands, or which he might conquer hereafter.’ ’’+

“That is to say,” exclaimed the queen, passionately, “that
Napoleon declares war against Russia, and, if we make peace
with him, we must take up arms against that empire.”

“That will be inevitable,” said the king, composedly.
“ Besides this note, Talleyrand communicated some important

* Vide ‘‘ Prussia in the Years 1806 and 1807 *—a Diary, by H. v. Schladen, p. 57.
+‘ Mémoires d’un Homme d’Etat,”* vol. ix., p. 341.
144 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

information to our ambassadors. He told them that Na-
poleon, before setting out from Berlin, would issue a decree,
absolutely prohibiting all commerce with England, and order-
ing, further, that all letters coming from or going to that
country, addressed to an Englishman, or written in English,
were to be stopped at the post-office; that all goods, the pro-
duce of English manufactures, or of English colonies, were to
be confiscated, not only on the coast, but in the interior, in
the houses of the merchants by whom they should be retained ;
that every vessel, having only touched at the English colonies,
or at any of the ports of the three kingdoms, should be for-
bidden to enter French ports, or ports under subjection to
France, and that every Englishman whatsoever, seized in
France, or in the countries under subjection to her arms,
should be declared a prisoner of war.* Now,” added he,
in a subdued tone, “I have finished my communication.
You know the treaty of peace, and every thing be-
longing to it. You will be able to form a definite opin-
ion with regard to it; you can, accordingly, fulfil the
queen’s wish, and tell her whether you would advise me to
sign it. Speak! and remember that here, in this room, I am
not the king, but only the queen’s friend, happening to be
present at your consultation. It, therefore, behooves me to
be silent, and to listen.”

CHAPTER XVII.
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE.

Tue king leaned back, and, supporting his head on his
arms, shaded his face with his hands, as if it were a screen
that was to conceal the expression of his features. The queen
turned with a sweet smile toward the two gentlemen. ‘“ My
husband having permitted it,” she said, “pray, speak. Let
me hear your views. And as I deem the opinions of both of
you equally important, I do not know whom to request to
commence. Let the oldest speak first.”

“Then, your majesty, I must speak,” said Hardenberg,
bowing low, “I know that I am seven years older than Baron
von Stein, He surpasses me in wisdom as I do him in years.”

* Thiers, ‘‘Consulat et Empire,” vol. vii., p. 880.
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE. 145

“Well, speak,” said Louisa. “What do you think of this
treaty?”

“I think it is a new proof of the reckless pride of Bona-
parte,” said Hardenberg. “ In order to appreciate it correctly
it is necessary for us to look back into the past, and to remem-
ber how this war arose, which the emperor asserts to have been
provoked by Prussia. But the king, our most gracious mas-
ter, never desired war; on the contrary, he withstood, for a
long while, the wishes of his ministers, his court, his people,
und his army. He would have avoided the war, if Napoleon
had allowed him to form a Confederation of the North, con-
servative in its tendencies, but not hostile to the Confederation
of the Rhine. Deceived, menaced, insulted, the king con-
tinued negotiating to the last moment, and did not cease
hoping that France would acknowledge that she was wrong,
and yield to the remonstrances and wishes of Prussia. The
king was arming, it is true, but only for the purpose of sup-
porting his just and strictly pacific demands by such a military
demonstration. Compelled by Napoleon, he had to obey the
dictates of honor at last and draw his sword. The fortunes
of war decided against him; he was defeated. He commenced
negotiating again; for the sake of the welfare of his people
he submitted to the most rigorous terms which the conqueror
imposed on him; but Napoleon, instead of appreciating this,
became only the more arrogant and insatiable in his demands.
The king’s willingness to accept those terms was of no avail;
the conditions which had been imposed on him were repudi-
ated and nullified. Every new triumph, every new capit-
ulation 6f a fortress, caused the emperor to render his
demands more rigorous; and he dares now to offer a treaty,
which would reduce the kingdom of Prussia to a single prov-
ince—which could not but render the king’s position even
more precarious, and would be the depth of humiliation,
without offering the least prospect of a speedy and lasting re-
covery from our past disasters. If Prussia should accept this
utterly illusory compact, she would thereby deliver herself
completely into the hands of an insatiable enemy, whose am-
bitious schemes are well known, and deprive herself of the
only support still remaining. She would betray Russia and
not save herself by this treachery, but only accelerate her own
utter ruin. No one can dare to advise the king to sign such
a paper, and, least of all, myself, after constantly opposing
an alliance with France, even at a time when it would seem-
146 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ingly have been advantageous to Prussia. Your majesty
ordered me to express my opinion, and I have done so to the
best of my conviction.”

The queen thanked him by a slight bow, and then turned
toward Baron yon Stein. “And you?” she asked, “will you
communicate to me your views about this treaty which our
envoys have already signed at Charlottenburg?”

“Your majesty,” said Baron von Stein, quickly, “I lack
the wise composure and smiling calmness of Count von
Hardenberg. It was not given me to weigh the interests and
the conduct of friends and foes with prudent tranquillity and
magnanimous impartiality. I am no polished courtier, but
only a blunt, upright German, and assuch your majesty must
allow me to speak to you. Well, my honest German heart
revolts at what M. Napoleon is pleased to call a treaty of
peace, ang what, it seems to me, would be but a pact with
degradation, dishonor, and disgrace. If I had been in the
place of Messrs. de Zastrow and Lucchesini, I would have
allowed my right hand to be cut off rather than to be prevailed
upon to sign any thing so ignominious; J would have died
rather than surrender at discretion in so humiliating a man-
ner. I know full well that these gentlemen have done so
only in order to save the political existence of the king and
his state. But how little do they know the intentions and
schemes of our powerful adversary, whom only the most de-
termined and obstinate resistance can induce to be moderate
in his exactions, and who, so soon as he has nothing to fear,
shrinks from nothing! As soon as the king, according to
these stipulations, has surrendered to him his fortresses and
Silesian possessions, Napoleon will give notice that he resumes
hostilities within ten days, and the king having not sufficient
power to offer him any resistance, the loss of his last and only
possessions would be the natural consequence. Napoleon
would even manage matters in such a way as to leave it to
other hands to carry out this last spoliation. It is well known
what prospects he held out in Berlin to the deputation of the
Poles, and by what words and promises he instigated them
to rise. He now demands the removal of our troops from
Graudenz and its environs, that is to say from Prussian
Poland. He wishes to promote the insurrection in Poland,
and to assist the Poles as efficiently as possible, so that we
should lose these provinces during the cessation of hostilities.
His majesty, moreover, is unable to enter into an engagement
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE. 147

concerning the withdrawal of the Russian troops, and the last
fortresses, therefore, would be sacrificed in vain. But it is
just as little in the power of the king to induce the Emperor
of Russia to waive his just claims against the Porte, or to de-
prive the Hospodars of Moldavia and Wallachia of the pro-
tection pledged to them. The Russian emperor has already
marched his troops into Moldavia. The struggle with the
Porte has begun, and his honor will not permit him to recede
from the stand he has taken. Up to this hour he has re-
mained unwaveringly faithful, in words as well as in actions,
to his Prussian ally. A large Russian army is already ap-
proaching our frontier, and it is said the Czar himself is
accompanying it in order to join the Prussian forces and then
attack Napoleon. By signing the treaty of Charlottenburg,
however, the King of Prussia would not only have to reject
the assistance offered him, but be compelled to turn his sword
against him who, in his generous friendship, is coming to
help him fight for the preservation of his states.

“This so-called treaty of peace would raise up two new
enemies against Prussia, and without changing her old foe,
France, into a firm and reliable friend. The first of these is
Russia, which Prussia would have deserted in the most per-
fidious manner; the second is Great Britain, which would
wage war against the ally of France as well as against France
herself. Napoleon, by that decree against English goods,
property, and subjects, throws down a new gauntlet to Great
Britain, for it is the beginning of a blockade of the entire
continent; and William Pitt, the great and heroic minister
of King George, will assuredly accept the challenge. It will
kindle anew the whole fire of his hatred and vengeance, and
he will urge the full power of England against France. Now,
Talleyrand has declared loudly that Napoleon would allow
Prussia to maintain her existence as an independent state,
only if England and Russia should make peace with him on
acceptable terms. Neither, however, will do this, and Prus-
sia, consequently, would be irretrievably lost by accepting
these conditions; for she would then have three enemies and
nota single ally. Not only honor, but also prudence com-
mands us to reject the treaty. Not to obey the dictates of
those two powers would be to hurl Prussia into an abyss of
wretchedness, where she would not hear the sympathetic
lamentations of a single ally, but the scornful laughter of the
world. I hope that the king may preserve Prussia from such
148 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

consequences, and graciously permit us to maintain, amid our
disasters and sorrows, a clear conscience and erect head, as it
behooves men more willing to die than give up honor and
liberty!

“Your majesty must pardon me if I have spoken too freely
and unreservedly. But you commanded me to express my
honest opinion. I have done so, and pray you to forgive me
if my words have not been sufficiently delicate and well
chosen.”

“T have nothing to pardon, only to thank you,” said the
queen, “as well as Count von Hardenberg. Both of you have
permitted me to look into the innermost recesses of your
hearts. You have spoken according to your honest con-
viction: I thank you!” And turning her radiant eyes
toward the king, Louisa added in a tone of profound emotion,
“Your majesty, we have lost Magdeburg! But are not such
men as these worth more than a fortress? ortresses may fall,
but so long as we shall have such men by our side, Prussia
will not be lost!”

The king, who had been sitting all the while in the same
attitude, his head supported on his arm, and his face hidden
behind his hand, slowly dropped it and looked long and in-
quiriugly at the queen. “It is your turn now to express your
opinion,” he said, calmly. “I believe you owe it to your
advisers to tell them what you think of it. You thank those
who speak to you honestly and truthfully, by answering them
in the same manner. I, therefore, request the queen now to
speak in her turn, and to tell us what she thinks of this
treaty.”

“T think, my king and. husband, that I would rather be
killed by the first cannon-ball discharged against France than
sanction this ignominious treaty,” exclaimed the queen, with
glowing cheeks, and with passionate impetuosity. “I think
that, in case you sign it, I should never dare to set foot again
in the palace of Charlottenburg, because it would seem to me
as though I were not allowed to raise my eyes either to man
or to God, for the human heart turns away from the perfidious
and dishonored, and God Himself has no mercy on them. I
should think the walls of this house would fall upon us to
hide our shame—I should shrink shudderingly from every
table, because that treaty might have been signed on it which
is to render us recreant to duty, and to steal our unsullied
honor. No! let us be humiliated, and succumb with a clear
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE. 149

conscience, rather than accept the friendship and alliance of
the Corsican, at the expense of principle!”

“Ah!” muttered the king, bowing his head, “if words
could be transformed into swords, you would win battles for
me to-day. Unfortunately, however, soldiers are necessary
for that purpose, and I have no army. Your words may be
the dragons’ teeth from which armed warriors may spring,
but they might turn against ourselves and annihilate us!”
He paused and looked down musingly. The queen dared not
disturb his reflections, and gazed at him in silence and with
an air of tender sympathy. The two ministers looked no less
grave, and waited until he would interrupt the silence and
address them.

The king raised his head and looked at the clock. “Four
o’clock,”’ he said, rising more hastily than usual. “I have
ordered the ministers and generals to assemble at the rooms of
Minister von Haugwitz, and told them that I should be pres-
ent. I like to be punctual. Let us go then, gentlemen; it is
time for us to be at the conference.”

The two ministers rose to take leave of the queen. Louisa
gave each of them her hand, which they kissed, and she dis-
missed them with a grateful glance. The king kindly waved
his hand, and, after they had left the room, turned to the
queen. “Farewell, dear Louisa,” he said, offering his hand
to her; “official duties are calling me, and so long as I am
king I must not neglect them. I came to you in order to
dispel my cares a little by chatting with you, and instead of
doing so I had to be present at a meeting of a secret council
of state. The unfortunate have no time for recreation, and
that may be useful and salutary, after all. Farewell, then; I
must go to Haugwitz’s rooms.”

He was about to leave, but the queen grasped his hand, and
gazed with an imploring glance searchingly at his calm and
impenetrable countenance. “Oh, my husband,” she said, in
a voice tremulous with emotion; “you are going to leave me
thus? You do not utter a word of consolation and assurance?”

The king kissed her on the forehead, and pointed to the
clock. “It is high time for me to go to the conference,” he
said, and gently disengaging his hand hastened away.

Louisa gazed after him until he had disappeared; she then
raised her hands and eyes to heaven. “O my God,” she whis-
pered, “direct his resolutions, and cause him to choose what
is right! Oh, give me strength to bear my misfortunes
150 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

patiently, and not to despair and murmur, even though the
king should decide on another course than the one my heart
longs for, and my reason believes to be right.’ On casting
down her eyes, she happened to see the open piano, and
hastening to it her white hands commenced playing a soul-
moving melody. She then sang, with tearful eyes and fer-
vent voice: “ Wer nur den lieben Gott ldsst waiten, und hoffet
auf thn alle Zeit—”

Scarcely an hour had elapsed—the queen was still singing
at the piano when the door behind her softly opened, and the
king again entered. The carpet and the full notes of the
piano prevented her hearing his footsteps. The king walked
rapidly to his wife, and laid his hand on her shoulder. She
started, and looked up to her husband with an inquiring,
anxious glance, and rose slowly from her chair.

“Touisa,” said the king, solemnly, “I have just returned
from the conference of the ministers at Haugwitz’s rooms.
Besides Prince Henry and myself, ten ministers, generals, and
cabinet councillors were present. Seven advocated the rat-
ification of the treaty of Charlottenburg; four were opposed
to it. The majority, therefore, were in favor of it.”

The queen turned pale, and the painful quivering of her
lips betrayed her inward emotion. “There were eleven pres-
ent besides you,” said she, breathlessly. ‘Seven voted for
ratifying the treaty; four were opposed to it! But what did
the king say, who had to decide every thing? Did my be-
loved husband side with the majority?”

“The king,” said Frederick William, slowly, “decided in
favor of the minority.”

Louisa uttered a cry, and, seizing his hand, bent over and
imprinted a warm kiss on it. “Oh, my dear husband, you
did not accept the ignominious Charlottenburg bargain?”
she asked, joyfully. “You did not yield to the majority?
My God! I thank Thee, for Thou hast fulfilled the most
fervent wishes of my soul! Oh, my dear husband, if there
were in my heart still a spot which love for you had not con-
secrated, it would be now! My whole heart is filled with
pride, delight, and esteem for you. We shall not make peace,
then, with the tyrant, or accept the hypocritical friendship of
our mortal foe—we shall remain faithful to ourselves, to our
honor, and to our ally.”

“Yes, we shall reject that treaty,” said the king. “We
thall try to carry on the war. But let us not yield to illu-
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE. 151

sions; let us not endeavor to deceive ourselves by indulging in
sanguine hopes! In again drawing the sword, we have to
struggle for our existence, and we may possibly fail.”

“ Better to be buried under the ruins of the throne than to
sit on it with the stigma of perfidy and dishonor!” exclaimed
the queen. “Even the crown would not cover such a stain!”

“We may lose our state and our crown, and be compelled
to flee as nameless beggars across the Russian frontier. Are
you prepared for it?”

Louisa passionately encircled her husband’s neck with her
arms, and looked him in the face with an air of unutterable
tenderness. “Iam prepared for every thing, provided I may
stay with you,” she said, affectionately. “‘ Let the worst be-
fall us, it will find me calm and courageous, for I shall share
it with you. Where you go I go. And though we should
have to flee from our invincible enemy into the remotest wilds
of Russia, my heart would be glad, for honor would accom-
pany us, and love would be our comfort!”

The king laid his hand on her head, as if blessing her, and
clasped her in his arms. “You are a noble and heroic
woman,” he said, ‘“‘and I thank God from the bottom of my
heart for having given me such a wife. Pray for me, Louisa;
pray for all of us! I will now go to receive the envoy of Na-
poleon, M. Duroc, and tell him that I must reject the treaty
of Charlottenburg.’ He pressed a kiss on the queen’s brow,
and then crossed the room arm-in-arm with her. When
about to go, he stood still and tenderly looked at her. ‘“ Ah,
Louisa,” he said, “I forgot to tell you something. After in-
forming the conference that I should not ratify the treaty, but
continue the war, I commissioned Haugwitz to draw up a
manifesto by which I would announce to my people the step I
had resolved upon. Count von Haugwitz, however, said he
was unable to draw up such a manifesto, and offered his resig-
nation, owing to his enfeebled health, and the disease of the
eyes from which he is suffering.”

The queen smiled, and an emotion of joy illuminated her
countenance. ‘You have accepted his resignation?” she
asked, breathlessly.

“T have accepted it. He will set out to-day for his estates.
I must at once appoint his successor; for, in times such as
these, I cannot do without a minister of foreign affairs. Can
you recommend any one to me whom you would deem especially
qualified for the position, and in whom you have confidence?”
152 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The queen looked in surprise at her husband, and cast down
her eyes, as if she feared he would read in them thoughts
conflicting with her words. “It does not behoove me to ad-
vise my sagacious and prudent husband,” she said. “His
wisdom will always be able to find the right man for the right
place, and to appoint a minister competent to promote the
interests of Prussia and her noble king.”

“Then you do not know of any one whom you would rec-
ommend to me?’’ asked he.

Louisa looked down, and silently shook her head.

The king smiled. “ Well,” he said, “in that case I myself
must make the selection, and I have already done so. Baron
von Stein is the man whom I will appoint minister of foreign
affairs.” He did not give his wife time to reply, but left the
room quickly, and closed the door.

The queen gazed after him, her eyes radiant with joy.
“Oh,” she said, “what a great and noble heart! He who
conquers himself is a hero indeed. The king has overcome
his own reluctance, and, contrary to his inclination, selected
the man whom his head appreciates, but whom his heart does
not love.”

CHAPTER XVIII.
BARON VON STEIN.

On the same day, after the king had given an audience to
Grand-Marshal Duroc, and informed him that he rejected the
treaty of Charlottenburg, he instructed Kéckeritz and Beyme
to offer the department of foreign affairs to Baron von Stein.
But the baron had declined, declaring he was unable to fill so
difficult a position—that he lacked the necessary knowledge
of affairs and forms and the requisite skill in applying them
so as to discharge the duties of so high an office in an efficient
manner. The king, however, did not accept this refusal.
He caused new offers to be made to him—requesting him to
take charge of the department at least temporarily, and
promising him a large salary, besides eight thousand dollars
annually for household expenses. But Baron von Stein did
not allow himself to be tempted by the brilliancy of the
position, or the large compensation. He adhered to his de-
termination, and declined a second time, proposing to the
BARON VON STEIN. 153

king to appoint in his place, as minister of foreign affairs,
Count von Hardenberg, that experienced and skilful states-
man.

The king shook his head indignantly, and bit his lips, as
he was accustomed to do whenever he was angry. “Tell
Baron von Stein to come to me,” he said to General von
Kéckeritz. “I will speak to him myself.”

General von Kéckeritz hastened away, and an hour after-
ward Baron von Stein entered the king’s cabinet. Frederick
William was slowly pacing his room, with his hands joined
behind him. He apparently did not notice the baron’s ar-
rival, and passed him repeatedly without greeting or even
looking at him. The minister, who at first had stood respect-
fully near the door, waiting to be accosted by the king, tired
of this long silence, turned to the paintings hanging on the
wall, and, while contemplating them, passing from one to an-
other, happened to push against a chair, which made a loud
noise.

The king was aroused from his meditation. He stood still
before Baron von Stein, and looked with a stern air into his
manly face. “I offered you twice the department of foreign
affairs,” he said, in his dry, abrupt manner. “ Why did you
not accept it?”

“Your majesty, because I did not feel capable of filling it,”
replied Stein, calmly, “and because there are worthier men
who are better qualified for it.”

The king shook his head. “Subterfuges!’’ he said.
“Firm and bold men, such as you, do not undervalue their
own importance, but appreciate it correctly. In days so grave
as these, it is necessary for every one to be sincere. I want to
be informed why you reject my offer. I have a right to in-
sist on knowing your reasons. IJ am king still, and I believe
my functionaries owe me an explanation when refusing to
undertake a task which I ask them to perform. Speak, and
tell me your reasons. J command you to do so.”

“Your majesty,” said Stein, with cold, proud equanimity,
“suppose, in order to comply with your command, I should
allege some pretext or other in lieu of my real reasons, and,
like Count von Haugwitz, base my refusal on my pretended
ill-health? How would your majesty be able to know whether
I was sincere or not? Even kings are not capable of looking
into the hearts of men, and no orders can reveal secrets if we
desire to conceal them. But I do not wish to hide my

11
154 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

thoughts from your majesty. In compliance with your re-
quest, I will lay my reasons freely and sincerely before you.
But, before doing so, I must ask your majesty to grant me
two things.”

“Well, what are they?” inquried the king, quickly.

“Tn the first place, I beg leave to be seated, for I have been
ill, and am still weak.”

The king sat down on the divan and pointed to an easy-
chair standing near. “Take a seat, and tell me your second
request.”

“T must beg your majesty graciously to pardon my frank-
ness, in case my words should not meet with your approval or
should appear too bold and rash.”

“T wish to know the truth, and must, therefore, have the
courage to hear it,” said the king. “Why did you decline?”

“Your majesty, my first reason, though you refused to be-
lieve it, is and remains, that I regard Count von Hardenberg
as much better qualified than myself to take charge of the
department of foreign affairs, because he enjoys the confidence
of those courts with which your majesty intends keeping up
friendly relations. Count von Hardenberg, moreover, has the
confidence of your people, who, wherever they are permitted
to do so, are loudly expressing themselves in his favor, and
would consider this salutary appointment a consolation and
hope for the future. It seems unbecoming in me to accept
an office that should be intrusted to a minister distinguished
for his faithful services in this department, and, under the
present circumstances perhaps, highly influential already by
his very name.”

“Go on, go on,” said the king, impatiently. ‘Say no
more about Hardenberg. ‘Tell me your other reasons.”

“Sire, my second reason is that, even though I accept the
position, I should be unable to accomplish in it what I should
deem necessary for the welfare of the state. Your majesty,
so long as there is no free and direct intercourse between you
and your ministers—so long as there is a cabinet government
in existence, separating the king from his ministers, and ex-
ercising an injurious influence on the relations of the latter
toward the subordinate officers in their departments, your
ministers cannot hope to promote the welfare of the state, and
to introduce and carry out such measures as they deem indis-
pensable for the best interests of the people. Your majesty’s
ministers have long since recognized and felt the Cisastrous
BARON VON STEIN. 155

influence of this government which is watching with the ut-
most jealousy at the door of your cabinet, and keeping every
minister from it and from direct intercourse with you. They
were silent so long as Prussia appeared to be in prosperous
circumstances, and the inward germs of her degeneracy and
decay could be concealed by a semblance of justice. But now
every illusiou of this character has been rudely dissipated, and
it is time to beseech your majesty to abolish a system during
the existence of which the calamitous condition of our state
has constantly and hopelessly increased. Fearful events have
followed in quick succession, and the Prussian states have been
plunged into disasters from which they can be restored only
by the united strength of the whole people. But although
the ministers are fully conscious of this state of affairs, and
though they hold in their hands the remedies that might
save the kingdom, they never would be sure that they
can profit by them, for they see between them and the
king a power without any well-defined functions, and
without responsibility, meddling with every thing and direct-
ing nothing—this power can foil the plans of the ministers at
any time, reverse their measures, and counteract their advice.”

“T know very well,” said the king, angrily, “that, like
Hardenberg, you are constantly on bad terms with Kéckeritz,
Beyme, and Lombard, the members of my cabinet.”

“Sire, I do not attack persons, but privileges,” said Stein,
gravely. “If your majesty dismiss those gentlemen and select
others, there would be no change for the better. If you do
not permit the ministers to consult you directly concerning
the affairs of their departments—if you do not reéstablish the
council of state, and abolish the irresponsible cabinet, the
position of your minister of foreign affairs would remain as it
is now—an empty shadow. Butif your majesty should gather
your ministers around you asa regular council of state, and
direct their loyal plans and counsels with that fatherly love
for your subjects which you have manifested at all times, such
a step would strengthen the confidence of your allies, restore
the courage of the oppressed nation, inspire the conquered
provinces with the determination of shrinking from no dan-
ger in order to deliver themselves from the yoke of the op-
pressor, and counteract, in the countries remaining as yet
intact, that discouragement which cannot but prevent the
people from making any heroic efforts in self-defence. Such,
sire,” added Stein, drawing a deep breath, “are my honest
156 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

opinions and convictions. I lay them before your majesty
with tbe sincerity and earnestness which the threatening state
of affairs renders it incumbent on me to manifest. My de-
termination to share the fate of the monarchy, and of your
majesty’s house, whatever may be in store for them, is well
known. But if you are unwilling to give up a system that I
am satisfied has already brought so many calamities upon the
country, and will continue to do so—if the cabinet is to re-
main, and if the council of state, without which I believe
Prussia cannot be saved, is not organized—I most humbly beg
your majesty to accept my refusal.”

“You want to threaten me!” exclaimed the king. “You
think, perhaps, you are alone able to save Prussia?”

“No, your majesty,” said Stein, looking the king in the
face; “no, I only believe that the present cabinet government
is destined to ruin her.”

The king looked down for a while musingly. “ Well, what
is your idea about the new council of state which you pro-
pose?” he asked after a pause. “ Who is to belong to it?
What is to be its object?”

“Tts object is to be the intermediate voice between the people
and the king; to lay before him the laws and ordinances, in
order to obtain his approval and signature; to publish such
of them as he has sanctioned, and to be responsible to him for
the administration of the country. But for all these reasons
it would be indispensable that the ministers should be ad-
mitted to the king at any time, and be consulted as to any
resolutions which he would take and in reference to any
changes he would decide upon in the general policy of the
government. The ministers of foreign affairs, of war, and of
finance, would form the nucleus of this council, and be as much
as possible near the king’s person. If your majesty should
travel, one of them at least would have to accompany you.”

“That is to say, you would depose me,” said the king, a

deep blush mantling his cheeks. “The ministers are to gov-
ern alone, and I am to have only the right of being a sort of
writing-machine to sign their decrees.”
_ “No, your majesty, the king is to have the deciding voice
in regard to every thing; but he must graciously refrain from
deciding any thing without having listened to the opinions of
his ministers.”

“ And if I approve your proposition—if I assemble in my
cabinet every day a council of state, consisting of the minis-
BARON VON STEIN. 157

ters,” said the king, with seeming calmness, “ would you then
be inclined to accept the position I have offered you, and be-
come minister of foreign affairs?”

“ Sire,” said Stein, firmly, “it would not be enough for
your majesty to appoint new ministers, and hold daily con-
sultations with them, but you would have also to dismiss,
formally and forever, the gentlemen who have hitherto monop-
olized your confidence. Unless Count von Haugwitz and
Lombard be dismissed from the civil service—unless Beyme,
who is suspected by and disagreeable to the Russian court,
and hated by a very large majority of our people, be deprived
of his present office, the ministers cannot rely on any certain
efficiency in their positions, and even the council of state
would offer them no guaranty whatever against the continued
secret cabinet consisting of Messrs. von Haugwitz, Lombard,

and Beyme.”
“Wnough,” exclaimed the king, rising hastily, and pacing
the room. “JI have listened to you to the end, because I

wished to see how far your audacity would go, and to gain a
clear insight into your whole character. I was already prej-
udiced against you. It is true, I knew you were a thought-
ful, talented, and bold man, but, at the same time, I believed
you to be somewhat eccentric; in short, I regarded you as a
man who, because he always thinks only his own opinion to
be correct, is unable to fill a position in which he would con-
stantly come in conflict with others, and soon be irritated and
discouraged by the clash of opinions prevailing there. I
overcame these prejudices, because I have always striven to
select the servants of the state, not according to the prompt-
ings of personal whims, but of sensible reasons. I was advised
to appoint you minister of foreign affairs; and (please take
notice of what I am about to tell you now) those who advised
me to do so—those who advocated your appointment most
strenuously, were precisely the ones whom you are now at-
tacking, and are bent upon overthrowing. I yielded! TI
offered you the department of foreign affairs. You declined
the position on the pretext of not being familiar enough with
the details of the department. Your refusal was greatly em-
barrassing to me, for I still believed that your services ought
to be preserved to the state and to myself. I overlooked your
ungracious refusal, and sent for you to speak freely and openly
with you. I have conversed with you, and now know you
better !”’
158 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The king, walking up and down, uttered these words with
increasing excitement, and iu a voice growing louder and
louder, without looking once at Stein, who had risen from
his seat, and, drawing himself up to his full height, listened
to this angry outburst. The king stood still before him, and,
fixing his piercing eyes on the calm, cold face of the baron,
added, “I have found out, to my regret, that my original
opinion of your character was not erroneous; that my prej-
udices against you were just, and that you ought to be con-
sidered an obstinate, refractory, and disobedient servant of the
state, who, boastfully relying on his genius and talents, so far
from aiming at the welfare of his country, is actuated solely
by his whims, his passions, and personal hatred. Such men
are precisely those whose conduct is most injurious to the
interests of the monarchy.”

“Your majesty,” exclaimed Stein, impetuously,“ your maj-
esty, J—’’

“Silence,”’ ejaculated the king, in an imperious voice,
“silence while I am speaking! I really feel sorry that you
have compelled me to speak to you so plainly and unreserv-
edly; but as you are always boasting of being a truthful man, I
have told you my opinion in unvarnished language, and will add
that, if you should be unwilling to change your disrespectful
conduct, the state cannot count very confidently of profiting
further by your services.”

“Your majesty, I cannot change my conduct,” exclaimed
Stein, pale with hidden anger, which he could no longer re-
press. ‘‘As you believe me to be an ‘obstinate, refractory,
and disobedient servant of the state, who, boastfully relying
on his genius and talents, so far from aiming at the welfare
of his country, is actuated solely by his whims, his passions,
and personal hatred—’ ”’

“Ah,” interrupted the king, laughing scornfully, “you
have an excellent’ memory, for I believe you are repeating my
own words!”

“Sire, this will show you that my conduct is not always dis-
respectful, but that I set so high a value on your royal words
that they ure immediately engraved upon my memory,” said
Baron yon Stein, smiling. “ But, inasmuch as I am also of
your majesty’s opinion that such officials as you have de-
scribed me to be are most injurious to the interests of the
monarchy, I must request your majesty to accept my decli-
nation, and I hope it will be granted immediately.”
BARON VON STEIN. 159

“You have pronounced your own sentence, and I do not
know how to add any thing to it!” replied the king.

Baron von Stein bowed. “I thank your majesty most
humbly,” he said. ‘“‘ Now I must beg that my dismissal from
the service be communicated to me in the usual form. I have
the honor to take leave of your majesty.”

Without waiting for the king’s reply, the baron bowed a
second time, and left the room with measured steps. He
crossed the anteroom rapidly, and then entered the apartment
contiguous to the hall. A royal valet de chambre hastened to
meet him. “Your excellency,” he said, “ the queen begs you
to be so kind as to go immediately to her. She instructed
me to wait here till your return from the king, and ordered
me to announce you directly to her majesty.”

“ Announce me, then,” said Baron von Stein, following the
footman with a mournful air.

The queen was in her cabinet, and rose from her divan
when Baron von Stein entered. She offered her hand to the
minister with a smile. “I begged you to come to me,” she
said, ‘‘because I intended to be the first to wish you—nay,
ourselves—joy of your new position. The king has informed
me that he would intrust the office of Count von Haugwitz to
you, and I tell you truly that this is as a beam of light for me
in the gloom of our present circumstances. I know that you
are a true and faithful patriot; that you have the welfare of
Prussia, of Germany, and of our dynasty at heart, and that
you have the will and the ability to help us all—this is the
reason why I wish ourselves joy of—”

“Pardon me, your majesty, for daring to interrupt you,”
‘said Baron von Stein, in a low, melancholy voice; “but I
cannot accept your congratulations. I was not appointed
minister of foreign affairs, but the king has just granted my
request to be dismissed from the service.”

The queen started, and turned pale. ‘“ You did not accept
the position which the king offered to you?” she asked.
“Oh, then I was mistaken in you, too! There is, alas! no
more fidelity or constancy on earth!” She pressed her hand
against her aching forehead, and tottered back a few steps, to
sink exhausted on the divan.

Baron von Stein approached, and his face seemed to be
radiant with energy and determination. “No, queen,” he
said, loudly and firmly—“no; you were not mistaken in me,
and if your majesty hitherto believed me to be a faithful and
160 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

reliable man, I am sure you only did me justice. Fealty does
not change, however, and he who has once been found reliable
will beso forever. No; let me repeat once more, your majesty
was not mistaken in me, although I rejected the position
offered to me. I fearlessly and truthfully stated to his majesty
the conditions on which alone I could accept it. The king
was unwilling to submit to these conditions; he was angry at
them and reproached me in such a manner as to leave me no
choice but to present him my humble declination, which he
granted immediately. I did not refuse his offer because the
situation of the country frightened me, but because, above
all, I had to remain faithful to myself, and obey the prompt-
ings of my conviction. My love, my fealty, my soul, belong
to Prussia and the royal dynasty. I retire into obscurity, and
shall wait for the voice of Prussia and of my king. When he
calls me—when he can profit by services such as I am able
conscientiously to perform—when he permits me to be faith-
ful to myself and to my principles, that all my energy and
faculties may be devoted to the welfare of my country, I shall
gladly be ready to obey his call and enter upon those services.
I would come to him, though from the most remote regions,
and even should death menace me at every step. A true man
does not shrink from danger or death, but from hypocrisy and
falsehood, whether it concerns himself or others; he will not
stoop to the tricks of diplomacy and dally with that which
ought to be either forcibly removed from his path or carefully
avoided, but with which he never ought to enter into com-
promise or alliance.”

“Now I understand you,” said the queen, gently and
mournfully. “You did not wish to enter into an alliance’
with the secret friends of the French in our suite. The king
was unwilling to sacrifice Haugwitz, Beyme, and Lombard to
you, and hence you withdraw from the service. You did
right, and it makes my heart ache to be compelled to admit
it. So long as those three men are here, there will be a policy
of continued vacillation and hesitancy, and what you would
do one day those three men would annul the next. Oh! the
king is so generous, so faithful and modest! He believes in
the disinterestedness of Minister von Haugwitz, in his honesty
and sagacity; for this reason, he will not altogether give him
up, and he listens still to his advice, although Haugwitz is no
longer at the head of the foreign department. Because the
king himself is taciturn, and thinks and feels more in his
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE. 161

head and heart than is uttered by his lips, Beyme’s eloquence
and quick perception fill him with respect; and because he is
sd very modest, and always believes others to be more sagacious
than himself, he esteems Lombard’s abilities highly, and
wishes to preserve his services to the state. You know what
I think of Lombard, and that at Stettin I was carried away
by my anger at his conduct, more than was compatible with
prudence. I caused the man to be arrested, whom I knew to
be ready at that moment to betray me and the whole of Prus-
sia, and whom I suspected of being in the pay of the French
emperor. But you know also that my act was repudiated, and
that immediate steps were taken to annul it. A special
courier was sent to Stettin to procure the release of Lombard,
and to convey him under a safe-escort to Kistrin; the mes-
senger even took an autograph letter from the king to him,
in which his majesty regretted the occurrence as arising from
mere mistake. I do not tell you this in order to complain of
it, but to show you how deep-rooted is the influence of those
men, and how time is required to destroy it. But the time
will come—believe me, it will—when Prussia will extend her
hand toward you, and need your strong arm and firm will.
Promise me that you will wait, and not give up to despair—
that you will not enter the service of another monarch, so
that, when Prussia calls you, you may be at liberty to respond.”

“T promise it to your majesty,” said Stein, solemnly. “I
will wait; blessed be the hour when Prussia needs me, and
when I shall be able to serve her again!”

“Yes, blessed be that hour!” exclaimed the queen, and,
raising her eyes piously to heaven, she whispered, “ God
grant that it may come soon, for then a change in our cir-
cumstances will have taken place, and we shall have passed
from present incertitude to firm determination. Oh, how
much distress—how many disappointments and mortifications
—until that change shall come! May we have strength to
bear, and courage to overcome them!”

 

CHAPTER XIX.
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE.

Iv was a stormy night. The wind was howling through
the pines, and driving the snow in dense clouds from the
highway leading through the forest. There was no sound
162 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

save that of the winter’s gale, and the trees groaning beneath
its power. A solitary light, twinkling as a star through the
dark woods, was shedding its beams on this desolate scene.
It proceeded from a small house near the main road, where
the forest-keeper had peacefully lived with his wife for more
than twenty years. On the hearth in the cottage a merry fire
was burning, and Katharine, the forest-keeper’s wife, was in-
dustriously occupied with it, while the young servant-girl,
seated on a low cane chair near the hearth, her hands clasped
ov her lap, had fallen asleep.

“Martha,” exclaimed the old woman, in an angry voice—
“Martha, are you asleep again?”

The girl opened her eyes lazily and yawned. “ Why should
I not sleep?” she asked. “It is time to do so, and every
Christian has long since gone to bed. Let me also go tou my
bedchamber and sleep!”

“No, you must stay here,” said Katharine, quickly; “Ido
not want to be alone in such anight. The wind is roaring
in the chimney so fearfully that we might almost fancy Old
Nick or the French were coming down to carry us away, or,
at any rate, our last piece of bread and meat!”

“Meat!” ejaculated the servant-girl, laughing scornfully.
“Old Nick, or even the French, would be unable to find any
meat in your house. Would that I could only get the wages
you owe me for the last six months, I should leave forthwith
this miserable place, where one has so little to eat, and where
it is so dreadfully tiresome!”

“You have not suffered hunger as yet, Martha,” said the
old woman, deprecatingly. “It is true, we have no meat
left; the last ham we had has been consumed, and our last
chickens had to be taken to town to be sold there—”

“And your husband has taken away your only cow,” cried
Martha, half angrily, half sadly; “he is going to sell the good
animal that always gave us such excellent milk and butter. I
tell you it is a shame that he should do so, and I shall never
go back to the stable where my dear cow’s lowing will no
more greet me!”

“You will, nevertheless, have to go back, Martha, for the
two goats are still there; you must give them fodder, so that
they may give us milk. They are all we have left! Do you
think it did not grieve me to part with our fine cow which I
had raised myself? I wept for her all last night, and would
have given away my hand rather than sell her. But no one
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT'S COTTAGE. 163

would have paid any thing for my old hand. We had to have
money to pay your wages, so as not to be obliged to listen
longer to your continued importunities. That was the
reason why my good old man took the cow to town. It cut
him to the quick to hear you dunning us all the time for a
few dollars.”

The servant-girl cast down her eyes and blushed. “I did
not mean any harm, Mde. Katharine,” she said, in confusion.
“It was mere talk; I always hoped master would take a lesson
from me and dun the count in the same manner for his own
wages. But the great. lords are living sumptuously, and do
not care whether their servants are starving to death or not!”

“Our count, Martha, does not live sumptuously,” said
Katharine, heaving asigh. “The French destroyed his pal-
ace, and—but hush! Did you not hear something outside?
I thought I heard some one call.”

The two women were silent and listened; but nothing was
to be heard. The storm was howling, and rattling the win-
dows. At times an iron hand seemed to pass across the panes
—it was the snow which the wind lashed against the house as
if intending to awaken the inmates from their slumbers.

“A terrible night!’ murmured Katharine, shuddering.
“T hope that my dear old man won’t return in such a storm,
but stop with one of his friends at the neighboring village.
Heaven preserve any human being out in such a night as this
on the highway, and from—”

A loud knock at the window-panes interrupted her, and a
voice outside shouted imperiously, “Open the door!”

The two women uttered a shrill scream, and Martha clung
anxiously and with both her hands to Katharine’s arm.

“I beseech you, Mde. Katharine,” she whispered with
quivering lips, “don’t open. It is assuredly Old Nick or the
French that want to come in!”

“Piddlesticks! The devil does not wait for the door to
open, but comes down the flue,” said Katharine; “and as to
the French, the Parlez-vous, why, they cannot speak German.
Just listen how they are commanding and begging outside.
‘Open the door!’ Well, yes, yes! I am coming. No one
shall say that old Katharine suffered people to freeze to death
in the forest while she had fire on her hearth.” Disengaging
herself from Martha’s grasp, she hastened to the door, and
opening it quickly, said, “ Whoever you may be, you are wel-
come!”
164 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The storm rushed in with a terrible noise, driving the snow
into the house, and blowing up the fire on the hearth into a
still brighter blaze.

There appeared on the threshold a tall lady, wrapped in a
dark velvet cloak, trimmed with fur; her head covered with
a silken cape, to which a white lace veil was fastened. Be-
hind her were another richly-dressed lady, and two men in
blue coats, splendidly embroidered with silver.

“You permit us, then, my dear woman, to enter your house
and stop here overnight?” asked the veiled lady, in a gentle,
sonorous voice.

Old Katharine stood staring at her. She felt as frightened
as if a sorceress had entered her house. “ First let me see
your face,” she said, growing bold notwithstanding her in-
ward terror; “I must see who you are.”

An indignant murmur arose among the attendants of the
lady, but she ordered them to be quiet with a wave of her
hand. Shethen turned once more to Katharine. ‘“ Well, my
good woman, look at me,” she said, drawing back her veil.

A pale, wondrously beautiful face was visible, and eyes
more lustrous than the old woman had ever seen before, looked
at her gently and kindly.

“Do you know me now?” asked the lady, with a smile full
of touching melancholy.

“No,” said Katharine, “Ido not know you, but you are as
beautiful as the angels that sometimes appear to me in my
dreams, or as the fairies of whom my mother used to tell me
when IJ was a little child. Come in, you as well as the others.
There is room at the hearth for all who are cold.”

The strange lady smiled and advanced into the cottage;
before doing so, however, she turned around. “M. von
Schladen,” she said, in French, “pray, give orders to all not
to betray my incognito. Iam here the Countess von Hohen-
zieritz; please inform the servants of it.”

The gentleman, who had just appeared on the threshold,
bowed and stepped back. She and her companion approached
the fire; the two servants, in their gorgeous liveries, stood in
silence at the open door. The lady took off her fur gloves
with a hasty motion, and held her small white hands toward
the fire. A ring with large diamonds was sparkling on her
forefinger. Old Katharine had never before seen any thing
like it—she stood staring at the lady, and dreaming again of
the fairy-stories of her childhood, while Martha sat on her
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE. 165

cane chair as if petrified, and afraid lest the slightest noise
should dispel the enchanting apparition.

“Oh, how pleasant this is!” said the lady, drawing a deep
breath; “my hands were quite chilled. Countess Truchsess,
come here and follow my example!”

The young lady, who was standing near in a silent and re-
spectful attitude, approached the fire, and eagerly stretched
her small hands toward it.

“How comfortable, is it not?” asked the lady who had
styled herself Countess von Hohenzieritz. ‘‘ Oh, after suffer-
ing from the cold a whole day, we learn to appreciate the boon
of the fire which otherwise we fear as a dangerous element.”
And thoughtfully looking into the warm glow, she muttered
to herself, “ We are now wandering about in the cold, and are
chilled; will no hospitable fire warm our hearts again?” She
bent forward without uttering a complaint, or heaving a sigh.

Katharine could not avert her eyes; she gazed at the lady’s
sparkling jewels, and then looked at her face. Suddenly she
noticed two diamond drops roll slowly over her transparent
cheeks; but they were no diamonds like those flashing on her
hands—they were tears. She shook them off with an impet-
uous motion, and turned to old Katharine, who, clasping her
hands, asked herself wonderingly whether angels could weep.

“My good woman,” said the countess, “will you permit us
to stay here until daybreak? We have lost our way in the
snow-storm. We thought to reach Kénigsberg before night-
fall, but, I suppose, the city is yet quite distant?”

“Ten hours, at least,” said Katharine, timidly. “You
have lost your way, indeed—probably at the cross-roads, two
miles from here. Instead of following the main one, you took
the side-road. Well, such things may happen to the most
skilful driver, in a snow-storm, when he cannot see his hand
before him.”

“T believe that such things may happen, and do not blame
any one for what has occurred,” said the countess, gently.
“Tell me now, have you room and beds for all of us?”

“The two ladies may sleep in my bed, provided they occupy
it together. But I have no others,” said Katharine.

“T need no bed,” exclaimed the younger lady, quickly; “I
shall content myself with sitting at the fireside.”

“ And I,” said M. von Schladen, who had just entered, “I
beg leave to be allowed to pass the night in the travelling-
coach.”
166 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ You will catch cold in the carriage, sir,” said Katharine,
“and there is danger, moreover, that, falling asleep, you
might never wake again. But in the hay-loft it is warm and
soft; you and the other gentleman may sleep there, if you

lease.’’

. The Countess Hohenzieritz smiled. “ Well,” she said, “a
high-chamberlain in a hay-loft! That is a melancholy ad-
venture, I should think?”

“No, gracious countess, it sounds quite ludicrous,” said the
high-chamberlain, “and if only your—if only the gracious
countess had a good bed, J should have no reason whatever for
being melancholy. There are thousands nowadays sleeping
on the hard ground, without a bunch of hay for a pillow!”

“Our dead of Jena and Auerstadt, for instance,” said the
countess, sighing. “But they are well: the dead sleep
gently! At times I feel like envying them, for their rest is
more peaceful than that of the living. Let us not murmur,
but rejoice at having found shelter for the night! We shall
remain, then, in this room, and the high-chamberlain will |
sleep in the hay-loft. But where shall we place our servants,
and what is to become of our horses?”

“How many horses have you?” asked Katharine.

“Six horses and an outrider,” said M. von Schladen.

“What!” exclaimed Katharine, in dismay. “Six horses!
How extravagant in times so wretched as these, when the king
himself would be glad to have two horses to his carriage,
and—”’ /

“Silence!” interrupted the high-chamberlain in great ex-
citement.

“You are right, my dear woman” said the countess, smil-
ing. “The king will certainly be glad to have two horses
left, especially if they always draw him in the right way.
But it was no wanton arrogance on our part to take so many
horses; we did so only on account of the bad roads, and in
order to travel as rapidly as possible.”

“Well, the horses can stand in the cow-stable and the wood-
shed,” said Katharine. “Go, Martha, light the lanterns, and
show the coachman to the stable, and the gentleman to the
hay-loft. I will make the bed for the ladies.” And, draw-
ing back the blue-striped linen curtains covering the large old
family-bed, she muttered to herself: “It ig very lucky that
my old man has not come home; otherwise I should really be
ut a loss where to place my high-born guests.”
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE. 167

Half an hour afterward tranquillity again reigned in the
cottage. The horses, the servants, and the high-chamberlain,
had been conducted to their quarters in the cow-stable, wood-
shed, and hay-loft. Katharine and Martha had withdrawn
to the servant-girl’s small chamber, and on the lower floor,
which served, at the same time, asa kitchen, hall, and sitting-
room, a couch had been prepared for the two ladies. Butthe
young Countess von Truchsess could not be prevailed upon to
occupy one-half. She placed the cane chair against the high
bedstead, and, sitting on it as on a tabouret at the foot of a
throne, she supported her head on the cushions of the bed,
over which the crimson satin blanket, lined with fur, that the
ladies had wrapped around their feet in the carriage, had been
spread. The Countess von Hohenzieritz was reposing on
this, her noble form still wrapped in the fur robe, falling
down to her feet in ample folds; her head was leaning back
on the cushions, and the crimson of the blanket contrasted
strikingly with her white cheeks and light-brown hair. She
had clasped her small, slender hands on her lap; her large
eyes looked upward in devotion, and her lips uttered fervent
words, which no one heard and understood but He to whom
they were addressed.

The fire on the hearth, to which large logs of wood had
been added, continued blazing merrily; at times, when the
wind came down the chimney violently, the flames rose high,
and the beautiful figure in the miserable room was illuminated
by the red light as by a halo. Her countenance was as pale
and peaceful as that of the blessed dead, and yet an ardent
vitality was beaming in her unclosed eyes. On the wretched
bed in the peasant’s cottage she was dreaming of her former
happiness—of the magnificent days which she had seen, and
which, she believed, would never return. But she did not
bewail her departed glory, and her menaced welfare caused
her no regret.

“ Preserve to me, merciful God! the love of my husband,”
she whispered; “let my children grow great in name and in
soul. Oh, if I could purchase happiness for them by sacri-
ficing my life, I would gladly let my heart’s blood ebb away
drop by drop—if by my death I could restore to my husband
his former power, how cheerfully I would die! O my God,
save and protect Prussia: but if such should not be Thy will,
teach us how to fall and die with her in an honorable manner!
Preserve us from disgrace and despondency; teach us how to
168 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

bear great disasters with dignified resignation, and grant that
we may never be so faint-hearted as to sink beneath petty
calamities!”

She paused, and looked upward with radiant eyes; just
then the storm outside was howling with awful violence, and
made the cottage tremble. “Such a storm without, and
peace within! Let it always be so, my God,” she whispered,
gently pressing her hand against her breast. “O peace,
sweet peace, when will it descend to us from heaven!” Grad-
ually the words died away on her lips; her eyelids drooped.
Heaven sent to her the brother of peace—sleep—that it might
comfort her weary eyes and invigorate her after the troubles
and exertions of the previous day. The storm continued all
night long, but the beautiful sleeper heard it only as a lullaby
hushing her to sweet repose.

At daybreak there was a stir in the cottage. Katharine
came to rekindle the extinct fire, and the two ladies rose,
chilled and shuddering, to prepare for their journey. The
travelling-coach, drawn by the six horses, rolled up to the
door, and High-chamberlain von Schladen rapped timidly and
begged leave to enter. The countess bade him come in, and
replied with a sweet smile to his inquiries as to her night’s
rest. “I have slept,” she said, “and feel sufficiently invigo-
rated now to continue the journey.”

“Tn four hours-we shall be in Kénigsberg,” said M. von
Schladen. “It is a clear morning; the storm is over, and the
sun will soon burst forth from behind the clouds.”

“*The sun will soon burst forth from behind the clouds,’ ”’
repeated the countess, musingly. “Those are cheering
words; could they but be fulfilled for all of us! Let us has-
ten to reach Konigsberg; for there at least will be one sun-
beam for me—I shall see my children again, and my husband
also will join us on returning from the Russian camp.”

M. von Schladen advanced a few steps, and said in a low
and hurried voice: “The king is already in Kénigsberg. I
have seen a peasant, the owner of this cottage, who has come
from Kénigsberg. He walked all night, and left the city just
at the moment when the king with his suite returned.”

“And did the man bring other news?” asked the lady,
hastily.

“A rumor was in circulation in Kénigsberg that the French
were advancing from Posen, and, the Russian columns being
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE. 169

also on the move, it was generally believed that a battle would
soon take place.”

The lady walked rapidly to the door. “Let us set out as
soon as possible,” she said; suddenly, however, she turned pale
and leaned against the wall to prevent herself from falling.

“Oh,” she murmured faintly, “what weak, pitiful beings
we are, after all! The soul is strong enough to bear the
heaviest burden, but the body is so weak that atwelve hours’
fast is sufficient to overpower it!”

Just then Katharine entered the room; on seeing the lady
looking so faint, she hastened to her, and asked sympathiz-
ingly for the cause of her pallor and exhaustion.

“T will tell you, my dear woman,” whispered the lady, with
a sad smile, “I am hungry!”

“Oh,” sighed M. von Schladen, “and we have no refresh-
ments with us!”

“But I have some for the beautiful lady,” said Katharine,
proudly. “I was right in thinking that high-born people
must eat sometimes, and are not refreshed merely by their
magnificent dresses and the splendor surrounding them, but
are obliged to put something into their mouths, like us com-
mon people. Look, there is Martha with the breakfast!”
And, in truth, Martha was just entering the door, holding in
her hand a pitcher filled with fresh, smoking milk.

Katharine took an earthen cup from the shelf near the
hearth, and filled it to the brim. “Now drink,” she said,
handing the cup to the countess; “it will strengthen yous it
is splendid goat’s milk, so fine and warm that city folks never
get any thing like it; no fire warmed this milk, but God, who
gave life and warmth to my dear goat. Drink, then, in His
name!”

“No refreshment has ever heen presented to me in so cor-
dial a manner,” said the countess, nodding kindly to the old
peasant-woman. “I shall carefully remember your heart-felt
words, and drink the milk in the name of the good Lord, but
only provided you, Countess Truchsess, and you, too, M. von
Schladen, can likewise have a cup of this splendid milk.”

“We shall have some,” said the Countess von Truchsess;
“please your——, the gracious countess will please drink her
milk.” The countess placed the cup on the window-sill with-
out having touched it with her lips. “You see I am wait-
ing,” she said—“ make haste!” She herself then hastened to

12
170 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the cupboard near the hearth, and took from it two small
earthen jars, which she handed to Katharine to fill with milk.

“And have you not something to eat with the milk, my
dear woman?” asked M. von Schladen, in a low voice.

“T have but a loaf of stale brown bread,” said Katharine,
“but I am afraid it will be too hard for the fine teeth of the
countess.””

“Give it to me at ail events,” said the countess, “my teeth
will be able to manage it.”

Old Katharine took a large loaf of bread from the cupboard,
cut off a thick slice, and presented it on the bright pewter
plate, the principal ornament of her house. The countess
broke off a piece, and, leaning against the window, com-
menced eating her frugal breakfast.

The Countess von Truchsess and the high-chamberlain had
retired to the hearth to partake of the strange and unwonted
food. Katharine and Martha stood at the door, staring ad-
miringly at the lady who was leaning against the window, and
just lifting the stale brown bread to her mouth. She did not
notice that the two were looking at her; she was gazing
thoughtfully at the large bedstead in which she had passed
the night in tears and prayers. Her glance then turned to
the piece of bread which she held in her hand, and from which
she had vainly tried to eat. The bread and the bed reminded
her of an hour long past, when she was a happy queen—an
hour when her mental eye descried the future, and the words
of a beautiful and melancholy song aroused in her anxious
forebodings, and seemed to her a prophecy of her own destiny.
As she thought of those golden days, her eyes filled with tears,
which rolled over her cheeks and trickled down on the bread
in her hand. “Oh,” she murmured, “now I shall be able to
eat it; I am softening it with my tears!” And to conceal
them she averted her head, and looked out at the forest,
whose lofty pines were adorned with snow-wreaths. Her tears
gradually ceased—she drew the large diamond ring from her
finger, and, using the pointed stone as a pen, wrote rapidly
on the window-pane.

Old Katharine and Martha stared at her in dismay; the
characters appearing on the glass filled them with astonish-
ment and superstitious awe, and they thought the handsome
lady who knew how to write with a precious stone might after
all be a fairy, who, persecuted by some evil sorcerer, had fled
THE QUEEN AT THE PEASANT’S COTTAGE. 171

thither into the dark forest, and was writing some exorcising
words on the window-pane, lest her enemy should pursue and
have power over her. ;

The lady replaced the ring on her finger, and turned to
the young countess and the high-chamberlain. ‘‘ Now, I am
ready,” she said, “let us set out.” She walked to the door,
and shaking hands with old Katharine, thanked her for the
hospitable reception she had met with in her cottage, and
then stepped out of the low door for the carriage, at which
the high-chamberlain was awaiting her.

“T beg leave, gracious countess, to take upon myself the
functions of our outrider. The road is broken and full of
holes, and as I have a keen eye, I shall see them in time, and
call the attention of the coachman to them.”

The countess thanked him with a kind glance. “TI accept
your offer,’ she said—“ may a time come when I shall be able
to thank my faithful friends for the attachment and devotion
they manifest toward me during affliction, and which are
engraven in diamond letters on my heart! But let us thank
the good woman who received us so hospitably last night. I
request you to give this to her in my name.” She handed
her purse filled with gold-pieces to the high-chamberlain, and
entered the carriage. M. von Schladen stood still until the
carriage rolled away. Before mounting he hastened into the
house.

Old Katharine and Martha stood in the room, and were
looking in silent astonishment at the neat characters on the
pane, the meaning of which they were unable to decipher.
“Oh, sir,” exclaimed Katharine, when the high-chamberlain
entered the room, “tell us the meaning of this—what did the
lady write here?” :

M. von Schladen stepped to the window. When he had
read the lines, his eyes filled with tears, and profound emotion
was depicted in his features. “Enviable inmates of this
humble cottage,” he said, “from this hour it has become a
precious monument, and, when better times arrive, the Ger-
mans will make a pilgrimage to this spot to gaze with devout
eyes at this historical relic of the days of adversity. Preserve
the window carefully, for I tell you it is worth more than gold
and diamonds.”

“Tg it really, then, an exorcism which the beautiful fairy
has written there?” asked Katharine, anxiously.
172 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUTSA.

“Yes, those are magic words,” replied M. von Schladen,
“and they read as follows:
‘Who never ate his bread with tears—
Who never in the sorrowing hours
Of night lay sunk in gloomy fears—
He knows ye not, O heavenly powers |?” *

“ Ah, she ate her bread with tears to-day. I saw it,” mur-
mured Katharine. “ But who is she, and what is her name?
Tell us, so that we may pray for her, sir.”

“Ter name is Louisa,” said M. von Schladen, in a trem-
ulous voice. “At present she is a poor, afflicted woman, who
is fleeing from town to town from her enemy, and eating her
bread with tears, and weeping at night. But she is still the
Queen of Prussia, and will remain so if there be justice in
heaven!”

“The Queen of Prussia!’ cried Katharine, holding up her
hands in dismay. “She was here and wrote that?”

“Yes, she wrote that, and sends this to you as a reward for
your trouble,” said M. von Schladen, emptying the contents
of the purse on the table. The purse itself he placed in his
bosom. Without waiting for the thanks of the surprised
woman, he departed, vaulted into the saddle, and followed
the queen at a full gallop.

CHAPTER XxX.
COUNT PUCKLER.

PrERFIDY and treachery everywhere! Magdeburg, Kiistrin,
the most important fortresses of Prussia, had fallen. Not
only the hand of the triumphant conqueror had brought
about their downfall, but the timidity and cowardice prevail-
ing among the Prussians themselves. Magdeburg, although
abundantly supplied with ammunition, and garrisoned by
more than ten thousand men, had surrendered. Kiistrin,
Hameln, and a large majority of the other fortresses, had
voluntarily capitulated, almost without a show of resistance,
on receiving the first summons to surrender; the first cities of

* “ Wer nie sein Brot mit Thrinen ass,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nichte
Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,
Der kennt euch nicht, Iur himmlischen ae
OTHE.
COUNT PUCKLER. 173

Prussia were now French; the French were lawgivers every-
where, and the humiliated Prussians had to bow to the scorn-
ful arrogance of the victors.

Still, there were at this time of sorrow and disgrace shining
examples of courage, of bold energy, and unwavering fidelity—
there were fortresses that had not voluntarily opened their
gates to the enemy, and that, regardless of hunger and priva-
tion, were struggling bravely for honor and victory. As yet
Colberg had not fallen; this fortress was courageously de-
fended by Scharnhorst, the skilful and experienced colonel,
by bold Ferdinand von Schill, and that noble citizen, Nettel-
beck, who by word and deed fired the hearts of the soldiers
and citizens to persist in their patient resistance and in the
determined defence of the place.

Graudenz had not surrendered to the besieging forces. The
commander of this fortress, M. de Courbiéres, had not yielded
either to the threats or the flatteries of the enemy. “If it be
true, as you assure me, that there is no longer a King of Prus-
sia, 1 am King of Graudenz, and shall not surrender,” he
replied to the bearer of the French flag of truce, who sum-
moned him in the name of the Duke de Rovigo to capitulate.

Silesia also had remained faithful, notwithstanding the ac-
tion of Minister Count Hoym, who, ina public manifesto, had
called upon the Silesians to meet the foe in the most amicable
manner in case of an invasion, and to satisfy as much as pos-
sible all the demands of the hostile troops. The Silesians,
more courageous and resolute than their minister, were un-
willing to bend their neck voluntarily under the French yoke;
they preferred to struggle for their honor and independence.
It is true, the fortress of Glogau had fallen, but Breslau and
Schweidnitz were still holding out. Twice had Breslau re-
pulsed Jerome Bonaparte with his besieging troops—twice
had the determination of the courageous in the place tri-
umphed over the anxiety of the timid and of the secret friends
of the French. At the head of these bold defenders of Bres-
lau was 2 man whose glorious example in the hour of danger
had inspired all—infused courage into the timid, and brought
comfort to the suffering. This man was Count Frederick von
Pickler. He did not take time to recover from the wounds
he had received in Jena. Faithful to his oath, he devoted his
services to his country, that stood so much in need of its sons.
After a short repose on his estate at Gimmel, he repaired to
the headquarters of King Frederick William at Ortelsburg.
174 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

It is true, he could not bring him a regiment, or any material
help; still he was able to assist him with his ideas, and to
show him the means of obtaining efficacious help.

Count Frederick von Pickler believed the king might de-
rive assistance from the military resources of Silesia. He
described to him, in ardent and eloquent words, the extensive
means of defence retained by this rich province; he assured
him its inhabitants were faithful and devoted, and ready to
shed their blood for their king. He told his majesty, freely
and honestly, that the old civil and military bureaucracy alone
was to blame——that Silesia had not long an organized effective
system of resistance—that this government had paralyzed the
patriotic zeal of the citizens, instead of stimulating it—
nay, that, by means of its insensate and ridiculous decrees,
it had impeded in every way the development of the military
resources of the province. He had not come, however, merely
to find fault and to accuse, but, in spite of his sickness and
his wounds, performed the long journey to the king’s head-
quarters in order to indicate to his sovereign the remedies by
which the mischief might be counteracted, and the country
preserved from utter subjugation. He communicated a plan
by which new forces might be raised, and be enabled to take
the field in a few days. All the old soldiers were to be re-
called into the service; the forest-keepers and their assistants
were to be armed, and from these elements the landwehr was
to be organized, and intrusted with the special task of de-
fending the fortresses.

The king listened to the ardent and enthusiastic words of
the count with growing interest, and finally Piickler’s joyful
confidence and hopeful courage filled him also with hope and
consolation.

“You believe then that we could really obtain, by these
new levies, brave troops for the defence of the fortress?”
asked he.

“Tam convinced of it,” replied Count Pickler. “ Ardent
love for their fatherland and their king is glowing in the
hearts of the Silesians, and they will be ready when called
upon to defend the fortresses. Hitherto, however, nobody
has thought of appealing to the able-bodied men. Count
Hoym has retired to the most remote part of Silesia, and is
now wandering about from city to city. The military gov-
ernor of Silesia, General Lindener, visited all the fortresses
and told their commanders that every thing was lost—that it
COUNT PUCKLER. 175

only remained for them to protect themselves against a coup
de main, so as to obtain good terms on their surrender.”

The king started up, and an angry blush mantled his face
for a moment. “If he said that, he is an infamous scoun-
drel, who ought to lose his head!’ he exclaimed, vehemently.

Count Pickler smiled mournfully. “Alas!” he said, “ your
majesty would have to sign many death-warrants if you punish
in these days of terror all who are wavering because their faith
and hopes are gone. Possibly, only an admonishing, soul-
stirring word may be required to invigorate the timid, and to
encourage the doubtful. Sire, utter such a word! Send me
back with it to Silesia! Order the governor to accept the
propositions which I had the honor to lay before your maj-
esty, and which I have taken the liberty to write down in
this paper, and instruct him, in accordance with them, to
garrison the fortresses with fresh defenders. Oh, your maj-
esty, all Silesia is yearning for her king; she is longingly
stretching out her hands toward you; permit her to fight for

ou!”
a You imagine, then, that Schweidnitz, and, above all,
Breslau, in that case, would be able to hold out?” asked the
king.

“T do not imagine it, I am convinced of it!’’ exclaimed the
count. “I pledge my life that it is so; I say that Breslau,
permitted to defend itself, would be impregnable; I am so
well satisfied of it that I swear to your majesty that I will die
asa traitor if Ishould be mistaken. Sire, send me to Breslaun—
permit me to participate in the organization of the new levies,
and to arouse the zeal and energy of the authorities, and I
swear to your majesty the Silesian fortresses shall be saved!”

“Well, then, I take you at your word,” said the king, nod-
ding kindly to the count. “TI will send you to Breslau.
Wait; I will immediately draw up the necessary orders.”
The king went to his desk and hastily wrote a few lines,
Count Pickler stood near him, and smilingly said to him-
self, “I will defend Breslau as Schill is defending Colberg!
Both of us, therefore, will fulfil the oath we have taken!’

“Read!” said the king, handing him the paper—“ read it
aloud!’ Count Pickler read:

“The enclosed proposition of Count Piickler to reénforce the
garrisons of the Silesian fortresses deserves the most serious and
speedy consideration. Hence, [order you to carry it out with-
out delay, and to save no expense in doing so. The fortresses
176 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

must be defended at any price, and to the last man, and I shall
cause such commanders to be beheaded as fail to do their duty.
‘““HREDERICK WILLIAM.”

“ Are you satisfied?” asked the king, when the count had
finished.

“J thank your majesty in the name of Silesia,” said the
count, solemnly. “ Breslau will not fall into the hands of
the enemy. I pledge you my head that it will not. I now
request your majesty to let me withdraw.”

“When do you intend to set out?”

“This very hour.”

“But you told me you had arrived only an hour ago. You
ought to take rest till to-morrow.”

“Your majesty, every day of delay exposes your Silesia to
greater dangers. Permit me, therefore, to set out at once.”

“Well, do so, and may God be with you!”

The king gazed after the count with a long, musing glance.
“Oh,” he sighed, mournfully, “if he had been commander
of Magdeburg, it would be mine still!”

Count Pickler hastened back to Silesia with the king’s
written order. He visited all the fortresses and saw all the
commanders. The king, to give more weight to the count’s
mission, had instructed the provisional authorities and the
chief executive officers of the districts, in a special rescript,
to gather the old soldiers at the headquarters of the recruiting
stations; be had ordered all the commanders to confer person-
ally with Count Pickler as to the best steps to be taken for
the defence of the fortresses, by the addition of the new sol-
diers and riflemen to the regular garrisons.

Count Pickler, therefore, had accomplished his purpose;
he was able to assist his country and to avenge himself for the
disastrous day of Jena. A proud courage animated his heart;
his eye was radiant with joy and confidence; his face was
beaming with heroic energy. All who saw him were filled
with his own courage; all who heard him were carried away
by his enthusiasm, and gladly swore to die rather than prove
recreant to the sacred cause of the country. Every one in
Breslau knew Count Pickler, and confided in him. Always
active, joyous, and indefatigable, he was to be found wherever
there was danger; he encouraged the soldiers by standing at
their side on the outworks, by toiling with them, and expos-
ing himself to the balls which the enemy was hurling into the
city. He maintained the enthusiasm of the citizens by patri-
COUNT PUCKLER. LLY.

otic speeches, so that they did not despair, but bore their
sufferings patiently, and provided compassionately for the men
standing on the ramparts in the storm and cold, in the face
of an uninterrupted artillery-fire. A generous rivalry sprang
up among the citizens and soldiers: the former contributed
all they had to provide the troops with food and comforts of
every description; and the latter vowed in their gratitude to
fight as long as there was a drop of blood in their veins, and
not suffer the inhabitants, in return for the privations they
had undergone, and for the sacrifices they had made, to be
surrendered to the tender mercies of the enemy. But this
enthusiasm at last cooled. Every one would have borne days
of privation and suffering courageously and joyously enough,
but long weeks of anxiety and distress deadened the devotion
of the besieged.

“very thing is going on satisfactorily,” said Count Piick-
ler, on coming to the governor of the fortress, General Thile,
on the morning of the 30th of December. “We shall hold
out till the Prince von Pless, who has lately been appointed
by the king governor-general of Silesia, arrives with his troops
to succor us and to raise the siege of Breslau.”

The governor shrugged his shoulders. “ There will be no
succor for us, and every thing will turn out wrong,” he said.

“But the soldiers are faithful, and the citizens do not waver
as yet.”

The governor looked almost compassionately at the count.
“You see none but the faithful, and hear none but the un-
daunted,’ he said. “I will show you the reverse of your
bright medal!” He took a paper from his desk and beckoned
the count to approach. “Just look at this; it is the morning
report. Do you want to know how many soldiers deserted
last night? Over a hundred, and in order to puta stop to
further desertions, the countersign had to be changed three
times.”

“The deserters are the perfidious, treacherous Poles!” ex-
claimed Pickler, angrily.

“Yes, the Poles were the first to desert, and, unfortunately,
more than half the garrison consists of Poles. They are the
old soldiers who were organized in accordance with your
proposition, my dear count. They are yearning for home,
and long to obtain, in place of the scanty rations they receive
here, the fleshpots which the Emperor Napoleon has promised
to happy Poland.”
178 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“But they need not starve here; they are provided with
sufficient food,” exclaimed Pickler. “Only yesterday I saw
a subscription-paper circulating among the citizens for the
purpose of raising money to furnish the men on duty on the
ramparts with meat, whiskey, and hot beer.”

“How many had signed it?”

“More than a hundred, general.”

“Well, I will show you another subscription-paper,” said
the governor, taking it from his desk. “A deputation of the
citizens were here last night and presented this tome. It
contains a request to give them, amidst so many sufferings,
the hope of speedy succor, lest they be driven to despair.
Over two hundred signed this paper. I could not hold out
any hopes, and had to dismiss them without any consolation
whatever.”

“But succor will come,” exclaimed Pickler.

“It will not come,” said the governor, shrugging his
shoulders.

At that moment the door opened, and an orderly entered.
“Lieutenant Schorlemmer, in command of the forces at the
Schweidnitz Gate, sent me here,” hesaid. “He instructed me
to inform the governor that the firing of field and siege artil-
lery was to be heard, and the village of Dtirgoy was burning!”

“The enemy is mancuvring, and, no doubt, set the village
unintentionally on fire. Tell Lieutenant Schorlemmer that

is my reply.”
No sooner had the orderly withdrawn than the officer in
command of the engineers entered the room. “ Your excel-

lency,” he exclaimed, hastily, “I have just come from the
Ohlau Gate. The enemy is hurrying with his field-pieces and
many troops from the trenches toward the Schweidnitz road,
and the firing that began an hour ago is gradually approach-
ing the fortress.”

“The succoring troops are drawing near,” exclaimed Count
Pickler, joyfully. “The Prince von Pless at the head of his
regiments has attacked the enemy!”

The governor cast an angry glance on the rash speaker.
“Tt is true you know all these things a great deal better than
old, experienced soldiers’ he said; “you will permit me,
however, to be guided by my own opinion. Now, I think
that the enemy is only manceuvring for the purpose of decoy-
ing the garrison from the city. We shall not be so foolish,
however, as to be caught in sucha manner. But I will go
COUNT PUCKLER. 179

and satisfy myself about this matter. Come, Mr. Chief-Engi-
neer, and accompany me to the Ohlau Gate. And you, Count
Pickler, go to General Lindener to ascertain his opinion.
He has good eyes and ears, and if he view the matter in the
same light as I do, I shall be convinced that we are right.”

Count Pickler hastened away, and while the governor, with
the chief-engineer, was walking very leisurely to the Ohlau
Gate, Pickler rushed into the house of General Lindener, de-
termined to make the utmost efforts to induce the governor to
order a sally of the garrison. But General Lindener had
already left his palace and gone to the Taschen bastion for
the purpose of making his observations. Count Piickler fol-
lowed him; he could make but slow headway, for the streets
were densely crowded; every one was inquiring why the enemy
had suddenly ceased shelling the city.

Count Pickler rushed forward toward the Taschen bastion,
and the constantly increasing multitude followed him. Gen-
eral Lindener stood amidst the superior officers on the rampart
of the Taschenberg. He was scanning the horizon with
scrutinizing glances. The officers now looked at him in great
suspense, and now at the open field extending in front of
them. Count Pickler approached, while the people, who
had almost forcibly obtained admission, advanced to the brink
and surveyed the enemy’s position. The crowd, however,
did not consist of vagabond idlers, but of respectable citizens—
merchants and mechanics—who wished for the consolation
the governor had refused them—the hope. of succor! Grad-
ually their care-worn faces lighted up. They saw distinctly
that the enemy had left the trenches. Here and there they
descried straggling French soldiers running in the direction
of the fight in front of the fortress. They heard the boom-
ing of artillery and the rattling of musketry, and they beheld
the shells exchanged between the opposing troops, exploding
in the air. Keen eyes discovered Prussian cavalry in the
neighborhood of the Jewish burial-ground, near the Schweid-
nitz suburb, and at this sight tremendous cheers burst from
the citizens.

“Succor has come!” they shouted. “The Prince von Pless
is coming to deliver us!”

All now looked to the general, expecting he would utter
the decisive word, and order the garrison to make a sortie.
But this order was not given.

General Lindener turned with the utmost composure to
180 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

his officers. ‘I have no doubt,” he said, “that the enemy is
merely manceuvring for the purpose of drawing us out of the
fortress. It is an ambush in which we should not allow our-
selves to be caught.”

“Your excellency,” exclaimed Pickler, in dismay, “it is
impossible that you can be in earnest. That is no manceuvre;
it isa combat. The long-hoped-for succor has come at last,
and we must profit by it!”

“Ah,” said the general, shrugging his shoulders, “you
think because his majesty permitted you to participate in
organizing the defence of the city, and to confer with the
commander in regard to it, you ought to advise everywhere
and to decide every thing!”

“No; I only think that the time for action has come,” ex-
claimed Pickler. “ Opinions and suppositions are out of the
question here, for we can distinctly see what is going on in
the front of Breslau. I beg the other officers to state whether
they do not share my opinion—whether it is not a regular
cannonade that we hear, and a real fight between hostile
troops that we behold?”

“Yes,” said one of the officers, loudly and emphatically—
“ves, Lam of the same opinion as Count Pickler; there isa
combat going on; the Prince von Pless is approaching in order
to raise the siege.”’

“That is my opinion too!” exclaimed each of the officers,
in succession; “the succoring troops have come; the enemy
has left the trenches in order to attack them.”

“And as such is the case,” exclaimed Count Piickler, joy-
fully, “we must make a sortie; prudence not only justifies,
but commands it.”

“Yes, we must do so!” exclaimed the officers. The cit-
izens standing at some distance from them heard their words,
and shouted joyously: “ A sortie, a sortie! Succor has come!
Breslau is saved!”

General Lindener glanced angrily at the officers. ‘“ Who
dares advise the commanding general without being asked?”
he said, sharply. “None of you must meddle with these
matters; they concern myself alone, and I am possessed of
sufficient judgment not to need any one’s advice, but to make
my own decisions!” With a last angry glance at Count Piick-
ler, he left the bastion to return to his palace. Governor
Thile was awaiting him there, and the two ascended to the
roof of the building to survey the environs.
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH. 181

The fog, which had covered the whole landscape until now,
had risen a little, and even the dim eyes of the general and
of the governor could not deny the truth any more. A com-
bat was really going on. The smoke rising from the ground,
and the flashes of powder from field-pieces, were distinctly to
be seen. It was a fact: succor was at hand: a Prussian corps
was approaching the city. The two generals left the roof,
arm-in-arm, in silence, absorbed in their reflections, and de-
scended to the ground-floor, where a luncheon had been served
up for them. An hour later, they assembled the garrison, in
order to make an attack, “in case the enemy should be
defeated !”

But it seemed as if the enemy had not been defeated. The
firing in front gradually died away; the sally did not take
place, and in the evening the French recommenced throwing
red-hot shot into the city.

“We have been betrayed,” murmured the citizens, as they
despondingly returned to their homes.

“The general did not want to make a sortie—he had no
intention to save Breslau,” groaned Count Pickler, when he
was alone in his room. “All is lost, all is in vain! The
wish of the timid sacrifices our honor and our lives! Oh, my
unhappy country, my beloved Prussia, thou wilt irretrievably
perish, for thy own sons are betraying thee! Thy indepen-
dence and ancient glory are gone; conquered and chained, thou
wilt prostrate thyself at the feet of the victor, and with scorn
he will place his foot upon thy neck, and trample thy crown
inthe dust! Ishall not live to see that disgrace! I will fulfil
my oath, and, not being able to save my country, I must die
with it! But not yet! I will wait patiently, for there is a
faint glimmer of hope left. The Prince von Pless may make
another attempt to raise the siege, and. the citizens and sol-
diers may compel General Lindener to order an attack, and
not to surrender. That is my last hope.”

CHAPTER XXI.
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH.

Great excitement reigned in the streets of Breslau on the
following day. The people were standing in dense groups,
and each of them was addressed by speakers, who recapit-
182 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ulated the sufferings that had already been undergone, and
the agony in store for them if the city should persist in its
resistance.

“Who will dare to resist the Emperor Napoleon and his
army?” exclaimed one. “ We were audacious enough to do
so, and what has become of us! Our houses have been de-
molished—our money is gone—our sons, brothers, and fathers,
have been crippled or killed! When Napoleon once stretches
out his hand toward a country, and says, ‘I will have it!’ it
is useless to resist him, for he always accomplishes what he
intends. God or the devil has given him the power to do so!”

“ Why torment ourselves by further efforts?” cried another.
“We shall have to submit. Heaven itself is against us. See
the ice-crust on the Oder. This cold weather is a fresh ally
of the French! So soon as the Oder and the ditches are
firmly frozen over, they will cross, and take the city by as-
sault. Of course, we shall be required again to risk our lives
in breaking the ice amid bullets and shells. The only ques-
tion is, whether you will do so.”

“No! no!” shouted the crowd. “ We have suffered enough!
We will neither break the ice in the Oder, nor extinguish
the numerous fires. Too many of our countrymen have
fallen already; it is time for us to think of saving the lives
that remain!”

“No!” cried a powerful voice—“no! it is time for you to
think of saving your honor!”

“Count Pickler!” murmured the people, looking at the
tall, imperious man, who had mounted the curb-stone at the
corner of the market-place, and cast angry glances on the
crowd.

“Will you listen to me?” asked the count, almost implor-
ingly.

“Yes, yes,” exclaimed a hundred voices, “ we will listen to
you!” And all approached and encircled him.

. “Now speak, count,” said one of the men, standing closest

to him. “ We know that you are a good patriot, and a noble
friend of the people. Tell us what we ought to do. Tell us
whether you think that there is hope for us!”

“There is,” replied Count Pickler. “There is hope of
succor.”

“Ah, succor will not come,” cried the people, scornfully,
“and though it should, the generals would act again as if
they could not see any thing, keep the gates shut, and fail to
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH. 183

make a sortie. Speak of other hopes that you think are still
left to us, count!”

“Well, there is the hope that the weather will relax—that
the Oder and the ditches will not freeze, and that the enemy,
consequently, will be unable to cross them. By bombard-
ment alone Breslau cannot be taken. Our fortifications will
resist the enemy’s artillery a long while; and, if you do not
waver, but struggle on bravely, you may preserve to your king
his most beloved province and one of his best fortresses.
Think of the honor it would reflect on you if the whole world
should say: ‘The citizens of Breslau preserved to their king
the great capital of Silesia! During the days of danger and
distress they hastened fearlessly to the ramparts, not only to
carry food and refreshments to the defenders, but to trans-
form themselves into soldiers, to man the guns, and hurl balls
at the enemy!’”

“Yes, yes, we will do so! That will be glorious!” shouted
the men, and their eyes flashed, and they lifted up their arms
as if they were grasping their swords. “ Yes, we will march
out to the ramparts—we will become brave soldiers, and fight
for our city and for our king!”

“ And you will lose your limbs,” cried a sneering voice from
the crowd; “you will be crippled—die of hunger—ruin your-
selves and your children; and it will be in vain, after all!
You will be unable to save Breslau, for the odds are too great,
and we ourselves have already been weakened too much.”

“Alas, he is right!” lamented the people, and those who
were about to rush to the walls stood still, and their courage
seemed to disappear.

“No!” exclaimed Count Pickler, ardently—“ no, he is not
right! It isnot true; but even if it were true that we are
too weak to hold out, would it not be much more honorable
to be buried under the ruins of the city, than to live in dis-
grace and bow to a new master? Think of the shame of
Magdeburg; remember that a cry of indignation was uttered
by the whole of Prussia at the treachery and cowardice of
that city! Citizens of Breslau, do you want to be talked of
in the same manner? Do you desire to act so pusillani-
mously that your children one day will have to blush for their
fathers? Do you want to behave so ignominiously, that your
wives and sweethearts will deride you and call you cowards?”

“No, no!” shouted the people. “We will fight—fight for
our honor and our king.”
184 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Clear the way!’ cried loud and imperious voices at that
moment, and a procession of over a hundred citizens marched
up Ohlau Street; it was headed by an old man with flowing
silvery hair, who held a large folded paper in his hands.

The crowd, that hitherto only had had eyes and ears for
Count Pickler, now bent inquiring glances on the new-
comers, and looked searchingly and wonderingly at the old
man, whom every one knew to be one of the most venerable
and respectable citizens of Breslau.

“Where are you going, Mr. Ehrhardt?” asked many at the
same time. ‘‘ What is the object of your procession? What
is the paper you hold in your hands?”

Mr. Ehrhardt held it up. “This paper,” he said, “is a
petition drawn up by the citizens who are following me. In
it we depict the sufferings and privations we have undergone,
and pray that a speedy end may be put to them. Matters
cannot go on in this way any more; the distress is too great;
we have borne all we can—we must think of ourselves for the
sake of our wives and children. We have done enough to
save our honor; self-preservation is also a duty. We have
stated all this in our petition, and are about to take it to the
city hall, in order to deposit it there by permission of the au-
thorities, so that every one may signit. This afternoon it will
be presented to the governor. Hasten, then, to add your sig-
natures, for the more the better. When the governor sees
that the citizens are united, he will have to comply with our
demands and enter into a capitulation. The enemy sent a
flag of truce this morning; the bearer, I have been told, im-
poses very rigorous terms on the commander of the fortress.
He threatens also that the city, if it do not surrender to-day,
will be bombarded with red-hot shot long enough to set fire to
all. the buildings. Come, my friends, let us go. All good
aud sensible citizens will sign this petition.”

The procession moved on. Profound silence ensued.
Count Piickler was still standing on the curb-stone and look-
ing in breathless suspense at the people that, a moment ago,
had surrounded him. He saw now that many left him and
joined those marching to the city hall.

“Citizens of Breslau!” he cried, in great anguish, pale with
grief and horror—“ citizens of Breslau, think of your honor;
think of the many tears which the éyes of your noble queen
have already shed for Magdeburg; remember that your king
relies on you and on your love, and that his gratitude toward
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH. 185

you will be boundless if you remain faithful now—faithful
unto death! Think of the great king who fought seven long
years for you, and whose glory still reflects a golden lustre on
the whole of Silesia. Do not join the timid and cowardly.
Stand by me. Let us go together to the city hall—let us de-
mand the petition that we may tear it to atoms; then go to
the governor and tell him that he must not capitulate, but
resist till—”

“Till we die of hunger?” cried a harsh voice, and a tall,
broad-shouldered man elbowed himself through the crowd and
walked up to the count. ‘Count Piickler,” he said, men-
acingly, “if you continue talking about resistance, and other
nonsense of that kind, you are a miserable demagogue, and
the assassin.of those who believe your high-sounding words. —
Listen to me, citizens of Breslau. Iam secretary of the com-
mission of provisions, and do you know whither I have been
ordered to go? To the municipal authorities! I am taking
to them a list-of what is still on hand. There are in Breslau
at the present time only twenty thousand pounds of meat, and
the bakers and brewers have no fuel left. If we do not open
our gates to the French, death by starvation will await us
after to-morrow. Therefore, let all those who do not wish to
die of hunger hasten to the city hall and sign the petition
that will be deposited there.”

At this moment a strange, hissing noise resounded through
the air; a glowing ball rushed along and penetrated the roof
of a house, from which flames immediately burst forth. A
second and a third followed and set fire to several houses on
the market-place.

“The bombardment is recommencing!” howled the multi-
tude. “They are firing red-hot shot again. Come, come to
the city hall! Let us sign the petition.” They hastened off
like game pursued by a hunter; fear lent wings to their feet,
and anxiety rendered the weak strong, and enabled the lame
to walk.

Count Piickler was left alone. For a moment he leaned
pale and exhausted against the wall of the house; large drops
of perspiration covered his brow; his cheeks were livid, his
lips were quivering, and he gazed at the city hall, the steps of
which the crowd were ascending at that moment. “They are
going to sign my death-warrant,” he muttered, in a low voice.
He descended from the curb-stone, and, drawing himself to
his full height, walked slowly down the street. The bullets

13
186 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

were whistling around him and dropping at his side. He
quietly walked on. He reached the house in which he was
sojourning, and ascended the stairs slowly and with dilated
eyes, like a somnambulist. He reached the first landing,
and had turned already to the second staircase. All at once
invisible influences seemed to stop his progress; his face com-
menced quivering, his eyes sparkled, and turned with an ex-
pression of unutterable grief to the door which he was about
to pass., “I must see her once more,” he muttered; “ possibly
she may follow me.” He pulled the bell vehemently, and a
footman opened the door. “Is my betrothed at home?”

“Yes, count; the young countess is in her room; her par-
ents are in the parlor. Shall I announce you?”

“No, I will go to her without being announced.” Passing
the footman and hastening down the corridor, he rapped at
the last door. Without waiting, he opened it and entered.

A joyful cry was heard—a young lady as lovely as a rose ran
toward him with open arms. “Have you come at last, dear-
est? Have you really been restored to me? Oh, how I have
been longing for you all the morning—how my heart trembled
for you! With what an agony of fear every ball passing over
our house filled me, for any one of them might have struck
you! But now I have you back. I shall detain you here,
and not let you go any more. Youshall be like a caged bird.
Would that my heart were the cage in which I could keep
you!” She laid her head, smiling and blushing, on his breast
while uttering these words; in the ardor of her own joy she
had not noticed how pale, listless, and sad he was. When
she raised her bright eyes to him, her smile vanished. “What
ails you, my beloved?” she asked, anxiously. “‘ What is the
calamity that I see written on your face?”

He took her head between his hands and looked long and
mournfully at her. “Camilla,” he said, in a low, husky
voice—“ Camilla, will you die with me?”

“Die!” she asked aghast, disengaging her head from his
hands. ‘‘ Why should we die, Frederick?”

“Because I do not wish to live without honor,” he ex-
claimed, with sudden vehemence. “Because our misfortunes
are so terrible that we must escape from them into the grave.
All is lost! Breslau will fall, and we shall be obliged to pros-
trate ourselves at the conqueror’s feet! But I will not, cannot
survive the disgrace of Prussia. ‘Victory or death!’ was the
motto which I once exchanged with Schill. I swore to him
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH. 187

to live and die with my country; I swore to the king, if Bres-
lau fell, that I would die the death of a traitor. Breslau
falls; therefore I die!”

“No, no,” exclaimed Camilla, clinging firmly to him, “ you
shall not die—you must not die! You are mine; you belong
to me, and I love you! Hitherto you have lived for your
honor as a man—now live for your heart and its love! Lis-
ten to me, Frederick! How often have you implored me to
accelerate the day of our wedding, and I always refused!
Well, I beseech you to-day, give me your hand! Let us go
together to my parents, and ask them to send for a priest,
and let our marriage take place to-day. And then, dearest,
when the gates of Breslau open to the enemy, we can find a
refuge at your splendid estate. The horrible turmoil of war
and the clashing of arms will not follow us thither. There,
amidst the charms of peaceful nature, let us commence a new
life; with hearts fondly united, we shall belong only to our-
selves, and, forgetful of the outside world, devote ourselves to
our friends—to art and literature. Oh, my beloved, is it not
a blissful future that is inviting you and promising you un-
disturbed happiness?” She laid her arms, from which the
white lace sleeves had fallen back, on his shoulders, and held
her glowing face so close to his own that her breath fanned
his cheek; her ruby lips almost touched his own, and her dark
eyes were fixed on him with an expression of unutterable
tenderness.

The count pushed her back almost rudely. “The happi-
ness you are depicting to me is only given to the innocent, to
the pure, and to those who have no desires,” he said, gloomily;
“it is the happiness of gentle doves, not of men. And I am
aman! Asaman of honor I have lived, and as such I will
die. My life harmonizes no more with yours. Will you go
with me, Camilla, into the land of eternal honor and liberty?
Does not this world of treachery and cowardice fill you with
disgust as it does myself? Does not your soul shrink with
dismay at the infamy we behold everywhere at the present
time? Oh, I know your heart is noble and pure, and despises
the baseness which is now the master of the world. Let us,
therefore, escape from it. Come, dearest, come! I have two
pistols at my rooms. They are loaded, and will not fail us.
A pressure of my finger—and we are free! Say one word,
and I will bring them—say, my Camilla, that you will die
with me!”
188 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“T say that I will live with you!” she cried, in terror.

“Then you will not die with me?” he asked, harshly.

‘No, Frederick, why should I die? I am so young, and
love life; it has given me nothing but joy—it has given you
to me—you, whom I love, for whom I will live, whom I will
render happy! What do I care for the misfortunes of Prussia
—what do I care whether Breslau surrenders to the enemy or
not, while I am free to follow you—free to devote myself en-
tirely to my love!”

“ A woman’s heart!—a woman’s love!” said Piickler, with
a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. “I wish I resembled
you; we then might be like cooing doves in the myrtle-tree.
But my heart is rather that of an eagle—longing for the sun;
and as he has set on earth, I shall fly after him. Farewell,
Camilla, farewell! Forget me not, and be happy!” He im-
printed a hasty, glowing kiss on her lips, and then turned
toward the door.

Camilla rushed after him, and, clinging to him with both
her hands, exclaimed: “ Frederick, what are you going to do?”

“T go to the land of liberty, and will do what honor com-
mands,” he said, disengaging himself from her grasp, and
rushing from the room.

“Frederick! Frederick!’ she cried, in the utmost terror,
running to the door; she could not open it, for he had locked
it outside. “I must follow and save him,” she exclaimed,
and gliding across the room, she opened a small secret door in
the opposite wall; scarcely touching the floor, she passed
through the parlor, without taking any notice of her parents,
who were sitting on the divap, and asked her in surprise for
the cause of her hurry and agitation. She did not see that
they were foilowing her; nor did she hear them call her.
Onward, onward she went through the room to the corridor,
into the hall, and up the staircase. She rushed to the upper
floor, and rang the bell violently, when the footman of Count
Pickler opened the door, and ‘stared surprised at the young
countess. She passed him impetuously, and ran down the
corridor leading into the sitting-room of her betrothed. But
it was locked. Uttering a cry of despair, she sank breathless
on her knees, and laid her burning forehead against the door.

The old count, with his-wife, followed by Count Pitckler’s
footman, now approached. “My child, my child!” mur-
mured the old countess, bending over her daughter, “ what
has happened? Why are you so pale? Why do you weep?”
THE PATRIOT’S DEATH. 189

Camilla looked up to her with streaming eyes. ‘‘ Mother,”
she exclaimed, in a heart-rending voice, “ mother, he will kill
himself!” ‘

“Who?” asked her father, aghast.

“ My betrothed,” she gasped faintly. ‘‘ With a more gener-
ous and scrupulous regard for his honor than we are manifest-
ing for ours, he will not survive the disgrace of his country.
As Breslau is doomed, he will die! As I did not care to die
with him, he angrily repulsed me, and went up to his room to
die alone. Oh, mother, father, have mercy on my anguish!
Help me to save him!”

“Ts the count really here?” said Camilla’s father to the
footman. “Is he in this room?”

“Yes, gracious count, my master came home a few minutes
ago. Without saying a word, he went to his room, and locked
himself up.”

The old count stepped to the door, and, grasping the knob,
shook it violently. “Count Pickler, open the door,” he cried
aloud. “ Your father-in-law and the mother of your be-
trothed are standing at your door, and ask to be admitted!”

“Frederick! Frederick!” begged Camilla, “I am on my
knees in front of your door-sill, and implore you to have
mercy—to have compassion on me! Oh, do not close your
heart against me—oh, let me come in, my dear friend!” She
paused and listened, hoping to hear a word or a movement
inside. But every thing remained silent.

“Tf you refuse to listen to our supplications, we shall enter
by force,” exclaimed the count.

“My son,” wailed the old countess, “if you will not listen
to us, at least have mercy on my daughter, for she will die of
grief if you desert her.”

“My Frederick, I love you so tenderly—do not repel me!”
wailed Camilla.

All was silent. “I must use force,’ said the count, con-
cealing his anguish under the guise of anger. “ Hasten to a
locksmith,” he added, turning to the footman; “he is to come
here at once, and bring his tools with him. Notify also the
officers at the neighboring police-station.”” The footman
withdrew.

“ My beloved,” cried Camilla, wringing her hands, and her
face bathed in a flood of tears, “my Frederick, I love you bet-
ter than my life! Your wish shall be complied with. Open
your door, and admit me. If I cannot live I will die with
190 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

you! Oh, do not remain silent—give me a sign that you are
still living—tell me at least that you forgive me—that—”

She paused, for a song suddenly resounded in the room; it
was not a song of sorrow, but of wrath and manly courage.
The words were as follows:

“‘Tod du siisser, fiir das Vaterland !
Siisser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen !

Was das Lied nicht liset, lost das Schwert,
Blinkend Heil, umgiirte meine Hiiften,
Von der Schande kannst du Tapfre retten,
Zierde der Tapfern |”? *

The voice died away. Camilla was on her knees, with
clasped hands; her parents stood behind her in devout silence.
Suddenly noisy footsteps drew near. At the entrance of the
corridor appeared the footman with the locksmith, who came
with his tools to open the door. The old count made a sign
to him to stand aloof. He had heard a movement in the room,
and he hoped Camilla’s lover would voluntarily admit them.

A pause ensued—then a terrible report was heard in the
room. Camilla uttered a loud shriek, and sank senseless to
the floor.

An hour later, the locksmith succeeded in opening the
door, which had been strongly bolted inside. Count Pickler
sat in the easy-chair in front of his desk, immovable, with his
face calm and uninjured, the pistol stillin his hand. He had
aimed well. The bullet had pierced his heart. On the desk
in front of him lay a sheet of paper, containing the following
words:

“Last greeting to Ferdinand von Schill, who took an oath
with me that we would live and die as faithful sons of our
country! Our country is sinking ignominiously into the
dust; I will not, cannot survive the disgrace, and, therefore,
I die. Farewell, you who took that oath with me—farewell
Schill and Staps! I hope you will be happier than myself! I
am the first of us three who dies because he despairs of his

_country. Will you survive me long? May God give you
strength to do so! Farewell until we meet again!
“FREDERICK VON PUCKLER.”

On the following day the governor of Breslau commenced
negotiations with the enemy, and on the 7th of January,
1807, Breslau opened its gates to the French troops, and the
Prussian garrison laid down its arms,

* See p. 18.
PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. 191

‘

CHAPTER XXII.
PEACE NEGOTIATIONS.

GENERAL von Zastrow, who had temporarily taken charge
of the Prussian department of foreign affairs, was pacing his
room. His whole appearance was indicative of care and anx-
iety. Whenever he passed the door leading into the ante-
room, he stood still and listened, and then, heaving a sigh
and muttering angry words, continued his walk. But at
length it seemed as if his expectations were to be fulfilled; he
heard approaching steps. The door opened, and the footman
announced General von Kockeritz.

General von Zastrow quickly went to meet his visitor, and
offered him both his hands. “I thank your excellency from
the bottom of my heart for having yielded to my urgent sup-
plications,” he said, passionately, “and at the same time I
beg your pardon for having been so bold as to request you to
call upon me. But as you reside in the same house as their
majesties, and as the king comes to see you frequently and
unexpectedly, I believe we can converse here more freely and
without fear of being disturbed.”

“You are right, my dear general,” said Kéckeritz; “it is
better for us to hold our little conferences at your house. My
room, moreover, has walls so thin that every word spoken
there can be heard outside. Alas, it is on the whole a miser-
able barrack in which the royal couple and myself are obliged
to stay here in Memel! Low, dark rooms—no elegance, no
accommodations, no comfort. Every thing is as narrow,
gloomy, and smoky as possible and then this fearfully cold
weather! Yesterday, during the heavy storm, an inch of
snow lay on the window-sill in the queen’s room, and, I assure
you, it did not melt! Nevertheless, her majesty is perfectly
calm and composed; she never complains, never utters any
dissatisfaction, but always tries to prove to the king that she
likes Memel very well, and that it is as beautiful a capital as
Berlin.”

“Ah, my respected friend,” said General von Zastrow,
mournfully, “this composure of the queen is very injurious
to us. If she were more melancholy—if she bewailed
her misfortunes more bitterly—if she manifested a more
poignant sorrow, we should not be doomed to sit here on the
192 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

extreme frontier of Prussia, but might hope to make our
triumphal entry into Berlin, perhaps, in two weeks.”

“Into Berlin?” asked General von Kéckeritz, greatly sur-
prised. “ Why, you are talking of a miracle which I am un-
able to comprehend.”

“Oh, your excellency will understand it soon enough, ’ re-
plied General von Zastrow, smiling, “if you will only be so
kind as to tisten to me a little.”

“T assure you, my friend, I am most anxious to hear your
explanations; I am burning with the desire to know how we
are to bring it about to leave this accursed, cold Memel, and
return to Berlin within so short a time.”

“Well, what is the cause of our sojourn here?” asked Gen-
eral von Zastrow. “ What has driven us hither? What has
deprived the king, our august master, of his states, of his
happiness—nay, almost of his crown? What is the cause that
our beautiful and amiable queen has to undergo all sorts of
privations and inconveniences, and is compelled to reside, in-
stead of in her palace at Berlin, in a miserable, leaky house in
Memel, where she is closer to the Bashkirs than to civilized
people? ‘The war is the cause of all this!”

“Yes, if my advice had been followed, these calamities
would never have befallen us,” replied General von Kéckeritz,
sighing; “we would have remained on terms of friendship and
peace with the great man whom Heaven has sent to subjugate
the world, and resistance against whom is almost equivalent
to blasphemy. He frequently, and magnanimously offered us
his friendship, but at that time more attention was paid
to the vain boastings of the lieutenants of the guard; and
the rhodomontades of Prince Louis Ferdinand unfortunately
found an echo in the heart of the queen. The advice of older
and more prudent officers was disregarded, and the king, in
spite of himself, was dragged into this war, which we have
had to expiate by the defeats of Jena and Auerstadt, and by
the loss of so many fortresses and provinces. And who knows
what may be in store for us yet? Who knows what mischief
may yet threaten the crown and life of Frederick William!”

“Well,” said General von Zastrow, with a sarcastic smile,
“it looks as though the fortune of war were now turning in
favor of the Russians. Think of the great victories which
the Russian General Benningsen has already won. Did not
twenty-four trumpeting postilions proclaim to us at Kéonigs-
berg, on new-year’s-day, the Russian victory of Pultusk?”
PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. 193

“Yes, but those twenty-four postilions and that emphatic
announcement were the most brilliant parts of the victory,”
said General von Kéckeritz, shrugging his shoulders. ‘‘ Ben-
ningsen was not defeated by Napoleon at Pultusk, but honor-
ably maintained his position on the battle-field—that is what
the whole amounted to.”

“Yes, but we are celebrating again a great and brilliant
triumph. On the 7th and 8th of February the Russian Gen-
eral Benningsen and our General Lestocq claim to have
obtained another advantage over Napoleon and his marshals.
I suppose you are aware that Benningsen himself has arrived
here in order to communicate the news of the victory of Eylau
to the royal couple?”

“Yes, I know,” said Kockeritz. “But I know also what
this new success really amounts to. The Russians are very
liberal in issuing victorious bulletins, and if they have not
been massacred in a battle to a man, the last ten survivors
shout invariably, ‘Victory! We have won the battle!’ That
of Eylau is even more problematic than that of Pultusk.
Pray tell me, who held the battle-field of Eylau?”

“Napoleon with his French, of course.”’

“ And who retreated from Eylau toward Kénigsberg?”

“General Benningsen with his Russians.”

“ And these Russians, nevertheless, are audacious enough to
claim a victory!” exclaimed General von Kéckeritz. “ These
fellows regard it such when Napoleon, instead of pressing them
on their retreat, remains where he is, and gives them time to
escape.”

“They are in ecstasies, because they infer from this delay
of Napoleon, and from his unwonted inactivity, that he also
stands in need of repose and recreation,” said General von
Zastrow. ‘The severe winter, bad quarters, hunger, and
thirst, have greatly exhausted the strength of the grand army,
and the lion would like to rest a little. For this reason—and
now I come to the point concerning which I requested your
excellency to call on me—for this reason, the great Napoleon
desires to make peace. The conqueror of Jena himself offers
it to the vanquished King of Prussia.”

“What? Do you really think that to be true?” asked
General von Kéckeritz.

“T do not only think, but know it to be true,” said Zastrow.
“@eneral Bertrand arrived here an hour ago, and called on
me with the request to present him to the king, that he might
194 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

deliver him an autograph letter from the Emperor Napoleon.
I told the general that I should return his visit in half an
hour, and then conduct him to his majesty. I wished to
profit by this half hour, my dear friend, to confer with you
about this matter.”

“And did General Bertrand inform you that Napoleon
would offer peace to our king?”

“Yes, your excellency. He communicated to me the con-
tents of the imperial letter. The lion of Jena magnanimously
offers once more to make peace.”

“We must strain every nerve to induce the king to accept
these overtures,” exclaimed Kéckeritz, quickly.

“Your excellency is the only man sufficiently powerful to
induce the king to come to such a decision,” said Zastrow.
“You must be so kind as to prove to him that to continue the
war with France is to bring about the ruin of Prussia. If he
does not accept the offer of Napoleon, he is ruined, for the
emperor would not forgive such obstinate hostility; and, if
Prussia will not live with him on terms of friendship, he will
annihilate her in order to be done with her.”

“T shall not threaten the king by laying too much stress on
the strength of his enemy,” said Kéckeritz, “for that would
wound the pride of his majesty, and provoke his sense of
honor to renewed resistance. But I shall call his attention to
the weakness and fickleness of Russia, informing him that our
friends, the Russians, are behaving in the most shameful
manner in those parts of Prussia which they are occupying,
and committing so many outrages that the inhabitants are
praying on their knees to God to grant victory to the French,
so that they might deliver them from the Russians. I shall
tell him that the distress and the extortions the Prussian
farmers have to suffer at the hands of our allies are perfectly
incredible; that the peasants in the villages have been stripped
of every thing, to such an extent that they beg the Cossacks,
who have robbed them of their provisions, for their daily
bread; that many of them are dying of hunger, and that un-
buried corpses have been found in the houses of several vil-
lages now occupied by our troops. And, above all, I shall
beseech his majesty to repose no confidence in the Russian
friendship! Whatever the czar may say about his fidelity, he
has not the power of carrying his point, and all his resolutions
will be frustrated by the resistance of his generals and of his
brother. The Grand-Duke Constantine and the larger and
PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. 195

more powerful part of the Russian nobility are anxious for
peace; and Constantine, whose views are shared by Benning-
sen, will leave no intrigues, no cabals untried in order to gain
the czar over to his opinion, and plunge him into difficulties
from which he will finally be able to extricate himself only by
making peace—a peace concluded at the expense of Prussia.
Russia and France will be reconciled over the corpse of Prus-
sia! Even now it is distinctly to be seen what we have to
expect from the czar’s assistance. Our allies are doing noth-
ing really to help us, but whatever steps they are taking are
exclusively for their own safety. It is true, they advanced at
first, but only in order to prevent the French from approach-
ing their frontier. Since that time, however, in spite of the
battle of Pultusk, the Russians have steadily retreated,
although the enemy did not compel them to do so. They
accomplished thus their own purpose, that is, to devastate a
province of Prussia, and protect themselves by this desert
from a French invasion.”

“Tt is true,” said General von Zastrow, “our friends are
ruining us by a mere semblance of aid. If they really were
honest and faithful allies, would they not strain every nerve
to preserve Dantzic to us? General Benningsen did promise
to succor the fortress and raise the siege, if Dantzic held out
only two months longer. But what is he doing to redeem his
promise? Absolutely nothing! We reproached him with his
inactivity, and he excused it by asserting that the army would
first have to be reénforced. He admits that the fall of that
seaport would be a great disaster, but refuses to do any thing
decisive for its safety. Therefore, if we do not give up the
equivocal friendship of the Russians—if we do not now make
peace with France, Dantzic will be lost, and Colberg and
Graudenz will likewise fall, in spite of the efforts of their
heroic defenders, Schill and Colomb. Oh, I beg you induce
the king to accept the peace if the terms offered to him be not
utterly inadmissible. These Russians will never deliver us.
Suppose even another general than Benningsen, and better
disposed than he, should advance after his so-called victories
in the same manner as Benningsen is retreating now, he would
-restore to us no state, only a desert. The king ought to be-

‘lieve us that they are utterly unwilling to render us assistance,
‘and that they only intend devastating our country in order to
protect themselves. Whatever the noble and generous Em- .
‘peror Alexander may order, it is certain that nothing will be
196 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN, LOUISA.

done. Even though we should protest and clamor against it
in the most heart-rending manner, we should be unable to
bring about a change.”

“ But should we succeed in convincing the king,” said Gen-
eral von Kéckeritz, “ how are we to persuade the queen? Her
heart, otherwise so gentle and generous, is filled with hatred
against Napoleon, and she believes in the friendship of the
Russian emperor.”

“Will you take it upon yourself, your excellency, to per-
suade the king to make peace with France?”

“T believe I shall be able to do it,” said General von
Kéockeritz, after a brief reflection.

“Well, for my part, I undertake to persuade the queen to
acquiesce, at least in silence, and not advocate so warmly the
alliance with Russia.”

“T should like to know by what charm you intend to ac-
complish such a miracle.”’

“By a very simple one, your excellency. I shall cause my
niece, the Countess von Truchsess, who is not merely lady of
honor, but also reader to the queen, to read to her majesty
the last numbers of the Berlin Telegraph, which I have just
received. This seems like a riddle, but it is not. That jour-
nal contains charges against the queen, which, it appears to
me, render it impossible for her to declare so loudly and pub-
licly in favor of a continued alliance with the Russian em-
peror. Her majesty, therefore, must be informed of the
contents of those articles; she must know in what sense pub-
lic opinion—or, if you prefer, the wicked world—is interpret-
ing her enthusiasm for the Russian alliance. She must learn
it this very hour, that, at this momentous crisis, she may not
try to stem the tide of events. We must tie her hands in
order to prevent her from destroying the work we are taking
so much pains to accomplish. While your excellency goes to
the king in order to take his heart by storm with your con-
vincing eloquence, and I am afterward conducting General
Bertrand to his majesty (to whom he will present the pacific
overtures and the autograph letter from Napoleon), my niece,
the Countess von Truchsess, will read to the queen the articles
published in the Telegraph, and if the king should really hes-
itate, and desire to hear the opinion of his wife, she, in her
just indignation, will assuredly not advocate his canse for
» whose sake she has to bear the slanders of the public press.”
“Heaven grant that you may be a true prophet, general!”
THE SLANDEROUS ARTICLES. 197

said Kockeritz, heaving a sigh. ‘The queen, however, is so
magnanimous that she might even overlook her personal
wrongs, and the slanders heaped on her, if she thought the
welfare of the country was at stake. I believe she esteems the
honor of Prussia even higher than her own, and in case she
should believe the former to be endangered, would be willing
to sacrifice herself.”’

“T believe your excellency is mistaken, so far as that is
concerned,” said General von Zastrow, smiling. “The wife
of Frederick William, aside from being a high-minded queen,
is a woman who has the utmost regard for her reputation and
virtue, and who, for the sake of her husband and children,
would not suffer a breath of suspicion upon her honor. Well,
we shall see whether you are right or not. It is high time
for us to go to work. As you have promised me your assist-
ance, I am quite hopeful, and believe we shall succeed in
restoring peace to poor tormented Prussia. Go, then, your
excellency, to perform your part; I will go to the CGountess
von Truchsess, to bring her the newspapers, and then it will
be high time to conduct General Bertrand to the king.
Well, Heaven bless us all, and cause Prussia to make peace at
last with the Corsican lion!”

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SLANDEROUS ARTICLES.

QUEEN LouIsA was in her cabinet, engaged in reading the
letters and journals brought by the courier, who had just ar-
rived from Berlin. She glanced hastily over the papers, and
then turned to the letters that lay unopened before her. On
the other side of the small table, standing in front of the
divan, sat the young Countess von Truchsess, who was occu-
pied in arranging the journals. The queen meantime was
reading her letters; during the perusal her features lighted
up more and more, and a delicate blush mantled her pale
cheeks.

Louisa had but just recovered from a severe and dangerous
illness, which had attacked her soon after her arrival at
Konigsberg. The suffering which her courageous soul was
enduring with so much constancy and heroism had under-
mined her body; weaker than her mind, it had succumbed to
198 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the burden of her grief. A nervous fever had confined her to
her bed for weeks; it had afforded her at least some con-
solation by rendering her unconscious of misfortune, and
causing her, in her delirious moments, to live again through
the joyful days of the past. While she was dreaming and be-
lieving herself happy in the splendors of a former life, real
and fearful disasters had befallen her cause. She had not
learned that the French were approaching nearer to Konigs-
berg, and that the unfortunate royal family were no longer
safe there. She had not been conscious in her fever that she
had been lifted from her couch into the travelling-coach, to
be conveyed to Memel—that her carriage had been trans-
formed into a sick-bed, and that she had lain on the cushions
with burning cheeks, singing sweet lullabies, and rejoicing in
her fancied happiness.

But at length her fever subsided, and consciousness re-
turned. All the mournful news which during her illness had
been concealed from her, overwhelmed her as soon as she re-
covered, and for this reason her health had improved but very
slowly. At this hour, as we have said, the blush had re-
turned to her cheeks, and her eyes were beaming again with
the fire of former days. The letters gave a glimmer of hope
to her soul. They told her of the brave defenders of the for-
tresses that had not surrendered, and of heroic Ferdinand von
Schill, who, with his soldiers, was doing so much injury to
the enemy, and who had succeeded in capturing one of the
commanding generals of the besieging army, Marshal Victor.
They told her of Graudenz, the commander of which had
sworn to be buried under the ruins of that fortress rather than
open its gates to the enemy; they told her also of Dantzic,
which was still courageously holding out and hoping for the
succor the Russians had promised. And these letters con-
tained still other hopeful news: that Berlin, which, according
to former statements, was said to have already submitted to
Napoleon, was bowing very reluctantly to the behests of the
autocrat, and still waiting for the hour of deliverance.

“Oh, I knew well enough,” said the queen, laying aside the
last of her letters, “I knew well enough that the inhabitants
of Berlin are affectionately devoted to us. I never doubted
their constancy, and how should I? ‘Those whom you meet
with a heart full of love are compelled, as it were, to return
your love. The king and I always loved Berlin, and always
counted on its fealty. Iam glad, therefore, to hear that our
THE SLANDEROUS ARTICLES. 199

hopes will be fulfilled one day! It is still a dark, stormy
night, but daylight will come—the rising sun will dispel the
storm and scatter the darkness. You shake your head,
Countess Truchsess? You do not believe in my prophecies?”
; I do not _believe in the fidelity of the inhabitants of Ber-
lin, your majesty,” sighed the countess, “ they are a frivolous,
fickle people, who revile those to-day whom they admired but
yesterday.”
Bs “Oh!” exclaimed the queen, sinking back upon the sofa,
the throbbing of my heart tells me that you have to com-
municate bad news! What is it?”

“No, most gracious queen, command me rather to be
silent,” said the lady of honor, imploringly. ‘“ Your majesty
looks so pale that 1 am afraid any excitement would injure
your weak nerves. You need repose and ought not to be
irritated; besides, what does your majesty care for the
slanders of the populace? Such arrows recoil from the
pure.”

“Ah,” said the queen, with a faint smile, “you are dealing
with me as did Robert the hunter with the count in Schiller’s
‘Walk to the Forge.’ You are stimulating my curiosity by
mysterious words—you are talking about slanders, and yet you
do not tell me what they are.”

“Only with the difference, your majesty, that Robert the
hunter told falsehoods, which he himself had invented, while
I alluded only to those of others, and despise them from the
bottom of my heart.”

“Then you mean to say that I have been slandered,” ex-
claimed the queen, in a low voice. “Tell me, countess, what
did your friends write to you? What stories have been dis-
seminated? I desire to know!”

“Gracious queen, my friends did not write any thing on
the subject. I saw only what, unfortunately, thousands have
already seen.”

“What did you see?” said the queen, angrily. “What do
you refer to? Do not speak any longer in riddles, if you
please.”

“Your majesty, I have glanced at the pamphlets and jour-
nals lying there, and request you not to insist to-day on my
reading to you the articles contained in them.”

“ Ah, that is it!” exclaimed Louisa, laying both her hands
on the periodicals which the countess seemingly wished to
withhold from her. “These contain the slanders. I must
200 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA..

know what they are. Read them to me, countess.” And the
queen folded her arms with a resolute air.

“Have mercy on me, your majesty! I am really afraid—
my lips cannot easily recite those vile lines, and your majesty,
besides, will be angry with me for complying.”

“No, no,” exclaimed the queen, impatiently, “I am not
angry with you. You enly did your duty in calling my
attention to these things, and having taken upon yourself the
task of being my reader, perform it now! What pamphlets
are those sent to us?”

“Your majesty,” said the countess, in an embarrassed tone
of voice, “ there is, first, a pamphlet enitled ‘A True Account
of the Interview of the Emperor Alexander with the King of
Prussia at the Grave of Frederick the Great.’ ”

‘Read it,” replied the queen, dryly, “it is always good to
listen to the true account of events in which we have taken
part.” And without uttering a word—without even a frown,
she listened to the comments on the scene at the grave of
Frederick. They were malicious and scornful, representing
it as a farce.

“Well,” said the queen, when the countess had finished, “if
that is the worst, I feel at ease again. We must submit to
abuse, and I sincerely pardon all those who expose me to the
derision of the worid by depicting me as a martial Joan of
Arc. It has not been permitted me to live quietly in the~
shade of domestic happiness. A queen stands alone on a
summit; she is seen and watched by every one, and it is,
therefore, but natural that she should be hated and abused
more relentlessly than other women, particularly if she be
unhappy. For sovereigns are never pardoned, although they
are subject to human failings, and their misfortunes are
always regarded as their own faults. Let the malicious,
therefore, deride us as much as they please; the good will
only love and respect us the more. Proceed, countess! What
else did we receive?”

“Nothing, your majesty, but a few numbers of the Tele-
graph.”

“Ah, read them,” exclaimed the queen. “I know that
journal will not slander me. Its editor, Professor Lange, is a
patriot, and, for this reason, I had promised to lend him the
portrait of the king which I am wearing in a locket, that he
might give his readers a good likeness of their beloved mon-
arch. The disastrous events of the war, and. my departure
THE SLANDEROUS ARTICLES. 201

from Berlin, prevented me from fulfilling my promise. But
there will be better times for us, perhaps, and I shall then be
able to reward all those who remain faithful to us.”

“And I hope your majesty will also be able to punish those
who prove treacherous,” exclaimed the countess, vehemently.

The queen shook her head. “No,” she said, “those who
wrong me I will pardon, and those who are faithless I will
leave to their own conscience. Now, countess, read to me the
articles of the Telegraph.”

“Does your majesty command me?”

“JT dot”

The countess took one of the sheets and read in a tremulous
voice: “‘A reliable account of the reasons why the queen
compelled her husband, in spite of his reluctance, to conclude
an alliance with the Emperor of Russia, and why she herself
entered into a love-affair with Alexander of Russia—’ ”’

ous started, and a deathly pallor covered her face like a
veil.

“Oh, my queen!” exclaimed the countess, imploringly, “do
not insist on my reading any further. I have not courage to
do so.”

“Tf I have courage enough to listen, you must have courage
enough to read,” said the queen, almost harshly. “ Read—I
command you.”

And the countess, in a low and tremulous voice, read the
disgraceful charge preferred by that journal, which accused
the queen of loving the Emperor Alexander in the most
passionate manner. “Queen Louisa,” said the editor, “ was
in favor of the alliance with Russia, because her heart had
concluded an alliance with the handsome emperor, and she
met with her ‘fine-looking’ friend for the last time in
the presence of her husband at the grave of Frederick
the Great. The alliance of their hearts was sealed there by a
glowing kiss, which Alexander imprinted on the lips of
Louisa.”

The queen uttered a cry, and sprang up like an angry
lioness. “That is not true—that cannot be in the paper!”
she cried, almost beside herself.

The lady of honor silently handed her the paper. Louisa
seized it, but she trembled so violently that she was hardly
able to decipher the characters. She at last read the slander-
ous article herself. Heart-rending groans escaped her, and a
strange twitching and quivering distorted her features. ‘It

14
202 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

is indeed true, I have been wickedly reviled!’’ she exclaimed,
throwing the paper aside. “My enemies will rob me of the
only thing remaining—my honor—my good name. They de-
sire to expose me to the scorn of the world. Oh, this disgrace
is more shocking than. all my other sufferings. It will kill
me!” She covered her face with her hands and wept
piteously. The tears trickled between her fingers, and fell on
her black dress as if adorning it with diamonds.

The Countess von Truchsess was touched by the queen’s
grief. She softly gathered up the other papers, and was about
to leave the room, but the noise of her footsteps aroused
Louisa from the stupor of her despair. She quickly dropped
her hands from her face and dried her tears. “Stay here,”
she said; “read the remainder. I want to hear it all.” And
as the lady of honor remonstrated against this order—as she
implored the queen to spare herself, and to close her ears
against such slanders, Louisa said, gravely and imperiously:
“T want to know it all! Unknown terrors are even worse
than those which we do know. Read!’

The countess, therefore, was obliged to read. The remain-
ing numbers of the journal repeated the same charge. They
stated, though in ditferent words, that the queen alone was in
favor of the alliance with Russia; that the king would be
quite willing to make peace with France, but that his wife
would never permit it, because she was passionately enamoured
of the emperor of Russia, and maintained a tender lazson
with him. The queen listened as immovable and cold asa
statue; her whole vitality seemed suspended; she then pressed
her right hand firmly against her heart; with her left she
clung convulsively to the back of the sofa, on which she was
sitting, as though she wished to prevent herself from falling.
Her eyes stared wildly, as if strange and fearful visions passed
before them. Thus she sat, long after the countess had
paused, an image of grief and horror. The lady of honor
dared not interrupt her; but clasping her hands, and weeping
softly, she gazed at the queen, who, in her grief-stricken
beauty, seemed to her a martyr. Nothing was heard but the
monotonous ticking of the clock, and, at times, a low whis-
tling of the canary-bird, in its gilt cage at the window.

But suddenly Louisa seemed to awake from her stupor; a
tremor pervaded her whole frame; the flash of life and con-
sciousness returned to her eyes. “That is his work,” she
muttered; “this attack comes from him—from my mortal
THE SLANDEROUS ARTICLES. 203

enemy. It is Napoleon who has aimed this poisoned arrow at
my heart, because he knew that nothing could hurt me and
my husband more fatally than this dreadful calumny.” And
uttering a loud cry of despair, and wringing her hands, she
exclaimed: ‘Oh, my God, what did I do, to deserve so terri-
ble a disgrace! What did my husband do that he should be
thus exposed to the relentless malice of his foe? Was not the
measure of our wretchedness full? Could not that cruel man,
who calls himself Emperor of the French, content himself
with hurling us into the dust, and with robbing my husband
of his states? Is the honor of his wife also to be sac-
rificed ?”

A flood of tears burst from her eyes, and lifting up her arms
to heaven, she cried: “ My God, why didst Thou desert me!
Have mercy on me, and send death to me, that I may conceal my
reviled head in the grave! Jam accused of an ignominious,
sinful love, although I love no one on earth but my husband
and my children! And a German pen was bought to write
that slander—German eyes did not shrink from reading it,
and German men and women permitted it to be repeated in
this journal time and again! They did not feel that they
were disgraced and reviled in my person—that all Germany
was calumniated! For, in my grief as well as in my love, I
am the representative of Germany, and to insult me is to in-
sult all German wives and mothers. Woe to you, Napoleon,
for stooping to such an outrage! I pardon your attempts to
rob me of my crown, but so long as I breathe, I will not for-
give your attacks upon my honor!”

She rose slowly and proudly, and lifted her arms and eyes
as if to utter a solemn imprecation. “Woe to you, Na-
poleon!” she cried, in a loud, ringing voice, “woe to you that
you did not respect the innocence of the wife, and had no
mercy on the honor of a mother! The tears which I am shed-
ding at this hour will one day fall like burning coals on your
heart, and for this torment I am now enduring I shall call you to
account above! You think you are master of the earth, and,
like fate itself, can dispose of empires; but you will be
crushed at last—you will one day feel that you are only a,
weak creature—only dust, like all of us. You will yet sink
down in your affliction, and cry for mercy. Let me live to
see that day, my God: then my tears will be avenged!”

She paused, her eyes still directed toward heaven, her whole
appearance breathing a sublime enthusiasm. She looked like
204 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUJISA.

a prophetess with her beaming face and uplifted arms. But
after a while her arms dropped, her eyes turned to earth
again, and the inspired prophetess was once more transformed
into the unhappy woman, who feared she would die beneath
the burden of her grief. She burst again into tears, and re-
peated again and again that terrible accusation, although
every word of it struck her heart like a dagger. Gradually,
however, the reviled woman, conscious of her innocence, be-
came the proud and pure queen! With quiet dignity she
stretched out her hand toward the countess, who rushed to
her, pressed her lips on the royal hand, and sobbing asked to
be forgiven.

“T have nothing to forgive,” said Louisa, with a faint
smile. “I know your intentions were good. Oh, believe me,
during hours of great affliction the soul sees and comprehends
many things that were hitherto concealed from it. Thus I
understood in the outburst of my despair why all this had
occurred, and why I had to undergo all these sufferings. Na-
poleon’s poisoned arrow might have fallen powerless at my
feet, if your uncle had not instructed you to pick it up and
make me feel it. Hush! Do not utter « word of apology!
Your uncle, General von Zastrow, is a patriot in his way, and
intended to teach me by your intervention how to become a
good patriot in his sense—that is to say, to hate Russia, and
to turn away from this alliance, for the sake of which I have
been insulted. It was policy that induced the Emperor Na-
poleon to invent these calumnies, and it was policy again that
induced your uncle to have you communicate them to me.
This is a consolation; for, as it is, I am suffering only for the
sake of my people, and you made me a martyr of the German
cause. But I will bear all without complaining, however
painful it may be; I do not wish it to cease if the welfare and
happiness of Prussia should be delayed thereby but a single
hour. I shall not ask the king to break off the alliance with
Russia. Queen Louisa yesterday believed an alliance with
Russia to be necessary and advantageous to the welfare and
honor of Prussia; she will not change her mind to-day be-
cause Louisa, the woman, is charged with a dishonorable love
for the Emperor of Russia. The woman may die of this cal-
umny, but dying she will still be a queen, and say, ‘I die for
my country, and for my people! May my death be advan-
tageous to Prussia!’ Goto your uncle, countess, and tell him
so! And now give me the numbers of the journal, and the
THE JUSTIFICATION. 205

pamphlet too; I will take them to the king. My fate, as well
as that of Prussia, isin his hands. He alone can absolve me
from the charge preferred against me. Give me the papers!”

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE JUSTIFICATION.

THE king sat at his desk, assiduously engaged in writing,
when the door opened, and the queen entered. Her whole
bearing breathed an unwonted, solemn earnestness; her head
was proudly erect, her cheeks pale, and a melancholy smile
was playing on her lips. In her left hand she held a roll of
papers. The king rose hastily to meet his wife with a kindly
greeting. Louisa gave him her right hand, and laid her head
for a moment on his shoulder. Looking into her husband’s
face with a sweet, touching expression, “Do you love me,
Frederick?’ she asked in so low and gentle a voice that he
scarcely heard it. Frederick William smiled, and, instead of
replying to her, imprinted a kiss on her fair brow.

“Do you believe in me?” said Louisa. “Oh, my lord and
king, I implore you by every thing that is sacred—by the
memory of our children—tell me, sincerely and frankly, as if
standing before God, do you believe in me? Do you believe
in my love—in my virtue?”

“Louisa,” exclaimed the king, indignantly and almost
aghast, “this question is too grave to be a jest, and too ludi-
crous to be grave.”

“ And yet I am in earnest,” exclaimed the queen, in an out-
burst of excitement, which she was no longer able to restrain.
“Look at these papers, Frederick. They contain a terrible
charge against your wife—the mother of your children—the
queen of our people. They accuse the wife of a disgraceful
liaison, and the queen of the most infamous selfishness.
Frederick, they charge me with loving the Emperor Alexan-
der, and with having induced you, for the purpose of grat-
ifying this passion, to enter into the alliance with Russia.
Now, you know the disgrace weighing me down, of which
all Germany is aware by this time, and in which the malicious
and. evil-disposed will surely believe, even though the virtu-
ous and compassionate may refuse to credit it. Read these
206 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

papers, my husband; read them in my presence, and if your
features express but a shadow of doubt—if you fix your eyes
but for a moment on me with an uncertain expression—let
me die, and hide my head in the grave!”

She offered the papers to the king, but Frederick William
only glanced at them, and then laying them on the table, took
from one of its drawers other papers. “See, Louisa,” he said
in his blunt, dry manner, “ these are the same numbers of the
Telegraph; I have already had them for a week, and read
every word of them.”’

The queen unfolded them. “It is true,” she said, shudder-
ing; “they are the same papers; I read there again the terri-
ble words, ‘Queen Louisa insists on continuing the alliance
with Russia, only because her heart has formed an alliance
with the fine-looking Emperor Alexander, and because she
is passionately enamoured of him.’ Oh, my busband, these
words have engraved themselves‘as a stigma on my forehead,
and should your eyes behold it also, let me expunge it by
sacrificing my life. ‘Tell me the truth, Frederick! Have I
deserved it—have I ever sinned by a word—nay, by a look?
I have often thought and said, that there is a vestige of truth
at the bottom of every ramor—that it may be greatly exagger-
ated, but cannot be entirely false. Is there any foundation
whatever for this slander? Consider well, my husband, and
if you should find that I have sinned by a gesture, by a smile,
banish me from your presence. Tell me that I am unworthy
of being called your wife; tear the bonds of friendship that
unite you with the Emperor Alexander, and oppose him as an
enemy, menacing and demanding satisfaction. There must
be no stain on your honor, and if you believe the statements
of these papers, show to the world that you will punish the
faithless wife and spurn the treacherous friend!”

The king put his hands on the glowing cheeks of his wife.
and, raising her head, gazed at her with a long and tender
look. “Your friends had no mercy on you, then?” he asked.
“They had to inform you pitilessly of what I wished so
anxiously to conceal from you? I would willingly have cut
off my right hand if I could have expunged with the blood
trickling from the wound those lies from the public mind.
But the world has now as little mercy on us as fate. Afflic-
tion has hitherto surrounded your beauty with the glory of a
martyr; but mean men have been instigated to make you a
penitent sinner—a Magdalen of the martyr.”
THE JUSTIFICATION. 207

“My beloved Frederick,” cried the queen, “ you evade my
question; you do not reply tome! Tell me the truth. Do
you believe in me? Or do you deem me guilty?”

At this moment a low rap at the door interrupted them.
The king listened, and then turned smilingly to his wife.
“Tt is Minister von Zastrow, who comes with General Ber-
trand,” he said. “I have granted an audience to the French-
man at this hour, to receive the letter and the peace offers of
Napoleon. He is proposing to me an alliance with France,
and he, as well as his adherents here, I suppose, count on my
having read those papers, knowing in what sense malicious
men are interpreting our alliance with Russia. The reply that
I shall make to Napoleon’s envoy will be also a reply to your
question; hence you shall hear it, Louisa. Enter my cabi-
net; the portiére will conceal you from the eyes of my visitors
while you will hear every thing that is said.” He took the
queen’s arm ard conducted her quickly into the adjoining
room; hastily rolled an easy-chair toward the door, and re-
quested her by a wave of his hand to sit down onit. He then
lowered the thick velvet portiére, and, taking leave of his wife
with a smile, returned to his room.

Louisa gazed after him. “Oh,” she whispered, “ how
could I deceive and betray him?—him whom [ love as the
cause of all my happiness, and who has rendered my life sacred
and glorious! Oh, my husband and my children! my con-
science is clear, and accuses me of no guilt! Will you believe
it, Frederick? Will those infamous slanders not leave a ves-
tige of mistrust in your mind? But hush, hush! the envoy
istherealready! I will listen to what the king replies to him.”
She bent her head closer, and her large blue eyes with their
searching glances seemed to pierce the heavy velvet, so that she
might not only hear but see what was going on in the room.

In obedience to a sign made by the king, the door of the
anteroom had opened, and General Bertrand, accompanied by
General von Zastrow, entered. The king, standing in the
middle of the room, returned the deep, respectful obeisances
of the two gentlemen by a careless nod, and fixed his quiet
eyes searchingly on the French general.

“Sire,” said General von Zastrow, in a loud and solemn
voice, “General Bertrand, adjutant of his majesty the Em-
peror Napoleon, in accordance with the gracious leave of your
majesty, has appeared here in order to deliver to you an au-
tograph letter from his imperial master.”
208 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“T am glad to see General Bertrand, and to make his ac-
quaintance,” said Frederick William, composedly; “I like
the brave; and not merely the French army, but all men,
know you to be a brave officer.”

General Bertrand blushed. “Ah, sire,” he said, “if I have
not deserved this praise hitherto, your royal and «kindly words
will stimulate me in the future to strive with unflagging
zeal to become worthy of it. I deem myself happy because
my august master the emperor selected me to be the bearer
of his letter and of his proposition, for he thereby enables me
to do homage to the noblest and best of kings—to the exalted
sovereign who bears prosperity and adversity with equal dig-
nity. Your majesty will permit me to deliver the letter of
my emperor into your hands.” He approached the king, and,
presenting to him the large letter to which the imperial seal
had been affixed, reverentially bent his knee.

“Oh, no,” said Frederick William, quickly, “a brave sol-
dier must not humble himself in this manner; rise, general!”

General Bertrand rose, holding the imperial letter still in
his hands, for the king had not yet taken it. Looking at
him inquiringly, ‘‘ Sire,” he said, “ may I request your majesty
to receive the letter of my emperor?”

“Ab, I forgot,” exclaimed the king. “ You are the bearer
of a letter the Emperor Napoleon has addressed to me. Let
me confess my want of skill: I am unable to read your
emperor’s handwriting very rapidly, and it is disagreeable
slowly to decipher such a letter. Moreover, what the emperor
has to say to me will, doubtless, sound better when uttered by
your lips, than in the black words on the paper. I, therefore,
request you to read it to me.”

“Sire,” exclaimed General Bertrand, “I shall not dare to
break the seal of a letter addressed to your majesty, and not
to me.”

“Oh, you may do so,” said the king, “I permit you to
break the seal. What the Emperor Napoleon and I have to
write to each other need not be sealed. Everybody may know
it. And, I suppose his letters will be only a sort of contin-
uation of the bulletins he issued in Potsdam and Berlin.
Such bulletins and letters belong to the world and history,
which will judge them.”

“Oh,”’ whispered the queen, who had heard every word,
“oh, why cannot I see him in his proud calmness and dignity,
and thank him for his noble words!” She seized the portiére
THE JUSTIFICATION. 209

with her slender fingers and pushed it aside a little, so as to
be able to see what was going on in the otherroom. The
king, perhaps, had noticed the slight rustling, for he glanced
quickly at the curtain; itopened immediately, the noble and
beautiful face of the queen appeared; she nodded with radiant
eyes a smiling greeting to her husband, and kissed her hand
to him; her head then disappeared from the aperture, and the
folds of dark velvet closed again. General Bertrand and
General von Zastrow had seen nothing. Both stood with
their backs toward the door, and respect prevented them from
looking around toward the slight noise that reached their ears
for a moment.

A smile illuminated the king’s face. “ Well,” he asked,
almost jestingly, turning to General Bertrand, “you have not
broken the seal yet? Doso, for you ought to understand that
I am anxious to hear the contents of this letter.”

“Sire, inasmuch as you command me, I obey,” said Ber-
trand. With a quick pressure of his hand he broke the seal
and opened the letter.

“Now let me hear it,” said the king, gliding slowly
and carelessly into the easy-chair standing at the side of the
desk. “There are two chairs; take seats, gentlemen!”

“Your majesty will permit me to stand. My master the
emperor is not accustomed to have his letters read in another
position.” ,

“Yes, he may require his subjects to pay to him the defer-
ence of standing when one of his letters is being read,” said
the king. “You may stand, therefore, if you please. Gen-
eral von Zastrow, sit down.” The king said this in so stern
and imperious a tone that General von Zastrow felt resistance
impossible, and that he would have to obey the king’s order.
He took achair in silence, inwardly aghast at this disrespectful
breach of etiquette.

“ Read,’ said the king, dryly. General Bertrand unfolded
the letter and read as follows:

“Your majesty will receive this letter at the hands of my
Adjutant-General Bertrand, who enjoys my friendship. I,
therefore, request you to repose entire confidence in every
thing that he says, and I flatter myself that his mission will
be agreeable to you.

“Bertrand will communicate to your majesty my views
about the present state of your affairs. I desire to set bounds
to the misfortunes of your family, and to organize, as soon as
210 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

possible, the Prussian monarchy, whose mediating power is
necessary for the tranquillity of Europe.

“Bertrand will also communicate to you the easiest and
quickest way in which this can be brought about, and I hope
your majesty will let me know that you have taken the step
which will accomplish this purpose in the best manner, and
which, at the same time, will agree with the welfare of your
subjects; that is to say, that you accept the peace which I am
offering to you. At all events, I beg your majesty to feel
convinced that I am sincerely disposed to resume our former
relations, and that I also wish to come to an understanding
with Russia and England, provided these powers should be
animated with the same desire. I should detest myself if I
were to be the cause of so much bloodshed. But how can I
help it? The conclusion of peace is therefore in the hands
of your majesty, and it would be the happiest day of my life
if you accept my present propositions.

“NAPOLEON.”

“You have to make oral explanations to this letter of your
emperor?” asked the king, when Bertrand paused.

“Yes, sire, my master the emperor intrusted me with
further communications to you,” said Bertrand. “But, in
the first place, I beg leave of your majesty to deliver the im-
perial letter into your hands.”” He approached the king and
presented the paper to him with a respectful bow.

The king did not take it, but pointed to his desk. “Lay
it there,’’ he said, carelessly. ‘‘ The purpose of this letter is
accomplished; I know its contents, and that is all I care
about. And now, general, communicate to me as briefly as
possible the verbal commissions with which the emperor has
intrusted you.”

“Sire, his majesty the emperor authorized me to repeat to
you that it was his liveliest wish to resume his former amicable
relations with Prussia, and that he would shrink from no sac-
rifice to effect it. The emperor longs for nothing more
ardently than to restore your states to your majesty, and to
conduct you back to your capital.”

“ As his vassal?” asked the king, smiling sarcastically.

“No, sire, as a free and independent king.”

“Not as Napoleon’s ally, then?”

“Yes, sire, as the emperor’s ally, but as free and independent
as he is himself. It is true, the emperor hopes and wishes
that Prussia will be friendly toward France; he relies on your
THE JUSTIFICATION. 211

majesty’s assistance in his struggle with Russia, which, in
that case, will soon bow to the united will of France and
Prussia, and be compelled to accept a treaty of peace. In
return, the emperor will surrender to the just wishes of your
majesty seditious Poland, which, as the emperor has become
satisfied, is unable to bear an independent existence. The
rebellious provinces of Prussian Poland shall speedily be
compelled to yield unconditional obedience to the Prussian
sceptre, and your country shall occupy once more the position
due to her in the council of European nations. It will be
unnecessary for her to make for this purpose any sacritices to
the friends and allies of France; all her fortresses and prov-
inces shall be fully restored, and so soon as the treaty of peace
will have been definitively concluded, the French troops will
evacuate the Prussian territory.”

While General Bertrand was speaking, the face of Minister
von Zastrow had brightened, and was now really radiant with
joy. Animated by the cheering words of the Frenchman, he
rose from his seat, and looked at the king with clasned hands
and imploring eyes. But the countenance of Frederick Will-
iam remained impenetrable and cold; not the slightest ex-
pression of joy or gratification was to be read in it.

“Are you done, general?” asked the king, after a pause.

“Yes, sire. Iam waiting for your majesty’s reply.”

“This reply will be brief and decisive,” exclaimed Fred-
erick William, loudly, rising slowly and with truly royal dig-
nity. “TI will not accept this alliance and this peace!”

“Your majesty,” said General von Zastrow, in dismay, for-
getful of the requirements of etiquette, “your majesty, that
is impossible! You cannot be in earnest; I beseech you first
to hear the opinion of your ministers, and to consult a cabi-
net council.”

“Silence!” said the king, indignantly; “the only voices
that I ought to consult wita regard to this question are not
those of my ministers, but those of my conscience and honor.
It behooves the king alone to decide upon war or peace. [
repeat, therefore, I will not accept this peace nor enter into
the alliance offered under such circumstances. I might con-
tent myself with this declaration, but I shall tell you the
reasons of my refusal that you may repeat them to your em-
peror. I cannot accept, for it would be a defeat and disgrace
more humiliating than the loss of a battle. What, sir! I
am to receive by the grace and don plaisir of your emperor
212 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the gift of a position to which I am entitled by my birth!
The Emperor Napoleon condescends to restore my states after
forcibly expelling me from them! If I were to accept this
offer, I should thereby condemn myself; and this war, into
which I entered so reluctantly, because I foresaw its disastrous
consequences, would be nothing but a reckless adventure,
abandoned by myself because unsuccessful. If I allowed Na-
poleon to reinstate me in my rights, what would I be but his
vassal? Not aking by the grace of God, but a king by the
grace of Napoleon—not the ruler of a free and independent
German state, but the governor of a French province—the
despised oppressor of an enslaved people, robbed of their honor,
independence, and nationality. Now, I commenced this war
for the sake of my own honor and that of my people. I com-
menced it to set bounds to French cupidity and thirst for
conquest; to preserve to Germany her German and to Prussia
her Prussian character, and to drive back the Confederation
of the Rhine beyond the frontier of the Rhine. The fortune
of war has not sustained me in these efforts, and victory
perched upon the eagles of France. But the Prussian eagle
is not yet dead; he may still hope to rise again, and, endowed
with renewed vigor, reconquer what belongs to him. What
was taken by the sword can be reconquered only by the sword.
My honor, as well as that of my army and people, was wounded
on the battle-fields of Jena and Auerstadt; it cannot be healed
by the balm of Napoleon’s grace; it can only be redeemed by
blood!”

“Sire, I beseech you, do not allow yourself to be carried
away by the ardor of your heroism,” exclaimed General Ber-
trand, feelingly. ‘‘ Remember that after the rejection of this
peace the Emperor Napoleon will be a relentless enemy of
yours, and leave nothing undone in order to annihilate Prus-
sia. Your majesty ought also to take into consideration that
you lack an army—that your forces have been dispersed, and
that your fortresses have surrendered.”

“Colberg and Graudenz are still holding out,” exclaimed
the king, “and so is Dantzic.”

“Sire, if you reject this peace, the first step of the emperor
will be to take Dantzic by assault,”’ said General Bertrand.

“Your majesty, have mercy on Dantzic,” exclaimed General
von Zastrow, imploringly ; “have mercy on your blockaded
fortresses—on your poor distressed subjects! So soon as your
majesty accepts this peace, the Emperor Napoleon intends
+ 4 oe

THE JUSTIFICATION. 213

withdrawing all the French troops from Prussian territory.
Oh, pray take into consideration how dreadfully your people
have suffered by the heavy contributions, and the enormous
supplies to the troops! Remember that they are overwhelmed
with wretchedness, and are kneeling and crying to God and
to their king to restore peace.”

“O my God,” murmured the queen, “inspire him with the
true decision, and grant that he may perceive and choose what
is right!” She knelt down behind the curtain as if to hear
better the king’s words, that to her were the words of God.
The king did not seem to notice his minister’s supplication ;
his eyes glanced at him coldly and disdainfully, and were then
fixed gravely on the face of the French general.

“Tam not quite done with my reply to your propositions,”
he said. “I have told you the reasons why I cannot accept
peace. It only remains to explain why, though the terms
were honorable, I could and would not be allowed to enter
into this alliance. By virtue of it I should be obliged to es-
pouse the cause of France against her enemies, and to wage
war against Russia, my ally. I am to violate the only sure
compact remaining to me in order to become a mere cipher in
the hands of Napoleon! I am to betray him who has been
faithful tome! The Emperor of Russia is my personal friend.
At the grave of Frederick the Great I swore with him to
maintain the alliance of both our hearts and our states, and
no other voice induced me to take this step but my inclina-
tion, my policy, and my reason. The Emperor of Russia,
true to our mutual oath, renewed his protestations of friend-
ship in the hour of danger, and his army is ready to uphold
our common cause. If, now that France is offering peace to
me at the expense of Russia, I were to accept it, I should
commit a perfidious act, and, as a Prussian soldier, as a friend
of the Emperor Alexander, I must decidedly reject any idea of
such a desertion. A German keeps his word, and does not
trifle with treaties he has sworn to. German fealty has not
yet become an empty sound, and France will be obliged to
admit that she is struggling with an adversary who does not
sell his honor for provinces or for money. Now you know all
I had to communicate. Tell Napoleon that intrigues and
slanders cannot separate me from my alliance with the Em-
peror of Russia any more than adulation and advantageous
offers. My resolution will remain as firm as a rock. And
now, good-by, general!’
al4 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

He waved his hand to Bertrand, and received with proud
calmness the respectful bows with which the French general
withdrew.

No sooner had the door closed than the queen appeared.
Her eyes filled with tears, and stretching out her arms toward
her husband, seemed a picture of beauty, grace, and love.
The king hastened to her and pressed her firmly against his
heart. “Are you satisfied with my answer, Louisa?” he
asked. “Do you know now what I think of those wretched
calumnies?”

The queen bent and kissed his hand. “I thank you, my
beloved husband,” she whispered tenderly. “ Wise and kind
as you always are, you knew how to comfort my heart, and by
your heroic words to fill my soul with enthusiasm and delight.
My husband and king, you have restored my honor. I care
no longer for the abuse of the world, but shall always think of
this sacred hour, for my king believes in me, and my husband
still loves his Louisa; he knows that the mother of his chil-
dren is innocent, and may freely raise her eyes to heaven.”

“TI know more than that,” said the king, laying his hand
on his wife’s head, as if blessing her; “I know that in these
times of adversity you are the only hope left me; I know that
I derive courage and consolation from you, and that in my
misfortunes I still deem myself fortunate, because you are by
my side—the angel of my life!”

“ Ah, Frederick,” exclaimed the queen, bursting into tears,
“Frederick, how rich and happy you make me! Am I not
an enviable wife, possessed as I am of such a husband!” In
passionate tenderness, she threw her arms about him, and in
loving embrace rested long on his breast.

Some one rapped repeatedly and discreetly at the door.
Louisa, blushing, raised her head and dropped her arms.
The king ordered the person to walk in. It was General von
Zastrow who entered, pale and gloomy. Frederick William
smilingly beckoned him to approach.

“You are dissatisfied with me, Zastrow?” he said, in a
pleasant tone; “you believe it would be better to make peace?”

“Your majesty, Iam afraid you have rejected an advan-
tageous alliance, and will, perhaps, be compelled soon to ac-
cept by far more rigorous terms.”

“You do not know, then, that large Russian forces are ad-
vancing, and that the Emperor Alexander himself probably
leads his troops against the enemy?”
THE JUSTIFICATION. 215

“Pardon me, sire, but I do not believe in the friendship of
Russia. Your majesty uttered words so generous to-day, that
my eyes filled with tears of admiration, and I felt proud as a
man and subject, although my heart as a general and minister
was overwhelmed with sorrow. May Russia deserve your
fidelity! may she not disappoint your hopes, and commit as,
you said, a perfidious act, by entering into an alliance with
France at the expense of Prussia! But may your majesty,
above all, get an army courageous and strong enough to brave
all your enemies, and restore the greatness of Prussia!”

“You do not believe, then, in this army?” asked the king,
gloomily.

“Your majesty, in order to organize an army, money—a
great deal of money—is indispensable.”

“And you mean to say we have none?”

“Your majesty, not only your privy purse is entirely ex-
hausted, but there is also no money in the state and district
treasuries. Gold and silver seem to have wholly disappeared ;
stocks and commercial paper are depreciating every day, and
the bankruptcy of the state will be inevitable!”

“Ah!” exclaimed the king, indignantly, “do not utter
such a word! Never shall I permit such distress to be in-
flicted upon my poor subjects!”

He commenced rrpidly pacing the room; suddenly, how-
ever, he stood still in front of the queen, who had softly with-
drawn into a window-niche, where she had watched every
movement of the king. “Louisa, will your repasts be as
agreeable to you on porcelain plates as on gold and silver?”

The queen smiled. “The little Princess of Mecklenburg
was accustomed to take her meals off porcelain,” she said,
“and I honestly confess that the Queen of Prussia at times
envied her her plain white plates.”

The king, turning again to his minister, said: “We are
not yet so poor as you seem to believe; our large golden
dinner-set, the heirloom of our ancestors, was safely removed
from Berlin, and is now here at Memel. It embraces pieces
of the highest value, for which millions have been paid.
May my ancestors pardon my giving away what they collected!
Tam not doing so in a reckless and extravagant manner, but
with profound sorrow and with a mournful heart. But it
cannot be helped! General von Zastrow, I shall issue the
necessary orders to have my large golden dinner-set either sold
or pawned. Weshall receive at least a million dollars for it.”
216 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“And the privy purse of your majesty stands greatly in
need of this million,” said General von Zastrow, drawing a
sigh.

“The king shrugged his shoulders. “ Nota dollar of it shall
be paid into my privy purse,” he said. “The money shall be
distributed among the public treasuries, that the lack of
funds may be temporarily relieved, and that my poor suffering
subjects need not fear that the state become bankrupt.”

“But if your majesty should carry out this generous resolu-
tion,” exclaimed the general, “you may soon be in danger
yourself of privations.”’

The king cast a long, inquiring glance on his wife. Louisa
smiled and nodded kindly to him. “If questions of economy
and family matters are to be considered,” she said, “a woman
may be permitted to say a word in the council of men, and to
give her opinion as a housewife. I think we are tolerating a
great many superfluous and very expensive things in our pri-
vate household, and, if my husband does not object, I should
like to ask for a few changes.”

“T shall never dare to contradict you,” said Frederick,
kindly. “Let me, therefore, know the changes you wish to
make.”

“Tn the first place, I think that we have too many servants,
considering our present circumstances, and the small house in
which we are living. As we do not give dinners, the people
attached to the kitchen may be greatly diminished; most of
the cooks, as well as the legion of footmen, may be discharged.
It is necessary, too, to reduce the number of carriages, and to
sell most of the horses standing uselessly in the stable. A
plain vehicle, drawn by two good horses, is sufficient for my
children, and whenever I want a ride, I believe my husband
will lend me his yellow travelling-coach.”’

“ Provided you allow me a seat at your side,” said the king,
smiling. “Are there any other suggestions you deem neces-
sary?”

“T wish the servants surrounding us to appear in a plain
dress, and the expensive liveries, covered with gold and silver
lace, to disappear. A plain black cloth coat, trimmed with
white, is sufficient. It is not, however, to signify that we are
in mourning, but only to represent the Prussian colors, and
on looking at them I shall always feel proud and happy, while
now, on beholding the liveries covered with gold and silver, I
cannot suppress my shame, for I think of the distress of our
THE JUSTIFICATION. 217

subjects, and of the misery of our country. Let us begin,
therefore, a plain, unpretending existence, my husband; let
us set an example of simplicity to our people, and show them
that one may be contented, though deprived of the splendors
of wealth and position.”

The king took her hand and pressed it against his lips. “I
consent to all your wishes, Louisa,’’ he said; “I will issue to-
day the necessary orders to the steward.—You see, general,
our privy purse will not lack money, for we shall realize a
handsome sum by the sale of our horses, carriages, and the
gold and silver lace of the liveries. Moreover, the war will
not last forever, and we may, perhaps, look soon for a final
decision.”

“Your majesty, war, then, is absolutely unavoidable?”

“You still ask this question? Yes, the war will be con-
tinued. I will hear nothing further about peace.”

“In that case,” said General von Zastrow, trembling, “I
must humbly request your majesty to accept my resignation ;
the continuation of the war, and the rejection of the peace
offered to Prussia, are so contrary to my conviction, that my
conscience does not permit me to assist in carrying out your

lans.”’
pe The first duty of every faithful servant is to comply with
his master’s orders,” said the king, sternly. “I cannot ac-
cept your resignation, for I know that you are an honest ser-
vant, and that only your momentary anger has misled you.
I give you, therefore, time to collect your thoughts and regain
your temper. Work and activity are the best remedies for
that purpose, and possibly there may soon be a favorable turn
in our affairs, proving to you that you were wrong, and caus-
ing you to change your mind. Until further orders, there-
fore, you will remain my minister of war, but I shall give you
an assistant. I shall appoint Hardenberg minister without
portfolio, and give him a seat and vote in the new ministerial
council which I am about to organize.”

General von Zastrow started, and his face became paler.
“Your majesty,” he faltered in a low voice, “ I—”

“The matter is settled,” said the king, calmly. “I do not
wish to hear further objection, general. We shall hold a
meeting of the ministerial council to-morrow, and Harden-
berg must be present. Good-by!”

General von Zastrow dared: not contradict; he bowed in
silence to the royal couple and tottered to the door.

15
218 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

When he had retired, the queen, turning to her husband,
exclaimed, “ You touched his sorest spot. He hates Harden-
berg, and it will greatly torment him to have him at his side.”

“He deserved some punishment,” said the king, gravely.
“For it was certainly owing to him that you were informed
of those infamous slanders. Who laid the papers before you?”

“The Countess von Truchsess, my reader.”’

“Zastrow’s niece! My supposition was right. It was a
deep-laid intrigue, designed to drive us into the meshes of the
peace party, and induce us to give up the Russian alliance.”

“Do not be angry with them,” said the queen, “their in-
tentions were good.”

“JT know the good intentions of those so-called friends,”
exclaimed the king, vehemently. “They drive a dagger
slowly into our breast, and when they see the wound bleeding,
they excuse themselves with the pretext that their intentions
were good! But he who has really honest intentions tries to
spare his friend every pain. My ‘intentions’ were also good
when I concluded to place Hardenberg in company with Zas-
trow. Ido not like change; but if Zastrow, in the course of
a few weeks, should not accustom himself to the presence of
Hardenberg, he must withdraw, and Hardenberg remain.” *

CHAPTER XXV.
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA.

News of the highest importance reached Castle Finken-
stein, where Napoleon had been residing since the battle of
Eylau. Dantzic had fallen. It had been compelled to sur-
render, with its immense matériel and supplies. In vain had
been the heroic defence of the garrison, the energy of General
Kalkreuth, commander of the fortress, the ardor and courage
of the soldiers, the unflagging self-abnegation of the citizens;
in vain, the bloodshed, the mutilated limbs, the destruction

*The united efforts of the peace party, headed by General Zastrow and Cabinet-
counsellor Beyme, did not succeed this time in keeping Hardenberg out of the cabinet.
The king reposed confidence in him, and when, a few weeks later, the Emperor Alex-
ander paid a visit to the royal couple at Memel, he distinguished Hardenberg, and
ignored General von Zastrow so completely, that the latter was deeply offended.
His mortification was still augmented by the fact that Hardenherg was selected to
accompany the king to the camp of the united Prussian and Russian troops. Gen-

eral von Zastrow then sent in his resignation, for the second time, and it was ac-
cepted. Hardenherg became minister of foreign affairs in his place.
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA. 219

of property! Lefebvre, the French general, had drawn the
circle of his besieging forces closer around the devoted city,
and fresh troops poured into his ranks, while every day the
garrison was becoming weaker. Only the most vigorous suc-
cor could have saved Dantzic. General Kalkreuth had long
hoped for it. England, now the ally of Russia and Prussia,
had promised aid, and equipped a sloop-of-war of twenty-two
guns, to force the blockade, convey ammunition into the city,
and destroy the pontoon-bridge of the French; but the sloop
stranded, and had to surrender. The Russians, too, had
promised assistance to the city. Seven thousand embarked at
Pillau, and landed at Weichselmiinde; but there they were
attacked by Oudinot, who captured nearly one-half, and dis-
persed the rest.

The last hopes of Dantzic were gone; there was no relief.
Lefebvre ordered a bombardment, and then sent a flag of truce
to General Kalkreuth, informing him that he would take the
city by assault if the fortress did not surrender. General
Kalkreuth gazed mournfully at the stranded British sloop-of-
war, and, pointing it out to his officers, who surrounded him
in gloomy silence, said, “ That is the tombstone of Dantzic!”
He then sent for the bearer of the flag of truce, and the
negotiations commenced. In the mean time, shells and red-
hot shot were poured into the city, killing alike the soldiers
on the ramparts and the citizens in their dwellings. Lamen-
tations and shrieks, the roar of artillery, the uninterrupted
peals of the tocsin, calling out the inhabitants, mingled with
the crash of the falling houses, and the wails of the wounded
and dying.

General Kalkreuth pitied the city; he was unwilling to
add the horrors of an assault to the agony it had already
undergone. He signed the capitulation, but claimed for the
garrison liberty to march out without being made prisoners of
war, and the surrender of theirarms. Lefebvre granted these
conditions, but insisted that the Prussian troops should not
engage to serve against France before the expiration of a year.
General Kalkreuth accepted this clause, and the gates of
Dantzic opened to the French conqueror on the 24th of May,
1807.

The Emperor Napoleon received the news of this great
victory at Castle Finkenstein, not far from Tilsit. His face
brightened, and he immediately sent a courier to Marshal
Lefebvre, to invite him to pay him a visit at the castle. But
220 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the joy of the emperor soon disappeared. His generals, in-
timate friends, and servants, endeavored to cheer him. ‘They
tried all the arts of eloquence and flattery to dispel his sad-
ness. Talleyrand attempted to amuse him by reciting, with
charming médisance and pointed humor, passages from the
rich stores of his memoirs, and by relating, with Attic wit,
the story of his first love, which had bequeathed to him a
lame foot as aremembrancer. Lannes, with the blunt humor
of a true soldier, told stories of his campaigns. Duroc smil-
ingly reminded the emperor of many an adventure they had
had in Paris, when, in plain gray coats, and hats drawn over
their eyes, they had wandered through the streets of the cap-
ital, to ascertain the disposition of the people, and received
many a rebuke on daring to abuse Napoleon. It is true, the
emperor was amused on hearing such anecdotes, but his
momentary laughter revealed more vividly his dark and
stormy temper.

To-day the generals resorted to another method also of
amusing him. They proposed cards. He agreed, and they
commenced a game of vingt-et-un. Formerly, the emperor,
on playing, had always been in excellent spirits, and did not
disdain even to cheat a little, frequently concealing a card or
two. But now he played gravely and honestly, and the con-
sequence was that he lost. Throwing the cards indignantly
aside, and greeting the marshals with a silent nod, he crossed
the room with hasty steps, and retired to his cabinet.

“He has not yet forgotten the affair of Eylau,” grumbled
Marshal Lannes. “It is true, we boasted of our victory there,
and ordered a Te Deum io be sung, but he knows very well
how things stood, and feels badly because the Emperor of
Russia also had a Te Deum sung.”

“TI do not believe, Marshal, that that is the cause of the
emperor’s grief,” said Talleyrand, shrugging his shoulders.
“Napoleon is not in the habit of mourning for past events,
but a failure incites him to renewed exertions, and inspires
his genius to perform fresh and daring exploits. Although
the lion for once may have seen his prey slip from his grasp,
it does not render him dispirited. He only shakes his mane,
and crouches for a new bound.”

“Then you believe, M. Minister, that the emperor is plan-
ning another battle?” joyfully asked Lannes.

“T am convinced of it, but do not believe that to be the
reason of his ill-humor. The furrows on his brow express his
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA. 221

sorrow for the death of young Napoleon—his little nephew—
the grandson of the empress!”

“Ah, bah!” exclaimed Lannes, “it would really be worth
while for a great chieftain to mourn for a child eight years of
age!”

“He does not mourn for the child, but for the successor,”
said Talleyrand. “You know, the son of his brother Louis
and his stepdaughter Hortense was to be his heir—the future
Emperor of France. You see how difficult it is to say in ad-
vance who is to be the heir of a throne. Some accident—a
brick falling from a roof, an attack of the measles, a con-
temptible cough—may bring about the ruin of dynasties and
the rise of new ones. The hopes of Josephine have been
buried with young Napoleon Louis. Poor empress! her
downfall is inevitable, for the emperor must think henceforth
of an heir—of a legitimate union. Alas! how many tears will
that cost poor Josephine’s heart!” ’

“I am sure, Prince de Benevento, when you deplore the
fate of the empress, you suggest great sufferings for her. But
we know the subtle diplomacy of the minister who says that
language was given for the sole purpose of concealing our
thoughts. Hence, prince, I am in the habit of believing ex-
actly the reverse of what you say. You are sure to overthrow
Josephine and have already selected her successor. ‘Tell us
who is she? Upon whom do you intend to confer the honor
of giving an heir to the emperor?”

“Let us rather put this question to our taciturn friend
Duroc,” said Talleyrand, softly laying his hand on the shoul-
der of the grand marshal, who was standing in front of them
with folded arms. “ Please take notice that the grand mar-
shal has not added a single word to our conversation—that he
has listened calmly to our suppositions about the emperor’s
melancholy, and has not assisted us in ferreting out the truth.
It is evident, therefore, that he is aware of it, and that it
does not affect him painfully. Pray tell us, grand marshal,
who is right—the Duke de Montebello or myself?”

“Perhaps, prince, both of you are mistaken,’’ said Duroc,
“and perhaps, again, both of you are right. Who is able to
fathom the thoughts and secrets—but I believe the emperor
is calling me!” And he approached the door of the imperial
cabinet and listened.

“Duroc!” cried the emperor, “Duroc!”

The grand marshal took leave of the two gentlemen with a
222 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

careless bow and hastened away. Napoleon sat on an easy-
chair at the open window, supporting his head on his hand,
and gazing out on the landscape. He seemed to have entirely
forgotten that he had called the grand marshal, and did not
even notice the latter after he had entered. An air of pro-
found sadness was depicted in his features.

“ Your majesty called me,” said Duroc, approaching.

Napoleon started and turned his head slowly toward the
grand marshal. ‘It is true,” he said, “I called you, Duroc.
I was ungracious, and left you without saying a kind word to
you. I am sorry. You may repeat my words to the other
two princes.” He gave his small white hand to Duroc, who
pressed it against his breast with an expression of tenderness.
“T thank your majesty for this fresh proof of your magna-
nimity,” he said, “and shall communicate it to the other two
princes.”

He was about to withdraw, but the emperor detained him.
“Tell me, first, Duroc, whether they were very angry with
me? Did old Lannes grumble? Did Talleyrand comment
in his usual manner?”

“Oh, sire!” exclaimed Duroc, reproachfully, “all three of
us were filled only with grief; we were considering what
might be the cause of your majesty’s melancholy.”

“Well, and what did you guess? and what Lannes?”

“He believed your majesty was striving to crown the battle
of Eylau with a brilliant victory, and that you were planning
a new battle.”

“He is right,” exclaimed Napoleon, energetically. “We
are not yet at the end of our struggle, and the brave men who
were buried under the snow of Eylau must be avenged. I
shall soon bid the sun of Austerlitz and Jena shine on the
plains of Prussia, and dazzle the eyes of the Emperor of Rus-
sia. I will bring him to his knees and make him cry ‘Pater
peccavi!’? Iwill show him what it is to menace me; and
when I unfurl my banner on the Kremlin of Moscow, Alex-
ander shall bear the train of my purple cloak. The world be-
longs to me! Woe unto him who stands in my way—I will
crush him as the elephant crushes the worm! Lannes is
right; Iam planning a new battle. But it is not this that
makes mesad. What did Talleyrand say—Talleyrand, Prince
de Benevento, with the keen nose and the impenetrable
smile?”

“Talleyrand said it was not the planning of future battles,
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA. 223

but that you were mourning for the little son of the King of
Holland.”

“Ah, indeed, Talleyrand is not altogether mistaken,” ex-
claimed Napoleon, heaving a sigh; “my heart is mourning
for young Napoleon. He was my darling, and I had accus-
tomed myself to regard him as my heir. He was blood of my
blood, and there was something shining in his eyes that
seemed to me to be a beam of my own mind. [ loved the boy.
And now—what did Talleyrand say besides, Duroc?” asked
Napoleon, interrupting himself. “Youaresilent. Befrank;
I want to ku.ow it all!”

“Sire,” said Duroc, timidly, “the Prince de Benevento
lamented the fate of the empress, for he believes the death of
little Prince Napoleon Louis to be a mournful—nay, a fatal
event for her, inasmuch as your majesty would now be under
the necessity of having a successor to the noble and adored
Empress Josephine, and an heir-apparent to your empire.”’

“And he was impudent enough to lament her fate!’ ex-
claimed Napoleon, “ he who has striven for years to overthrow
her—he who always united with my family to prove to me the
right of disowning her. Ah, poor dear Josephine! I ought
never to have thought of listening to their insinuations; I was
hitherto her most faithful defender, for I love her, and know
that she is a sincere friend.”’

“ An empress, sire,” said Duroc, “who would be an orna-
ment to any throne, and whose grace, amiability, and kind-
heartedness, have won as many subjects for your majesty as
your battles. Sire, all France loves and worships the Em-
press Josephine; all France would weep with her if her
enemies succeed in removing her from her throne, and from
the side of her adored husband, and the tears and impreca-
tions of a whole people would be the festive welcome with
which France would receive a new empress!”

“You paint in very glaring colors,” exclaimed Napoleon,
gloomily, “but, then, I know you to be one of Josephine’s
admirers. She is really a good wife, and I never had room
for complaint. But for one consideration, I should never
think of separating from her. Fate is against her, and I am
afraid it will compel me—ah, let us not dare to pry into the
future. Let us rather attend to the present. You have told
me the suppositions of Lannes and Talleyrand, but not your
own. What did you say?’ He looked at Duroc with his
eagle eyes, and repeated, “ What did you say?”
224 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Sire,” replied Duroc, “I said nothing.” ;

“You said nothing, because you know what ails me,” said
Napoleon, vehemently, “because you can fathom the pain,
the anger, ana grief of my heart!” : ;

He rose from his easy-chair, and paced the room, with his
arms behind him. “ Duroc,” he said, after a long pause, and
in a husky, tremulous voice, “is it not a disgrace that this
should happen? The world is bowing to me, and recognizing
me as its master, and a woman dares resist me—a fair, deli-
cate little creature that I could crush, as it were, in my
hands—that an angry breath from my mouth could destroy as
a lily in the blast of the desert. Duroc, she dares resist me,
and opposes a cold, stubborn silence to my request—nay, to
my fervent supplications!”

“Sire, she is married,” said Duroc, timidly, “she is mar-

ried, and—”
“She is married to a husband whom she does not—cannot
love,” exclaimed Napoleon, impetuously. “He is a white-

haired old man—a man of sixty years, to whom her parents
have sold her!”

“But her husband is said to love his beautiful wife passion-
ately.”

“Let him dare molest her with his love,” exclaimed Na-
poleon, menacingly; “let him touch only with the tip of his
finger this flower that I myself would have! She has not de-
served the sorry fate of withering at the side of a decrepit old
man; she serves to bloom at the heart of an emperor! Oh,
how beautiful she is! When I saw her, for the first time, at
the ballin Warsaw, I fell in love with her, and felt that I
must possess her. Her light-colored hair was shining about
her noble head like a halo; heaven seemed to be reflected in
her azure eyes, and the tinge of melancholy shading her face
rendered her still more charming and seductive. She was an
innocent victim of the selfishness of others; I perceived it at
a glance, and have loved her ever since. I took a secret oath
to rescue her from her misery, and, by my love, to restore
happiness to her! And yet she disdains me, Duroc!”

“No, sire, she does not disdain the exalted lover whom she
worships; she is not, however, a flirt, but a virtuous wife.
She will not prove faithless to her husband; she will not break
the vows she took upon herself at the altar. She is engaged
in a terrible struggle between duty and love, for your majesty
knows very well that Madame de Walewska loves you!”
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA. 225
“No, no, she does not love me,” exclaimed Napoleon,
vehemently. “If she really loved me, she would listen to no
other voice than mine! I supplicated her with the whole
strength of my affection—with all the anger of a spurned ad-
mirer, with all the humility of a doting lover, but neither my
anger nor my supplications were able to move her. And yet
she asserts that she loves me; she dares to say that she shares
my passion! Oh, she is a cold-hearted, cruel coquette; it
ae her to behold my sufferings, and to play with my

eart!”

“Sire, you are unjust,” exclaimed Duroc. “Madame de
Walewska is an angel of virtue and parity; she would joyfully
sacrifice her life to save your majesty a sigh!”

“But she is unwilling to sacrifice to me this chimera of
virtue,” exclaimed Napoleon, “although she has already dis-
regarded it by loving me. She is not courageous enough to
give up the semblance after having already parted with the
substance. Like all women she is timid, and incapable of a
great resolution! How many letters have I not written to her
since I last saw her! After the battle of Eylau—like a miser-
able adventurer—a knight-errant—I went in disguise to the
village where she had at length promised to meet me at her
brother’s house. Whata wretched rendezvous it was! Noth-
ing but a farewell scene! She desires to go into a convent,
and give her heart to God, because she is not allowed to
give it to me. I am no Abélard, however, and do not want
her to become a Héloise! If she goes into a convent, I
shall have its walls torn down, and the order she has joined
abolished.”

“But she will not go into a convent, sire; love will at last
triumph over her virtue, and she will finally declare herself
vanquished. She promised your majesty to defer the execu-
tion of her purpose for a year, but, I am sure, she will not be
strong enough to close her heart so long against the passionate
entreaties of a lover whom she adores. The letters which your
majesty writes to her, and which she does not refuse to ac-
cept, are like hot shells thrown into the fortress of her heart.
They do a great deal of mischief.”

“ Forsooth, it is a consolation that she does not refuse my
notes. I have sent them almost every day during two
months; every week I send a courier who meets her when,
escaping from the Argus-eyes of her husband, she goes to the
cathedral. But I receive only laconic replies. This woman
226 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

is either incapable of genuine love, or she is a demon who de-
lights in torturing me.”

“Sire, does it please your majesty to partake of this fruit?”
said a gentle voice behind him.

The emperor started. Absorbed in his passion—filled with
the idea now agitating his soul, he had not heard the door of
the cabinet softly open, and was unaware that one of the im-
perial pages, holding a golden fruit-plate, had entered.
Duroc also had not noticed that he was present while the em-
peror was still speaking, and that he must have overheard the
last words of his majesty. The page leaned, pale and ex-
hausted, against the wall near the door, and the golden plate
was trembling in his hands.

Napoleon cast a glowing glance on him, and rushing toward
him, snatched the plate and threw it on the floor. As the
peaches rolled across the room, he seized the page’s arms, and
drew him toward the window. “Who are you?” he asked,
scarcely able to master his emotion. ‘“ Whoare you? Speak,
that I may hear your voice!”

The page looked in his face, aglow with anger, and his
large blue eyes filled with tears. “Iam ademon who delights
in torturing you,” he said in a low voice.

Napoleon did not utter a word. He tore the velvet cap
from the page’s head, and when his long silken hair fell on
his shoulders in heavy masses, a smile of unutterable bliss
overspread the emperor’s face. He seized the fair ringlets
with his hands and kissed them; he laid them on his own
head, and they covered his face like a golden veil. He then
shook them off with a merry laugh, and encircled the page so
violently in his arms, that he uttered a cry. ‘“ Mary, Mary,”
he exclaimed passionately, “you are in my arms at last—you
‘are here! Duroc, just look at this wonderful page. Come
here, and look at the angel I slandered just now!”

But Duroc did not appear. He preferred to move quietly
out of the room and to lock the door after him. Napoleon,
therefore, was alone with his mistress, and thanked Duroc in
his heart for this discretion. He clasped the weeping and
blushing lady in his arms, and tried with gentle force to re-
move her hands, in which she had buried her face. “ Mary,”
he asked, in a tone of suppliant tenderness, “ Mary, you weep,
and yet you say you love me?”

“Yes, I do love you,” she exclaimed, sinking on her knees.
“TI love you intensely!’ Ah, have mercy on me! Do not con-
COUNTESS MARY WALEWSKA. 227

demn me because I come hither in spite of my conscience and
my honor! Napoleon, I have no longer any thing on earth
but you! TI have no longer a country, a family, a name! I
gave up every thing for you—my life, my honor, my happi-
ness, are yours! Remember it, and do not despise me!”

He raised her from her knees and pressed a kiss on her
quivering lips. ‘“‘ Mary,” he said, “this kiss shall have the
same effect upon you as of old the gift of knighthood had on
the warrior—it will impart to you a higher and more sacred
life, and confer the highest honor on you! Henceforth you
are mine, and shall be as immortal as myself; and when pos-
terity mentions the name of the Emperor Napoleon, it shall
at the same time remember his beautiful mistress, and repeat
the name of Mary Walewska together with that of Josephine!”

“Oh,” murmured Mary, “you mention the noble and
generous Empress Josephine, whom I worship, and against
whom I am committing a crime! May fate enable me to
atone for my guilt one day by sacrificing my life for you, and
proving to you and to the world that I loved you truly and
faithfully.”

“No, you shall live—live for me,” said Napoleon, ardently ;
“do not complain any more, Mary; dry your beautiful eyes.
Come, sit down with me and tell me how it happened that
you conquered your heart, and why I see you in this dis-
guise?” He drew her to the divan and wound his arm around
her waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, and gazed up
to him with dreamy eyes.

“How it happened?” she asked. “I cannot find words to
tell you. Jreénacted the part of Penelope. Every night I
tried to fasten a coat of mail around my heart—to protect it
as with a net-work of virtue and duty. But your letters were
the wooers that destroyed in the day the resolutions of the
night. Your complaints rent my heart; your reproaches tor-
tured my soul. I felt at last that I was irretrievably lost—
that I loved you boundlessly, and that I was anxious to prove
it to you. But my husband watched me with lynx-eyed vigi-
lance; he was constantly at my side, now threatening, in the
fury of his jealousy, to assassinate me should I leave him, and
now imploring me with tearful eyes to spare his honor and
pity his love. I felt that I would have either to die, or re-
rounce my married life, and enter upon a new existence—an
existence of true happiness if you love me, but of suffering
and self-reproach if you despise me!”
228 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“T love you,” said Napoleon, with a proud and confident
air. “ Proceed.”

“T have finished,” she said. “ My trusty lady’s maid pre-
pared every thing for my escape, and four days ago, when my
husband believed me at church, I and my maid entered a
travelling-coach and continued our journey day and night
until we arrived at Castle Finkenstein.”

“And this disguise?” asked Napoleon, pointing at the cos-
tume she was wearing.

Mary blushed and smiled. “I had it made by a tailor at
Warsaw, who prepared the suits the imperial pages wore at
that ball. I had not sufficient courage to enter this castle as
a lady, only men living in it at the present time. I desired
to enter your room without recognition or insult. I left my
carriage at the neighboring village, and walked hither on
foot. At the castle-gate, I inquired for Constant, your valet
de chambre, and requested the servants to call him. I con-
fided my secret to him, and he conducted me to this room.
And thus, my beloved friend, Iam here; I am lying at your
feet, and imploring you to kill me if you do not love me, for
I cannot live without your love!” She glided from the divan
to the floor, and looked up to the emperor with clasped hands
and imploring eyes.

Napoleon bent over her and drew her smilingly into his
arms. “You shall live,” he said, “for I love you and pledge
you my imperial word that I will never desert you!”

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE DANTZIC CHOCOLATE.

On the following day the emperor’s face did not retain a
trace of the gloom which had filled his marshals with so much
uneasiness. His features were radiant with happiness, and a
strange fire was burning in his dark-blue eyes. He ordered
his guard to be drawn up in line in the castle-yard, and to the
delight of the soldiers it was announced that Napoleon himself
would command at the parade. Loud cheers and the con-
stantly-repeated shout of “ Vive Pempereur!” received him
when, surrounded by his marshals, and with a smiling face,
he walked down the broad steps of the palace.

“These soldiers are foolish children,” said he, turning to
THE DANTZIC CHOCOLATE. 229

Marshal Lannes. “Why are they cheering incessantly, as if
they had not seen me fora year? Have I not been among
them every day?”

“No, sire,” said the marshal, who had regained his former
good-humor and merry face, “no, sire; those brave boys
really have not seen your majesty for a long while, and they
are perfectly right to manifest their joy. The great Na-
poleon, whose face was our sun in so many battles and in so
many countries, and whose smile, when we were hungry and
thirsty, often satisfied our hunger and quenched our thirst,
really was not here. In his place we have had during the
last few weeks a grave and taciturn emperor, whom every one
feared.”

Napoleon laughed. “Were you also afraid, my old com-
rade?” he asked.

“T cannot say that I was,” said Lannes, gayly, “but, never-
theless, I feel to-day as though a heavy burden had been re-
moved from my heart. I can breathe more freely, inasmuch
as I have back my excellent Napoleon in place of that morose
emperor. The sun has risen once more for all of us!”

“Was I really as you pretend?” asked Napoleon, who was
always delighted at the unceremonious words of his old com-
rade, and who permitted to Lannes that bluntness which he
would not have tolerated in another.

The marshal bent closer to the emperor’s ear. “Sire, your
majesty will permit me to tell you that you were shockingly
morose and surly. We were beginning to feel anxious and
weary. But it is all over now, and when I look at you to-day
my heart is as glad as that of a lover who sees his sweetheart
after a long separation. I should like to know what miracle
has happened since yesterday, and what magician has arrived
to dispel your discontent. I should be exceedingly grateful
to your majesty if you would show him to me!”

“What an inquisitive fellow!” said the emperor, turning
his eyes involuntarily to the window of the castle. He nodded
almost imperceptibly, and laid his hand on his heart for a
moment. The marshal’s eyes had followed the glances of his
master, and he beheld a strange object at one of the windows
of the emperor’s rooms. The curtain was cautiously drawn
aside, and the beautiful head of a young lady was seen be-
hind it.

“ Mort de ma vie!” ejaculated Lannes, loudly and impet-
uously. ; A
230 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Well, what is the matter?” asked Napoleon, turning
hastily to him.

Lannes was still staring up at the window; but the charm-
ing person had already disappeared, and the curtains were
closed again.

“Sire,” faltered Lannes, in confusion, “sire, I believe I
myself am bewitched; I beheld an apparition just now.”

“Did your good wife appear to you?” asked Napoleon,
laughing.

“Would she were such a fair-haired angel!” exclaimed
Lannes, heaving a sigh. “But in that case, sire, I should
very earnestly oppose her appearance at the windows of the
imperial rooms—’”’

“Hush, you old babbler!” said Napoleon, laughing; “is it
necessary, then, to confess every thing one has dreamed?”
And, as he liked to do when in good-humor, he pulled the
marshal’s ear so violently that Lannes made a very wry face.

The emperor turned with a grave bearing to his soldiers,
and the parade commenced. After it was over, he repaired to
the castle, to work with his adjutant-general in his cabinet.
Before doing so, however, he said to Marshal Lannes: “I
wish you to dine with me to-day, and to-night I will play a
game of vingt-et-wn with you, Talleyrand, and Duroc; I must
get even with you for yesterday. Do not forget, marshal—
we shall dine together to-day!”

“Sire,” said Lannes, joyfully, “were you to place a dish of
the boiled ears of the Russians before me, I would eat them
with great relish if you look at me as kindly as you are doing
now!”

Napoleon laughed and ascended the palace staircase. An
hour later a dusty carriage rolled into the yard of Castle
Finkenstein. It was Marshal Lefebvre, who, agreeably to the
emperor’s invitation, had arrived. The marshal felt some-
what embarrassed and anxious. This order of Napoleon to
set out immediately on receipt of the dispatch, and repair to
his headquarters at Finkenstein, had filled the conqueror of
Dantzic with some apprehension, lest the emperor had sum-
moned him to rebuke him for having granted such honorable
terms to the Prussian garrison, and for permitting them to
march out with their arms, instead of making them prisoners
of war. The marshal therefore entered the anteroom with a
face somewhat pale, and requested the officer in waiting to
announce him.
THE DANTZIC CHOCOLATE. 231

“His majesty is at work in his cabinet,” said the officer.
“On such occasions no one is permitted to disturb him, unless
he be a bearer of important dispatches.”

“The emperor ordered me to report to him immediately on
my arrival. Go, therefore, and announce me.” The officer
obeyed hesitatingly.

Napoleon was seated at a desk covered with maps and papers.
Pointing at a map spread out on the table, he was just turning
eagerly to his adjutant-general, Marshal Berthier. ‘ Here—
this is the point whither we have to drive the Russians; and
there, on the banks of the Alle, they shall fearfully atone for
the battle of Eylau. Well,’ he said, turning to the officer
who had just entered, ‘what do you want?”

“Sire, Marshal Lefebvre asks your majesty to grant him an
audience. He says your majesty summoned him here from
Dantzic.”

“He is right,” said Napoleon, “and I am glad that the
duke does not keep me in waiting. Tell the Duke of Dantzic
that he is to dine with me.”

“Sire,” said the officer, “it is not a Duke of Dantzic, but
Marshal Lefebvre, who applies for an audience.”

The emperor darted one of his withering glances at him.
“It seems, sir,’? he said gravely, “that you deem me inca-
pable of creating a duke. Go,” he added, “and inform the
duke of my invitation. In fifteen minutes we shall dine.”

The officer returned to the anteroom. “ Well?” asked
Lefebvre, quickly. “Does the emperor await me? May I
enter?”

“Duke, his majesty invites you to dine with him, and re-
quests you to wait only fifteen minutes.”

Lefebvre, in his confusion, had not heard the title by which
he was addressed. His mind was absorbed in the single
thought whether or not the emperor was angry with him.
He wished these fifteen minutes to pass quickly, and yet his
heart trembled at what might be in store for him. Precisely
at the time appointed Grand Marshal Duroc entered to con-
duct Marshal Lefebvre to the dining-room. Lefebvre followed
in silence. The heart of the brave soldier beat more violently
than it had ever done in the battle-field.

The emperor had already taken his seat when Duroc and
Lefebvre entered. Near him, behind their chairs, stood
Marshal Lannes, the Prince de Benevento, and. Marshal
Berthier. Napoleon greeted Lefebvre with a friendly wave
232 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

of his hand. “Welcome, duke,” he exclaimed, “sit down
here at my side!”

Lefebvre advanced and took the seat his majesty desig-
nated. The others sat down also. Dinner commenced: Na-
poleon ate his soup in silence, as he always did. Fixing his
eyes with a smiling expression on a large pie, in the shape of
a fortress, that was standing before him, “Do you recognize
this, Duke of Dantzic?” he asked.

Lefebvre heard the ducal title this time, and looked be-
wildered at the emperor, whose anger he still feared. “ Did
your majesty speak to me?” he asked, bashfully.

“To be sure; did I not address you with the title of Duke
of Dantzic?” replied Napoleon, laughing. “ Well, tell me,
now, do you know the fortress which this pie is intended to
represent?”

“‘T believe,’’ said the new duke, “the fortress of Dantzic.”

“See, gentlemen, how familiar the duke is with his dear
Dantzic,” exclaimed Napoleon. “It is true, he ought to
know it, for he had to take extraordinary pains to reduce it.
Now let us eat little Dantzic as Lefebvre ate big Dantzic a
few days ago.”

The steward took the pie and presented it to the emperor.
“Oh, no,” said Napoleon, with a pleasant smile; “Duke of
Dantzic, it behooves you to carve it, for it is your con-
quest.”

Lefebvre’s face beamed with joy, and he thanked the em-
peror with a grateful look. “Sire,” he said, almost solemnly,
plunging his knife into the pie, “I should like to be com-
missioned soon by your majesty to take another fortress. I
should then remember this hour, and take it by assault or
die!”

“Ah, you will not die so soon,” exclaimed Napoleon; “let
us take this fortress by assault. The Duke of Dantzic having
opened the first breach, we will boldly follow.” Turning to
Lefebvre: “‘ Do you like to eat chocolate, duke?” he asked.

Lefebvre looked at him, amazed at the strange question.
“T do not know,” he faltered, “I believe I like it.”

“Well, then, I will give you a pound of Dantzic chocolate,”
said the emperor, smiling, “for as you took that city it is but
equitable that you should receive a little souvenir of it. Rou-
stan, bring me the small package lying on my desk.”

Roustan, who at dinner always stood behind the emperor’s
chair, soon returned with a small oblong package. N apoleon
THE DANTZIC CHOCOLATE. 233

took it, and, handing it to Lefebvre, said, “Take this, duke
—small gifts keep up friendly feelings.”

Lefebvre took the package, and, warmly thanking the em-
peror, put it into his pocket. A few minutes afterward Na-
poleon rose from the table.

“Sire,” said Marshal Lannes, approaching him, “ your
majesty, perhaps, does not know all my failings. You are
not aware that I am very inquisitive, and withal very fond of
sweet things. Now I am anxious to know whether Dantzic
chocolate is as good as Paris chocolate—I should like to taste
it. Will not your majesty be so kind as to order the Duke
of Dantzic to open his package of chocolate and let us
taste it?”

Napoleon laughed. “Why, I cannot order him to give
away what I have just given him,” hesaid. “But a glance at
the outside may show you whether it is good or not. If he
will open it and let you see it, I have no objection.”

The duke took the package from his pocket; he himself
was desirous to discover what it contained; Lannes, Duroc,
Talleyrand, and Berthier, surrounded him. The emperor
stood at some distance, and looked smilingly at the group.
Lefebvre broke the string and unfolded the wrapper. It con-
tained nothing but a number of small printed papers; but
these were valuable, being bank-notes to the amount of a hun-
dred thousand dollars. Lefebvre, overjoyed, looked at the
emperor. Duroc and Talleyrand smiled also, but Lannes ex-
claimed in a loud voice, “ Forsooth, I should also like to have
a pound of this Dantzic chocolate!* Sire, is there not some-
where another Prussian fortress manufacturing such an
excellent article? Send me thither, and, I pledge you my
word, I shall get my chocolate!”

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. “No,” he said, “there
are really no Prussian fortresses that we can take; all are in
our hands; only Colberg and Graudenz are holding out, and
who knows how soon they will surrender? You will have no
chance to obtain your chocolate in Prussia, Lannes, but I
will give you and all my marshals an opportunity, I hope, on
the battle-field.”

“ Ah,” they exclaimed in joyful chorus, “then there will be
a battle soon?”

“Yes,” said Napoleon, gravely. “ Let the fall of Dantzic

*This scene is strictly historical. The army knew in what manner the emperor
had rewarded Marshal Lefebvre, and it became a cant-phrase for soldiers who
wished to borrow money of their comrades: ‘‘ Have you any Dantzic chocolate?

16
234 | NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

be only a signal of fresh victories for us! The time of in-
action is past. Let us invite the Emperor of Russia to a war-
dance on the territory of his ally the King of Prussia. Pos-
sibly, the beautiful queen may take part in it, for she is said
to be a fine dancer, and to have delighted the young officers
of the guard at the balls given in the palace of Berlin. She
is, moreover, a heroine, who, when her king had an army,
witnessed the parade of the troops in the costume of an Ama-
zon. I am, indeed, inquisitive, like Marshal Lannes—not,
however, as to the quality of the chocolate, but as to this
queen, who is said to be the most beautiful and amiable
woman of all Germany. I am desirous to find out whether

the rumor is true, and to see her face to face. But in order - . - -

to do so a battle—a victory is necessary. Afterward I shall
invite her to meet me, and I suppose she will bow to the con-
queror of her country, notwithstanding her pride, and accept
the invitation. Ah, she shall accustom herself to recognize
me, whom she calls a usurper, as emperor, and peer of other
sovereigns. Gentlemen, I count on your active co-operation.
You, marshals, and my brave army, are to be the postillons
@amour, to conquer for me an interview with the beautiful
queen! You are to wake up the Russians from their winter
sleep, and bring them our morning greeting with cannon!
All the preparations are completed. The Confederation of
the Rhine, Italy, Spain, and France, have furnished us with
troops, and we have now two hundred thousand enthusiastic
and invincible soldiers, while Russia and Prussia together are
scarcely possessed of half as many. They are, moreover, ex-
hausted and demoralized. Let us renew the struggle; and
when I say struggle, it means victory /”
BOOK IIL

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER.

A ory of dismay resounded in the camp of the Prussians
and Russians—of exultation in that of the French. Another
battle had been fought, and Napoleon had won a brilliant
victory. On the 14th of June, 1807, a decisive action had
taken place between the French and the united army—the
battle of Friedland had gained Napoleon a new laurel-wreath,
and brought an overwhelming defeat upon unhappy Prussia.
The Russians, enraged at the loss of the battle, furiously de-
nounced Prussia, for the sake of which Russia had been
involved in this war; they asked the Emperor Alexander to
put an end to the disastrous and self-sacrificing war by mak-
ing peace with France.’

The same measure was urged by the adherents of the French
party in the camp and in the suite of King Frederick Will-
lam. They asserted that only unconditional submission,
however humiliating it might be, could save what was still to
be saved; that the king ought to throw himself at the feet of
the victor of Friedland and implore him to restore his crown,
Such was the advice of the discouraged and despairing—of
those who always had regarded the war against France as a
fatal mistake, and who now, amidst the general consternation,
were overjoyed that their predictions had been fulfilled.

“Peace! peace with France!” was the cry resounding in
the ears of the Emperor Alexander and of King Frederick
William. Alexander promised that he would comply with
the request. Frederick William listened to it in sullen
silence. The queen, who had remained at Memel, and was
no longer with her husband, veiled her head and wept.

But Napoleon triumphantly thanked his army for this new
and decisive victory.

“Soldiers,” he said, “we are victorious. On the 5th of
236 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

June we were attacked in our cantonments by the Russian
army. The enemy had mistaken our inactivity. He per-
ceived too late that our repose was that of the lion: he re-
pents of having disturbed it. In the battles of Guttstadt and
Heilsberg, and in that ever-memorable one of Friedland, in
a campaign of ten days, we have taken one hundred and
twenty pieces of cannon, and seven colors. The killed,
wounded, or made prisoners, are sixty thousand Russians.
We have taken all the magazines, hospitals, ambulances, the
fortress of Kénigsberg, the three hundred vessels which were
in that port, laden with military stores, and one hundred and
sixty thousand muskets, which England had sent to arm our
enemies.

“From the Vistula to the Niemen we have come with the
flight of the eagle. You celebrated at Austerlitz the anni-
versary of the coronation; this year, you celebrate that of the
battle of Marengo, which put an end to the war of the second
coalition.

“Frenchmen, you have been worthy of yourselves and of
me. You will return to France crowned with laurels, and,
after obtaining a glorious peace, which carries with it the
guaranty of its duration, it is high time for our country to
repose, protected from the malignant influence of England.
My bounties shall prove to you my gratitude, and the extent
of the love J feel for you.”

Napoleon thus promised peace to his army, while thanking
it for the new victory. And he had a right to do so, for
peace and its conditions were now in his grasp. Alexander
and Frederick William felt this, and hence they were under
the necessity of making advances to the conqueror; they were
obliged to sacrifice their pride and to conciliate their power-
ful enemy. Frederick William was still hesitating. The
tears of his wife, the prayers and remonstrances of Hardenberg
restrained him; he was unwilling to listen to the urgent ap-
peals of Generals von Kéckeritz and Zastrow, and of Field-
Marshal von Kalkreuth, who, now that Dantzic had fallen,
believed unconditional submission to be the only means of
safety.

Alexander determined first on taking a decisive step. On
the 24th of June he sent Prince Labanoff to the victor of
Friedland, and expressed his desire for an interview with
him. Napoleon complied with this request, and sent Grand-
Marshal Duroc to the Emperor Alexander to inform him that
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER. 237

he would meet him on the following day, the 25th of June,
at noon. But the two emperors did not wish to see each
other on a soil red with the blood of their soldiers, nor were
the peace negotiations to be held on a territory hostile to the
Emperor of the French. A river, whose waves buried in
their depths the reminiscences of the past, was to be the neu-
tral place of their meeting.

It was a clear midsummer-day; the earth was clad in the
freshest verdure; not a cloud floated in the sky; not a breath
of wind stirred the air, or ruffled the limpid waters of the
Niemen. ‘The river was silent, as though it was conscious of
its importance, and felt that a great historical event was to
take place on its tranquil surface. A large raft was moored by
General Lariboissiére, of the artillery, equidistant from and
within sight of both banks. A pavilion was constructed with
all the rich stuffs to be procured in the little town of Tilsit,
for the reception of the two monarchs. This gorgeous pavil-
ion seemed a palace descended from some fairy realm, and
thousands of spectators gazed at it in surprise.

The two armies were ranged along the Niemen, their arms
and uniforms flashing in the sun. On one bank were the life-
guards of Alexander, with their bearded faces and savage feat-
ures; on the other, the guards of Napoleon, with their
scarred faces, telling the story of manyavictory. In the rear
of the soldiers were thousands more, who had hastened to the
banks of the Niemen to witness the interview of the two em-
perors. Shouts, laughter, and songs, resounded on both sides;
the air was filled with a hamming sound as from two immense
swarms of bees. At times, greetings were sent across the
river in a language mutually unintelligible. Suddenly, all
this noise died away; the guards on both sides presented
arms; the drums were beaten, and the bands played the
national hymns of Russia and France. Amidst these jubilant
notes the two emperors with their brilliant suites approached.

That small, vigorous man, whose delicate hand is holding
firmly the bridle of his spirited white charger—he with the
pale face and expansive forehead, crowned with light-brown
hair; with impenetrable features, a cold, compressed mouth,
and large, gloomy eyes—that man is Napoleon, Emperor of
the French. Duroc, Berthier, Bessiéres, and Caulaincourt,
form his suite, and follow him at a full gallop to the bank of
the river.

That slender young man on the richly caparisoned black
238 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

horse—that tall figure with smiling and handsome face, full
of vigor, health, and vivacity—with soft, restless features;
blue eyes radiant with enthusiasm, and crimson lips—is
Alexander, Emperor of Russia. The Grand-duke Constan-
tine, Generals Benningsen and Ouwaroff, Prince Labanoff,
and Count Lieven, accompany him.

The two emperors dismount at the same time, and embark
with their suites in the gondolas that are to convey them to
the pavilion. The oarsmen keep time with their oars and the
boats approach each other, reaching simultaneously the two
staircases leading from the platform to the water. ‘The two
monarchs disembark at the same moment. Alexander and
Napoleon stand face to face. For a moment they look at
each other with inquiring glances, and then embrace in the
most cordial manner.

This testimony of a frank reconciliation excited vehement
applause among the spectators who lined the river; the French
as well as the Russians stretched out their arms toward their
newly-won friends on the other bank. ‘“ Peace!’ shouted
thousands. “Hail, ye friends and brethren! our enmity is
over; our emperors have affectionately embraced each other,
and like them their subjects will meet in love and peace! No
more shedding of blood! Peace! peace!’ The music joined
with the exultant cries of the two nations, and the emperors
stepped, keeping time with the bands, through the doors
leading into the pavilion. They were alone. Only the eye
of God could behold them. For afew moments they stood
face to face, silent, and undecided which of them was to
speak first, while the echoes of the music penetrated the
heavily-curtained walls of the pavilion. Each of them seemed
to be anxious to read the thoughts of the other in his face, and
to look into the depths of his soul.

Napoleon’s sonorous voice was the first to break the silence.
“Why are we at war?” he asked with an inimitable smile,
offering his hand to Alexander.

“It is true,” exclaimed Alexander, as if awaking from a
dream; “why are we at war? If your grudge is against Eng-
land, and against her alone—if your majesty hates me only
because I am the friend of that country, I can sever the
alliance, and we shall easily agree, for I have as much reason
to complain of her as you have, and shall readily support you

in every thing your majesty may decide upon undertaking
against her.”
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER. 239

“In that case,” said Napoleon, quickly, “every thing can
be arranged, and peace is a matter of certainty. England
alone stood between us—perfidious, egotistic England, that is
always interested only for herself, and is ready at any time to
sacrifice her faithful and generous allies!”

“T have allowed England to deceive me a long while,” ex-
claimed Alexander, vehemently; “for I once regarded that
nation of traders as a nation of men, heroes, and profound
diplomatists. But I was terribly undeceived. Those selfish
shop-keepers amused me with fair but false promises; they
care neither for my welfare nor for that of Europe, but only
for their commerce. The egotism of Great Britain is equalled
only by her narrow-minded avarice. I asked the British cab-
inet to guarantee a Russian loan, and they were impudent
enough to refuse me, although they knew very well that I
wished to negotiate it for the sole purpose of equipping an
army, with which I intended to take the field more in the in-
terest of England and Prussia, than in that of Russia. Faith-
ful to my word, and to the treaties I had concluded, I never-
theless equipped my army and marched it into the field in
order to join them. But where were my allies? Prussia
could not add to my forces a single army, but a few corps,
utterly demoralized by their misfortunes, and the assistance
promised by England came so late that it failed in saving
Dantzic. The English had taken their own time in appear-
ing before that fortress; they had other matters to attend to
in the Baltic; they had to make money by hunting up the
merchant-vessels of other nations, and, in their brutality and
avarice, they did not shrink from laying their rapacious
hands even upon Russian ships! But while the English were
taking unarmed vessels, and calculating their profits, and the
Prussians were bewailing their misfortunes and dressing their
wounds, I alone had to wage war and ingloriously to shed the
blood of my poor soldiers for a cause that was hardly the cause
of Russia. Ah, sire, I shall never forgive England for desert-
ing me in the hour of danger, ani for basely deceiving me by
false promises!”

While Alexander was speaking, Napoleon had steadfastly
fixed his eyes on him; he had looked through the restless,
quivering face of the youthful emperor, into the recesses of
his heart; and while Alexander, wholly absorbed in his
wrongs, and alternately blushing and turning pale with in-
dignation and grief, was uttering his reproaches, Napoleon
240 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

said to himself, “Two sentiments of the speaker are predom-
inant, and ought, therefore, to be flattered: spleen against
allies, burdensome like Prussia, or selfish like England; and
a very sensitive and deeply mortified pride. I must profit by
them.”

As soon as Alexander paused, Napoleon said in a mournful
voice: ‘‘ Your allies have taken advantage of your magna-
nimity, sire! They knew very well that the heir of Peter the
Great was also the heir of his fiery spirit, and that it was only
necessary to talk of a field of battle, and let him hear a war-
like flourish, to make him draw the sword. Ah, sire, why
was I not so fortunate as to be at your side? Why did we
not take the field together! What heroic deeds would you
have already performed! What laurels would not now adorn
a head designed by Providence to wear them! It was your
majesty’s misfortune that you were united with allies who
duped you for their own purposes—they were a king without
a country and without soldiers, and a nation composed of
greedy traders and stock-brokers, calculating whether glory
would be profitable to them in pounds, shillmgs, and pence;
and whether stocks would not fall if they fulfilled their en-
gagements. Your majesty alone displayed nobleness, energy,
and courage, in this triumvirate; but your friends were un-
worthy of your honorable conduct. Your majesty’s mistake
is to be solely attributed to generous sentiments carried to
excess, and to misconceptions to which ministers, incompetent
and bribed, have given rise. You were wrong to persist in
patronizing ungrateful and jealous neighbors like the Ger-
mans; or in serving the interests of mere traders, like the
English. God and history have intrusted a much more ex-
alted task to you, and for this puprose such large and warlike
forces have been given you. Iand my marshals, I can assure
you, are filled with admiration at the bravery of your soldiers,
every one of whom fought like a hero.”

“ Ah,” exclaimed Alexander, “this praise uttered by you,
sire, is a bulm for my wounds!”

Napoleon laid his hand softly on the shoulder of the young
emperor, and looked him full in the face. “Sire,” he said,
“if we were to unite these two armies, which fought so
valiantly against one another at Austerlitz, at Eylau, at
Friedland, but who behaved like giants fighting blindfold—if
we were to take the field hand in hand at their head, we
might divide the world between us, for its own peace and
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER. 241

welfare. By waging war with France, Russia is spending her
strength without any possible compensation; whereas, if the
two unite in subjecting the East and the West, on land and
sea, She would gain as much glory, and certainly more profit.
Yes, sire, you would attain the glory which you have hitherto
been vainly seeking with those who led you into a path in
which you have met with nothing but defeats and disappoint-
ments. Heaven intended, perhaps, that you should pass
through a school of suffering to make you see your false
friends in their true character, and then cause you to turn to
new friendships with the whole strength of your heroic soul.
Sire, I offer you my hand, and, if you will accept it, IJ will
lead you into a career as brilliant as the star-spangled firma-
ment, and as fragrant as the laurels of the south. You shall
see at least half the world at your feet. Sire, will you follow
me?”

He fixed his fascinating glance on Alexander, and an un-
earthly radiance seemed to beam from his countenance.
Alexander, dazzled by his aspect—carried away by the vigor
of his language, and flattered also by hearing Napoleon give
utterance to reflections on his allies which so well agreed with
his own secret thoughts, extended his hands toward Napoleon.

“Here I am,” he exclaimed, “lead me! Show me the
career I am to pursue!”

Napoleon hastily seized the proffered hands, and, shaking
them cordially, said with an energy which caused Alexander’s
heart to flutter, ‘Come, the world is ours!” He conducted
Alexander quickly and silently to the round-table in the mid-
dle of the pavilion, on which several rolls of paper were lying.
Unfolding the largest, and spreading it on the table, he said,
“Sire, look here. This is a map of the world. There is
Asia, which is placed at the side of Russia, like a pillow on
which to rest your head; there is Persia, with her treasures;
the vast Chinese empire, with its industry and commerce;
there is Hindostan, with her immense wealth, and a popula-
tion sighing for deliverance from the British yoke. Here
below you behold Africa, with her dreary deserts, and the
three Barbary states, which lately again plundered French
vessels, and upon which I have sworn to inflict summary pun-
ishment. I shall not now speak of America and Australia.
That is a world which has first to pass through the children’s
disease of republicanism; after it has recovered from it, both
of us will be ready to inoculate it with monarchical prin-
242 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ciples. But here is Europe! Your majesty, look at this
motley chaos of colors and states, of big and little thrones,
lying between France and Russia. We are their bulwarks on
the east and west; why should we not rule over them? We
are able to do so by joining hands over the heads of all these
states. If Russia desires to be the sincere ally of France,
nothing will be more easy; we shall change the face of this
part of Europe; we shall break the chains separating these
states and nations from each other in the east as well as in
the west. There will be but one shepherd and one flock, and
the Emperor of the Occident and the Emperor of the Orient
will give laws to the world!”

“ Ah,” exclaimed Alexander, enthusiastically, “the will of
my ancestor, Peter the Great, revives in the mouth of Na-
poleon the Great!’’

Napoleon smiled. “And what Catharine the Great
planned,” he said, “will be accomplished by Alexander the
Great—the consolidation of the empire of the East! Sire, a
courier brought me important news this morning. My ally
and friend, Sultan Selim, has been hurled from his throne by
the daggers of conspirators. His overthrow has just set me at
liberty in regard to my alliance with the Porte.”

“T also heard this intelligence to-day,” said Alexander,
smiling; “the sultan’s throne is vacant; Turkey awaits a new
sovereign.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Napoleon, “but it is not necessary that
this sovereign should be a Mussulman. The crescent on St.
Sophia’s accuses the Christian powers of cowardice and per-
fidy, and it is time to reéstablish the cross on it. I did think
that one might make something of those Turks, restore to
them some energy, teach them to make use of their national
courage; but it was an illusion. It is time to put an end to
an empire which can no longer hold together, and to prevent
its spoils from contributing to increase the power of England.
Task but asmall part of Turkey for myself; she is too remote
from France, she does not belong to the empire of the Occi-
dent. But I remember that Catharine the Great had placed
her on the map of the new world she was constructing, and I
read in the eyes of your majesty that you have not forgotten
that map!”

“Sire, you not only read in my eyes, but you look also into
my heart!” exclaimed Alexander; “like a magician, you lay
your hands on the secrets of my thoughts, that never found
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER. 243

words; you teach them to assume a definite shape, and impart
the faculty of speech to them.”

“TI show you the way of glory, which your allies had taken
pains to conceal,” said Napoleon, smiling. “ Your majesty
anxiously desires to see it, and those perfidious men tried to
mislead you. The portal opens to you now, sire, and I
already behold the noble Alexander entering it.”

“Oh,’? murmured Alexander, placing his hands on his
head, “my brain turns dizzy; it seems to me as though it were
on fire.”

“Sire,” exclaimed Napoleon, in a powerful voice, “we are
destined to give everlasting peace to the world, and woe to
those who try to hinder us! England would like to do so as
to myself, and Turkey desires as much in regard to you.
Sire, let us unite, therefore, against these two enemies, and
give efficiency to our alliance. We must enlarge our terri-
tory. Isee in the north an obstacle to your progress; Sweden
is watching your majesty with a jealous eye, and will regard
an alliance with me asa declaration of war. Well, then, wage
war against Sweden!”

“Sire,” said Alexander, in dismay, and confused by those
novel ideas passing so brilliantly before him, “the King of
Sweden is my brother-in-law and ally!”

“For that reason, let him follow the changes of your
policy,” replied Napoleon, “or let him take the consequences.
Sweden may be an ally for the moment, but she is your geo-
graphical enemy. St. Petersburg is too near the frontiers of
Finland. The fair Russians of St. Petersburg must not again
hear from their palaces the cannon of the Swedes. Proclaim
war against the Swedish king, and take Finland as a compen-
sation. And as you must be strong in the south as well as in
the north, take also at once some portion of the provinces
of the Danube. However, as it is probable that the Turks
will not give up any thing, let us wage war against them. I
will assist you, and afterward the partition will take place.
Look here,” added. Napoleon, quickly, drawing with his finger
a line across the map, “this is the inheritance that Turkey
will leave us. You take Bessarabia, Moldavia, Wallachia,
and Bulgaria, as far as the Balkan. I should naturally wish
for the maritime provinces, such as Albania, Thessaly, Morea,
and Candia. It is true Austria would object to such an ar-
rangement, but we should offer her indemnities in Bosnia and
Servia, to be made the appanage of one of her archdukes. I
244 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

have thus laid before you a rapid sketch of our new world, sire;
the question now is whether you like it—what you think of it.”

“Your majesty,” exclaimed Alexander, enthusiastically, “I
feel like a man who has looked at the sun, and whose eyes are
dazzled. But I shall become accustomed to this brilliant
light, and then be able to look more reasonably at the wonder-
ful picture which your majesty has unrolled. But, then, I
shall need your explanations and assistance, and I therefore
request you not to let to-day’s interview be the last, but rather
the commencement of many happy hours!”

“We have to settle many things yet,” said Napoleon,
gravely; ‘“‘it is, therefore, my heart-felt desire that we see
each other as often as possible; hence, I should like to ask a
favor of your majesty.”

“Ah, sire, then you will overwhelm me with kindness,”
exclaimed Alexander; “will you permit me, your vanquished
foe, to confer a favor upon you?”

“T should like to request your majesty to leave the miser-
able hamlet where you are now living, and establish yourself
in the little town of Tilsit. It is true I am residing there,
and Iam said to be your enemy; but we may neutralize the
town, that your majesty may be there also, and that I may be
so happy as to see you every day.”

“Sire, I shall transfer my quarters to Tilsit in the course
of the day,” replied Alexander, joyfully.

“But I have made only half my request. It is not enough
for you to reside at Tilsit; you must also dive there. I have
been informed that your household is not with you. I, there-
fore, ask your majesty to let me be your host, and to permit
me to receive you as a guest at my table.”

“T accept your hospitality,” said Alexander, smiling. “I
hope it will be the beginning of a true and lasting friendship.
But,” he added, in un embarrassed manner, “I have to ask a
favor of you. Sire, when I accept your generous hospitality,
it must extend to the unfortunate King of Prussia. He ismy
ally; in an hour of rashness and sentimental enthusiasm, per-
haps, I swore faithful and lasting friendship to him.”

“At the tomb of Frederick the Great, in presence of the
beautiful queen,” said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders.
“It was the dream of a generous heart, sire.”

“But I must realize at least a part of this dream, sire.
The King of Prussia is with me at my headquarters; he is
waiting for the decision of his fate.”
TILSIT.—NAPOLEON AND ALEXANDER. 245

“He has brought it upon himself; let him bear it now,”
exclaimed Napoleon, sternly. “Ido not expect, hope, or ask
any thing of him. He is able neither to help nor to injure
me. The waves of his destiny are rolling over him; they
will engulf him, and I do not mean to save him.”

“But I do,” exclaimed Alexander; “I must, for my honor
is at stake. I cannot allow the king to be utterly ruined
without dishonoring myself. Before passing from one system
of politics to another, it is incumbent upon me to secure my
ally and to protect his crown.”

“Fis estates belong to me; as to his crown, I will leave it
to him,” said Napoleon, carelessly. “Let him reside at
Memel and review there his fifteen thousand soldiers. But I
comprehend why you in your generosity intercede for him,
and refuse to abandon him. Tell me, therefore, your maj-
esty, what I am to do for the King of Prussia.”

“Above all, sire, I request you to receive him, and to let
him lay his wishes and demands before you.”

“Well, then,” said Napoleon, “I request your majesty to
appear with the King of Prussia here in this pavilion to-
morrow. Lethim participate in our interview. Although he
has so long been an implacable enemy of mine, I shall willingly
yield him as much as possible, but I do so only for your
majesty’s sake; it is a sacrifice I make to your honor and
magnanimity. Be kind enough to remember this. Sire, I
might dissolve Prussia, and cause her to disappear forever. I
shall permit her to remain a state, because your majesty de-
sires me. But it is true I cannot grant her the old frontiers;
she will have to sacrifice much in order to retain some-
thing.”

“She will be content with this something,” exclaimed
Alexander. “ Your majesty will confer with the king himself
as to the extent of his future states.”

“You wish me to do so. The King of Prussia, therefore,
may have a part in our negotiations,” said Napoleon. “That
is to say, in the official negotiations, but not in our confiden-
tial interviews.— You and I,” he added, “ can understand each
other better if we treat directly than by employing our min-
isters, who frequently deceive or misunderstand us; and we
shall advance business more in an hour than our negotiators in
days. Between you and me there must be no third person, if
we are to accomplish our purpose.”

“No one shall be between us,” said Alexander, delighted at

,
246 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

so skilful a flattery. The two sovereigns then walked hand in
hand to the doors of the pavilion.

“To-morrow, then,” said Napoleon, with a gentle nod.

“To-morrow, I and the King of Prussia will be here,” said
Alexander, with a smile.

Both emerged from the pavilion. The guards and the
people received them again with shouts in which the bands
joined. Alexander turned to the Grand-duke Constantine,
his brother, and seizing his hand to introduce him to Na-
poleon, he exclaimed enthusiastically, “ What a man! what a
genius! Ah, my brother, had I but known him sooner, how
many blunders he might have spared me! What great things
we might have accomplished together!”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
QUEEN LOUISA.

WHILE Frederick William repaired with Alexander to the
headquarters of the army, the queen and her faithful attend-
ants remained at Memel. There she received the news of the
battle of Friedland, and bewailed the misfortunes and disgrace
of Prussia. The king was not with her, to comfort her; he
was still at the mill of Puktupéhnen, where, after the dis-
astrous battle, he and the Emperor Alexander had retired.
Alexander had left for Tilsit. The king had refused to ac-
company him, preferring to remain at his humble lodgings,
far from the proud conqueror. While Alexander was the
perpetual companion of Napoleon, a daily guest at his table,
without returning this hospitality, indulging with him in
fantastic dreams about the future political system of the
world, Frederick William pursued his lonely path gravely and
silently, only looking for means to relieve as much as possible
the sufferings his subjects were undergoing, and, by remon-
strances and arguments, trying to protect his monarchy from
utter destruction.

Never did Frederick William stoop to flatter his enemy—
never did he bow to him in hypocritical submission. “He
could not help treating him as the conqueror of his states, but
he refused to degrade himself by base servility. His first in-
terview with Napoleon was short, and not very pleasant.
Frederick William tried to prove to his adversary that it was
QUEEN LOUISA. 247

he who had brought about the war by invading the territory
of Anspach, and thereby compelling Prussia to declare war.
Napoleon listened to this charge, shrugged his shoulders, and
merely replied that the cabinet of Berlin, often warned to be-
ware of the intrigues of England, had committed the fault of
not listening to his friendly counsel, and that to this cause
alone were to be ascribed the disasters of Prussia. Since
then, Frederick William, like Alexander, was a daily guest at
Napoleon’s table, but he sat there in silence, sad, and ab-
sorbed in his reflections, taking but little part in the conver-
sation, and, when he did so, assuming a cold, formal manner,
while Alexander and Napoleon chatted unreservedly and
pleasantly.

The king had also been constantly at the side of the two
emperors in their long rides, and at the reviews, but always as
an ominous shadow in the light of their new friendship—
always as the mournful and warning spirit of memories which
Alexander would have forgotten, because now they were a re-
proach and an accusation against him. And Frederick Will-
iam took no pains to palliate this reproach, or to disguise his
sadness with a veil of politeness. Abrupt in his whole bear-
ing, he did not condescend for a moment to play the part of
courtier. Accompanying the emperors, the king was by no
means ready to comply with their whims; if they wished to
ride at a full gallop, he moved only at a quick trot, and polite-
ness compelled them to remain with him. When they re-
turned from their excursions, Napoleon and Alexander vaulted
quickly from their horses, and walked hand-in-hand toward
the door, but Frederick William alighted slowly, and thus
obliged Napoleon, whose guest he was, to wait for him. The
king frequently made his crowned companions stand, regard-
less of the rain; and it happened more than once that the
emperors, while waiting for him, were thoroughly drenched.
When he was conferring with Napoleon as to the future fron-
tiers of his states, Frederick William did not assume a
suppliant tone, but spoke with the bearing of an incensed and
insulted sovereign, whom his adversary was robbing of his
rights, and who scarcely succeeded in restraining his indig-
nation.

And the king had sufficient reasons to be sad and irritable.
He saw that the storm which had so long cast its bolts upon
Prussia, would utterly destroy her. Napoleon was about to
revenge himself for the unpleasant hours she had latterly
248 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

caused him. He was willing, indeed, as he had pledged him-
self to Alexander, to leave Frederick William his crown, but
he did not intend to restore him his states. He needed
Prussia for the new kingdom of Westphalia, and for rewarding
his friends and allies. The king was to retain nothing but a
small part of the province of Prussia, and Koénigsberg was to
be his capital.

Frederick William, stricken by this new and terrible humil-
iation menacing him, looked anxiously around for assistance.
He felt lonely, deserted, and betrayed; he felt as though there
was no comfort, no hope for him. His soul turned with un-
utterable yearning toward the queen; she was the pillar
against which he desired to lean, that he might not sink to
the ground; she was his energy, his strength, his deter-
mination, and when she was at his side, he felt strong enough
to brave any calamity. His love longed for her, and political
considerations soon required her presence.

“Beseech the queen to come hither,” said Alexander to
him; “she alone is able now to do something for Prussia.
Her beauty, her eloquence, her amiability, and her under-
standing, will be more likely to obtain concessions from
Napoleon than any thing else. It will touch his magnanimity
that the noble queen, whom he has so often reviled, con-
descends to come to him to implore his mercy. This high-
minded resolution will make a deep impression upon his
generosity, and he will grant twenty times more than I am
able to obtain by my daily and most urgent solicitations.”

The king still hesitated. Owing to his sense of honor and
his conscientiousness, he shrank from doing what his heart
so intensely desired; and, before making up his mind, he
wished to hear the views of his friends, General von Kéckeritz
and Field-Marshal Kalkreuth, who were carrying on the peace
negotiations with Talleyrand. Both of them shared the
opinion of the Emperor Alexander; both of them exclaimed:
“The queen is our last hope! She alone is able to make an
impression upon the inexorable conqueror, and Napoleon pos-
sibly may not refuse her what he declined granting to your
majesty and tous. It is necessary for the welfare of Prussia
that her majesty should come hither.”

The king delayed no longer. He wrote to the queen, and
requested her to come to his headquarters at Puktupéhnen.
He told her it was her sacred duty to make a last effort for
the preservation of Prussia—that every thing would be lost if
QUEEN LOUISA. 249

she failed to move Napoleon by her supplications and remon-
strances. A courier hastened immediately with the letter to
Memel. When Louisa read it, a pallor overspread her feat-
ures. Uttering a cry of excruciating anguish, she dropped
the paper into her lap, and buried her face in her hands.

Madame von Berg, who had heard the loud sobs of the
queen in the adjoining room, hastened to console or weep with
her. Louisa did not hear her come; she was still absorbed in
grief; only incoherent lamentations fell from her lips, and .
her tears fell on the letter lying in her lap. Madame von }
Berg knelt, and implored her with the eloquence of devoted-
ness and affection to let her share her queen’s grief—to tell
her what new calamity had occurred.

Louisa looked with sorrowful eyes at the friend kneeling
before her. “ You ask me what calamity has befallen me!
Read and know!” she said, handing the letter to her lady of
honor, and, at the same time, raising her from her knees.

While Madame von Berg was reading, the queen rose; and
with her head thrown back, and her eyes turned upward, she
commenced slowly pacing the room. “ Well?” she asked,
when Madame von Berg, with a deep sigh, had laid the letter
on the table. “Did you read it? And do you comprehend
my grief now?”

“I do, your majesty,” she said, mournfully.

“Caroline,” exclaimed the queen, in an outburst of despair,
“T am to bow to this man, who has insulted me so infamously!
I am to step like a beggar before him who has slandered my
honor before the whole world, who has crushed my heart, and
wounded my soul in such a manner that it can never, never
recover! I tell you, he will be the cause of my death! On
the day when I read those calumnies which he contrived to
have printed about me—on that day I felt a pang in my heart
as if a dagger had been plunged into it! Ah, would I could
die this hour, before sinking into this new humiliation! Ah,
my soul is willing to bow to the great, the beautiful, the
sublime—but not to him—not to that proud man who is
trampling mankind in the dust; who has rendered King
Frederick William so wretched, robbing him of his states and
of his majesty, slandering his queen, and oppressing his peo-
ple. Caroline, think of it! Iam to meet politely him who
has robbed my children of their inheritance, and caused me
so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so many pangs!
With a smile I am to conceal’my anguish; and, under a mag-

17
250 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

rificent costume, my wounded heart! As it behooves every
lady, though no queen, I am not to wait for him to come to
me, but I am to go to him! Iam to force my visit on him—
Iam to court his favor! Ah, it is too much—too cruel!”

Raising her arms impetuously to heaven, she exclaimed in
the energy of her grief, “ Wilt Thou have no mercy upon me,
my God? Ah, let me die! Let me die, to escape this new
disgrace menacing me! I ama poor, tormented woman! I
ask nothing of Thee but death! Wilt Thou refuse me this
only wish?’ She sank on her knees, her arms and eyes still
raised toward heaven, as if she expected that her prayer would
be granted. She slowly dropped her arms, and hung her
head with a groan. Madame von Berg, in tears and with
folded hands, was praying in a low voice.

A long pause ensued. The queen rose from her knees; her
face was calm and her tears had gone! but around her eyes a
quiver was still seen, and at times a sigh escaped her breast.
“It is over now,” she said in a low voice, “the struggle is
over! Pardon my impassioned grief, Caroline; my poor
heart sometimes refuses to submit to the bridle of affliction.
But I must be docile and patient, and learn to obey without
a murmur.”

There was something so touching in the tone and manner
in which the queen uttered these words, in the glance with
which she gave her hand to her friend, that Madame von
Berg was unable to conceal her tears. She took Louisa’s
hand and pressed it to her lips.

“Do not weep, Caroline,” said the queen. ‘I have paid
my tribute to human nature; I have wept, but now I will be
strong and do my duty. Stand by me, and console me by
your calmness and fortitude. I must set out in an hour; let
us reflect, therefore, what preparations ought to be made.”

“Then you will really go, your majesty?” asked Madame
von Berg, sadly.

“Majesty!” e aculated the queen, almost indignantly. “Is
this reverence intended to deride me? Where is my majesty?”

“In your sovereign eyes, Louisa,” said Madame von Berg—
“in your great and noble heart, which masters its grief and
submits to duty. It beams gloriously around your head,
which, though it may bow to your adversary, will never be
humbled by him. But, consider, are you not about to im-
pose upon yourself, in your generous devotedness, a sacrifice
which is greater, it may be, than the reward? Napoleon is
QUEEN LOUISA. 251

not a magnanimous man; he lacks true chivalry, and he
would delight, perhaps, to scorn the august lady who humbles
herself so painfully, and who thereby affords him a triumph.
There is a voice in my heart, warning me against this plan;
it is repugnant to my womanly feelings that my noble quecn
is suddenly to descend into the petty affairs of politics. Iam
afraid your beauty, your understanding, your grace, are to
be abused to fascinate your enemy, and to wrest from him by
persuasion what is the sacred right and property of your king
and of your children, and what I believe cannot be wrested
from the conqueror through intercession, but by the king and
his ally, the Emperor Alexander, by means of negotiations, or,
if they should fail, by force and conquest.”

“Hush, hush, Caroline,” exclaimed the queen anxiously.
“Do not repeat to me my own thoughts; do not give expres-
sion to my doubts and fears! I think and feel like you. But
I must go nevertheless; I must do what my king and husband
asks me to do. He wrote me that it is my sacred duty to
control my feelings, and come to him—that every thing is lost
if I do not succeed in influencing Napoleon by my remon-
strances. It shall not be said that I neglected my duty, and
refused to yield, when the welfare of my children and of my
husband was at stake. It isa trial imposed upon mie now,
and I am accustomed to make sacrifices. God may reward
my children for the sufferings I am now undergoing, the tears
of their mother may remove adversity from them when I am
no more. Oh, my children and my husband, if you are only
happy, I shall never regret having suffered and wept! And
who knows,” she added, “whether God may not have mercy
upon me, and whether, by the humiliation I am about to
make, I may not really promote the welfare of my king, my
children, and my beloved people? Oh, Caroline, I feel a joy-
ful foreboding that it will be so! It will touch the proud
conqueror to see a lady, a wife, a mother, who was once a
queen, and is now but a sad, afflicted woman, appear before
him and humbly ask him to have mercy on her children and
her country. Even though he should feel no generosity, he
will feign it, and, in his ambition to be admired by the world,
he will grant me what he would have refused under other cir-
cumstances. The hearts of men rest in the hands of God.
He will move this man’s heart!”

Scarcely touching the floor with her feet, Louisa glided
across the room to the piano. She slowly touched the keys,
252 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

and with upturned glances she indicated her thoughts, sing-
ing in a joyful voice the hymn commencing with the words:
In all thy ways—in grief, in fear,
O troubled heart ! rely

On that all-faithful, ceaseless care
Of Him who rules the sky.*

CHAPTER XXIX.
BAD TIDINGS.

FREDERICK WILLIAM and Louisa sat hand in hand in the
small, wretched room of the mill at Puktupéhnen. They
were not a royal couple, but a pair of lovers, thanking God
that they were again united, and could read in each other’s
eyes the love and constancy that animated them. The king,
generally taciturn and laconic, found words at this hour; his
happiness made him eloquent, and he unbosomed himself un-
reservedly, telling of his apprehensions and forebodings.
“ But now,” he said, pressing Louisa’s hand to his lips, “now
you are here, and affairs will assume a more hopeful aspect.
Your eyes will strengthen and your voice will encourage me.
Alas! I stand greatly in need of your presence, for my soul
is well-nigh crushed. I have no longer sufficient strength to
withstand my misfortunes and humiliations—they oppress my
life day and night, leaving me no rest. At times, when I sat
at the dinner-table between the two emperors, and gazed at
the sombre features of Napoleon, in contrast with the good-
natured face of Alexander, and listened to their jests, I felt as
though I ought to interrupt them by an expression of anger,
and say to them, ‘It is ashame for you to laugh when mis-
fortune is in your company, and seated by your side.’ But I
suppressed my feelings. Oh, Louisa, I was all alone in my
agony. Now you are here, Iam no longer alone!’ He threw
his arms around the queen’s neck, and pressed her against his
heart, as though afraid she might also be wrested from him.
“Qh, beloved Louisa,” he whispered, ‘‘ you are my consolation
and my hope; do not desert me—do not give me up—now
that the whole world seems to desert me!’’

* Befiehl Du Deine Wege
Und was Dein Herze Krinkt,
Der allertreu’sten Pflege
Dess, der den Himmel lenkt.
* * * * *

PavL GERHARD,
BAD TIDINGS. 253

The queen encircled his neck in her arms and kissed him.
“T shall always stay with you,” she said, smiling in her tears;
“so long as my heart throbs it belongs to you, my king, my
beloved husband!” They remained locked in an embrace.
Their thoughts were prayers, and their prayers love.

A carriage rapidly driving up to the door, and rattling the
windows, roused them. “It is Alexander, who comes to pay
you a visit,” said the king, rising. “TI will meet him.”

But before he had reached the door, it opened, and the
Emperor Alexander appeared. “Ah, I succeeded in surpris-
ing both of you,” he said, with a good-humored smile. Bow-
ing respectfully to the queen, he added: “I trust your
majesty will forgive my entering without announcement, but
I longed to see my noble friend Frederick William. God and
His saints be praised that the sun has at length risen on us,
and that your majesty has arrived!”

“Yes, sire, I have arrived,” said Louisa, mournfully;
“however, I do not bring the sun with me. Night surrounds
us, and it seems to me I cannot see a single star in the dark-
ness.”

Alexander became grave; he gazed long and searchingly at
the pale face of the queen, and a sigh escaped his breast.
“Sire,” he said, turning to the king, “can we really make
peace with the man who, in the course of a few weeks, changed
into the lily the red rose that once adorned the face of the
noblest and most beautiful lady? Can we really forgive him
for wringing tears from our august queen?”

“Fate does not ask us whether we can,’ said the king,
gloomily. “It tells us only that we must. In my heart I
shall never make peace with the man who, although a great
captain, is no great man; else he would be less cruel. But
God has given him the power, and we must all bow to
him.”

“But it is not necessary to humble ourselves before him,”
exclaimed the queen. “Amid our misfortunes we must keep
ourselves erect; and if we perish, we ought to do so with un-
sullied honor.”

“But why perish?” said Alexander. “ We are shipwrecked,
it is true, and we are now drifting on the waves, but we must
save ourselves. Every one must try, to the best of his ability,
to do so; he must grasp at the first thing that falls into his
hands—at a plank, ata straw. Some fortunate rope may at
last save us, and draw us to the shore. We shall then build
254 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

a new ship, and man her with fresh hands. Do you agree
with me, my dear fellow-sufferers?”

“ Sire,” said Louisa, in a low and mournful voice, “ you are
magnanimous. You call yourself our fellow-sufferer. And
yet the tempest shipwrecked us alone.”

“By no means,” exclaimed Alexander; “I have also suf-
fered; all my hopes, wishes, and ambition went down. But
I did not wish to be drowned, and I stretched out my arms for
something to support me. Do you know what I found to sus-
tain me? The Emperor Napoleon! Oh, he is a strong
support.”

“T have heard, sire, your majesty has of late become an
ardent admirer of Napoleon,” said the queen, in a tremulous
voice.

“Yes,” exclaimed Alexander, enthusiastically, “ Napoleon
is a genius, a demi-god; the great Alexander of antiquity has
risen from the dead. He realizes the myths of the ancient
heroes. I repeat it to him every day, and, thank God, he be-
lieves me!”

The queen cast a surprised and inquiring glance on him.
A singular smile played on his lips. “ Yes,” he repeated,
“Napoleon believes me! He is convinced of the sincerity of
my admiration, and he is right. I love him as my master—
as my teacher—as the great ideal that I will endeavor te
imitate!’

“Oh, sire,” sighed the queen, reproachfully, “ you give me

ain!”

“You hate him, then?” asked Alexander, quickly.

“No,” replied Louisa, gently, “I do not hate him, but I
cannot love and adore him. Only the good can make the
world happy, and Napoleon has no good intentions toward
the navions. Jn his unmeasured ambition he thinks of him-
self and his individual interests only. We may admire, but
cannot love him.” ;

“We must, we can love him!” exclaimed Alexander. “He
is an instrument in the hand of Providence, that seems to
have armed him to rule the world. I love Napoleon,” he
added, in a whispering tone, “and I am sure he believes in
and returns my love. He overwhelms me with attentions and
favors; we have long conversations every day; we take our
meals together, and make many excursions. A shower sur-
prised us yesterday and gave us a thorough wetting. How
amiably the great Napoleon behaved toward me! how kindly
BAD TIDINGS. 255

he took care of me! He would not even set me go to my
quarters to change my dress, but conducted me himself to his
room and lent me his linen and clothing. As a souvenir, he
presented me with a superb dressing-case of gold which I
chanced to admire. I shall always preserve this gift as a
token of his friendship.”

He paused a moment, and cast a quick glance at the royal
couple. Frederick William had turned toward the window,
and seemed to look intently at the sky. Louisa had cast
down her eyes, and her features expressed a profound melan-
choly. The same strange smile played on the emperor’s face,
but neither the king nor the queen noticed it. He kissed
Louisa’s hand and asked: “Will your majesty graciously
permit me to show you that beautiful dressing-case?”’

The queen withdrew her hand almost indignantly. “I
thank your majesty,” she said, “I am not very anxious to see
the gifts of Napoleon.”

Alexander approached nearer to her. “That is right,” he
whispered hastily, “be angry with me—regard me as a faith-
less man—a renegade, you will yet be undeceived!”

“Sire,” said the queen, “sire—”

“Hush!” whispered Alexander, receding from her and ap-
proaching the king. “Your majesty knows how much I have
at heart your friendship as well as your welfare—what pains
I take to soften the heart of the conqueror, and to inspire
him with more lenient sentiments toward Prussia. I improve
every opportunity; I try to profit by my private interviews to
obtain better terms for you; as, for instance, I succeeded
yesterday in persuading him to leave you the fortress of
Graudenz.”

“T thank your majesty,” said Frederick William, gravely.
“But, as far as I know, Napoleon did not conquer and occupy
that fortress at all; it held out bravely and faithfully to the
day of the armistice; it remained mine, and I do not see by
what right he claims it.”

“Oh, your majesty,” exclaimed Alexander, carelessly, “the
victor claims the right of taking every thing he pleases. You
must remember that, now and hereafter—yes, hereafter,’’ re-
peated Alexander, laying stress on the word. “I was glad,
therefore, that I succeeded in preserving Graudenz to you.
Unfortunately, however, I did not succeed in recovering the
frontiers. Our august queen must use her eloquence, and I
have no doubt that the noblest of women will succeed in
256 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

bringing about what we and our ministers failed to accom-
plish. But in order that your majesty may become fully
aware of the important interests that are at stake, of the dan-
gers menacing Prussia, and how urgently she needs the assist-
ance of her queen, I have brought the ‘ultimatum’ of
Napoleon. He dictated it to-day, to Talleyrand in my pres-
ence, and I requested him to give me a copy. Will you
permit me, sire, to communicate it to you?” ;

“It is always better to know our fate, and look it full in
the face,” said the king, slowly. “Iyrequest your majesty,
therefore, to read it.’

“And will you also permit me?” asked Alexander, turning
to the queen.

Louisa gently nodded. “The king is right,” she said, “we
should know the worst. Let us sit down, if your majesty

lease.”
. She took a seat on the sofa; the emperor and her husband
occupied the easy-chairs on the other side of the table.

“T implore your majesties, however, to listen without in-
terrupting me,” said Alexander, drawing a paper from his
bosom. Glancing over it, he added: “ Napoleon demands,
above all, that Prussia shall cede to him the whole territory
on the right of the Niemen, the city of Memel, and the dis-
trict extending as far as Tilsit, for he asserts that this is the
natural frontier of Russia. He requires your majesty, further,
to cede your whole territory on the left of the Elbe to France,
for he regards the Elbe as also the natural frontier of the
Prussian kingdom. He stipulates expressly that the district
of Hildesheim shall not be included in the territory of your
majesty on the right of the Elbe, for he desires this district
to form part of the new kindgom of Westphalia, which he has
resolved to organize. But to compensate you for this loss, he
will prevail upon Saxony to cede to you a territory on the
right of the Elbe, equivalent to the district of Memel. Na-
poleon demands the Polish provinces of Prussia for the new
kingdom of Poland to be organized; but your majesty is to
keep Pomerelia and the districts of Kulm, Elbing, and
Marianwerder. The district of the Netze, as well as the canal
of Bromberg and Thorn, will be taken from Prussia; Dant-
zic, with its surroundings, is to be constituted a free—I be-
lieve, a free German city, under the joint protection of Saxony
and Prussia. Russia is to cede the island of Corfu to France.
This is Napoleon’s ‘ultimatum,’ ” said Alexander, laying the
BAD TIDINGS. 257

paper on the table. “These, queen, are the conditions which

your majesty ought to endeavor to render less rigorous, and if

possible, to cancel altogether. What do you think of them,
our majesty?”

“T think that if we cannot avert our fate, we must submit
to it,” replied Frederick William in a hollow voice, “ but that
recourse ought to be had to every means to render it less
offensive. or if I am compelled to sign these propositions,
Isign the ruin of Prussia.”

The queen had listened to the words of the emperor, with
breathless attention, and fixed her eyes inquiringly on her
husband. On hearing his mournful reply, she sank back ex-
hausted, and tears flowed down her cheeks.

“Your majesty sees how necessary it was that you should
come hither,” said Alexander to the queen. ‘“‘ You have a
great task to perform here. You alone are able to save
Prussia!”

Louisa shook her head. “Sire,” she said, “he who was
arrogant enough to draw up such an ‘ultimatum,’ is also cruel
enough to withstand all solicitation. I have come because
my king commanded me; faithful to the duty intrusted to
me, I shall try to mitigate our fate, but I do not hope to be
successful.”

“In these times, nothing can be promised with any degree
of certainty; we can only hope for the best,’ said Alexander.
“We must not relax in our efforts to bring about a change in
these terms. But I have not yet communicated to you all
the demands of the Emperor Napoleon.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed the king, with a bitter laugh.
“Then there is something still left for Napoleon to take from
me?”

“Yes, sire, he demands that your majesty dismiss your
minister, Von Hardenberg.”’

“Hardenberg!”’ exclaimed the queen, sadly—“the king’s
most faithful and devoted servant! Oh, your majesty knows
him—the generous zeal that animates him, and the noble
purposes that he pursues.”

“T know him and have tried to lessen Napoleon’s hostility,”
said Alexander, shrugging his shoulders. “But my efforts
were unsuccessful. He insists on Hardenberg’s removal, and
I cannot but advise your majesty, urgently, to comply. I
cannot conceal from you that the Emperor Napoleon has de-
clared to me to-day, that he would make no peace, but wage
258 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

war with Prussia for forty years rather than consent that
Hardenberg, his implacable adversary, should remain your
minister for a single day.”

“That is too much,” exclaimed the queen, indignantly.
“Let Napoleon dismember Prussia, since he has the power,
but be must not compel us to select or dismiss our servante
according to his bon plaisir.”

“He must not! but he can do so,” said the king gloomily,
“and as Napoleon does every thing he can, of course he
compels me to undergo a fresh humiliation. I must restore
peace to my poor, bleeding country; I cannot continue the
war. If, therefore, he insists on Hardenberg’s removal as a
first condition of the peace, I must comply.”

“But it is impossible to inform such a faithful and devoted
servant of the state so abruptly of his ignominious removal
from office,’ exclaimed the queen, mournfully.

“No,” said Alexander, “that is unnecessary. Minister
von Hardenberg will send in his resignation. I have had a
long conference with him, and, in consequence of it, he has
repaired hither to request your majesty to grant him an au-
dience. May I call him?”

“Tf your majesty desires me I will receive him in your
presence and in that of the queen,” said Frederick William,
walking to the door; he opened it, and cried: “ Minister von
Hardenberg!”’

A few minutes afterward Hardenberg entered the room.
The serene expression of his fine, manly features had not dis-
appeared; calm, and kindly as usual, he approached their
majesties, and bowed to them respectfully, yet with the pride
of a man conscious of his own dignity. He took the liberty,
therefore, to violate etiquette, and to speak without being
spoken to. “Sire,” he said, turning to the Emperor Alex-
ander, “I thank you for being so kind as to procure me an
audience with his majesty, and as I may hope that you have
communicated to my king and master the reason why I ap-
plied for it, I shall have but little to say. Time is precious,
and, therefore, I shall be brief.”

He approached the king, and, bowing deeply to him,
added: “ Your majesty knows that I have devoted my life to
the service of Prussia. I have served her to the best of my
ability and energy so long as the confidence of your majesty
permitted me. But circumstances require me now to prove
my devotedness in a different way. I can serve her now only
BAD TIDINGS. 259

by retiring from the civil service, and by laying the portfolio
that your majesty intrusted to me, at your feet. I, therefore,
request you to be so gracious as to accept my resignation.”

The king made no immediate reply. The queen looked at
him, and an expression of anxious suspense and tender solici-
tude was to be seen in her features. The Emperor Alexander
stood with folded arms at the side of the king, and glanced
with a smile now at the minister, now at the royal couple.

“Sire,” repeated Hardenberg, since the king was still
silent, “I request your majesty to be so gracious as to accept
my resignation.”

Frederick William started. “You know very well,” he
said, hastily, and almost in a harsh voice, “that it gives me
pain to do so. I have to submit to necessity. I have no
power to resist the most arrogant demands—no army to
continue the war. Hence, I must eccept the only terms on
which Iam able to obtain peace, and must also accept the
resignation you tender. You are free, Minister von Harden-
berg; I am not allowed to attach you to my cause. Accept
my thanks for your valuable services, and, believe me, I regret
that I shall have to do without them.” He took the minis-
ter’s hand and added: “ I-wish you joy of being no longer
in office; it will not now be necessary for you to sign the
peace which Napoleon offers to us.”

“Sire,” said Hardenberg, proudly, “I should never have
signed that treaty. It is not a treaty of peace, but of servi-
tude. But I forget that I have now no right to meddle with
the policy of Prussia. I thank your majesty, and beg leave
to depart.”

“T have to permit you,” said the king; “you are more
fortunate than I am; you are a free man.”

“Sire, I have, after all, but that freedom which every
honorable man ought to preserve even in misfortune,” said
Hardenberg, gently—“the freedom of not bowing to wrong
and injustice, and of perishing rather than enduring disgrace.
I intend to depart in the course of an hour.”

“ Farewell,” said Frederick William, hastily; “and when I
say farewell, I mean that we shall meet again. I hope there
will be better times. If I call you, then, will you come,
Hardenberg?”’,

“T shall never close my ear against: the call of your majesty
and of Prussia,” said Hardenberg, bowing to the king and the
queen. He then turned to the Emperor Alexander. “Sire,”
260 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

he said, “on taking leave of you, and being, perhaps, for the
last time, so fortunate as to see your majesty, it is a comfort
to me to remember the day when I beheld you first in the
spring of the present year. It was at Kydullen, where your
majesty showed to the King of Prussia your lifeguards that
accompanied you from St. Petersburg to participate in the
war against France. When the soldiers marched past you
embraced King Frederick William, and exclaimed with tearful
eyes: ‘Neither of us shall fall alone; either both, or neither!’
These words are still resounding in my ears, and in these dis-
astrous days, when Prussia’s honor and existence are at stake,
they are my only consolation. Your majesty has not fallen,
and hence, you will not allow Prussia to fall. You will re-
member your oath, the fidelity which Prussia has manifested
toward you, and never so stain your glory as to desert her now
and suffer her to fall alone! This is my hope, and, comforted
by it, I leave you.”

“Ah,” said Alexander, sighing, “how unfortunate I am!
You spoke at my right ear, and you know that there I am
deaf. Hence, I did not hear much of what you said. But I
believe you wished to take leave of me; I, therefore, bid you
a heart-felt farewell, and wish you a happy journey.” He
offered his hand to Hardenberg, but the deep bow the minis-
ter made just then, prevented him, perhaps, from seeing the
extended hand of the emperor; he did not grasp it, but with-
drew in silence, walking backward to the door.

When he was about to go out, the queen rose from the sofa.
“Hardenberg,”’ she exclaimed, vehemently, “and you forget
to bid me farewell?”

“Your majesty,” said the minister, respectfully, “I await
your permission to do so.”

_ The queen hastened to him. Tears glistened in her eyes,
and she said in a voice tremulous with emotion: “ You know
what I suffer in these times of humiliation, for you know my
sentiments, which can never change—never prove faithless to
the objects which we pursued together. A time of adversity
compels us to bow our heads; but let us lift our hearts to
God, and pray for better times. He will instil courage and
patience into the souls of noble and true patriots, and teach
them not to despair. Hardenberg, I believe in you, and so
does Prussia. Work for the cause in private life, as you are
unable to do so in public—prepare for the new era. This is
my farewell—this the expression of my gratitude for your
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 261

fidelity. May God protect you, that you may be able again to
be useful to our country! Whenever I pray for Prussia, I
shall remember you! Farewell!” She offered him her hand,
and as he bent to kiss it,-he could not refrain from tears. He
averted his head as if to conceal his emotion, and left the room.

Louisa looked at the king, who stood musing with folded
arms. “Oh, my husband!” she exclaimed mournfully, “ Na-
poleon robs you not only of your states, but of your most faith-
ful friends and advisers. God save Prussia!’

 

CHAPTER XXX.
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON.

THE queen had finished her toilet. For the first time dur-
ing many months, she had adorned herself, and appeared
again in regal pomp. A white satin dress, embroidered with
gold, surrounded her tall and beautiful form, and fell behind
her in a flowing train. A broad necklace of pearls and
diamonds set off her superb neck; bracelets of the same kind
encircled her arms, that might have served as a model for
Phidias. A diadem of costly gems was glittering on her ex-
pansive forehead. It was a truly royal toilet, and in former
days the queen herself would have rejoiced in it; but to-day
no gladness was in her face—her cheeks were pallid, her lips
quivering, and her eyes gloomy.

She contemplated her figure in the mirror with a mournful,
listless air, and, turning to Madame von Berg, who had ac-
companied her to Puktupéhnen, and who was to be her com-
panion on her trip to Tilsit, she said: “Caroline, when I
look at myself, I cannot help shuddering, and my heart feels
cold. I am adorned as the ancient Germans used to dress
their victims, when they were about to throw them into the
flames to pacify the wrath of their gods. I shall suffer the
same fate. I shall die of the fire burning in my heart, yet I
shall not be able to propitiate the idol that the world is
worshipping. It will be all in vain! With a soul so crushed
as mine, I am incapable of accomplishing any thing. But
complaints are useless, I must finish what I have begun; I
must—but hush! is not that the sound of wheels approaching
this house?”

“Yes,” said Madame von Berg, hastening to the window;

J
262 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“it is a carriage—a brilliant court-carriage, drawn by eight
horses, and escorted by French dragoons.”

Louisa pressed her hands against her heart, and a low cry
burst from her lips. “Oh,” she whispered, “the dagger is
again piercing my heart. Oh, how it aches!”

Owing to the noise with which the imperial coach had
driven up Madame von Berg did not hear the last words of
the queen. “Oh,” she exclaimed joyfully, “ the Emperor Na-
poleon really seems to be favorably disposed toward us. He
takes pains at least to receive your majesty with the respect
due toa queen. The carriage is magnificent, and the eight
horses wear a harness of gold and purple. The French
dragoons have on their gala-uniforms and are marching into
line to present arms when your majesty appears. I begin to
hope that I was mistaken in Napoleon; he will not humble
her whom he receives with the splendor lavished on the most
powerful crowned heads.”

Louisa shook her head. “ He has learned a lesson from the
ancient Cesars,” she said. “ When Zenobia adorned the tri-
umphal procession of Aurelian, she was clad in robes of pur-
ple and gold; she stood on a gilded car, surrounded by ser-
vants, as it was due toaqueen. But manacles were about her
arms; she was, after all, but a prisoner, and the contrast of
the chain with the royal pomp rendered only more striking
the imperial triumph and her own humiliation. But, no
matter! We must go through with it. Come, Caroline, give
me my cloak.” She wrapped herself in a small cloak of violet
velvet, and casting a last imploring glance toward heaven, she
left the room to drive to Tilsit.

At the hotel, where the king was staying, he received his
consort and conducted her up-stairs to the room prepared for
her. They said little; the immense importance of this hour
made them taciturn; they spoke to each other only by
glances, by pressing each other’s hands, and by a few whis-
pered words indicative of their profound anxiety and sus-
pense. Scarcely fifteen minutes had elapsed when one of
Napoleon’s aides appeared, to inform her that the emperor
was already on his way to see her. The king kissed his wife’s

hand. “ Farewell, Louisa,” he said, “and may God give you
strength to meet your adversary!”
Louisa retained him. “You will not stay with me?” she

asked, breathlessly. “You will leave me at this painful
moment?”
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 263

“Etiquette requires me to do so,” said the king. ‘‘ You
know very well that I care nothing for these empty forms;
but it seems that Napoleon, to whom they are still new,
deems them necessary for upholding the majesty of the new-
fangled empire. The emperor pays a visit. to the queen
alone; hence, you must receive him alone. Only your lady
of honor is allowed to remain in the adjoining room, the door
of which will be left open. Napoleon’s companion—Talley-
rand, I believe—will also remain there. Farewell, Louisa; I
shall come only when the emperor expressly asks for me. Do
you hear the horses in front of the house? Napoleon is
coming! Igo.” He nodded pleasantly, and left the room.

“Oh, my children!” muttered the queen; “I am doing
this for you—for your sake I will speak and humble my heart!”

She heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase, and
Madame von Berg appeared in the adjoining room to an-
nounce that his majesty the Emperor Napoleon was approach-
ing. Louisa nodded, and, quickly crossing the anteroom,
she went out into the corridor. Napoleon was just ascending
the stairs. His face was illuminated with a triumphant ex-
pression, and a sinister fire was burning in his eyes, which he
fixed on the queen with a strange mixture of curiosity and
sympathy. Lonisa looked at him calmly; a touching smile
played on her lips; her beautiful face beamed with energy
and courage, and an air of pious solemnity was visible in her
whole appearance. Napoleon felt involuntarily moved in the
presence of a lady so queen-like and yet so gentle, and bowed
more respectfully to her than he had ever done to any other
woman.

“Sire,” said Louisa, conducting him into the room, “I am
sorry that your majesty had to ascend so miserable a staircase.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Napoleon, “if the way leading to you was
inconvenient, madame, the reward is so desirable that one
would shrink from no trouble to obtain it.”

“Tt seems there is nothing too inconvenient for your maj-
esty,” said the queen, gently. ‘“‘ Neither the sands of Egypt
nor the snows of our north impede the career of the hero.
And yet I should think our cold climate an obstacle difficult
to overcome. Did your majesty not have this opinion some-
times last winter?”

“Tt is true,” said Napoleon. “ Your Prussia is somewhat
cold. She is too close to Russia, and allows herself to be
fanned too much by its icy breezes!”
264 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Louisa feigned not to understand this allusion to the policy
of Prussia, and, turning to the emperor, she requested him
to take'a seat on the sofa. Napoleon offered her his hand and
conducted her to it. “Let us sit down,” he said, with a
tinge of irony. Turning to her, he added: “ You have
hated me so long that you ought to give me now aslight token
of the change in your sentiments, and permit me to sit at
your side.” Bending over, he looked her full in the face and
seemed to wait for her to renew the conversation.

The queen felt her heart tremble—that the critical moment
had come, and she concentrated her courage and determination
that that moment might not pass unimproved. She raised
her eyes slowly, and, with an affecting expression, she said
in a low, tremulous voice, “ Will your majesty permit me to
tell you why I have come hither?”

Napoleon nodded, and continued looking steadily at her.

“TJ have come,” added the queen, “to beg your majesty to
grant Prussia a more favorable peace. Sire, I use the word
‘beg!’ I will not speak of our rights, of our claims, but only
of our misfortunes; I will only appeal to the generosity of
your majesty, imploring you to lessen our calamities, and have
mercy on our people!”

“The misfortunes we suffer are generally the consequences
of our own faults,” exclaimed Napoleon, harshly; “ hence, we
must endure what we bring upon ourselves. How could you
dare to wage war against me?”

The queen raised her head, and her eyes flashed. ‘“‘ Sire,”
she said, quickly and proudly, “the glory of the great Fred-
erick induced us to mistake our strength, if we were mis-
taken.”

“You were mistaken, at least in your hopes that you could
vanquish me,” exclaimed Napoleon, sternly. But, as if struck
by a sudden recollection, and meaning to apologize for his
rudeness, he bowed, and added in a pleasant tone: “I refer
to Prussia and not to you, queen. Your majesty is sure to
vanquish every one. I was told that you were beautiful, and
I find that you are the most charming lady in the world!”

“Tam neither so vain as to believe that, nor so ambitious
as to wish it,” said the queen. “I have come hither as con-
sort of the king, as mother of my children, and as represen-
tative of my people!”

“Ah,” exclaimed Napoleon, spolitely, “ Prussia may well be
proud of so noble a representative.”
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 265

“Sire, Prussia cannot be proud,” replied the queen, sigh-
ing. “She weeps over her sons fallen on the fields of battle
that brought laurels to you; to us nothing but defeat. She
has lost her prosperity; her fields are devastated; her supplies
consumed. She is looking despondingly toward the future,
and all that remains to her is hope. Sire, let not this hope
be in vain! Pardon us for not having feared your all-power-
ful genius and your victorious heroism! It was a terrible
misfortune for us to have mistaken our strength; but we have
been humbled for it. Let it be enough! You have made us
feel the conqueror’s hand; let us now feel and acknowledge
your magnanimity! Your majesty cannot intend to trample
in the dust those whom fortune has already so humbled. You
will not take revenge for our errors—you will not deride and
revile our majesty—for majesty, sire, is still enthroned on our
heads. It is the sacred inheritance which we must bequeath
to our children.”

“Ah, your majesty will comprehend that I cannot feel
much respect for such sacred inheritance,” said Napoleon,
sneeringly.

“But your majesty will respect our misfortunes,” exclaimed
Louisa. ‘Sire, adversity is a majesty, too, and consecrates
its innocent children.”

“Prussia has to blame none but herself for her calamities!”
said Napoleon, vehemently.

“Does your majesty say so because we defended our coun-
try when we were attacked?” asked the queen, proudly. “Do
you say so because, faithful to the treaties which we had
sworn to observe, we refused to desert our ally for the sake of
our own profit, but courageously drew the sword to protect his
and our frontiers? Heaven decreed that we should not be
victorious in this struggle, and our defeats became a new
laurel-wreath for your brow. But now you will deem your
triumphs sufficient, and will not think of taking advantage of
our distress. Iam told that your majesty has asked of the
king, as the price of peace, the largest and best part of his
states—that you intend taking from him his fortresses, cities,
and provinces, leaving to him a crown without territory, a
title without meaning—that you wish to distribute his sub-
jects and provinces, and form of them new nations. But your
majesty knows well that we cannot with impunity rob a peo-
ple of their inalienable and noblest rights—of their nationality
—give them arbitrary frontiers, and transform them into new

18
266 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

states. Nationality is a sentiment inherent in the human
heart, and our Prussians have proud hearts. They love their
king, their country—”

“ And above all their august queen,” interrupted Napoleon,
who wished to put an end to this appeal, and direct the con-
versation into less impetuous channels. “Oh, I know that all
Prussia idolizes her beautiful queen, and henceforth I shall

‘not wonder at it. Happy those who are permitted to bear
your chains!”

She cast on him a glance so contemptuous that Napoleon
shrank, and lowered his eyes. “Sire,” she said, “no one who
bears chains is happy, and your majesty—who once said to
the Italians, ‘You need not fear me, for I have come to break
your chains and to deliver you from degrading servitude!’—
will not now reduce a state to servitude. For to wrest it from
its legitimate sovereign, and to compel it to submit to another
prince is chaining it—to distribute a people like merchandise,
is reducing them to slavery. Sire, I dare beg your majesty to
leave us our nationality and our honor! I dare beg you in
the name of my children to leave them their inheritance and
their rights.”

“Their rights?” asked Napoleon. “Only he has them who
knows how to maintain them. What do you call the rights
of your children?”

“Sire, I refer to their birth, their name, and history. By
their birth, God conferred on them the right to rule over
Prussia. And the Prussian monarchy is rooted in the hearts
of the people. Oh, your majesty, do not overthrow it!
Honor in us the crown adorning your own victorious head!
Sovereigns ought to respect each other, that their people may
never lose the respect due to them; sovereigns ought to sup-
port and strengthen each other, to enable them to meet their
enemies now carried away by the insane ideas of a so-called
new era—ideas that brought the heads of Louis XVI. and
Marie Antoinette to the scaffold. Sire, princes are not always
safe, and harmony among them is indispensable; but it is not
strengthening one’s own power to weaken that of others—it
is not adding lustre to one’s own crown to tarnish another’s.
O sire, in the name of all ‘monarchies—nay, in the name of
your own, now shedding so radiant a light over the whole
world, I pray for our crown, our people, and our frontiers!”

“The Prussians,” said Napoleon, rising, “could not have
found a more beautiful and eloquent advocate than your maj-
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 267

esty!”” He paced the room several times, his hands folded
behind him. The queen had also risen, but she stood still,
and looked in breathless suspense at Napoleon, whose cold face
seemed to warm a little with humane emotion. He ap-
proached, and fixed his eyes in admiration on her sad but
noble countenance. “ Your majesty,” he said, “I believe you
have told me many things which no one hitherto has ventured
to tell me—many things which might have provoked my
anger—some bitter words, and prophetic threats have fallen
from your lips. This proves that you at least respect my
character, and that you believe I will not abuse the position
to which the fortune of war has elevated me. I will not dis-
appoint you, madame. I will do all I can to mitigate your
misfortunes, and to let Prussia remain as powerful as is com-
patible with my policy and with my obligations to my old and
new friends. I regret that she refused to enter into an
alliance with me, and that I vainly offered my friendship to
her more than once. It is no fault of mine that your majesty
has to bear the consequences of this refusal, but I will try to
ameliorate them as much asI can. I cannot restore your old
frontiers; I cannot deliver your country entirely from the
burdens and calamities of war, and preserve it from the tribute
which the conqueror must impose upon the vanquished, in
order to receive some compensation for the blood that was
shed. I will always remember that the Queen of Prussia is
not only the most fascinating, but also the most high-
minded, courageous, and generous lady in the world, and that
one cannot do homage enough to her magnanimity and intel-
ligence. I promise your majesty that I am quite willing to
comply with all your wishes as far as I can. Inform me,
therefore, of them; it will be best for you to be quite frank
with me. We shall try to become good friends, and, as a
token of this friendship, I take the liberty to offer you this
flower, which bears so striking a resemblance to you.” He
took a full-blown moss-rose from the porcelain vase standing
on the table, and presented it to her. “ Will vou accept this
pledge of friendship at my hands?”

The queen hesitated. It was repugnant to her noble and
proud heart to receive so sentimental a gift from him to whom
her heart never could grant true friendship. She slowly
raised her eyes and looked almost timidly into his smiling
face. “Sire,” she said in a low voice, “add to this pledge of
your friendship still another, that I may accept the rose.”
268 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The smile faded from Napoleon’s face, and anger darkened
his forehead. “Remember, madame,” he said harshly, “ that
it is I who command, and that you have but the choice to
decline or to accept. Will you accept this rose?”

“Sire,” said the queen, with quivering lips and tearful
eyes, “ give it to me with another pledge of your friendship.
Give me Magdeburg for my children.”

Napoleon threw the rose on the table. “Ah, madame,”
he said, vehemently, “ Magdeburg is no toy for children!”
He turned around and paced the room repeatedly, while
Louisa hung her head, and looked resigned as a martyr ready
to suffer death. Napoleon glanced at her as he passed, and
the spectacle exhibited by this aggrieved, and yet so dignified
and gentle a queen, touched him, for it reminded him of
Josephine. He stood still in front of her. “Forgive my im-
pulsiveness,” he said; “I cannot give you Magdeburg, but
you may rest assured that I will do all I can to lessen your
calamities, and to fulfil your request. The Emperor Alexan-
der is aware of my wishes; he knows that I am desirous to
serve the King of Prussia. I should like to repeat this to
your husband himself if he were here.”

“He is here,” said the queen, hastily; “and with your
majesty’s permission he will be with us immediately.”

Napoleon bowed in silence. A sign made by Louisa
brought the lady of honor. ‘Be so kind as to request the
king to come to us,” said the queen, quickly.

“ And while we are awaiting the king,” said Napoleon, call-
ing Talleyrand from the anteroom, “ your majesty will permit
me to introduce my companion. Madame, I have the honor
to present my minister of foreign affairs, M. de Talleyrand,
Prince de Benevento.”

“ And I deem myself happy to make the acquaintance of the
greatest statesman of the age,” said the queen, while Talley-
rand’s short figure bowed deeply. “Oh, your majesty is in-
deed to be envied. You have not only gained great glory,
but are also blessed with high-minded and sagacious advisers
and exceutors of your will. If the king my husband had
always been equally fortunate, a great many things would not
have happened.”

“Well, we have induced him to displace at least one bad
adviser,” exclaimed Napoleon. “That man Hardenberg was
the evil genius of the king; he is chiefly to blame for the mis-
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 269

fortunes that have befallen Prussia, and it was necessary to
remove him.”

“But he was an experienced statesman,” said the queen,
whose magnanimous character found it difficult to listen to
any charge against Hardenberg without saying something in
his defence; “he is avery skilful politician, and it will not be
easy for the king to fill the place of Minister von Hardenberg.”

“Ah!” said Napoleon, carelessly; “ ministers are always to
be found. Let him appoint Baron von Stein; he seems to be
a man of understanding.”

An expression of joyful surprise overspread the queen’s face.
The king entered. Napoleon met him and offered him his
hand. “I wished to give your majesty a proof of my kind
disposition in the presence of your noble and beautiful consort,
and, if you have no objection, to assure you of my friend-
ship,” he said. “I have complied as far as possible with all
your wishes. The Emperor Alexander, in whom you have an
ardent and eloquent friend, will confirm it to you. I also
communicated to him my last propositions, and trust that your
majesty will acquiesce in them.”

“Sire,” said the king, coldly, “the Emperor Alexander
laid this ultimatum before me, but it would be very painful
to me if I should be obliged to accept it. It would deprive
me of the old hereditary provinces which form the largest
portion of my states.”

“JT will point out a way to get compensation for these
losses,” exclaimed Napoleon. “Apply to the Emperor Alex-
ander; let him sacrifice to you his relatives, the Princes of
Mecklenburg and Oldenburg. He can also give up to you
the King of Sweden, from whom you may take Stralsund and
that portion of Pomerania of which he makes such bad use.
Let him consent that you should have these acquisitions, not
indeed equal to the territories taken from you, but better
situated, and, for my part, I shall make no objection.”

“Your majesty proposes to me a system of spoliation, to
which.I can never agree,” said the king, proudly. “I com-
plain of the menaced loss of my provinces, not only because it
would lessen the extent of my territories, but because they are
the hereditary states of my house, and are associated with my
ancestors by indissoluble ties of love and fealty.”

“You see that these ties are not indissoluble after all,” ex-
claimed Napoleon, “for we shall break them, and you will be
consoled for the loss by obtaining compensation.”
270 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Possibly others may be more readily consoled for such
losses,” said the king: “those who are only anxious for the
possession of states, and who do not know what it is to part
with hereditary provinces in which the most precious reminis-
cences of our youth have their root, and which we can no
more forget than our cradle.”

“Cradle!” exclaimed Napoleon, laughing  scornfully.
“When the child has become a man, he has no time to think
of his cradle.”

“Yes, he has,” said the king, with an angry expression.
“We cannot repudiate our childhood, and a man who has a
heart must remember the associations of his youth.”

Napoleon, making no reply, looked grave, while Frederick
William fixed his eyes on him with a sullen and defiant ex-
pression. The queen felt that it was time for her to prevent
a more violent outburst of indignation on the part of her hus-
band. “The real cradle is the tender heart of a mother,” she
said gently, “and all Europe knows that your majesty does
not forget it; all are aware of the reverential love of the great
conqueror for Madame Letitia, whom France hails as noble
Madame Mere.”

Napoleon raised his eyes toward her, and his forbidding
expression disappeared. “It is true,” he said, “your sons,
madame, ought to be envied such a mother. They will owe
you many thanks, for it is you, madame, who have saved
Prussia by your eloquence and noble bearing. I repeat to
you once more that I shall do what I can to fulfil your wishes.
We shall confer further about it. At present, I have the
honor to take leave of your majesty.”

He offered his hand to the queen. “Sire,” she said, pro-
foundly affected, “I hope that, after making the acquaintance
of the hero of the century, you will permit me to remember
in you the generous conqueror as well as the man of genius.”
Napoleon silently kissed her hand, and, bowing to the king,
left the room.

“Oh!” exclaimed the queen, when she was alone with her
husband, “ perhaps it was not in vain that I came hither; God
may have imparted strength to my words, and they may have
moved the heart of this all-powerful man, so that he will ac-
knowledge our just demands, and shrink from becoming the
robber of our property.”

In the mean time Napoleon returned to his quarters, ac-
companied by Talleyrand. But when the minister, on their
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON 271

arrival at the palace, was about to withdraw, the emperor de-
tained him. “Follow me into my cabinet,” he said, advanc-
ing quickly. ‘Talleyrand limped after him, and a smile, half
scornful, half malicious, played on his thin lips.

“The hero who wants to rule over the world,” said Talley-
rand to himself, “is now seized with a very human passion,
and I am sure we shall have a highly sentimental scene.” He
entered the room softly, and lurkingly watched every move-
ment of Napoleon. The emperor threw his small hat on one
chair, his gloves and sword on another, and then paced the
room repeatedly. Suddenly he stood still in front of Talley-
rand and looked him full in the face.

“Were you able to overhear my conversation with the
queen?” he asked.

“T was, sire!’ said Talleyrand, laconically, “I was able to
overhear every word.”

“You know, then, for what purpose she came hither,” ex-
claimed Napoleon, and commenced again pacing the apart-
ment.

“'Talleyrand,” he said, after a pause, “I have wronged this
lady. She is an angel of goodness and purity, she is a true
woman and a true queen. It was a crime for me to persecute
her. Yes, I confess that I was wrong in offending her. On
merely hearing the sound of her voice I felt vanquished, and
was as confused and embarrassed as the most timid of men.
My hand trembled when I offered her the rose. I have slan-
dered her, but I will make compensation!” He resumed his
walk rapidly; a delicate blush mantled his cheeks, and all his
features indicated profound emotion. Talleyrand, looking as
cold and calm as usual, still stood at the door, and seemed to
watch the emperor with the scrutinizing eye of a physician
observing the crisis of a disease.

“Yes,” added Napoleon, “I ought certainly to compensate
her for what I have done. She shall weep no more on my ac-
count; she shall no more hate and detest me as a heartless
conqueror. I will show her that I can be magnanimous, and
compel her to admit that she was mistaken in me. I will
raise Prussia from the dust. I will render her more powerful
than ever, and enlarge her frontiers instead of narrowing
them. And then, when her enchanting eyes are filled with
gladness, I will offer my hand to her husband and say to him:
“You were wrong; you were insincere toward me, and I pun-
ished you for it. Now let us forget your defeats and my vic-
272 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

tories; instead of weakening your power, I will increase it
that you may become my ally, and remain so forever!’ ‘Talley-
rand, destroy the conditions I dictated to you; send for Count
Goltz; confer with him again, and grant his demands!”

“Sire,” exclaimed Talleyrand, apparently in dismay, “sire,
shall posterity say that you failed to profit by your most
splendid conquest, owing to the impression a beautiful woman
made upon you?” The emperor started, and Talleyrand
added: “ Sire, has the blood of your soldiers who fell at Jena,
at Eylau, and at Friedland, been shed in vain, and is it to be
washed away by the tears of a lady who now appears to be as
inoffensive as a lamb, but who is to blame for this whole war?
Your majesty ought not to forget that the Queen of Prussia
instigated her husband to begin it—that, at the royal palace
of Berlin, you took a solemn oath to punish her, and to take
revenge for her warlike spirit, and for the oath over the tomb
of Frederick the Great! Ah, the queen, with Frederick
William and the Emperor Alexander, would exult at your
tender-heartedness; the world would wonder at the weakness
of the great captain who allowed himself to be duped by the
sighs and seeming humility of the vanquished, and—’’

“Hnough!’” interrupted Napoleon, in a powerful voice—
“enough, I say!” He walked several times up and down, and
then stood still again in front of Talleyrand. “Send immedi-
atley for Count Goltz,” he said imperiously, “and inform him
of our ultimatum! Tell him in plain words that all I said to
the queen were but polite phrases, binding me in no manner,
and that I am as firmly determined as ever to fix the Elbe as
the future frontier of Prussia—that there was no question of
further negotiations—that I had already agreed with the Em-
peror Alexander as to the various stipulations, and that the
king owed his lenient treatment solely to the chivalrous at-
tachment of this monarch, inasmuch as, without his interfer-
ence, my brother Jerome would have become King of Prussia,
while the present dynasty would have been dethroned. You
know my resolutions now; proceed in accordance with them,
and hasten the conclusion of the whole affair, that I may be
annoyed no more. I demand that the treaty be signed to-
morrow.”

Prussia’s fate was therefore decided. The great sacrifice
which the queen had made, and with so much reluctance, had
been in vain. On the 9th of June, 1807, the treaty of Tilsit
was signed by the representatives of France and Prussia.
QUEEN LOUISA AND NAPOLEON. 273

By virtue of it King Frederick William lost one-half of his
territories, consisting of all his possessions beyond the Elbe:
Old Prussia, Magdeburg, Hildesheim, Westphalia, Friesland,
Erfurt, Hichsfeld, and Baireuth. The Polish provinces were
taken from him, as well as a portion of West Prussia, the dis-
trict of Kulm, including the city of Thorn, half of the district
of the Netze, and Dantzic, which was transformed into a free
city. Besides, the king acknowledged the Confederation of
the Rhine, the Kings of Holland and Westphalia, Napoleon’s
brothers, and engaged to close his ports against England.
And, as was expressly stated in the document, these terms
were obtained only “27 consideration of the Emperor of Russia,
and owing to Napoleon’s sincere desire to attach both nations
to each other by indissoluble bonds of confidence and friend-
ship.”

Russia, which had signed the treaty on the preceding day,
gained a large portion of Eastern Prussia, the frontier district
of Bialystock, and thus enriched herself with the spoils taken
from her own ally.

Thus Frederick William concluded peace, losing his most
important territories, and having his ten millions of subjects
reduced to five millions. The genius of Prussia, Queen
Louisa, veiled her head and wept!
BOOK IV.

 

CHAPTER XxXI.
BARON VON STEIN.

PROFOUND sadness reigned for several weeks at the house
of Baron Charles von Stein. ‘Tears were in the eyes of his
children, and whenever their mother came from her hus-
band’s room and joined them for a moment, they seemed in
her only to seek comfort and hope. But the anxious face of the
baroness became more sorrowful, and the family physician,
who visited the house several times a day, was more taciturn
and grave. Baron von Stein was ill, and his disease was one
of those which baffle the skill of the physician, because their
seat is to be sought less in the body than in the mind. Prus-
sia’s misfortunes had prostrated Stein. Sick at heart, and
utterly broken down, at the commencement of 1807, after the
violent scene with King Frederick William, he left Konigs-
berg, and travelled slowly toward Nassau. There he met his
family, and ever since lived in retirement. Never in his grief
had he uttered a complaint, or manifested any loss of temper,
but his face had become paler, his gait slower, and indicative
ot increasing weakness and exhaustion. He yielded at last to
the tears of his wife, and the repeated remonstrances of his
physician, to submit to medical treatment.

But medicine did not restore him; his strength decreased,
and the fever wrecking his body grew more violent. The
disease had recently, however, assumed a definite character;
the news of the disaster of Friedland, and of the humiliating
treaty of Tilsit, had violently shaken his constitution, and the
physician was now able to discern the true character of the
malady and give it a name. It was the tertian fever which
alternately reddened and paled the baron’s cheeks, at times
paralyzing his clear, powerful mind, or moving his lips to
utter unmeaning words, the signs of his delirium.

Baron von Stein had just undergone another attack of his
BARON VON STEIN. 275

dangerous disease. All night long his devoted wife had
watched at his bedside, and listened despondingly to his
groans, his fantastic expressions, his langhter and lamenta-
tions. In the morning the sufferer had grown calmer; con-
sciousness had returned, and his eyes sparkled again with
intelligence. The fever had left him, but he was utterly
prostrated. The physician had just paid him a visit, and ex-
amined his condition in silence. ‘“ Dear doctor,” whispered
the baroness, as he was departing, “ you find my husband very
ill, I suppose? Oh, I read it in your face; I perceive from
your emotion that you have not much hope of his recovery!”
And the tears she knew how to conceal in the sick-room fell
without restraint.

“He is very ill,” said the physician, thoughtfully, “but I
do not believe his case to be entirely hopeless; for an unfore-
seen circumstance may come to our assistance and give his
mind some energy, when it will favorably influence the body.
If the body alone were suffering, science would suggest ways
and means to cure a disease which, in itself, is easily over-
come. The tertain fever belongs neither to the dangerous
acute diseases nor‘to any graver class. But, in this case, it is
only the external eruption of a disease seated in the patient’s
mind.”

“Whence, then, is recovery to come in these calamitous and
depressing times?’ said the baroness, mournfully. “His
grief at the misfortunes of Prussia is gnawing at his heart,
and all the mortifications and misrepresentations he has suf-
fered at the hands of the very men whom he served with so
much fidelity have pierced his soul like poisoned daggers.
Ob, I shall never pardon the king that he could so bitterly
mortify and humble my noble husband, who is enthusiastically
devoted to Prussia—that he could mistake his character so
grievously, and prefer such cruel charges against him. He
called him—the best, the most intelligent and reliable of all
his servants—a seditious man; he charged him with being
self-willed, stubborn, and proud, and said he was mischievous
and disobedient to the state. Oh, believe me, that accusation
is what troubles Stein! The King of Prussia has humbled
his pride so deeply and unjustly, that a reconciliation between
them is out of the question. Stein lives, thinks, and grieves
only for his country, and yet the insulting vehemence and
unfeeling words of the king have rendered it impossible for
him ever to reénter the Prussian service. He sees that his
276 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

country is sinking every day, and that she is ruined not only
by foreign enemies, but by domestic foes preying at the vitals
of her administration. He would like to help her—he feels
that he has stored up the means to do so in his experience—
and yet he cannot. I ask you, therefore, my friend, where is
the balm for his wounded soul?”

“T do not know,” said the physician, “but we must get it.
Germany has not now so many high-minded and courageous
men that she could spare one, and the best of them all. The
genius of Germany will assuredly find a remedy to save her
noble champion, Baron von Stein.”

‘““Ah, you believe still in the genius of Germany?” asked
the baroness, mournfully. “You see all the horrors, the
shame, the degradation that Germany, and especially Prussia,
have to suffer! The calamities of our country, then, my
friend, have transformed yon into a believer, and made of the
rationalist a mystic, believing in miracles? You know I was
hitherto pious, and a faithful believer, but now I begin to
doubt. Now I ask myself anxiously whether there really is a
God in heaven, who directs and ordains every thing, and yet
permits us to be thus trampled in the dust.”

“Our duty is, perhaps, to strengthen ourselves by misfor-
tunes,” said the physician. ‘‘ Germany was sleeping so pro-
foundly that she could only be aroused by calamity, and
become fully alive to her degrading position. But, believe
me, she is opening her eyes, and sceking for those who can
help her. She cannot forget Baron von Stein; but must feel
that she stands in need of him.”’

“May you be a true prophet!” said the baroness, sighing,
“and that your words—but hark!’ she interrupted herself,
“some one is violently ringing the door-bell! He must bea
stranger, for none of the citizens would announce a visit in so
noisy amanner. The inhabitants manifest sympathy for us;
many come every morning to inquire about my husband.
Without solicitation our neighbors have spread a layer of straw
in front of the house, and along the street, that no noise may
disturb the beloved sufferer, and—”’

Just then the door opened, and a footman stated that a
stranger desired to see the baroness concerning a matter of
great importance.

“Me?” she asked, wonderingly.

“He asked first for Baron von Stein,” replied the footman,
“and when I told him that my master was very ill, he seemed
BARON VON STEIN. Q2v7

alarmed. But he bade me announce his visit to the baroness,
and tell her that he had made a long journey, and was the
bearer of important news.”

“Admit him, baroness,” said the physician; “he brings,
perhaps, news that may be good for our patient. As for me,
permit me to withdraw.”

“No, my dear doctor, you must stay,’ she said. “You
are an intimate friend of my husband and of my family, and
this person cannot have any thing to say to me that you may
not hear. Besides, your advice and assistance may be neces-
sary; and if the news should be important for my husband,
you ought not to be absent.”

“Well, if you wish me to stay, I will,” said the physician;
“who knows whether my hopes may not be presently realized ?”’

“ Admit the stranger,” said the baroness; and he entered a
few minutes afterward.

“High-Chamberlain von Schladen!’” she exclaimed, meet-
ing him.

“You recognize me, then, madame?’ asked M. von Schla-
den. “The memories of past times have not altogether van-
ished in this house, and one may hope—” At this moment
his eyes met the physician, and he paused.

“Doctor von Waldau,”’ said the baroness, “a faithful friend
of my husband, and at present his indefatigable physician.
He is one of us, and you may speak freely in his presence,
Mr. Chamberlain.”

“Permit me, then, to apply to you directly, and to ask you
whether Baron von Stein is so ill that I cannot see him about
grave and important business?”

“The baron is very ill,” said the physician, “‘ but there is no
immediate danger; and, as the fever has left him to-day, he
will be able to converse about serious matters—that is to say,
if they are not of a very sad and disheartening character.”’

“Grief for Prussia’s misfortunes is my husband’s disease,”’
said the baroness; “consider well, therefore, if what you in-
tend telling him will aggravate it, or bring him relief. If a
change for the better has taken place—if you bring him the
news that that disgraceful treaty of Tilsit has been repudi-
ated, and that the war will continue, it will be a salutary
medicine, and, in spite of the warlike character of your news,
you will appear as an angel of peace at his bedside. But if
you come only to confirm the disastrous tidings that have
prostrated him, it may cause his death.”
278 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“{ do not bring any warlike tidings,”’ said M. von Schladen,
sadly; “Ido not bring intelligence that the treaty of 'Tilsit
has been repudiated! Hence, I cannot, as you say, appear as
an angel of peace. Nevertheless, I do not come croaking of
our disasters. I come in the name of, and commissioned by
Prussia, to remind Baron von Stein of the words he uttered to
the queen when he took leave of her. You, sir, being his
physician, are alone able to decide whether I may see him, and
lay my communication before him. For this reason I must
tell you more explicitly why I have come. You permit me
to do so, I suppose, baroness?”

“Oh, speak! my heart is yearning for your words!” ex-
claimed the baroness.

“TI come to see Baron von Stein, not merely because I long
to speak to the man for whom I entertain so much love and
respect,” said M. von Schladen, “but I come in the name of
the king and queen. I bring him letters from Minister von
Hardenberg, from the Princess Louisa von Radziwill, and from
General Blicher, and verbal communications from the queen.
I have travelled without taking a moment’s rest in order to
deliver my letters as soon as possible, and to inform the baron
of the wishes of their majesties. And now that I have arrived
at my destination, I find the man sick in bed who is the only
hope of Prussia. You will, perhaps, even shut his door
against me, and all the greetings of love, the solicitations
and supplications which I bring, will not reach him! It would
be a heavy misfortune for Prussia and for the deeply-afflicted
king, who is looking hopefully toward Baron von Stein!”

“He is looking hopefully toward my husband," exclaimed
the baroness, reproachfully, “and yet it was he who insulted
the baron in so grievous a manner!”

“But the king repents of it, and desires to indemnify him
for it,”’ said M. von Schladen. “I come to request Baron von
Stein to return to Prussia, and to become once more the king’s
minister and adviser.”

“ Oh,” exclaimed the physician, joyfully, “ you see now that I
am a true prophet. The genius of Germany has found a
remedy to cure our noble sufferer.”

“You permit me, then, to speak to him?” asked M. von
Schladen.

“ Trequest you to do so," replied the physician. “I demand
that you go to him immediately, and speak to him freely and
unreservedly. His mind is in need of a vigorous shock to
BARON VON STEIN. 279

become again conscious of its own strength; when it has re-
gained this consciousness, the body will rise from its pros-
tration.”

‘Doctor, I am somewhat afraid,” said the baroness, anx-
iously. “He was of late so nervous and irritable, you know,
that the most trifling occurrence caused him to tremble and
covered his brow with perspiration. I am afraid these stir-
ring communications may make too powerful an impression
upon him.”

“Never mind,” exclaimed the physician; ‘let them make a
powerful impression upon him—let them even cause him to
faint—I do not fear the consequences in the least; on the
contrary, I desire them, for the shock of his nervous system
will be salutary, and bring about a crisis that will lead to his
recovery.”

“But, doctor, excuse me, you know he had a raging fever
all night, and is exhausted. What good will it do to com-
municate the news to him? He cannot obey the king’s call,
and, at best, weeks must pass before recovering sufficiently to
attend to state matters.”

“Ah, Baron von Stein accomplishes in days what others
perform only in weeks,” exclaimed the physician, smiling.
“He is one of those men whose mind has complete control of
his body. In his case, if you cure the one you cure the other.”

“But I doubt whether my husband will accept these offers
of the king,” said the baroness, hesitatingly; “he has been
insulted too grossly.”

“But he is a patriot in the best sense of the word,” said
M. von Schladen; “he will forget personal insult when the
welfare of the people is at stake.”

“And even though he should not accept,” said the phy-
sician, “he receives at least a gratifying satisfaction in the
king’s offer, and that will assuredly be a balm for his wounds.
I shall now go to him once more. If he is entirely free from
fever, I will let you come in, and you may tell him every
thing.”

7 Bat you will not go away,” said the baroness; “ you will
stay here, so as to be at hand in case any thing should
happen.”

“Tshall remain in this room,” said the physician, “and you
may call me if necessary. Now let me see first how our patient
is, and whether I may announce M. von Schladen’s visit.” He
hastened hack into the sick-room without waiting for a reply;
280 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the baroness sank down on a chair, and, folding her trembling
hands, prayed fervently. High-Chamberlain von Schladen
looked at the door by which the physician had disappeared,
and his face expressed suspense and impatience.

At length the door opened again, and the physician ap-
peared on the threshold. ‘‘ High-Chamberlain von Schladen,”
he said aloud, “come in; Baron von Stein awaits you.”

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
THE PATRIOT.

HicgH-CHAMBERLAIN VON SCHLADEN entered the sick-room
on tiptoe, preceded by the Baroness von Stein, who, hasten-
ing to her husband, looked at him anxiously. In fact, the
baron looked very ill. His cheeks were hollow and deadly
pale; his eyes lay deep in their sockets, and were flashing
with that peculiar light emanating from the fever; his thin
lips were parched, and he constantly tried to moisten them
with his tongue, while his breathing was very painful.

M. von Schladen looked in profound emotion at the patient,
and a feeling of melancholy was apparent. He was obliged
to acknowledge that the baroness was right, and that this
wasted form was not able to rise to obey the king’s call; he
believed that he had come in vain, and would be compelled
to leave without having accomplished any thing, and this con-
viction was accompanied with a sigh. The sick man heard
it, and a faint smile passed over his features. ‘‘ You find me
very ill then, M. von Schladen?’” he asked in a tremulous
voice. “I suppose I am but the shadow of the healthy, vigor-
ous man who took leave of you at Konigsberg a few months
since? You see, I am still unable to give up my sympathies
for Prussia; indeed, I am like her in every respect. Prussia
is also but a shadow of what she was a short time ago; she is
undergoing her death-struggle, and will succumb unless a
strong arm soon lift her up.”

“ But this strong arm will come,” said M. von Schladen.

“You believe so?” asked Stein. ‘“ Would you were right!
But all I hear is disheartening. We live in a period of
degradation and servitude, when we can do nothing better
than seek a refuge in the grave, the only place where we may
find liberty. You see that Iam already on the brink. But
THE PATRIOT. 281

I will not now speak of myself, but of you. What brought
you hither? To what lucky accident am I indebted for your
visit? My physician has told me you had casually stopped in
this town, and being informed of my illness had desired to see
me. What is your destination?”

“T am returning to Memel, to the King and Queen of
‘Prussia,”’ said M. von Schladen.

“Ah, you are a faithful servant, and I envy you,” said
Baron von Stein, “for your services are gratefully accepted ;
you are not treated with contumely, and your zeal is not re-
garded as malice and self-will. You may assist your country
with your head, your arm, and your heart. You are not
doomed to step aside, and idly dream away your days instead
of seeking relief in useful activity. Oh, I repeat again, I
envy you!” While he was speaking, his pale cheeks had as-
sumed some color, and his voice, which, at first, had been
faint, grew louder. But now, exhausted by the effort, and by
his profound emotion, he sank back on the pillow and closed
his eyes.

His wife bent over him, and wiped off the perspiration
which covered his brow in large drops. In the open door
leading into the adjoining room, appeared the kind face of
the physician, who looked scrutinizingly at the patient. He
then nodded in a satisfied manner, and whispered to the high-
chamberlain: “Goon! go on! Tell him every thing. He
can bear it.”

Baron von Stein opened his eyes again and glanced at M.
von Schladen. “ You did not yet tell me whence you came,
my dear friend?” he said. “ Was your journey a mere pleas-
ure-trip, or were graver purposes connected with it?”

“Tt was no pleasure-trip, for what German cares nowadays
for such things?” said M. von Schladen. “My purpose, in
undertaking this journey, was not only a grave, but a sacred
one. I undertook it for the welfare of our country, and I
come to solicit your advice. I know you loved Prussia once;
you will not, although you are no longer in her service, with-
hold your sympathy from her, when you can be useful, you
will joyfully render her aid, will you not?”

“Yes, indeed I will,” exclaimed Baron von Stein; “my
thoughts were with you all the time; my grief arises from
your affliction and the misfortunes of Prussia; every new blow
inflicted upon her fell on me, and her ruin prostrated me.
Tell me, in what way can I aid you?”

19
282 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Your excellency, by assisting me in finding the man
whom I am seeking; on whom the eyes of all good Prussians
are fixed, and who is alone able to save the country, to reés-
tablish its prosperity at home, and to obtain for it respect
and authority abroad. ‘The man whom the queen calls her
friend, and of whom she expects help—to whom the king
offers his hand, and whom he begs (understand me well, begs)
to sustain him with his strong arm and his powerful mind,
and, for the sake of Prussia, not to remember the wrongs he
suffered in by-gone days—your excellency, I am seeking this
high-minded man, who forgets insults, and yet does not close
his ears against the cry of his country; whom adversity does
not deter, and whom the burden to be laid on his shoulders
does not cause to tremble; who forgets his own interests in
order to have the satisfaction cf saving a state to which, from
his youth, he has devoted his strength—the man in whom all
patriots confide, whom Hardenberg, when Napoleon’s despotic
will compelled him to resign his office, pointed out to the king
as the only one by whom Prussia might still be redeemed.
Your excellency, can you tell me where I may find this man?”

While M. von Schladen was speaking, Stein slowly raised
his head to listen. His countenance had undergone a mar-
vellous change; his features had regained their wonted ex-
pression, and his eyes beamed with energy.

“Your excellency,” asked Schladen again, “can you tell me
where I may find this man for whom all Prussia is calling?”

“You have not yet told me his name,” whispered Baron
von Stein. “To find him it is necessary to know his name.”

“His name is on this letter which the Princess von Radzi-
will requested me to deliver to him,” said Schladen, taking
one from his memorandum-book, and handing it to the
patient.

Baron von Stein quickly took it, and, on looking at the
ee he muttered, “My name! my name is on the
etter!”

“And it is your name that is now on all Prussian lips—that
the queen is calling from afar—that the king—”

“ Ah,” interrupted Baron von Stein, “ the king has insulted
me too deeply; I should almost dishonor myself if I forget it!”

“You will shed the most radiant honor on your name by
forgiving it,” exclaimed M. de Schladen. “The king has
commissioned me to tell you that he hopes in you alone. He
will intrust to you the department of the interior and of
THE PATRIOT. 283

finance; he assures you of his most implicit confidence; he
promises never to allude again to what has passed between
him and you. Here, your excellency, is a communication
from Minister von Hardenberg, which will confirm all I have
said.”

He laid another letter on the table. Baron von Stein took
it and looked at the address with a faint smile. “It is Har-
denberg’s handwriting,” he said; “he is a genuine courtier,
and takes it always for granted that the king’s will is a sacred
law for every one. He calls me already ‘Prussian Minister of
Finance.’ And the queen?” he then asked, raising his eyes
to M. von Schladen. “What does she say? Does she be-
lieve, too, that I can forget, forgive, and return?”

“The queen believes it, because she wishes it, your excel-
‘lency. ‘Stein ismy last consolation,’ she said to me when I
took leave of her. ‘Being a man of magnanimity and the
keenest sagacity, he may be able to discover ways and means
of saving the country that are as yet concealed from us. Tell
him that, when he comes, the sun will rise again for me; tell
him to remember the sacred vow I received from him to stand
faithfully by us, and to come when Prussia stands in need of
him, and calls him to her assistance. Tell him that his queen
prays Heaven to restore to her country the man who is a de-
fence against wrong and injustice, and one of the noblest sons
of Germany.’”

Baron von Stein cast down his eyes; his lips were trem-
bling; and tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.

“Your excellency,” said M. von Schladen, urgently, “ will
you not read the letters? Thatfrom the Princess Louisa von
Radziwill will give you a more graphic description of the pres-
ent situation of the court than I am able to do; the one from
Minister von Hardenberg will tell you what to do, and how
important and necessary it is that you should come as speedily
as possible. In Hardenberg’s letter you will also find a brief
note from General Bliicher, who joins in these solicitations.
I have been permitted to read these letters, that, if they were
lost on the way, I should, nevertheless, be able to commu-
nicate their contents to you. Will you not read them?”

“Yes,” said Baron von Stein, breathing more freely, “I
will read them. They are the first doves that, after the long
deluge of affliction, come to me with an olive-branch of peace.
I will see what the letters contain.”” He hastily opened that
from the Princess Louisa and commenced reading it. But
284 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the paper soon dropped from his hand; a death-like pallor
overspread his cheeks, and, almost fainting, he fell back on
the pillow. “Alas,” he murmured mournfully, “I forget
that I am a poor, sick man! I cannot read; the letters swim
before my eyes!” But this faintness lasted only a moment;
Stein then raised his head again, and turned his eyes with a
tender expression toward his wife, who was sitting at his bed-
side, and watching all his movements with anxious suspense.
“Dear Wilhelmina,” he said, “you have been my secretary
during the last few weeks, and have rendered evil tidings less
disagreeable to me; will you not read these cheering letters to
me?”

The baroness bent over him, and, in place of a reply, kissed
his forehead. She then read as follows:

“Your friend Hardenberg and the newspapers will have
informed you of the melancholy end of all our hopes. Cow-
ardice and weakness, perhaps more than the luck of our
enemies, have subjugated us, and Hardenberg’s resignation,
which he tendered voluntarily, in order to be useful to us
even by this sacrifice, and to preserve the king from the
humiliation of dismissing him, causes us to feel our yoke
painfully. JI promised to write to you about the king. He
deserves our sympathy at this moment; his courage and firm-
ness have not been shaken by our last disasters; he was ready
to make any sacrifice, because he thought it better to fall nobly
than to live dishonorably. He clung with sincere attachment
to your friend Hardenberg, and just at this moment when all
are deserting him, when he has neither power nor will, he
loses this well-tried friend, who, actuated by his love of the
country, and affection for his master, left him with a grief
that deeply moved my heart. At this moment the eyes of us
all are turning toward you, my dear Stein. From you we
hope for consolation, and for forgetfulness of the wrongs
which have removed you from us, and which you will be too
generous to remember at a time when he who insulted you
only deserves your sympathy and assistance. Can you with-
stand our solicitations? Can you see this country deserted,
and refuse to it the codperation of those talents that alone are
able to raise us from our prostration? Hardenberg sees no
other hope for his master than in you, and if you are not re-
stored to us—if you do not yield to the wishes of those yearn-
ing for you, what is to become of our future?

“I admit that to call upon you to share our fortune is to
THE PATRIOT. 285

deem you capable of the greatest disinterestedness; for noth-
ing has ever been done by you to deserve the conduct formerly
manifested toward you; but your soul is too generous to re-
member those insults, and I know you too well not to be sure
that you will unhesitatingly come to the assistance of this un-
fortunate prince, who for five months possesses just claims to
sympathy. Even at this juncture he maintains his dignity;
he has gained friends and zealous adherents, and appears to
me never more estimable than since these disasters, in which
I have seen him assert a courage and resignation of which I
should never have deemed him capable. It grieved me to see
Hardenberg depart; he himself is very sad, and I am sure that
only the hope of restoring you to the service of his master sus-
tains him. Do not refuse to comply with our request, my
dear Stein, and be not as cruel as that destiny which is taking
from us all the distinguished characters that were able to rec-
oncile us with life and mankind. I look for your reply with
impatience; may it be favorable to us! It needs no assurance
of mine to make you believe in the affectionate and constant
attachment which I have always felt for you.
“Louisa.”

Stein listened to the letter with eyes half closed. A faint
blush had gradually suffused his cheeks, and a smile was play-
ing on his lips. “And what do you think of this letter,
Wilhelmina?” he then asked. ‘“ What does your heart reply
to this call?”

“Tam fearful for you, my beloved friend,” said the baron-
ess, mournfully. “My heart shrinks from this career into
which you will reénter, and in which you will be exposed
again to ingratitude, and the persecutions of your enemies.”

“Not to ingratitude,” said M. von Schladen. “ All Prussia
will be grateful to you, and the king will be the first to thank
and reward you with his friendship for having complied with
his invitation. Your excellency, will you not read the letter
from Minister von Hardenberg? It will tell you in the most
convincing manner how firmly you may rely on the king and
on his gratitude, and how necessary it is that you should re-
pair to him as soon as possible.”’

“No, no, I will not hear any more,” exclaimed Stein, in a
loud voice. “It shall not be said that the flattering words of
a friend induced me to do what is my duty. Call the doctor;
I must see the doctor!”

“The doctor is here,” said Dr. von Waldau, entering the
286 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

room. “When patients are able to shout in such stentorian
tones, they must indeed stand in need of assistance.”

“ Doctor,” exclaimed Stein, ‘come here; feel my pulse,
look me full in the face, and tell me, upon your honor, when
I shall be able to set out.”

The physician took the proffered hand and laid his finger
on the pulse. A pause ensued; all looked in breathless sus-
pense on his face. The doctor smilingly nodded. “It has
turned out as I predicted,” he exclaimed. “The ‘genius of
Germany’ has come to our assistance, and saved her bravest
and noblest champion. The pulse is regular and strong, as it
has not been for weeks. ‘The crisis for which I hoped so long
has taken place. Baron von Stein, in two weeks you will be
well enough to set out.”

“In two weeks!” exclaimed the baron, in a contemptuous
tone of voice. “‘ You did not hear, then, that Prussia stands
in need of me; that the king calls me, and that Hardenberg
tells me it is of the highest importance I should immediately
enter upon the duties of my office? No, I shall not depart in
two weeks, nor in two days, but immediately!’ He raised
himself in his bed, and imperiously stretching out his arms,
he exclaimed, “My clothes! I will rise! J have no more
time to be sick! Give me my clothes!”

“But my beloved friend,” exclaimed the baroness, in dis-
may, “this is impossible; just consider that the fever has ex-
hausted your strength, that—”

“Hush, do not contradict him,” whispered the physician.
“The contradiction would irritate him, and might easily
bring about a fresh attack of fever.”

“My clothes! my clothes!” exclaimed Baron von Stein,
louder and more imperiously than before, and he cast angry
glances on his wife.

The physician himself hastened to the clothes-press, and,
taking the silken dressing-gown from it, carried it to the
patient. “Here is your dressing-gown,” he said; “let me be
your valet de chambre.” Baron von Stein thanked him with
« smile, and lifted up his arms that the garment might be
wrapped around him.

“And here are your slippers,” said the baroness; “let me
put them on your feet.”

“ And permit me to support you when you rise,” said M. von
Schladen, approaching the bed. “Oh, lean on me only for
a moment; afterward the whole of Prussia will lean on you.”
THE PATRIOT. 287

Baron von Stein made no reply. He put on the dressing-
gown and the slippers, and then raised himself, assisted by
M. von Schladen. But his face was pallid, and large drops
of perspiration gathered on his forehead. He left his couch,
and stood free and erect. “I am well again!” he exclaimed.
“Prussia calls me! I am not allowed to be ill; I~” His
voice died away in a faint groan; his head bent down, and his
form sank to the floor. M. von Schladen and the baroness
caught him in their arms, and placed him again on his bed.

“Doctor,” exclaimed the baroness, in a menacing tone, “if
he die, you are his murderer; you have killed him!”

“No,” said the physician, quietly, “I have saved him.
This swoon is the last struggle of death with triumphant life.
When Baron von Stein awakes he will be no Jonger seriously
ill, but convalescent. When he is conscious again, the crisis
is over. See, he begins to stir! Ah, his brave mind will not
suffer his body to rest, and will assuredly awaken it.”

The baron very soon opened his eyes, and looked with a per-
fectly calm and conscious expression, first at his wife, then at the
physician and the king’s messenger. ‘‘M. von Schladen,” he
said, “will you read to me Hardenberg’s letter? Wilhelmina,
lay your arm around me and support my head a little. Wal-
dau is right; I will not be able to set out to-day. I am still
very weak.”

“But you will be able to set out in ten days,’ exclaimed
the physician. ‘‘ Yousee I yield to you. Task no longer for
two weeks, but only for ten days.”

Baron von Stein gave him his hand with a grateful glance.
“And now, High-Chamberlain von Schladen, I request you
to read once more Hardenberg’s communication.” M. von
Schladen looked inquiringly at the physician, who nodded his
consent. ;

“Read, read,” said the baron, entreatingly, supporting his
head against his wife’s shoulder. M. von Schladen opened
the letter, and laid General Bliicher’s note, enclosed in it, on
the table and commenced reading.

The letter urgently requested Baron von Stein to accept the
two departments of finance and of the interior, which the king
wished to intrust to him because the welfare of Prussia re-
quired it. Besides, Hardenberg asked Stein to repair im-
mediately to the king, because it was of the highest impor-
tance that the ears of Frederick William should not be besieged
again by hostile insinuations. He gave him cautious hints as
288 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

to the manner in which he would have to win the confidence
of Frederick William, and assured him that he would retain
it, provided he never pretended to rule over the king. He
called upon him in the name of Prussia and Germany not to
decline the difficult task, but to fulfil the hopes which patriots
were reposing in him. He advised him to impose such con-
ditions as he might deem prudent before accepting the offer,
and to address a letter to his majesty in regard to them.

A pause ensued. Stein had listened to the words of his
friends in silence. All looked at him anxiously. His face
was calm, and when he slowly opened his eyes, they indicated
entire composure.

“ High-chamberlain von Schladen,” asked Stein, “you have
made the long journey from Memel to this place for no other
purpose than to deliver to me these letters and the order of
the king?”

“Tt was the only object of my journey,” said M. von Schla-
den. “I travelled by way of Copenhagen and Hamburg, in
order to avoid French spies.”

“And when do you intend setting out again?” asked the
baron.

“Your excellency, as soon as I have obtained a reply.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Stein, with a gentle smile; “you want to
prevent me, then, from writing immediately, that I may re-
tain you for some time as a welcome guest?”

“No, your excellency, let me entreat you to give me at once
your reply to the solicitations with which the king and the
queen—all Prussia—nay, all Germany turn to you, and im-
plore you to lend to the fatherland your strong arm.”

“ Alas, my hand is so feeble that it can scarcely hold a pen!”
said Baron von Stein, sighing. “ Wilhelmina, you are always
my kind and obliging friend—will you now also lend me your
hand, and be my secretary?”

The baroness cast a mournful and loving look on him. “I
read in your eyes,” she said, sadly, “that you have made up
your mind, and that, even though I implore you to desist for
my sake and that of our children, it would be in vain. We
shall lose you again; your house and my heart will be lonely,
and only my thoughts will travel with you! But it hardly
becomes me to dissuade you from your purpose. In these
days of general distress it does not behoove German patriots to
confine themselves to the happiness of their own firesides, and
to shut their ears against the cries of the fatherland. Your
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 289

heart, I know, belongs to me. Your mind and your abilities
belong to the world. Go, then, my beloved husband, and do
your duty; I will fulfil mine.” She kissed the baron’s fore-
head, and then stepped to the table at the window. ‘“ Your
secretary is ready,” shesaid, taking the pen; “tell me what to
write.”

Baron von Stein raised himself, and dictated in a firm voice
as follows:

“To THE Kine’s Magzsty :—Your gracious orders and the
offer of the department of the interior, have been commu-
nicated to me by a letter from Minister von Hardenberg, de
dato Memel, July 10, which I received on the 9th of August.
I accept the office unconditionally, and leave it to your royal
majesty to arrange with what persons, or in what relations to
my colleagues, I am to discharge my duties. At this moment
of my country’s distress it would be wrong to consult my own
personal grievances, particularly as your majesty manifests so
exalted a constancy in adversity.

“T should have set out immediately, but a violent tertian
fever is confining me to my bed; as soon as my health is bet-
ter, which I trust will be the case in ten days or two weeks, I
shall hasten to your majesty. Your obedient servant,

“STEIN.”

Baron von Stein kept his word. Two weeks afterward,
although still suffering and feeble, he entered his travelling-
coach to repair to Memel, and to hold again in his powerful
hands the reins of the Prussian government.

 

CHAPTER XXXIII.
JOHANNES VON MULLER.

THE French authorities had informed the municipality of
Berlin that peace had been concluded at Tilsit, between the
Emperor of the French and the King of Prussia. They
ordered that the inhabitants of Berlin, in view of this impor-
tant event, should manifest their gratification in a public
manner. German singers were to perform a Je Dewm at the
cathedral in honor of this treaty, and at night the people
were to show, by a general illumination, that they rejoiced at
the restoration of peace. The rulers of the city had issued
orders to this effect, and the citizens were obliged to obey,
290 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

although deeply affected by the humiliating terms of the
treaty, which the Berlin Telegraph had communicated in a
jubilant editorial. The capital of Prussia had to celebrate the
disgrace of the country by a festive illumination. But the
public officials could not compel the people to give their hearts
to such outward rejoicings, or even to manifest their approval
by their presence. At the cathedral, the organist with his
choristers sang the ordered Te Deum to the accompaniment of
kettle-drums, but the church was empty. Only the French
officers and a few hired renegades witnessed the solemnity.
At night, all Berlin was in a blaze of colored flame, but the
streets were deserted. No glad populace were thronging
them—no cheering or merry laughter was to be heard; only
here and there, troops of French soldiers were loitering and
singing loudly; or a crowd of idlers, such as are to be found
wherever their curiosity can be gratified, and who, devoid of
honor and character, are the same in all cities. The better
classes remained at home, and disdained to cast even a fugitive
glance on the dazzling scene. Nowhere had more lights been
kindled than were ordered by the French authorities. At one
house, however, on Behren Street, a more brilliant illumi-
nation was to be seen; variegated lamps were there artistically
grouped around two busts that stood in strange harmony, side
by side, and excited the astonishment of all passers-by.
They were the busts of Frederick the Great and Napoleon, on
whose foreheads beamed the same radiant light. At this
house lived Johannes von Miller, the historian of Switzerland,
who had caused this exhibition to be made, and who surveyed
his work with smiling face. “It is all right,” he said to him-
self, “it is a beautiful spectacle—those splendid heads; and it
does my heart good that I have succeeded in thisannoyance to
my opponents. They shallsee that I am not afraid of their at-
tacks, and that I am quietly pursuing my career, in spite of
their slanders. They call me a renegade, because I did not.
escape with the rest; they call me a friend of the French, be-
cause I delivered a French address at the Academy on the
birthday of Frederick the Great, and their vulgar minds were
displeased because in that speech I dared to compare Napoleon
with Frederick. It is also distasteful to them that I have
renounced the title of secret councillor of war, and call my-
self, briefly and simply, Johannes Miiller. As if a title were
not a superfluous addition to Johannes Miller, whom Germany
loved before he had a title, and whom she will love when he
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 291

has one no longer. Yes, my enemies envy my glory, they call
me a friend of the French simply because I do not abuse
them in their absence, and in their presence keep quiet and
assume a stupid indifference. I keep my hands free; I write
openly; Iam no hidden reviler of the French, but a public
worshipper of all that is sublime. For this reason I have
placed here, side by side, the busts of the two greatest men to
whom the last century has given birth. And now, great
heroes! shine upon me in the radiance which a man whom the
people have honored with the name of the German Tacitus,
has kindled for you! Shed your lustre on the city, and tell
the Germans that Johannes von Miller does homage to genius,
regardless of nationality or birth! Watch over the study of
the historian, and while he works guard him from the spirits
of evil!’ He waved his hands to the busts, and was about to
sit down to his books and papers, when his old servant entered
to inform him that a gentleman wished to see the councillor
of war immediately.

“Michael Fuchs,” exclaimed Miller, ‘how often have I
told you not to address me by that absurd title, which, I hope,
I shall soon cast off as the ripe chestnut its capsule. Coun-
cillor of War! For my part, I never counselled any one to
commence this senseless war, and now that there is peace, I
scarcely regard myself as a Prussian functionary; and yet you
continue repeating that ridiculous title!”

“Well, well,” said the old servant, smiling, “when we re-
ceived that title four years ago, we were overjoyed and felt
very proud. It is true, times have changed, and I believe
that Clarke, the French general, with whom we dined again
to-day, does not like the title much. We may, therefore, cast
it aside. But, sir, while we are quarrelling here, the gentle-
man outside is waiting to be admitted.”

“You are right, Michael Fuchs,” said Johannes von Miil-
ler, in a gentle tone, as if he desired to pacify him; “let the
stranger come in.”

Old Michael] nodded pleasantly to his master. Opening the
door and stepping out, he said aloud: “Come in, sir! I
have announced you, and M. von Miiller awaits you.”

“He is a very good, faithful old fellow!” murmured Jo-
hannes von Miller, meeting the visitor who was entering the
room.

“Oh, M. von Nostitz,” exclaimed Miiller, joyously, “you
here in Berlin! I thought you were on your estates.”
292 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“T was not on my estates, but at Memel with our king,”
said M. von Nostitz, gravely. “ Honored with some commis-
sions by his majesty, I have arrived here, and as one of them
concerns you, Mr. Councillor, I have hastened to call upon

ou.”

“The king, then, has received my letter at last and grants
my resignation?” asked Miiller, quickly.

“The king has received your letter,” replied M. von
Nostitz.

“ And my resignation? You come to notify me that it has
been accepted?” exclaimed Miiller, impatiently.

“Then you are really in earnest about your request?” asked
M. von Nostitz, almost sternly. “I must tell you that none
of us would believe it, and that I have come to entreat you in
the name of the king and the queen—in the name of all your
friends, who, faithful to their duty, followed the royal couple,
to change your mind and remain with us. The queen, es-
pecially, refuses to believe that Johannes von Miller, the
great historian, who, but a few months ago, spoke and wrote
for Prussia with so ardent an enthusiasm, now intends to leave
us voluntarily and to escape in faithless egotism from the
calamities that have overwhelmed us all. Iam to beg you in
the name of the queen to remain with us. Her majesty can-
not and will not believe that you are in earnest about this
resolution to resign your office and leave the country. She
has commissioned me to beg you not to treat the state at this
critical juncture in so ignominious a manner as to despair of
it, and assures you that your salary will always be punctually
paid. She admonishes you through me to think of your
numerous friends here, of the favorable disposition of the
Prussian government toward you, of the agreeable life you are
leading in Berlin, and, finally, of the work on Frederick the
Great, which you have just commenced, and to remain in the
Prussian service.”

“The kindness and solicitude manifested by her majesty
cannot but profoundly touch my heart,” exclaimed Miller, in
a tremulous voice, “and I wish from the bottom of my heart,
which is truly loyal and devoted to the royal house of Prussia,
that I were allowed to comply with these gracious words. Her
majesty and all my friends know the high opinion and san-
guine hopes which I entertain with regard to Prussia, and
that I feel convinced Providence has intrusted to this state
the championship of truth, liberty, and justice in Germany.
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 293

The queen is right also in saying that I am leading quite an
agreeable life here; and that Berlin, if it should become a
great centre of education for the north, would be a highly
interesting place. It is very true, too, that I have warm
friends here; that I am living at a fine villa; that I have
no indispensable duties to perform every day, and that my
salary has hitherto been promptly paid. But I confess I
feel attracted toward my dear friends in Southern
Germany and Switzerland. I am longing for peace and
quiet, to finish my history of the land of Tell, but here
I do not see any prospect of it. JI am afraid, on the
contrary, that the ferment and commotion of affairs will last
agood while yet. I have been assured that important reforms
and reductions in the financial administration of the country
are in contemplation, and that men of high rank, who have
served the state for half a century, and are by no means
wealthy, will suffer; how, then, could I hope that these re-
forms would leave me untouched, when I have been but three
years in the Prussian service?”

“That is to say, you are afraid of losing your salary, not-
withstanding the queen’s assurances?” asked M. von Nostitz.

“That is to say, I am unfortunately not rich enough to be
contented with less; I have nothing but my salary, and have
to pay my debts with it. When Prussia lost two-thirds of her
revenues, I offered to give up my position here, which yields
me an income of three thousand dollars. I believe that was
honorable, and will cast no reproach on my character and
sentiments.”

“That is to say, sir, you tendered your resignation because
the King of Wirtemberg offered you a professorship at the
University of Tibingen.”

“But I should never have accepted it had I not deemed it
incumbent upon me not to receive any money at the hands of
Prussia at a time when her exchequer is hardly able to pay the
salary of a superfluous savant. Take into consideration that,
when I accept this offer, which would first necessitate my, re-
moval from the Prussian service, I cannot assuredly be charged
with having done so from motives of avarice. Other reasons
impel me to leave a pleasant position in the finest city of Ger-
many, and move to a small university town, where I shall
have only half the salary I am receiving here. I shall live in
a remote corner of the world, but be enabled to lead a calm,
undisturbed life, and finish the works I have commenced.”
204 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ All my remonstrances, the wishes of the queen, the ex-
hortations of your friends, are in vain, then?” asked M. von
Nostitz. _

“T requested his majesty the King of Prussia in an auto-
graph letter to accept my resignation,” said Miller, evasively ;
“TI want, above all, a categorical reply whether I must remain
or go.”

P Yon may go, sir,” exclaimed Nostitz, almost contempt-
uously. Taking a paper from his memorandum-book, he
added, “here, sir, is your dismission. I was ordered to de-
liver it into your hands only when my solicitations and the
representations made in the name of the queen should make no
impression upon you. You are free; the king dismisses you
from the service; Prussia has nothing further to do with you.
Seek your fortune elsewhere; your glory you will leave here.
Farewell!” Saluting him haughtily, and without giving him
time to reply, M. von Nostitz turned and left the room.

Johannes von Miller gazed after him with a long, mournful
look. ‘Another man who will charge me before my friends
and before the world with treachery, perfidy, and meanness!”
he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘“ Oh, stupidity and empty
words! They want to accuse me of treachery because it suits
them best, and because they refuse to comprehend that a poor
savant ought at least to be protected from want in order to be
able to live for science. A reduction of salaries and pensions
is impending; I owe it to myself and to the works I have
commenced, to provide against this misfortune, and to seek a
place where I can labor without being disturbed, and, thank
God! I have found it. Now I may go to Tibingen, for Iam
free!” He took the paper from the table, and hastily break-
ing the seal read the contents. “ Yes,” he repeated, “I am
free! I can go. All hail Tiibingen! so near the Alps, so
near the grand old forest! In thy tranquillity I will return
to my early enthusiasm as to the bride of my youth! My
history of Switzerland will at last be completed and bequeathed
to posterity! Already methinks I breathe the pure air of the
mountains; and sunny Italy, while I cannot return to her, in-
vites me to thee, quiet Tiibingen!”

Johannes von Miiller did not perceive that, while he was
speaking to himself, the door behind him had softly opened,
and a gentleman, wrapped in a cloak, his face shaded by a
broad-brimmed hat, had entered the room and overheard the
last words. The savant, staring at the muscular form of this
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 295

stranger, drew back in surprise. “What does this mean?”
he muttered. “ Where is Michael Fuchs?”

“Michael Fuchs is outside, and considers it very natural
that an old friend should desire to surprise his master rather
than be solemnly announced,” said the stranger, approaching
and taking off his hat.

“Frederick von Gentz!” exclaimed Miiller, in a joyful
voice, yet not altogether free from fear. ‘My friend, you
dare to come hither, and yet you must know that the emperor
of the French is highly exasperated at you; that he believes
you to be the author of all sorts of seditious pamphlets, and
that it would be very agreeable to him to have you arrested
and confined.”

“Yes, it is true,” said Gentz, in his careless, merry way,
“Napoleon Bonaparte does me the honor of being afraid of
me and my pen, and would like to render me harmless, as he
did poor Palm. Once I was in imminent danger of falling
into the hands of his police, and I escaped in disguise, but
only after a great deal of trouble.”

“And yet you dare to come to the seat of the French
administration in Germany?” exclaimed Miiller. ‘Oh, my
friend, your danger nearly deprives me of the delight I feel in
seeing you again, and I have to mingle my loving salutations
with warnings and presentiments!”’

“You are right; I was rather bold in entering the cobweb
of the French spiders,” said Gentz. “Still, it is not so dan-
gerous as you believe, and you may be perfectly at ease so far
as [am concerned. I am here with a charming lady friend,
the Princess Bagration. I figured on her passport as her pri-
vate secretary, and have a regular Russian one of my own,
purporting to be issued to M. de Gentzowitch. Besides, no
one suspects me here; we have just arrived, and will leave
Berlin to-morrow before daybreak to return to Dresden. We
are now at peace with France, and the authorities here will
hardly dare to lay hands on a subject of the Emperor of
Russia, the friend and admirer of the Emperor of the French.
You see, therefore, you need not be afraid about me, and I
may safely chat with you for an hour here in your study.”

“Then, my dear friend, let me welcome you,” exclaimed
Miller; “let us enjoy this hour, and renew the pledge of
friendship.” Miller welcomed Gentz with great cordiality,
but the latter did not share the ardor of his friend.

“You have remained faithful to our reminiscences?” Gentz
296 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

asked, as Miiller led him to the sofa, and sat by his side.
“You have not forgotten the past, and your heart still re-
tains its old friendship?” While uttering these words, he
fixed his dark eyes on the face of Johannes von Miller, who
seemed not to be able to bear his steadfast gaze, and became
embarrassed.

“Oh, my friend!” he exclaimed, “how can you ask whether
I remember other days? My heart frequently feels exalted at
the idea of friendship, which so few can appreciate at its true
value. What attachment was that of Jonathan, himself a
victorious warrior, for Jesse’s noble son! How great Jonathan
was, who knew that the throne of Israel would pass from his
house to David! I was always affected by David’s excla-
mation at Jonathan’s death. Ithought of it just now. And
Scipio had a disinterested friendship for Leelius, although he
was aware that envious men desired to rob him of the glory of
having conquered Carthage, and ascribed every thing to the
skilful plans of Lelius. Just as if, when I narrate the heroic
deeds of our ancestors, some one should say, ‘The best pas-
sages were written by his friend!’ What Scipio felt was once
illustrated, at a private dinner, by Ferdinand of Brunswick,
the hero of Crefeldand Minden. MHealso had a friend, and to
him were attributed the successes of the prince. Ferdinand
himself smilingly said to me, ‘Between real friends it is a
matter of indifference to whom the credit is given.’ Oh, the
spirits of David, Jonathan, and Scipio, must have rejoiced at
these words as heartily as I did. So, my dear Gentz, you ask
me whether I have forgotten our friendship?”

“Words, words!” exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. ‘“ Instead
of deeds, you have nothing but words. I will speak to you
plainly, and with the sincerity of a true German. That is
what I have come for.”

“Like a true German?” repeated Miiller. “Are there still
any true Germans? Are they not by this time extinct, leav-
ing behind only slaves and renegades? ‘This is not the age
for true Germans, and if any really exist, they ought to hide
themselves and be silent.”

“And you can say that—you who once called so enthusi-
astically for deeds?” exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. “Listen
to me, Johannes von Miiller! I tell you once more, it is for
your sake that Ihave come. I wanted to appear before you
either as your guilty conscience or as your friend, as your
judge or as your ally. I refused to believe in all that was
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 207

told me about you. I would trust only my own ears, my own
eyes. Johannes von Miller, I have come to ask you: Do
you still remember the oath we took in so solemn a manner at
Frankfort?”

“T do,” said Johannes von Miiller, timidly. “Carried
away by the enthusiasm of our hopes, we covenanted for the
welfare of Germany, and especially for her deliverance from
foreign tyranny.”

“We swore to unite in active love for Germany, and in
active hatred against France,” exclaimed Gentz, solemnly.
“T have fulfilled my oath; I have toiled incessantly for the
deliverance of Germany. The persecutions I have suffered at
the hands of the French, and Napoleon’s wrath, speak for
me! I have well improved my time. But what have you
done? Where are the friends enlisted for our covenant?
Where are the allies gathered around you to assist against
France? The time for action is coming, and we must be
ready to fight the battle and expel the tyrant. Johannes von
Miller, where are the troops you have enlisted—the men you
have gained over to our cause?”

“T have enlisted no troops—prepared no battles, and con-
centrated no corps,” said Miller, sighing. “On the battle-
field of Jena lie buried not only our soldiers, but our hopes.
The disaster is boundless; name, rights, existence—all gone!
A new order of things is at hand. The great period of many
monarchies, since the downfall of the Roman empire, is
closed. No other path to prosperity and glory remains to us
than that of the arts of peace; we cannot succeed by war.”

“It is true, then,” exclaimed Gentz, mournfully, “that you
are a traitor and a renegade, and have not been slandered!
You have not only lost your faith, but the consciousness of
your perfidy! Oh, I refused to believe it; I thought it was
impossible. Idid have confidence in you. It was well known
to me that you had long since lost your courage and inclina-
tion to struggle for our cause. I was also aware that, even
before the commencement of the war between Prussia and
France, your irresolution and timidity had increased. I was
not greatly surprised, therefore, that you remained at Berlin
when all faithful men left the capital, or, as some assert, you
returned hither agreeably to an invitation from the French.
After this, I was no longer astonished at seeing you repudiate
your principles, your glory, your friends, the cause of Ger-
many, every thing great and good that you had advocated for

20
298 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

years, and truckle in the most cowardly manner to the con-
queror, carry on disgraceful secret negotiations with him, and
issue equivocal declarations and confessions; but that you
should betray all that ought to be dear to you—that you
should publicly renounce your principles—of such treachery I
never deemed you capable!”

“And where did I commit any such treachery?” asked
Miiller, reproachfully; “where did I secretly or publicly re-
nounce all that had hitherto been dear to me? Tell me,
accuse me! JI will justify myself! This will show you how
ardently I love you, for I will accept you as a judge of my
actions, and allow you to acquit me or to find me guilty.”

“Be it so!” exclaimed Gentz. “Ido not stand before you
as an individual; but as the voice of Germany—of posterity,
that will judge and condemn you if you are unable to justify
yourself. listen to the charges, and reply to them! Why
did you remain in Berlin when the court fled; when all those
who were loyal to the king and his cause left the capital, be-
cause they refused to bow their heads to the French yoke?”

“T remained because I did not see any reason for fleeing.
Iam no prominent politician; politics, on the contrary, are
only a matter of secondary importance to me. My principal
sphere is science, and every thing connected with it. Now I
was better able to serve it here than elsewhere. I had my
books here, and a large number was on the way to me; ac-
cordingly, I had to wait for them; besides I had commenced
studying the royal archives of Berlin to obtain material for
my history of Frederick IT. These are the reasons why I re-
mained, and I confess to you that I had no cause to repent
of it. No one injured me, or asked any thing dishonorable of
me; no one insisted on my doing any thing incompatible
with my duty and loyalty; on the contrary, all treated me
politely. They seemed to regard me as one of the ancients,
living only in and for posterity. Never before was the dignity
of historical science honored in a more delicate manner than
by the treatment I received at the hands of the French.
Thus, amid the crash of falling thrones, I have quietly con-
tinued at my history of Switzerland, written articles for sev-
eral reviews, and made extracts from many of the ancient
classics, from the whole Muratorian Thesaurus, and from -
other printed and manuscript volumes. This, my friend, is

a brief sketch of the quiet and retired life I have led since
the disastrous day of Jena.”
JOHANNES VON MULLER. 299

“You forgot to mention several essential points in your
sketch,” said Gentz, sternly. “You did not allude to your
friendly intercourse with Napoleon’s pretorians; you forgot
even to refer to the remarkable visit you paid to the Emperor
of the French. How could you, who so recently in public
addresses had called upon every one to rise against the usurper
—how could you dare to enter the lion’s lair without fearing
lest he strike you dead by a single blow? Napoleon Bona-
parte might invite me twenty times in the most flattering
manner, I should still take care to refuse, for J feel convinced
that I should never return. The bullets that struck Palm’s
breast would be remoulded for me. How did it come that
you did not feel any such apprehensions? How could you
hope that the French would forgive your former Prussian
patriotism, unless you had made concessions to them—unless
you had proved recreant to the cause to which you had
hitherto adhered ?”

“T made no concessions. They were unnecessary; no one
asked me to make them,” said Johannes von Miller, gently.
“T remained in Berlin, because I was unable to flee with my
whole library, and because I was no more bribed by France
than by England, or any other power.”

“Ah, I understand you; you will now turn the table, and
accuse me instead of justifying yourself. It is a very com-
mon thing nowadays to tell marvellous stories about the
large sums with which England has bribed me to speak and
write against the usurper, who tramples upon our freedom
and nationality. You can scarcely open a newspaper without
finding in it, side by side with eulogies of the great German
historian, and of the gratifying manner in which ‘Napoleon,
the hero, whose eagle-eye discerns every thing, knew how to
appreciate his merits,’ systematic attacks against me, and
allusions to the rumor that I had been bribed by England.”

“T did not intend accusing you,’ said Miller. “Iam only
justifying myself; first, as to my remaining here, and,
secondly, as to the visit I paid to the Emperor Napoleon. He
sent for me, and, rest assured, I did nothing whatever to
bring about this invitation. Ought Ito have refused? He
did not say a word about the king, the queen, myself, my
wishes or plans. Dear friend, will you permit me to relate to
you the particulars of my interview with Napoleon? Will
you listen to me quietly, so as to judge for yourself whether
that visit, which has -been censured so severely, was really so
300 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

great a crime, so terrible a perfidy against Germany, as my
enemies have seen fit to pretend?” ;

“Speak! I told you already that I come to accuse you in
the name of Germany and of posterity, and to listen to your
justification.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE CALL,

JOHANNES voN MUirer shook his head, and as he spoke
his voice grew louder and his face kindled with enthusiasm.
“M. Alexander von Humboldt had made me acquainted with
the French minister of state, M. Maret, who frequently in-
vited me, with Humboldt and some other savants, to dine with
him, and seemed to like my conversation. One morning he
called to inform me that the Emperor Napoleon desired to re-
ceive me at seven o’clock in the evening. At the hour
appointed I rode to Maret, and was introduced to Napoleon,
who was seated by himself on a sofa; several persons, un-
known to me, stoodin a remote corner of the room. The
emperor commenced by referring to the history of Switzer-
land, and told me I ought to finish it, because the more re-
cent period of the history of that country was by no means
devoid of interest. From Swiss history we passed to the his-
tory and constitution of ancient Greece, to the theory of
constitutions, to the striking difference of those of the Asiatic
nations, and the causes of this difference, to be found in the
climate and in polygamy, to the widely different characters of
the Arabs (whom the emperor extolled very highly), and the
Tartars, which led us to the invasions always threatening civ-
ilization from that side, and the necessity of raising a bulwark
against them. We then spoke of the real value of European
culture, and stated that there never had been greater freedom,
security of property, humanity, and better times in general,
than since the fifteenth century; further, that there was a
mysterious concatenation in all terrestrial events, that every
thing was directed by the inscrutable dispensations of an
invisible hand, and that the emperor himself had become
great by the very actions of his enemies. We referred to the
great confederation of nations, an idea that had already been
entertained by Henry IV.; to the’ sources and necessity of
THE CALL. 801

religion; we said that man was, perhaps, not able to bear the
whole dazzling truth, and required to be kept in bounds; but
that, nevertheless, it was possible to bring about a happy
order of things if the numerous wars ceased that had been
produced by constitutions too intricate, such as that of Ger-
many, and by the intolerable burdens imposed on nations by
large standing armies. A great many other things were said,
and, in fact, almost all countries and nations were alluded to.
The emperor spoke at first in his ordinary tone, but in a lower
voice as the conversation became more interesting, so that I
had to bend down, and no one else could have understood
what he said. I myself shall never repeat several statements
he made on this occasion. I contradicted him repeatedly,
and he entered into a discussion with me.

“Tf Iam to speak impartially, J must say that Napoleon’s
knowledge, the correctness of his observations, his under-
standing, the grandeur of his views, filled me with admi-.
ration, while the amiable manner in which he spoke to me
could not but enlist my affection. A few marshals and the
Prince de Benevento in the mean time entered the room, but
he did not interrupt himself. After I had conversed with
him about an hour and a half, he ordered the concert to com-
mence, and I do not know whether it was a mere accident or
whether he did so to oblige me, but he asked the musicians to
play Swiss airs, and among them the Ranz des Vaches. He
then bowed to me kindly, and left the room. I must confess
Iwas fascinated. Since my conference with Frederick II.,
twenty-four years ago, I never had a more interesting inter-
view, at least none with a prince; if my memory does not
deceive me, the emperor’s conversation was even more solid
and comprehensive than that of Frederick, who did not con-
ceal his admiration for the views of Voltaire. For the rest,
Napoleon’s tone is firm and vigorous, but there is as winning
an expression about his mouth as there was about that of
Frederick. It was one of the most remarkable days of my
life. Napoleon conquered me, too, by his genius and un-
affected kindness. This, my friend,” said Miiller, “is a
faithful account of what occurred during my visit to him, and
how I was charmed by his genius.”

“Woe to you that he succeeded!” exclaimed Gentz—“ that
he confused your understanding and infatuated your judg-
ment. Are you, then, really in earnest about this admiration
and fulsome praise of a man whom you abhorred formerly—to
302 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

whom at Frankfort you vowed everlasting hatred—whom, in
your wrath, you called the scourge that was torturing us,
that we might be aroused from our stupor? Do you now
seriously: praise him as the great genius to whom we ought to
do homage and bow as humble worshippers?”

“Yes, I say that Providence has intrusted to him the most
sublime mission,” exclaimed Miiller. ‘I feel convinced that
God has given him the empire of the world. Never before
has this been more apparent than in the late war, in which he
obtained victories with which only those of Arbela and Zama
can be compared. Inasmuch as the old and rusty order of
things was doomed to disappear, it was fortunate that these
victories were vouchsafed to Napoleon and to a nation that is
distinguished for its culture, and appreciates the toils of
learned men far more readily than other nations. Just as lit-
tle as Cicero, Livy, and Horace, concealed from the great
Cesar, or from Augustus, that they had formerly been op-
posed to him, have I concealed that I had belonged to a differ-
ent party, or rather entertained different views, which, the
issues being decided, I willingly give up, ready, if not to codp-
erate in, at least to become the impartial historian of the
reorganization of the world. Now, it is an inexpressibly
edifying occupation to raise our eyes from the ruins of Europe
to the whole connection of history—to seek for the causes of
events, and boldly to remove a little the veil that covers the
probable future. These ideas seem to me so grand and grat-
ifying that they fill my soul, absorbing all my reflections.
Thus I try to prepare as well as I can for what is to come.
History teaches me that, when the time for a great change
arrives, resistance against it is utterly useless. ‘True wisdom
consists in a correct perception of the signs of the times, and
true virtue is not transformed into vice when this or that
phase passes away. The ruler of the world will certainly
never overlook him who demonstrates his manhood, and
whose skill and courage entitle him to human respect.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Gentz, laughing scornfully, “ you are in-
deed a true man! When the country was overwhelmed with
calamities—when your friends, whom your clarion-notes once
led to the charge—when the royal couple that had over-
whelmed you with manifestations of kindness and esteem, and
all the loyal and faithful fled, you acted like a true man!
You only thought of yourself and your personal interests, and
forgot what you once swore to me, and in reference to which
THE CALL. 303

I stand before you at this hour. Johannes von Miiller, I re-
nounce you forevermore! Germany will accept no further
services at your hands, even though you should desire to
espouse her cause again, for no one reposes confidence in
the faithless. Posterity will honor Johannes von Miiller,
the historian; but they will despise Johannes von Miiller, the
man. I know you now thoroughly. Your whole character isa
strange error nature committed in uniting intellect of extraor-
dinary strength with one of the feeblest souls. The many
sublime thoughts, the ingenious and often profound com-
binations which for many years have characterized your pen,
were apparently intended only for others; you yourself derive
no benefit from them. You are, and will ever be, the play-
thing of every accidental and momentary impression. Always
ready to acknowledge and embrace whatever came near you,
you were never able to feel either enduring hatred or attach-
ment. Your life is a mere capitulation. If the Evil One
himself should appear on earth in visible form, I could show
him the way by which he could league with you within
twenty-four hours. The true source of your inconsistency is
the fact that, separated from all good and trne men, and sur-
rounded by knaves and fools, you see and hear nothing but
what isignoble and false. If you could have made up your
mind to leave Berlin, you would probably have been saved.
Your real guilt consists in your staying here; the remainder
of your faults were only consequences of it. Whether this
judgment is more lenient or rigorous, more mortifying or
honorable, than that which you may expect at the hands of
the public, I will not decide. As for myself, it is con-
clusive.”

“But it is not for me,” exclaimed Miiller, with grave dig-
nity. “I forgive you the insults you have thrown into my
face; and, instead of turning away from you in silence, and
in the consciousness of right, I will address you a last word of
justification; for you know full well that I have loved you,
and my heart renounces reluctantly its dream of friendship.
You have preferred serious charges against me; you have
threatened me with the judgment of posterity; but posterity
will have better ideas of justice than you, whose eyes are
blinded by partisan feelings and political hatred. It is true,
I have said on every page of my works that men ought not to
shrink from sacrificing their lives for their country, for truth,
and justice; but I am unconscious of having done any thing
304 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

to the contrary, nor have I ever been exposed to such an
alternative. Never have I changed my principles. What I
desired when I entered into the covenant with you at Frank-
fort, was to bring about a firm alliance between Austria and
Prussia, and thereby to transform Germany into a strong
power, interposing the two great empires. For that purpose
I have striven, acted, spoken, and written. My utterances
were not listened to, and the year 1805 destroyed all my
hopes. The times changed, but my principles did not, based
as they are on the great truth of all possible liberty, dignity,
and happiness for the nations, according to their different cir-
cumstances and peculiarities. Never, however, did I permit
personal considerations to influence me; I wrote for Prussia
in the good cause of the princes’ league, and against Prussia
in the bad one of the separate peace. It is true, I was not
quiet with regard to the blunders committed: I did not en-
courage the mad expectations of the war-party, and was
opposed to misleading the public by false rumors and inflam-
matory appeals. I desired the truth, and proclaimed it; but
the so-called German patriots think I ought to have kept
silence. When the Jews were warned with tearful eyes to
submit to the conqueror, into whose hands Providence had de-
livered Asia for a certain time, they deemed it patriotic to
persecute the prophet, but Jerusalem was burned. Why did
he not keep silence? Because God commanded him to speak.
That is the servility, the faithlessness, and treachery with
which I am now reproached. Hypocrites! Every crime has
its motive. Did I intend to increase my glory? Certainly
not. It was self-interest, then? Yes!—to give up the beau-
tiful city of Berlin, the title of councillor of war, and a salary
of three thousand dollars, doubtless to go to Paris and receive
alarge pension from the French government! No! but to
accept a professorship of two thousand florins in the little
town of Tiibingen, and to have the honor to work hard to pay
my debts! That is the brilliant position which is asserted to
have induced me to sacrifice my nation, my liberty, and my
honor. I am tired of sacrificing myself, of toiling incessantly,
and of being exposed to danger, in an ungrateful age and for
a degenerate nation, cowardly in deed, slanderous in word,
and senseless in hope. A supreme intelligence is ruling over
us; one era is past; another is approaching, and of what char-
acter it will be, depends on our own reformation! It was
Providence that sent Napoleon as the instrument of the tran-
THE CALL. 309

sition. I acquiesce in the dispensation of God, who, during
the latter centuries, has so ordered events as to prevent man-
kind from receding from the degree of civilization they had
attained. The people must take heart, concentrate their
moral and mental strength, and devote themselves to the
culture of the peaceful and the good. That is my last con-
fession. If you understand me, and it satisfies you, give me
your hand, and we are reconciled; if you wish to continue to
misrepresent me and condemn my course, farewell! for, in
that case, our paths diverge forever.”

“Let us, then, pursue different paths!” exclaimed Gentz,
contemptuouslv, taking his hat and preparing to leave. “I
go, but not without painful emotion. Let your heart, in
memory of the past, tell you whether I have judged correctly.
I feel what it is to lose you! Asafriend of patriotism, I pass
an inexorable sentence on you; as a man, as your former
friend, I feel nothing but compassion—to hate you is beyond
my power. If God fulfil our wishes, and crown my efforts
and those of my companions, then there will be but one
punishment for you, and it will be terrible. Law and order
will return, the robber and the usurper be humbled, and Ger-
many, flourishing under the rule of wise sovereigns, will again
be free; but you will have to stand aloof, and never be per-
mitted to join in the sacred hymns of our patriots! Fare-
well!” He turned and hastily left the room.

Johannes von Miller gazed after him mournfully. “I have
lost another friend! Ah, I wish I could escape into the grave
from all this turmoil—these painful misunderstandings and
broken friendships.” Standing silent, he placed his hand
over his tearful eyes. “No,” he said; “I will not despair!
The hand of Providence is everywhere; it will support and
protect me. I have lost a friend; very well, I will return to
my immortal friends—to the ancients! They never cease to
instruct and strengthen me by their exalted sentiments.’’ He
stepped to his desk, and, sitting down, seized one of the large
open volumes. ‘Come and console me, Juvenal,” he ex-
claimed, enthusiastically. “You are to me rather a new
friend, whom I have learned but lately to understand thor-
oughly. O Juvenal! let the fire burning in your works warm
my heart, and invigorate me by your words, which are among
the priceless treasures of mankind!” He bent over the book
and commenced reading. His face, which, at first, had been
melancholy, soon assumed a serene and almost good-humored
306 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

expression, and, forgetful of the present, he became entirely
absorbed in reading the Roman author.

All was silent in his room. The busts of Napoleon and
Frederick looked down on the illuminated but deserted street,
as if they were guarding the great historian from any evil
thoughts or cowardly despondency that perchance might dis-
turb his thoughts. Suddenly a horseman galloped up, and a
carriage approached the house. Two gentlemen alighted and
entered. Johannes von Miiller saw and heard nothing. He
read and copied such passages from old Juvenal as pleased
him best.

Some one rapped violently at the door, and a deep voice
called out in French, “May I enter?”

“General Clarke!’ exclaimed Johannes von Miiller, almost
in dismay, starting up and rushing toward the door; but, be-
fore he reached it, the French governor of Berlin, General
Clarke, appeared, followed by a young orderly, whose dusty
uniform told that he had just left the highway and the saddle.

“M. Johannes von Miller,’’ exclaimed Clarke, cordially
nodding, and offering his hand to the savant. “See what I
bring you!”

“Well,” asked Miller, in surprise, ‘what does your excel-
lency bring?”

“T bring you a courier whom the minister of state, M.
Maret, by order of the emperor has sent you, and who has
been hunting for you all over Germany. At Frankfort he
was informed you were already at Tiibingen, and on arriving
there he learned that you had not yet left Berlin, although
you had been expected for six months.”’

“T could not go,” said Miller; “I had not yet received my
dismissal; it arrived only to-day.”

“Tt is well it came to-day,” exclaimed Clarke; “it has ar-
rived just in time. My friend,” he added, turning to the
courier, ‘this is M. von Miiller; deliver the letter into his
hands.”

The courier produced a large letter to which an official seal

was attached. “When can you let me have the reply?” he
Hee “T have been instructed to return to Paris without
elay.”

“The reply?” said Miiller. ‘“ But Ido not yet know the
question ?”’

“My learned friend,” exclaimed Clarke, laughing, “ this
game of questions and answers with Napoleon resembles a
THE CALL. 507

thunderstorm; almost as soon as the flash is seen, the thunder
is heard. There must be no hesitation—no delay. It is the
emperor that asks. Permit the courier, in the mean time, to
retire into the anteroom. On crossing it, I noticed a sofa.
You will permit him to take a little rest until your reply is
ready. I have also commissioned your servant to fetch a glass
of wine and some food. You must take into consideration
that the poor fellow has been on horseback, day and night,
and has but just left the saddle.”’

“Go, sir,” exclaimed Miller, in an impressive voice, “ take
alittle rest and some food. Iam sorry that I have caused
you so much trouble.” :

“And now, sir,” said Clarke, when the courier had left the
room, “read the letter from Minister Maret.’’

Johannes von Miiller broke the seal and opened the paper
with a trembling hand. While he was reading, a blush suf-
fused his face, and an exclamation of joyful surprise burst
from his lips. “This letter contains extraordinary news! I
am to go to Paris! I am to receive an important office that
I have never solicited!”

“Yes, sir, you are to go to Paris, and, as speedily as pos-
sible,” said Clarke, smiling. ‘I also received a letter from
the minister by this courier, and his excellency requests me
to have you set out without delay. It is the emperor’s order,
sir, and must be complied with. His majesty himself has
appointed you to the exalted position which you are to fill at
the court of his brother, the King of Westphalia. Jerome’s
kingdom sprang from the soil of Germany in a night; hence
it is right that you should be his minister of public instruc-
tion. That is the office to be intrusted to you, sir. The
emperor has so ordered it. He promised his brother a min-
ister of the German nation.”

“T, a poor book-worm, who have had more intercourse
with the dead than the living—I am to become a minister!
That will not do. I lack the necessary ability and experi-
ence.”

“Nonsense, sir!’ exclaimed Clarke; “when the emperor
bestows an office on a man, he gives him the understanding
required for it. Hesitation is injurious, because it only post-
pones your departure. Please notice that you have not been
asked whether you wish to accept or not, but that the emperor
orders your presence, and that quickly. JI shall lend you my
own travelling-coach, and send my secretary with you. You
308 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

will travel by way of Mentz and Strasburg, and in five days
you must be at Fontainebleau, where the emperor is awaiting
you to give you further instructions. Well, when do you in-
tend to set out?”

“When shall I set out? I feel as one dreaming, or as if all
this were the play of my imagination.”

“You will have to admit, however, that it is at least brill-
iant. It is worth while, I should think, to make a journey
to Paris to receive the appointment of cabinet-minister. I
ask you again, When will you set out? Remember, it is the
emperor that calls you.”

“Oh, then he has not forgotten me, the great man!” ex-
claimed Miller. “After so many victories, he still remem-
bers that interview in which I learned to admire him. IJ must
not be ungrateful for so gratifying a remembrance. Only
sublime and salutary ideas spring from the head of Jove;
hence, I submit in every respect to his will, and shall go to
him to receive his orders and comply with his wishes.”

“Well said!” exclaimed Clarke. “ You will set out to-
morrow morning. I shall prepare every thing that is neces-
sary. But, remember, the courier is waiting for your reply.
Quick, my friend! write an answer to the minister. But
few words are required. Just say to him: ‘Your excellency,
Icome!’ That will be sufficient.”

Johannes von Miiller, almost intoxicated with delight,
hastened to his desk, and wrote a few lines. “I have written
what you told me,” he said, smiling, and handing the pa-
per to the general. “I have written: ‘Your excellency, I
come!’”’

“Now fold it up and direct it,” said Clarke.

Miller did so, and gave the sealed letter to Clarke: “Well,
general, here is the letter—I deliver it into your hands, and
with it my future.”

“Mr. Minister, permit me to congratulate you,” said
Clarke, smiling, and, going to the door, he gave the letter to
the courier.

“Minister!” said Johannes von Miller, with a joyful air,
“T am to be a minister!” But suddenly his face became
gloomy. “Alas!” he murmured, “now my country will call
me a traitor indeed, and Gentz will seem to be right in de-
nouncing me as an apostate, and accusing me of having ten-
dered my resignation to obtain a more lucrative office. Well,
no matter,” he exclaimed, after a pause, “let them denounce
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES. 309

and slander me! My conscience acquits me, and I may be
permitted, after all, to be useful to Germany in my new
position. May God in His mercy guide me!”

CHAPTER XXXV.
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES,

“HEAVEN be praised that you are again restored to us!”
exclaimed the queen, smiling gratefully, and offering her

hand to Minister von Stein. “Oh, believe me, such a sun-
beam is welcome to us in these dreary days of Memel.”
“Tt is true,” said Stein, sighing. “Your majesty has

passed disastrous days, and J am glad that I am able again to
assist my adored queen in her troubles.”

She shook her head mournfully. “Ido not believe in the
possibility of any alleviation or change. We have suffered
great misfortunes, and greater may befall us. Since the days
of Jena and Auerstadt our sorrows have increased. We are
constantly experiencing some new humiliation; even the
treaty of Tilsit is not the climax of our calamities. They
come as an avalanche, and sometimes I wish to be buried be-
neath them.”

“Then the last ray of hope for Prussia would disappear,”
said Stein. “If your majesty desert us, we are irretrievably
lost, for your life, your courage, and your spirit, are the sup-
port of your husband. Without Louisa, Prussia and her king
would perish.”

“Oh, it is true he loves me,’ cheerfully exclaimed the
queen. “The king treats me more affectionately than ever.
And that is great happiness after a wedded life of fourteen
years! I will be grateful to him as long as I live, and to
Prussia for loving me. But, alas! I have no other thanks for
them than my devotion and my prayers!”

“You have still your courage and a strong hope in the
future of your country. You must animate the desponding
and strengthen the weak. Let that be your majesty’s great
and holy duty.”

“You are right, I must not Gespair,” responded the queen,
“and I thank you for having udmonished me. Oh, it is
sometimes very difficult to bear such disasters, and I feel that
my health is giving way more and more. And tell me where
310 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

am I to look for consolation? The storm is upon us, and
where shall we find a refuge? How shall we escape the
thunderbolt?”

“In our hopes for a more glorious future,” said Stein,
energetically.

“Future!” exclaimed Louisa. “There is no future with-
out independence, and where is that to be found to-day? All
are slaves and bow in the most abject humility to a master
who, in his turn, is but the slave of his own boundless am-
bition and arrogance, and, alas! there is no man living who
would dare to set bounds to them! Do you know how dis-
dainfully our envoy, M. von Knobelsdorf, was treated? He
was utterly unable to prefer his remonstrances and prayers
that Prussia might be protected from further extortion, and
that the French armies might be withdrawn. Napoleon re-
ceived him but once, and then, as it were, accidentally. The
Prince of Baden and Cambacéres were in the room, and our
ambassador was no more noticed than acrumb of bread. The
emperor’s attendants treated him in the same manner, and
Minister Champagny remarked to Knobelsdorf that they
would see how Prussia behaved. He hoped we would comply
as much as possible with the emperor’s wishes, for such a
course would alone be likely to give us relief, and that we
ought to blame no one but ourselves. Are you aware of this,
and are you still hopeful and speak of a happy future?”

“Yes, I am aware of all this, and it is precisely for this
reason I speak as Ido,” said Stein. “ We must work to dispel
the dangers to which your majesty referred; we must erect
lightning-rods to attract the dangerous fire. If your majesty
had a less vigorous soul, I should conceal from you the calam-
ities still threatening Prussia, notwithstanding the treaty of
Tilsit; but Queen Louisa is the genius of Prussia, and I apply
to her for assistance!”

“Oh!” exclaimed the queen, anxiously, “ bad tidings again,
I suppose?”

“ Yes,” said Stein, sadly—“ bad tidings! We have received
the last propositions or rather decrees of Napoleon. He im-
poses on Prussia contributions amounting to one hundred and
fifty millions, one-third to be paid immediately in cash; bills
will be accepted for fifty millions, and estates are to be ceded
to France for the last fifty millions. The five fortresses of
Graudenz, Kolberg, Stettin, Kiistrin, and Glogau are de-
manded as security for the payment. Forty thousand French
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES. 311

soldiers are to garrison the fortresses, ten thousand of whom
will be cavalry, uniformed, armed, and fed by Prussia, which
is to furnish twelve millions for this purpose. The estates of
the king in the districts of Magdeburg and Brandenburg,
between the Elbe and the Oder, and in Pomerania, are to be
ceded and disposed of in what manner the emperor may deem
prudent. As the forty thousand men will be unable to find
sufficient room in the five fortresses, certain districts of Prus-
sia will have to be assigned them.”

“ And what remains then to the king?” exclaimed Louisa,
with flaming eyes. “What remains to us?”

“This must not be,” said Stein. “We must leave nothing
undone—we must strain every nerve to prevent it. The dis-
asters of Prussia compel us to shrink from nothing to avert
this last and terrible blow, or the country will be hopelessly
ruined. Oh, I cannot describe to you the distress, the mis-
ery, the disgrace I witnessed in the cities through which I
passed on my journey. Your majesty knows that I was at
Berlin; I saw that Daru and Clarke behaved in the most reck-
less and scornful manner, refusing with sneers to listen to any
remonstrances. They seemed to be bent on oppressing and
impoverishing the country, and drinking the last drop of its
heart’s blood! I beheld everywhere the same heart-rending
spectacle that I witnessed at the capital. Every city and
fortress has its systematic tormentor in some governor or
commander, distinguished for arrogance and cruelty. The
distress is unutterable, and yet the people hope for speedy
deliverance. The eyes of all are turning with tears, it is true,
but with love and hope, to Memel, the heart of the Prussian
monarchy. All the hopes of your subjects are centred in the
king and the queen; to you they look for alleviation.”

“Alas!” éxclaimed the queen, bursting into tears, “is
there, then, any way by which we can help them? Oh, name
it! What can the king—what can I do to procure relief for
Prussia?”

“The greatest burden at this moment is the presence of the
French troops, and the oppressive conduct of the public
officials, who are openly disregarding all the laws and institu-
tions of the country, and trampling under foot the most
solemn rights. We must make every possible effort to rid
Prussia of these men. ‘To accomplish this, we must, in the
first place, try to find means to pay the first third of the con-
tribution; and next, to induce Napoleon to grant us better
312 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

terms for the payment of the remainder. We must endeavor
to induce him to consent to a gradual liquidation (which
would be more in accordance with our ability), and without
insisting on retaining the fortresses as security, and oppressing
us with an army of forty thousand men. In this way our ex-
hausted treasury would not be required to pay the additional
twelve millions for equipping the French soldiers, and the
country would be preserved from the tyranny of a hostile
occupation.”

“But you may depend on it, there is no way to soften that
heart of Napoleon,” said the queen, sighing. “He is cer-
tainly a victorious warrior, but he is not great in the highest
sense—he is not good, for he knows neither compassion nor
love. He has marked out his path in lines of blood, and he
pursues it over the slain of the battle-fiell and the ruins of
once prosperous and happy nations. Napoleon has no pity,
and our complaints would but gratify his pride.”

“And yet we must try to dispose him to comply with our
wishes,” said Stein. “The king has resolved upon writing
to-day to the Emperor Alexander, and imploring him to in-
struct Count Tolstoy, his ambassador in Paris, to remonstrate
with Napoleon, and convince him of the cruelty and injustice
of his demands. Oh, the king is ready, with an energy de-
serving the highest admiration, to do every thing to lessen the
burdens under which his subjects are groaning. He himself
has drawn up a financial plan to procure the first twelve mill-
ions, which we shall offer to pay immediately. He is ready
to order reductions in the budget of the army, the opera, the
ballet, and the extraordinary pensions. He himself sets an
example of self-denial and economy. He will reduce further
his household, and retain only the most indispensable ser-
vants. Notwithstanding my protestations, he insists on re-
fusing to accept the civil list due him.”

“Qh,” exclaimed the queen, “who can call me unhappy
when I am the wife of the noblest of men? But I will also
take part in these sacrifices, and I hope the king has also re-
fused to accept the money paid me by the state treasury.”

“No, your majesty. That should not be curtailed; I would
never advise it, and the king would not consent.”

“ But I insist,” replied the queen, firmly. “My king and
husband must forgive me if I choose for once to have a will
of my own. If the king is ready to suffer privations, then it
is my right and duty to share them.”
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES. 313

“But your majesty ought to think of your children, who
would also suffer. Pray take into consideration that the royal
family would be reduced to a very small income, and that the
most rigid economy could not preserve you from embarrass-
ments. A portion of the royal estates is to be mortgaged or
sold for the purpose of defraying part of the French contribu-
tion; considering the universal distress, it is very probable
that the income to be derived from the other estates will not
be paid at all, or very tardily. The king, moreover, gave up
very cousiderable resources by sending the large gold dinner-
set to the mint to be converted into coin, which he did not
use for himself or his household, but paid into the state treas-
ury. If your majesty, like the king, refuses to accept money
from the treasury, pecuniary difficulties will arise, which will
be the more painful to you, as your children will suffer, de-
prived of the comforts to which they have been accustomed.”

“That will produce a salutary effect,” said the queen,
quickly. “Circumstances educate men, and it will certainly
be good for my children to be familiar with something more
than the sunniest side of life. If they had grown up in
opulence, they would ever consider it as a matter of course;
but that there may be a change, they learn now from the
gravity of their father, and the tears of their mother. It is
especially good for the crown prince to become acquainted
with adversity—when, as I hope, happier times come, he will
better appreciate his prosperity. Let them share our adverse
fortune! I know how to protect them from real want. I
have still some means left, and the Lord will not forsake us.
Do not call this stubbornness or presumption. You know we
have not refrained from every exertion to lessen our calamities.
I have even gone so far as to beg the Duke de Rovigo, who is
now governor of East Prussia, to intercede with the emperor
concerning the contributions, and to have restored to us our
estates, because they were our only possessions. Do you know
the reply the duke made? He told me that all solicitations
would be in vain, and even the intercession of Russia would
be of no avail in regard to this matter. He added that there
remained to us one way of procuring money, and he advised
us to sell our plate and jewels.”

“The impudent villain!” exclaimed Stein, indignantly.
“How could he go so far as to use such language toward your
majesty!”

“Tt is true,” said the queen, gently, “it pained me griev-

21
314 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ously, and brought tears. Not that my heart cares for worldly
splendor, but there is something inexpressibly offensive in
the scorn with which those men, and particularly the Duke
de Rovigo, imitate the example of their master. But, after
all, that sagacious duke was right, perhaps, for useless jewels
may be converted into money. I admit,” added the queen,
with a smile, ‘that I had never thought of it; it would never
have occurred to me that we might get money by selling our
personal property. In fact, I ought to be grateful to M.
Savary for his advice.”

“Your majesty,” said Stein, deeply affected, “you must
not think of selling your jewels. Better times will come.
Even in these days of adversity there will be occasions when
you must show yourself to your people at public festivities and
demonstrations; they like to see their queen adorned in a
regal and becoming manner.”’

_ “My most becoming ornament will be simplicity, and the
tears of gratitude with which I shall receive those who wish
to honor me.”

“But your jewels arc the heirlooms of your children, your
majesty.”

“The only inheritance of our children which we are not al-
lowed to part with is our honor,” said the queen, firmly. “We
would not sell it for all the empires of the world. That must
remain to us. As for the rest, we must learn to do without it.”’

“But it will greatly pain the king should your majesty sell
your jewels. It will be another humiliation.”

“Oh, I can conceal it from him,” exclaimed the queen. “I
shall sell those superfluous articles secretly. There will be no
festivities here, and hence it will be unnecessary for me to
appear in royal attire. Two-thirds of the money realized will
.pay the pensions of the king’s old servants; for I know the
unsettled arrears cause my husband many a pang. When
these worthy men, who are to be deprived of the salaries which
they so richly deserve, send in their receipts, then let my
husband find out whence we have obtained the money; then,
I hope, he will forgive niy having taken this step without his
permission. You must assist me in this matter, and take
upon yourself the payment of the pensions and salaries; will
you promise me to do so?”

Baron von Stein endeavored to reply, but the words died on
his lips; he bowed over the hand the queen offered him, and
tears fell on it as he pressed it to his lips.
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES. 315

“Oh,” said the queen, “was I not right in saying that I
should never lack ornaments? Are there any more precious
than the sympathizing tears of a high-minded man?”

“Pardon me,” whispered Baron von Stein. “I wish I could
transmute them into diamonds, and lay them at the feet of
my queen.”’

“And what,” asked Louisa, “would they be worth com-
pared with your noble and faithful heart? We can do with-
out jewelry, but not without your services.’’

“Henceforth all my thought and energy shall be devoted to
Prussia,” said the minister. “But your majesty must be so
kind as to assist me. I must implore you to unite with me to
obtain from Napoleon less rigorous terms, and the withdrawal
ot the French troops.”

“Alas! what can I do? You see I am ready to do any
thing to lessen the sorrows of Prussia. Tell me, therefore,
what I am to do.”

“T have the honor to inform your majesty. I have drawn
up a plan which will enable Prussia to pay this burdensome debt
in the course of three years. It is true, we have to consent to
large reductions, collect the war-debt due from Russia, negotiate
loans, impose on the subjects of Prussia, besides the ordinary
taxes, extraordinary contributions, and an income-tax, and
issue paper money. These onerous expedients will deliver us
at least from the present pressure by furnishing us the means
of paying the French contributions. It is only necessary to
send my plan to Paris—to deliver it safely into the hands of
Napoleon, and induce him to accept it.”

“T hope you will not ask me to go to Paris for this pur-
pose!” exclaimed the queen, in dismay.

“No,” answered Stein, “I have proposed to his majesty to
intrust this task to his brother, Prince William. The king
has approved my proposition, and sent for the prince to re-
quest him to undertake this difficult and dangerous mission.”

“He will joyfully consent to do so,” exclaimed Louisa.
“ He loves his king and his country, and will shrink from no
sacrifice. Alas, he will have to endure many a humiliation,
and in vain; it will lead to nothing.”

“We must send powerful auxiliaries with him,” said Stein,
quickly. ‘And now I shall state the request which I desire
to make to your majesty. You must support the prince, and
help him in his difficult undertaking. I beseech you, there-
fore, to give him an autograph letter to Napoleon; condescend
316 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

to entreat the emperor to be merciful and generous; depict to
him the distress of your country, the sufferings of your sub-
jects, and the privations of your family, and appeal to his
maznanimity to desist from his demands, and accept our plan
of payment. Oh, your majesty, in your enthusiasm and
patriotic love, you are inspired with a power of expression
which even Napoleon will be unable to resist; and whatever
he would refuse to the prayers of the prince he will yield to
those of Queen Louisa!”

“Never!” she exclaimed. ‘‘ Never can I subject myself to
this humiliation! Never can I stoop so low as to write to
that man! Oh, you do not know how pitilessly he insulted
me; otherwise you would not dare to ask me. Remember
what I have already done, how low I have humbled myself,
and all for nothing. Can I forget those days of Tilsit, when
I seemed to live only for the purpose of heightening the con-
queror’s pride by my woe-begone appearance—when I felt as
if chained in a triumphal car, and endeavored with a mourn-
ful smile to conceal my shame and misery, in order to meet
him politely whose heartless glances made my soul tremble?
How can I write to him whom I implored at Tilsit, but who
carried his cruelty so far as to make promises which he after-
ward renounced—who designated as acts of gallantry the as-
surances he had given in reply to the tears of my motherly
heart? If I could save Prussia, and secure the happiness of
my husband and children, I would willingly suffer death, but
this renewed humiliation is beyond my strength.”

The minister, folding his arms, looked with deep emotion
at the excited queen, as she rapidly walked up and down the
apartment. Standing in front of him, she said in a gentle,
imploring voice: “I am sure you feel that your request can-
not possibly be granted.”’

“May I repeat to your majesty,” said Stein, solemnly, “the
words you uttered just now with regard to Prince William?—
‘The prince will joyfully consent to undertake the difficult
mission. He loves his king and his country, and will shrink
from no sacrifice.’ ”’

The queen burst into tears, and, turning away from Stein,
again but slowly paced the room, her head thrown back, her
eyes turned upward with a suppliant expression, and her lips
quivering.

“She is undergoing a terrible struggle,” said Stein to him-
self, “ but she will be victorious, for her heart is noble, and
FINANCIAL CALAMITIES. 317

eternal love is in her and with her.” He was not mistaken.
Gradually she grew calmer; her eyes became more cheerful,
and her features assumed a serene expression.

“Baron von Stein,” she said, “I will do what you ask of
me}; I will conquer myself. As you believe it prudent, I will
write to the Emperor Napoleon, and entreat him to spare
Prussia. JI desire you to draw up the letter for me, so that it
may be only necessary to copy it.”

“TI foresaw this, and complied with it in advance,” said the
minister, taking out his memorandum-book, and presenting
a sheet of paper. “Here,” he said, “is a draught of the
needed letter. If your majesty approve it, I venture to re-
quest you to copy it speedily, for this business must not be
delayed, and if the prince accepts the propositions of the
king, it would be advisable and necessary for him to set out
to-day.”

The queen hastily glanced over the letter. “It is all
right,” she said; “I approve all you have written. I wish to
get through at once with this painful matter, and I request
you to wait until I have copied it. You may take it with
you, and lay it before the king.”

She hastened to her desk, and wrote rapidly, but at times
hesitating, as though her pen refused the humiliating words.
But at last she finished, and having quickly read what she had
written, she called Minister von Stein to her side. “ Here,’’
she said, sighing, and handing the paper to him, “take it,
the sacrifice has been made. Will my people,” she added,
weeping, “will my children be hereafter grateful to me for
having humbled myself for their sake? Will they ever think
how painful must have been these sacrifices? Will they re-
member and thank me for them in happier days?”

“Your majesty,” said Stein, enthusiastically, “never will
they forget such devotion to your country; and when our
great-orandchildren talk of these days of wretchedness, they
will say: ‘Prussia could be humiliated, but she could never
perish; for Louisa was her good genius, praying, acting, and
suffering for her.’” —

“Well,” whispered the queen, sadly, “my slumber in the
grave will be sweet.”” Starting suddenly, she laid her hand
on her heart. ‘Oh,’ she groaned, “how long before this
troubled life of mine shall cease!—I will tell you something,
Baron von Stein. Death is not far from me, and IJ feel that
he comes nearer every day. There is no future for me on
318 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

earth. But God’s will be done. I read the other day some-

. where, ‘Sufferings and afflictions are blessings when they are
overcome.’ Oh, how true that is! I myself say, in the
midst of my afflictions that they are blessings! How much
nearer I am to God!—how clear and true my ideas of the im-
mortality of the soul! Seen through these tears, the solemn
facts of the future come to me with resistless power. Adver-
sity, if rightly used, does instruct and bless. I do not com-
plain therefore that I have been called to weep.” A low
knocking at the door interrupted her, and the footman an-
nounced the arrival of Prince William.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
PRINCE WILLIAM.

THE queen met her husband’s brother with a pleasant
smile, and offered him her hand. “I suppose, my brother,
you come to bid me farewell?” she asked.

“T come to get from my noble sister the letter that I am to
deliver to the Emperor Napoleon,” said the prince, respect-
fully kissing the hand of his sister-in-law.

Louisa turned her eyes toward the minister. ‘“ The king
knew, then, that you were to request me to write the letter?”

“Yes, but he forbade me to say that he deemed it neces-
sary. It was to depend on your majesty’s unbiassed judg-
ment whether it should be written or not.”

“You see, my sister,” exclaimed the prince, “I had no
doubt whatever as to your decision.”’

“Nor I that you would set out to-day,” said Louisa, smiling.

“But will your majesty pardon me when I confess that I
have not come merely for the letter, and to take leave of
you?” asked the prince. “I heard from the king that Min-
ister von Stein was with your majesty, and as 1 am going to
‘set out to-night, and my time accordingly is very limited, I
decided to have settled a little business affair with the
minister.”

“Tt affords me pleasure,” said the queen.

“And you, minister,” asked the prince, bowing to the
baron, “will you grant me a brief audience to-day?”

“I shall immediately repair to the anteroom of your royal
PRINCE WILLIAM. 319

highness, and wait until you return,” said Stein, approaching
the door.

“Oh, no! pray, stay here,” exclaimed the queen. “I offer
this room to the prince as a salle de conférences, and shall re-
tire into my cabinet.” ;

The prince followed the queen, who was about to withdraw,
and conducted her back to the sofa. “Pardon, my sister,”
he said, “I do not desire to confer with the minister about
secrets that your majesty cannot hear. I only wish to ask a
favor of his excellency, the minister of finance. You, doubt-
less, need a great deal of money at the present time, while my
wife and I are spending much less than heretofore, because
we are living here in very humble style. We have made our
calculations, and ascertained that we are able to do with two-
thirds of our income. Accordingly, I request you to accede
to my resolution that, until times are better, I give up one-
third, and beg you to pay this amount into the state treasury.”

“Ah, my brother," replied the queen, “you are worthy of
being the brother of the best of kings, for you vie with him
in every virtue. Prussia cannot be crushed so long as such
princes stand by her side.”

“And so long as she is protected by such a queen,” said the
prince, kissing the offered hand of his sister-in-law. He
then turned again to the minister. “ Your excellency,” he
said, “I am commissioned to reveal the same resolution to
you in the name of my brother. Prince Henry also gives one-
third of his income, and requests the minister of finance to
pay this amount into the state treasury. Is this verbal dec-
laration sufficient, or will it be necessary for us to repeat it
in writing?”

“Tt will be necessary for your royal highness, as well as for
Prince Henry, to make a written declaration to this effect,
and hand it to the minister of state. It will then be de-
posited in the archives of the royal house, and will one day be
asplendid monument of your patriotism.”

“Tn that case, a declaration in writing being required, I re-
quest you to be so kind as to accompany me to my house.
We will settle the matter at once, and invite Prince Henry to
participate in the transaction. Can you spare us fifteen, min-
utes, and will you accept a seat in my carriage?”

“Tam at the service of your royal highness,” said Stein,
bowing.

“Then I beg my sister to dismiss us,” said the prince, ap-
320 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

proaching the queen. “I have many things yet to attend to,
so that every minute is precious, and, above all, I have to in-
form my wife of my speedy departure. Juet me beg you, my
sister, to be a faithful friend of Marianne in my absence;
take my beloved wife under your protection, and, when, she is
afflicted, permit her to be near you.”

“We shall weep together, my brother,” said the queen,
deeply moved. “ All of us will miss you, and it will seem as
though life had become drearier when you are absent. But,
considering your generous resolution, it does not behoove me
to complain of our fate. Joyfully, as you have done, we shall
submit to it. Jentertain the firm belief that there are bet-
ter days for Prussia. Go, my brother, and assist in hastening
them by word and deed. God will protect you, and the love
of your wife, and of your brothers and sisters, will accompany
you! Farewell!” She waved her hand, and turned away to
conceal her tears.

The prince withdrew in silence, followed by the minister.
The queen heard the door close after him, and, raising her
arms toward heaven, exclaimed in a fervent tone: “ My God,
protect Prussia! Oh, bless our country and our people!”
She stood thus praying, with uplifted arms.

After a pause, she murmured, “ Now it is time to attend to
my business with the jeweller. The king is in his cabinet,
and never comes at this hour.” Having rung the bell, she
ordered the footman to request the court-jeweller to call at
once on the queen. Going to her dressing-room, she took
from the table a large leathern box containing all her jewelry.
She succeeded with difficulty in carrying the heavy box into
the reception-room, but she thought, smilingly: “The heavier
it is, the better.” Opening the caskets, the brilliant orna-
ments gladdened her more than they had ever done. The
table was covered with them, and she contemplated their
beauty and value “Ah!” she exclaimed, “I did not know
that I was so rich. These precious stones will certainly bring
money enough to pay all arrears, and there will be something
over for my children.”

At this moment the door of the anteroom opened, and the
footman announced Mr. Marcus, the court-jeweller. The
queen ordered him to be admitted, adding, that no one else
was to be announced while he was present. She then locked
the opposite door leading into the small corridor, and thence
to the rooms of the king. In the mean time the jeweller had
a

PRINCE WILLIAM. 321

entered; he remained respectfully at the door, and waited for
the queen to accost him.

“Mr. Marcus,” said Louisa, gracefully acknowledging his
bow, “I sent for you to confer about my jewelry. I should
like to make some changes in it; and then, as we cannot tell
whither these stormy times may drive us or our property, I
wish to make an invoice of these articles, and ascertain their
cash value. Please step to the table, and be kind enough to
tell me how much all this is worth.”

Mr. Marcus approached and carefully examined the mag-
nificent array before him. “These are real treasures, your
majesty,” he said, admiringly; “several pieces among them
are exceedingly rich.”

“Yes,” exclaimed the queen, “I suppose one could get a
great deal of money for them?”

“Your majesty,” said Mr. Marcus, shrugging his shoulders,
“it needs much money—in fact, an enormous fortune, to buy
them. Part of their value consists in their artistic setting.”

“Ah, I understand; you mean to say that, if they were to
be sold now, one would not get as much as was paid for them.”

“Not half as much, your majesty! The intrinsic value is
very different from the cost, which depends much on the
setting.”

“ Pray tell me, then, their intrinsic value.”

“Your majesty, to do so correctly, it would be necessary
for me to examine every piece.”

“Do so, Mr. Marcus. I will take my memorandum-book
and enter each one, affixing the price. Afterward we can
ascertain the whole amount.”

The jeweller looked in surprise at the queen; she apparently
did not notice it, but pointed with the lead-pencil, which she
had in her hand, at one of the caskets. ‘There is my large
diamond necklace; what do you think that is worth, sir?”

The jeweller took up the necklace, twinkling as a cluster of
stars. ‘These diamonds are magnificent,” he said; “they
are only a little yellow, and here and there is a slight defect.
I think, however, that the stones, without the setting, are
worth five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand dollars,” wrote the queen. “Now, the
necklace of rubies and diamonds.”’

“These Turkish rubies belong to that very rare kind to be
met with only in royal treasuries,” said the jeweller. “They
are antiaue, and look like sparkling blood. Their value is
B22 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

immense, your majesty; only a connoisseur would be able to
appreciate them, and it is difficult to appraise them but by
the standard value of other Turkish rubies. A jeweller
might, however, receive twice as much as ] name—four thou-
sand dollars, according to the ordinary standard.”

“Four thousand dollars,” wrote the queen; “now, the next.”

“Here,” he said, “is a complete set of the most beautiful
round pearls: a diadem, a necklace, earrings, and bracelets,”
taking up a large case which had not been opened, and rais-
ing its lid. ;

“No,” said the queen, blushing, “we will not appraise
these pearls. I have inherited them from my lamented
mother, and they are therefore of priceless value to me.”
Ske extended her hand and laid the casket on the table at her
side. “ Now tell me the value of the other articles; take that
necklace of Indian emeralds—”’

Half an hour afterward the list was completed. “ Thirty
thousand dollars,” said the queen; “that, then, is the full
value of my jewelry?”

“Yes, your majesty, but its cost must have been several
hundred thousand dollars. I have stated only the imperish-
able value of the stones; it is impossible to appraise the
setting.”

“Well, just now I care only for the cash equivalent,” said
the queen, quickly. “And now, sir, listen to me. When
I was requested to procure you the appointment of jeweller
to the court, I made inquiries concerning your character, and
heard nothing but the most flattering opinions. You are
known as an honorable man in whom all may repose con-
fidence. I will prove to you the high value I attach to public
opinion, and I rely on you to keep secret what I am about to
tell you.”

“TI swear by all that is sacred that what your majesty is
gracious enough to reveal shall remain buried in my heart as
a precious gem in the depths of the sea.”

“T believe you,” said the queen. “I want to sell all these
diamonds, emeralds, and rubies—every thing, except my
pearls.”’

“Sell them!” exclaimed Mr. Marcus, starting back and
turning pale. “Oh, no, pardon me, your majesty, I have
misunderstood you. My hearing is a little impaired. I beg
pardon for my mistake, and request your majesty to be kind
enough to repeat your orders.”
PRINCE WILLIAM. 823

“You did not mistake my words,” said the queen, kindly.
“J do want to sell them.”

“Has it come to this,” said the jeweller, sighing, “that
our noble and beautiful queen is unwilling to wear again her
accustomed ornaments; and that she considers it no longer
worth while to be seen by her poor, unhappy people in the
splendor of a queen?” Sobs choked his voice, and, unable to
nue his tears, he turned away and covered his face with his

ands.

“Tt has come to that, sir, that the queen will also take part
in the privations of her country; that she will have no other
diamonds than the grateful tears of her loyal people, and that
she believes herself sufficiently adorned when at the side of
her husband, and surrounded by her children. I thank you
for your sympathy, for they prove your honest disposition
toward me. But believe me, I need no pity. If every good
man has peace in his own heart, he will have cause to rejoice.
And now, sir, let us talk calmly about this matter.”

“T am ready to receive the orders of your majesty,” said
Mr. Marcus, making an effort to regain his composure, “and
entreat my august queen to forgive me that my feelings over-
came me in her presence. But now I must examine the
jewels more carefully than before. Believing that they were
merely to be invoiced without reference to their sale, I stated
only their lowest value. I am sure better prices might be
obtained for them, and, besides, it remains for me to ascer-
tain the value of the gold setting by weighing it.”

“Oh, no,” said the queen, smiling. “ Let us not enter into
such minute details. Besides, the purchaser ought to have
something for his trouble, and for the risk of being unable to
sell again. We will, therefore, let your first appraisement
stand as it is. The question is, whether you know of any one
who is willing to pay so large a sum in cash.”

The jeweller reflected a moment. “Well,” he said, “I
know an opportunity to dispose of them immediately. If
your majesty permits me to do so, I will purchase them my-
self. The Emperor Alexander of Russia, during his late
sojourn at this place, gave me a large order in reference to a
wedding-gift for the betrothed of the Grand-duke Constan-
tine. I have received bills of exchange, drawn on the
wealthiest banking-houses of St. Petersburg, and the emperor
has authorized me to send in at once precious stones to the
amount of fifty thousand dollars. Iam able to pay you half
324 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the appraised value to-day, and for the other half I will give
you bills, drawn on St. Petersburg bankers, payable in two
weeks. But I repeat to your majesty that I have appraised
the stones at a very low rate, and that I shall make large
profits, and realize at least four thousand dollars. Your maj-
esty ought to permit me to add the value of the setting.”

“T told you already that we ought not to add any thing to
the first appraisement. Well, the bargain is made,” said the
queen, gently. “Bring me the money and the bills of ex-
change, and you may then take the jewelry. Let us say I
have intrusted it to you to make some alterations in it.”

An hour afterward, the caskets disappeared from the
queen’s table; in their place stood a box filled with rolls of
gold-pieces, and the bills of exchange lay at its side. The
queen, placing a few of the rolls in her desk and the bills in
the box, hastened to write the following letter to Baron von
Stein:

“TJ request you to grant me the same favor which the prince
obtained from you. I desire likewise to pay some savings into
the state treasury, and send you, therefore, twenty-five thou-
sand dollars with this letter. Pray do not forget to pay, in
accordance with our agreement, the arrears of salaries due the
men of science and art, and the faithful old servants of the
king. Lovisa.”

“Oh,” said the queen, laying aside the pen, and looking up
with a grateful expression, “how many worthy men will be
delivered from distress by this unexpected payment! What
fervent prayers for their king will ascend to heaven! Merci-
ful God, hear them, and let my husband and children be
again happy; then I shall have nothing more to desire on
earth!”

In the evening of the same day Prince William, accom-
panied only by an adjutant and a footman, set out for Paris
in order to deliver to the Emperor Napoleon the financial
plan drawn up by Minister von Stein, and the letter of Queen
Louisa, and to try to induce Napoleon by verbal remonstrances
to withdraw his demands, and accept less ruinous conditions.
Before entering his travelling-coach, the prince, in his cab-
inet, bade farewell to her whom he loved so passionately.
They remained long without uttering a word or even a sigh.
The beautiful face of the Princess Marianne was pale, but
her tearless eyes beamed with hope. “Go, my beloved hus-
band,” she said, disengaging herself at last from the arms of
PRINCE WILLIAM. 325

the prince, “go and perform your noble sacrifice! My love
will accompany you. Your life is my life, and your death
my death! Go! I fear nothing.”

“ But at this solemn hour I must communicate a secret to
you, Marianne,” said the prince, “and ask your consent to a
resolution that I have taken. Should all my efforts be of no
avail—should Napoleon be induced neither by Stein’s plan
nor by the queen’s letter, nor by my own solicitations, to con-
sent to the proposed mode of liquidation, owing to his belief
that he would not have sufficient security for the payment of
the contributions, then, Marianne, a last remedy would re-
main, and I would assuredly not shrink from it. In that
case I shall offer myself as a hostage. I shall tell him that
I must remain his prisoner, and allow myself to be trans-
ported to If, to Cayenne, or where he pleases, until the king
has made all the promised payments. This will prove to him
that I myself feel convinced that these will be made. He
may be sure the king’s brother will be redeemed. Tell me
now, Marianne, do you approve my resolution?”

The princess laid her hand on the head of her husband.
“You offer to surrender not only yourself but both of us,” she
said. “ Both of us, William, for I want to be where you are.
I will also share your devotion to Prussia. You may offer
both of us as hostages to the emperor. I shall be happy when
with you, whether in a dungeon or in a palace. ‘The love
uniting us will sustain us even then, and, when our captivity
is over, we will return happy to our beloved country. But
if it be otherwise—if circumstances occur delaying the pay-
ments, and calling down upon you the wrath of the conqueror
—if he then desire to take revenge upon you—oh, then, I
shall know how to find a way to his heart so that he will per-
mit me to die with you. We are alone; our children are
dead, and, therefore, we are at liberty to pursue such a course.
Oh, William, then we shall be happy forever! Go, my be-
loved husband! and when the hour comes, call me to your
side. Let us live, and, if need be, die for the fatherland!
Let it be inscribed on our coffin: ‘They have done their
duty. The fatherland is content with them!’” *

*Prince William really carried out this resolution. He found at his first inter-
view that Napoleon was by no means triendly toward Prussia, and particularly toward
King Frederick William. Carried away by his enthusiasm and generosity, the prince
took at this audience the step which he had intended to reserve if all else should
prove unavailing. He offered himself and his wife as hostages to the emperor, and
entreated him to permit them to remain in French captivity until the payments
were made. Napoleon listened to him, and while he was speaking the countenance
3826 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA.

THE queen was alone in her room. She sat on the sofa,
and a dress of heavy silk, interwoven with flowers, lay spread
out on the table before her. She turned over the dress, as if
carefully examining it. “Sure enough, there it is!” she sud-
denly exclaimed. “Now, quick to work!” She hastened to
her table, on which was to be seen a beautiful silk embroidery
just finished by the queen. Among the threads she selected
one that was of the same color as the dress, and hastily
threaded her needle. ‘‘ Now I will finish my work before any
one surprises me,” whispered Louisa. She was so assiduously
employed that she did not notice that the opposite door,
softly opening, had admitted the king. He stood still fora
moment and looked at the queen. Advancing, he asked,
frowningly, “ What are you doing, Louisa?”

The queen uttered a cry, and a deep blush suffused her
cheeks. Pushing aside the table and the dress, she rose from
the sofa and went to salute her husband. “Welcome, dear-
est!” she said, lovingly clinging to him; “you knew that it
was cold and lonely here, and you come to gladden me.
Thanks, my Frederick, thanks and welcome! I feel as
though you were given to me anew, and I greet you every
morning as with the young heart of a bride.” She laid her
beautiful head on his shoulder, and her delicate hand played
with his hair.

But the king did not return her caresses, and his eyes,
which usually looked so lovingly at his wife, were directed to
the dress on the table. “ You have not yet replied to me,
Louisa,” he exclaimed.

“Replied to what?” she asked, raising her head from his
shoulder, and calmly looking at him.

“You know it,’’ said the king—“ to my question.”

“To your question? And what did you ask?” replied the
queen. “ You asked me whether I loved you and had already

of the emperor gradually became milder. He approached the prince, embraced
him affectionntely, and exclaimed, ‘‘That is very generous, but it is impossible.
Never would I accept such a sacrifice—never !" For the rest, the mission of the
pone was an utter failure. Napoleon referred him to Minister Champagny, who,
oy all sorts of subterfuges, managed to protract and finally to break off the nego-
tiations. The prince was detained several months in Paris, and returned, without
having accomplished any thing, to Kinigsberg, whither the royal family had removed
in the mean time.
THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA. 327

thought of you this morning. Yes, my king and husband,
you are the object of all my thoughts, and I think of you with
every pulsation of my heart. And do you know what just
occurred to me, and what I am going to propose to you? It
is a fine winter-day, and the snow is sparkling in the sun.
We have half an hour until dinner. Let us improve it and
take a walk. Let us go to our two princes, who are skating
with their instructor. Tell me, my friend, shall we do so?”

The king shook his head gloomily. “ You wish to divert
me from my question,” he said, ‘‘ which proves that you have
heard it. Iwill repeat it. What were you doing with that
dress when I entered?”

The queen hung her head in evident embarrassment, and
her face assumed a melancholy air. ‘‘ You insist on a reply,
my husband?” she asked. ‘I hoped you would notice my
confusion, and generously desist.”

“T must know every thing that happens to you,” said the
king; “I must know the fuil extent of our misfortunes, that
I may not be deceived by any illusions. Tell me, therefore,
what were you doing?”

“Well, then, my husband, I will tell you,” said the queen,
resolutely. “I like the dress, not because it is made of very
costly and beautiful materials, but you yourself selected it
for me. You know that we give a party to-morrow to cele-
brate the birthday of the crown prince, and I wished to wear
that dress. Now, I knew what no one else knew, that the
last time I wore it I had torn it bya nail in the wall, on
crossing the corridor. If I had informed my maid of this
mishap, I should have been unable to wear it again, for cus-
tom, I believe, forbids queens to wear mended dresses. I was,
however, bent on saving it. For this purpose I took it
stealthily from my wardrobe to mend the small hole as rapidly
as possible, while my lady of honor was taking a ride, and my
maid was at dinner. I had just finished when you entered,
and if you had come a few minutes later the dress would have
disappeared, and no one would suspect to-morrow that my
rich attire had been mended. Now, you know my secret, and
I entreat you to keep it and allude to it no more. But you
must also reply to me: shall we take a walk?”

The king made no answer, but gazed at her with melan-
choly tenderness. “You do this, Louisa, because you shrink
from the expense of buying a new dress,” he said. “Oh, do
not deny it; do not try to deceive me. I know it to be true.”
328 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ And suppose it were true?” asked the queen, gently, draw-
ing her head from his hands. “ Will you be sad because I do
in these times what all our subjects are obliged to do—be-
cause I try to be a little economical?”

“The Queen of Prussia, my consort,” exclaimed the king,
‘is compelled to mend her own dresses! Is the cup of dis-
grace and humiliation not yet full!”

“And why do you speak of disgrace?” asked the queen,
laying her hands on the shoulders of her husband, and look-
ing tenderly in his face. “Why do you say I humble myself
by mending my dress? I only followed the example of your
noble ancestor, Frederick II. Did not the great king also
mend and patch his clothes? Did he not repair with sealing-
wax his scabbard, because he did not want to buy a new one?
Well, I believe little Louisa will be allowed to do as the great
Frederick did, and need not be ashamed of it. On the con-
trary, my husband, when I sat there sewing, my heart was
glad, for the memories of my early years revived in my mind:
I saw myself at the side of my venerable grandmother, the
Landgravine of Hesse-Darmstadt, and I lived again in those
sunny days that I spent with her in Hanover. My grand-
mother taught me how to mend, and I frequently profited by
the skill I had acquired with her. For you married the
daughter of a poor prince, who was not a sovereign at that
time, but only a younger brother, and the Queen of Prussia
does not blush to confess that when she was yet a princess of
Mecklenburg, she not only mended her dresses but even
trimmed her shoes with her own hands. It is no jest, my
king and husband, I really often did so, and I never felt
humiliated. Never did I consider it a disgrace to do some-
times what thousands of the most virtuous and amiable women
are always doing. When I used to sew my shoes, I was poor,
for I did not yet know you; but now, although I have re-
paired my dress, I am rich, for I have you—I have my chil-
dren—I am the wife of a man who suffers because he values
his honor higher than worldly greatness—who would perish
rather than break an alliance he has sworn to, and refuses to
give his neck to the tyrant’s yoke. Oh, my husband, when I
look at you, my soul is transported with gladness, and I thank
God that I am allowed to love you. Since you are mine I feel
happy, rich, and powerful.”

She placed her beautiful arms around the king, who pressed
her against his breast. “Thanks, my Louisa! thanks for
THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA. 329

your joyful love. Your eyes gladden my life, and your voice
is the only music that can lull my grief. That is the reason
I come to you now. I seek here consolation in my affliction,
for when you help me to bear the burden, it is less oppressive.
I have received two letters to-day which gave me pain, and
which I desire to communicate to you.”

“I shall be grateful to you, my husband, for doing so,” said
the queen. “Come, let us sit down together, and commu-
nicate the letters to me. Who wrote them? Whence did they
come?”

“One is ffom Kénigsberg, from our daughter Charlotte.”

“From Charlotte!” exclaimed the queen, starting. ‘Has
any thing huppened to her? Has she been taken ill?”

“No, she is well, and nothing has happened to her. She
is, on the contrary, in excellent spirits, and, like all young
girls, wishes to dress well. She writes to me, asking me to
send her money that she may renew her winter wardrobe.
Here is the letter.”

The queen quickly glanced over it.. “Oh, the dear, good
child,” she exclaimed, “how tenderly she loves us—how
prettily and affectionately she gives expression to her feelings!
And yet she often appears outwardly cold and indifferent.—
She resembles her noble father: she does not wear her heart
on her tongue, but it throbs lovingly in her bosom. She is
seemingly reserved and haughty, but she is affectionate. If
God permits her to live I anticipate a brilliant future for
her.” *

“A brilliant future!” echoed the king; “for my daughter
—for the daughter of a king without a kingdom—of a man
who is so poor as to be unable to gratify her just and modest
wishes! She asks for money to replenish her winter ward-
robe. Now, do you know what I have written to her? I
have sent her five dollars, and given her at the same time the
wretched consolation to be content with that sum, for it was
all I could spare.”

, “ Well,” said the queen, with a gentle smile, ‘at all events,
five dollars will enable her to buy a warm winter dress, and by
and by our finances will improve.”

“TI do not see any such prospect,” exclaimed the king, ve-
hemently. “All our resources are exhausted; all the public
funds are gone, and even your generosity will be unable to

*The very words of the queen.—Vide ‘ Queen Louisa,” p. 302, This prophecy
was fulfilled, for the Princess Charlotte afterward married the Emperor of Russia.

22
330 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

create new ones. My noble queen, in generous self-denial,
sacrifices her jewels in order to gladden and comfort others,
and to lay her own contribution on the altar of her country.
She did not think of herself in doing so.”

“Yes, I did,” said the queen, smiling, “I did think of my-
self. I reserved five thousand dollars, and with that sum all
the bills we owed—all our debts for the household, for the
stable, and the servants, have been paid. But you intended
communicating two letters tome. What about the second?”

“The second,” said the king, mournfully, “is a farewell
from my faithful subjects in the province of Mark, whom,
alas! with a heavy heart, I have absolved from their oath of
allegiance, and ordered to serve another sovereign, and to obey
the new King of Westphalia. JI am not ashamed of confess-
ing it, Louisa, I wept on writing to them, and on reading
their reply. There itis. Readitaloud. It will do me good
to hear again these touching words.”

The queen unfolded the large letter, to which several official
seals were attached, and read in a tremulous voice:

“Our heart was rent when we read your farewell letter,
good king. We cannot believe even now that we, who always
loved you so affectionately, are to cease being your subjects.
As sure as we live, it was neither your fault, nor ours, that
your generals and ministers were too confused after the defeat
of Jena to march the dispersed divisions of the. army to us,
and to lead them, united with our whole people, into a strug-
gle-which, with the blessing of God, would have been suc-
cessful. We would have willingly risked our lives, for you
must not doubt that the blood of the ancient Cheruscians is
still flowing in our veins; that we are proud of calling Her-
mann and Wittekind countrymen of ours, and of knowing
that on our soil was that field of battle where our ancestors
defeated their enemies in so decisive a manner that they never
fought again. We also would assuredly have saved the father-
land, for we have, we believe, marrow in our bones, and re-
main uncorrupted by modern luxury and effeminacy. But no
one can escape the decrees of Providence. Oh, farewell, then,
our father and king! Heaven grant you more faithful gener-
als and more sagacious ministers for the remainder of your
states! You are not omniscient, and you were sometimes
obliged to follow them into blind paths. Unfortunately, we
must also submit to what cannot be helped. God help us!
We trust our new sovereign will be a father to us, and honor
THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA. 331

and respect our language and customs, our faith and rights,
as poe Evers did, dear and beloved king! Health, joy, and
peace!

“And you call us poor and disgraced when such hearts are
throbbing for us,” exclaimed the queen, with radiant eyes.
“No, we are rich, for our subjects love us, and even when
compelled to part with you, they send you their love-greet-
ings!”

“But I cannot reward their love; I have no means of show-
ing how my heart appreciates it,” exclaimed the king, mourn-
fully. “Oh, Louisa, I am a poor, wretched man; my heart
is desponding, and even your cheering words are unable to
console it. Wherever I look, whatever plans I form, I see
nowhere a prospect of change for the better. My country is
occupied by hordes of foreign soldiers. My subjects, exposed
to the overbearing and avarice of the French, who think they
are sovereign rulers of my states, are vainly praying to their
king to come to their assistance. Their courage is exhausted ;
their strength gone; commerce is prostrated; manufacturers
and mechanics are idle; the farmers have no seed-corn, nor
courage to cultivate their fields, for they know that they will
be robbed of the fruits of their labor. Our soldiers walk abort
with bowed heads, and scarcely dare to wear their uniforms,
for they remind them of Jena and Auerstadt, of the capitula-
tion of Prenzlau, of the surrender of so many fortresses, and,
like myself, they wish they had been buried on the battle-field
of Jena. Want, misery, and suffering are everywhere, and I
am unable to help! I must still permit the enemy to inun-
date my states, although it was expressly stipulated by the
treaty of Tilsit that the French army was to evacuate Prussia
in the course of two months. I must also permit the Em-
peror Napoleon (though after the conclusion of peace, and
contrary to the treaty) to take New Silesia, and add her to
the kingdom of Warsaw; to transform the two leagues of the
new territory of Dantzic into two German miles, and, without
even asking my consent, to deprive me of my property. But
I am determined to suffer this injustice and humiliation no
longer, and to make the last sacrifice.”

“What are you going to do, my husband?” exclaimed the
queen, laying her hand with an anxious gesture on the arm of
her husband. “ What sacrifice ?’’

“Myself!” said the king, gloomily, “for it is I alone who
bring misfortune on my people. A sinister fatality pursues
O32 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

me, and has pursued me from my earliest youth. Only one
star ever rose on my troubled firmament, and that was you,
Louisa. But it will not set, even though I carry out my pur-
pose. In solitude and sorrow it will still shine hopefully
upon me. My childhood was wretched, and embittered by
long-continued sufferings; while I was crown prince, I had to
submit to the affliction of not possessing the heart of my
father, and of being unable to approve his actions. I was so
unfortunate as to be compelled to begin the first day of my
reign with a demonstration against his course by having the
woman arrested whom he had loved so long and ardently, and
to whom the final wishes and thoughts of the dying sovereign
had been devoted. Itis his spirit, perhaps, that now brings
all these calamities upon me. But my people shall not
suffer; I will deliver them from the fatal influences attach-
ing them to me, and in order to conciliate my fate I will
voluntarily lay down my crown.”

“Never! my husband, never shall you do so,” exclaimed
the queen in great excitement. “Never shall my noble and
brave king declare that his spirit is crushed and vanquished.
Majesty would thereby render itself guilty of suicide. For
majesty, like life, is a boon sent by Providence, and youare no
more allowed to divest yourself of it arbitrarily than to put a
voluntary end to your life. And, least of all, are you per-
mitted to do so in times of adversity and danger, for such a
course would look like cowardice with which my king and
husband assuredly cannot be charged. Charles V. and Chris-
tina of Sweden were at liberty to abdicate, for when they did
so they were at the acme of their power, and yet they ever
repented of it; they felt that all nations were scornfully ex-
claiming: ‘Behold the faithless, suicidal servant of God!
Behold the stigma on that anointed brow! The crown sanc-
tifies the head that wearsit. But that coward has dishonored
himself, and the glory that God gave him.’ Oh, my beloved
husband, the nations must never speak in this manner of you;
the annals of history must never report that you deserted your
people when they were oppressed, and that, in order to obtain
peace and safety for yourself, you gave up your country, and
cast away yourcrown. It is true, fortune is imposing grievous
burdens on us; but at such a time it behooves a true man to
meet adversity with a bold front.”

“Ah, if I were possessed of your unwavering faith and
cheerfulness!” said the king, profoundly sighing. “But my
THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA. 333

hope is gone; our misfortunes have crushed out not my cour-
age but my belief in a better future.”

“ And yet they were necessary that we might one day obtain
real happiness,” said Louisa. “Oh, I begin to perceive dis-
tinctly that the events which have afflicted us will redound to
our own welfare. Providence is evidently introducing a new
era, because the old one has outlived itself. We fell asleep
on the laurels of Frederick the Great, who was the master-
spirit of another century; we did not progress with the times,
and they outstripped us.”

“There must be many changes, I am satisfied, in our ad-
ministration,’’ said the king, thoughtfully. ‘‘ The army must
be reorganized, and those who in the hour of danger are cow-
ards must be judged with inexorable severity. Alas! all this
will be in vain; I succeed in accomplishing nothing; all my
measures turn out to my detriment, and to the advantage of
our enemy.”

“Tt is true,” said the queen, sighing, “he has much suc-
cess. Even our most deliberate plans are fruitless. Though
the Russians and Prussians fight like lions, and are not de-
feated, they are obliged to evacuate the field of battle, and
the French emperor claims a victory. Nevertheless, it would
be blasphemous to say that God was on his side; he is an in-
strument of Providence in order to bury that in which life is
extinct, but which still clings to that destined to live. We
may derive lessons from him, and what he has accomplished
ought not to be lost to us. Oh, I firmly believe in Provi-
dence, and a great moral system ruling the world. I cannot
see it, however, in the brutal reign of force, and hence I believe
that these times will be succeeded by more prosperous ones.
All good men hope for them, and the eulogists of the hero of
this day must not mislead us. All that has happened is not
the ultimate order of things; it is a severe yet salutary prep-
aration for a new and better destiny. We must not delude
ourselves, my beloved friend, with the idea that this is remote;
in spite of all obstacles, we must strive to reach it with
strength, courage, and cheerfulness. With the merciful as-
sistance of Providence, we must continue to battle for our
honor and our rights!”

“Yes, be it so!” exclaimed the king, “ God is with me, for
He has placed you at my side; He has given me an angel who
fills my heart with that courage which is based on faith in
Him. Oh, forgive my timidity and despondency; I pledge
334 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

you my word I will meet the future with a strong heart.’
Only remain with me, my dearest Louisa; look at me with
your cheering eyes, and inspire my heart with hope. When-
ever I falter, remind me of this hour in which I vowed to you
to struggle to the last.”

“Thanks, my king and husband!” exclaimed the queen;
‘whatever may happen, let us meet it, united in love, hope,
and faith in God!”

“ Yes,” said the king; “adversity itself is not devoid of ex-
alted moments, and you, my Louisa, have become dearer to me
in these days. I know now by experience what a treasure you
are tome. Let the storm rage outside, if all is calm within.”

“It is my pride and happiness to possess the love of the
best of men,” said the queen; “and though we leave no in-
heritance to our children, we shall leave them at least the ex-
ample of our wedded life; let them learn from it to be happy
in themselves.”

“ Madame la Reine est servie!” shouted a merry voice be-
hind them; and when the queen turned, she saw her son,
Crown-Prince Frederick William, who approached her with
rosy cheeks and laughing eyes. “ Pardon me, dearest parents,
for venturing to enter the room without your permission, but
I longed to salute you, and therefore assumed the duty of the
steward, who was about to announce that dinner is ready.”

‘And I suppose my son found this announcement exceed-
ingly interesting, and longed just as much for his dinner as
for his parents,’ exclaimed the queen, smiling and looking
with beaming eyes at her favorite son.

“Oh, no, no,” said the crown prince, laughing, “I thought
first of my beloved parents, but then—yes, I confess the idea
of getting my dinner is very agreeable, considering that I
have been on the ice for several hours.”’

“Well, my husband,” asked the queen, merrily, “shall we
comply with the wishes of the young epicure? Shall we per-
mit him to conduct us to the dining-room?”

“Yes, certainly,” said the king, offering his arm to his
wife. “Lead the way, M. Steward!” The crown prince as-
sumed a grave air, and, after bowing to his parents in the
reverential manner of a royal steward, he preceded them with
ludicrous strides, and commenced singing in a ringing voice:
“ Immer langsam voran, dass die oesterreichsche landwehr nach-
kommen kann.” *

*«“ Always slowly forward, that the Austrian landwehr may be able to follow "—
a well-known humorous song, ridiculing the slowness of the Austrian militia,
A FAMILY DINNER. 335

The king laughed more heartily than he had done for many
weeks, while the queen looked lovingly at her son who had
performed this miracle.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A FAMILY DINNER.

In the dining-room was William, the younger prince, who
hastened to his parents, and returned the tender salutation
of his beautiful mother by covering her hand with kisses.
There were no guests at the royal table; the king preferred to
dine en famille, and for several days the queen had ordered
the ladies and gentlemen of the ,court to dine by themselves,
and only with the royal family when company was not dis-
tasteful to her husband. The king looked with a smile of
content at the small table, on which he noticed only four
covers, and, conducting his wife to her seat, he said, with a
grateful glance, “ You have anticipated my most secret wishes,
Louisa; I like, above all, to dine alone with my family.
Guests and strange faces always bring etiquette with them,
and that renders our repasts formal and unpleasant. Thanks,
Louisa!”

It was a very frugal meal, hardly suitable to a royal dinner-
table. Frederick William and the queen, however, contentedly
partook of the plain, wholesome food; and, gayly chatting,
they did not seem to notice that the dinner was served up in
common china dishes, and that the plates before them were of
the same cheap material. Prince William ate with the ap-
petite of a healthy little boy; the crown prince, however, who
was twelve years old, did not seem to relish his food. He had
disposed of his soup, although he thought it weak and not
well flavored, supposing the other courses would be more to
his taste. But when it was succeeded by roast meat and cab-
bage, he made a wry face, and handled his fork very daintily.

“T suppose you do not like cabbage?’’ asked the king, who
had noticed the reluctant appetite of the crown prince.

“No, your majesty,” said the prince, smiling, “there are
dishes that I like better, although I know it to be a very re-
spectable one, with which the French just now are made
acquainted. I will leave the shucrout* to them, and console

* French pronunciation of sour-crout.
336 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

myself in the mean time with thinking of two things—of the
entremets now, and of my birthday to-morrow.” _

“T suppose you entertain a good many wishes in regard to
your birthday?” asked the king, putting more cabbage on his
own plate. “Tell me, Fred, what is it you wish?”

“ Aboveall, that my gracious father and my dear mother may
continue to love me,” said the crown prince, glancing at the
queen, who nodded to him. “But, besides, I have a few
other wishes. In the first place, I would like to have a nice
horse with handsome new saddle and bridle, and I would like
to be allowed to take frequent rides with my parents, but
always at a gallop—at a full gallop!”

“ But, Fred, that would be bad for you, considering that you
are not yet a skilful horseman,” exclaimed the queen, laughing.

“Well, then,” said the prince, gravely, “I wish for another
birthday present, that I may become a skilful horseman with-
out learning, for that is a very unpleasant and slow affair, as
I found it out again to-day, when, in skating, I wanted to
imitate my teacher in describing a circle on the ice, and only
succeeded in falling on my nose!”

“Every thing in the world has to be learned,” said the
king, “and although you may at first fall, you learn thereby
to stand the firmer afterward, and to keep your head erect.
But have you told us all your birthday wishes, or are there
any more?”

“Oh, there are a great many yet, your majesty,” exclaimed
the prince, laughing. “If I could sow all my great and
small wishes, like the dragon’s teeth of Cadmus, I would be
at the head of a very pretty regiment of soldiers to-morrow.”

“It is strange how many desires young folks have now-
adays,” said the king, thoughtfully. “That boy, although he
is but twelve years old, wishes to have a saddle-horse as a
birthday present, and in times so hard as these! When I was
as old as you, there were golden times in Prussia, and yet I did
not receive many presents on my birthday. Sometimes I had
to be content with nothing but a small flower-pot, worth a few
shillings, and if my instructor wished to be particularly kind
to me he took me to a public garden, and treated me to one,
or, at the best, two silver groschens’ worth of cherries.”

“Oh,” said the queen, with tearful eyes, “it makes my
heart ache when I think of the cheerless youth of your good
and noble father, and of the sufferings he had to undergo
under his harsh instructor.”
A FAMILY DINNER. 337

“Tt is true, Counsellor Benisch was a rigorous and harsh
man,” said the king; “he treated me very roughly, often
wreaked his ill-humor upon me, and thought he ought to rob
me entirely of my youthful pleasures. He did not do so be-
cause he was a bad man, but because he believed it to be the
best system of education. And then it produced good fruits.
I learned early to bear disagreeable things, and uncomplain-
ingly to do without agreeable ones; thus I succeeded in sub-
mitting to a great deal that seemed intolerably burdensome to
others. When I was a boy, it was a holiday for me, for in-
stance, when the entremets at dinner consisted of omelet,
while I see that our Prince Fred is no better satisfied with
that than with the cabbage.”’

“Your majesty is right; I do not like either,” said the
crown prince, “and it was in vain that I consoled myself with
the hope that there was something more to my taste.”

“What?” exclaimed the queen, smiling. ‘“ You do not like
omelet? If you are a true son of mine, it must become a fa-
vorite dish, for when I was your age, I greatly liked it; and if
you will now eat a good plate of it, I will tell you a story
about omelet and salad.”

“Oh, mamma, just see, I have liberally supplied my plate;
Iam, therefore, entitled to the story,” exclaimed the crown

rince.
ra I will tell the story if the king will permit me,” said the
queen, looking at her husband.

“The king requests you to do so,” said Frederick William,
nodding pleasantly. “I wish to hear your story, Louisa; you
always know new and very pretty ones; your memory is really
a little treasury!”

“It is not a very interesting story, after all,” said the
queen, thoughtfully, “except to myself as a youthful reminis-
cence.—I had gone with my father and my brother George to
Frankfort-on-the-Main to witness the coronation of the Em-
peror Leopold. JI remember but little of the festivities, for
at that time I was only fourteen years old, and the pompous
ceremonies, together with the deafening shouts of the popu-
lace (who cheered the roast ox, larded with rabbits, no less
enthusiastically than the German emperor), were indescrib-
ably tedious to me.”

“Dear mamma,” exclaimed the crown prince, “possibly the
people may have taken the roast ox for the German emperor.”

“Possibly my witty son may be right,” said the queen,
338 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“and the people may have rejoiced in so boisterous a manner
because they were better pleased with the roast ox than with
the emperor himself. The ceremonies lasted too long for me,
and as all eyes were fixed on the emperor, and no one paid any
attention to the daughter of a younger son of Mecklenburg, I
softly slipped from the gallery of the princes, beckoned to my
sister Frederica, and, followed by our governess, dear Madame
Gelieux, we left the Roemer, and entered our carriage, which
made but slow headway through the dense crowd, but finally
conveyed us to a more quiet street. We intended to do hom-
age to some one else—to pay our respects to the king of litera-
ture. We desired to make a pilgrimage to the place where
the greatest poet of Germany was born, and visit the dear lady
his mother, Mde. Counsellor Goethe.

“ Our heart was transported with gladness when the carriage
halted in front of the door, and a handsome face, with dark,
brilliant eyes, appeared at the window, and nodded to us very
cordially. We were old friends and acquaintances, and,
therefore, did not beg leave to enter, but hastened directly
into the sitting-room. Madame Goethe met us with a kind
salutation, and made a sign to the servant-girl to remove the
table standing in the middle of the room. But we saw that
the dish was still filled, and that Madame Goethe, after re-
turning from the coronation, was about to take dinner.

““Madame Goethe,’ we exclaimed, ‘if you do not have your
dinner immediately served up, we shall leave at once, and will
never believe again that you are our friend, and that we are
your children, as you always call us. If you will eat, and
permit us to be present, we will remain; but if you persist in
receiving us ceremoniously as princesses, and in having the
dinner removed, we must go.’ ‘Good heavens,’ exclaimed
the good lady, in surprise, ‘I will comply with the wishes of the
little princesses, and eat if they insist on it. I am only
ashamed of my dinner to-day, for I have permitted the cook
to go to the coronation, and she has not yet returned. The
chambermaid, therefore, prepared some food for me; it is so
plain, however, that I cannot invite you tofpartake of it.’—
“Oh, we do not want to eat, but only to sit with you,’ ex-
claimed Frederica and I; we then took the arms of the old
lady and conducted her to the table. She sighed, but yielded
to our solicitations. We sat down opposite her, and Madame
Gelieux took a seat close to usin the window-niche. Madame
Goethe quickly ate her soup, and rang the bell for the servant
A FAMILY DINNER. 339

to bring the second course. When she appeared and placed
two dishes on the table, madame became greatly embarrassed.
‘That is a dinner,’ she said, ‘that ought to be ashamed of
showing its mean face in the presence of two little princesses
so beautiful, and dressed in brocade! Why, it is nothing but
an omelet and a salad.’ And she then cut off a small piece
of the omelet and put it among the green leaves of the salad.
We looked on, and the dish seemed by far more desirable to
us than the imperial ox. In spite of our brocade dresses,
we were not at all ashamed of having a strong appetite. I
looked at my sister Frederica, and she looked at me, and
then both of us looked at the omelet, and at our governess.
Finally, I was unable to resist the temptation any longer,
and said, timidly, ‘Madame- Goethe, pray let me also have
a little.’ ‘Ah, yes, dear madame,’ said my sister, ‘give us
some.’ ” ,

The two princesses interrupted the queen’s narrative by
loud laughter, and the king himself joined gayly in it.

“That was right, mamma,” exclaimed the crown prince.
“Your story has given me av excellent appetite for omelet,
and I have eaten all on my plate.”

“That is just what I intended,” said the queen, smiling.

“But what is the end of the story?’ asked the crown
prince. “Did Madame Goethe give you some? I hope she
complied with the request of the Queen of Prussia.”

“Twas not yet Queen of Prussia, my son,” said Louisa, with
a slight expression of melancholy; “but even queens beg
sometimes in vain. Then, however, I did not. The kind
old lady cheerfully consented, and it was of no avail that
Madame Gelieux admonished us not to deprive Madame
Goethe of her dinner, and not to eat at so unusual an hour.
We moved our chairs to the table; Madame Goethe laid two
covers for us, and, notwithstanding the brocade dresses, and
the coronation of the emperor, the two princesses of Mecklen-
burg commenced partaking of the omelet and salad with the
strong appetite of peasant girls. Madame Goethe looked at
us with a smile; our governess, however, frowningly. But
only after eating all before us did we look up and see the
kind countenance of Madame Goethe, and the angry air of
Madame Gelieux. The dish had greatly increased our cour-
age; instead of being afraid of the governess, we only looked
at the face of the dear old lady, and when she said, ‘Now I
wish I had some good dessert for my two little princesses,’ I
340 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

exclaimed quickly, ‘I know something that I would like to
have for dessert!’

“*T know it also!’ exclaimed sister Frederica, ‘we have
already been wishing for it for a whole week.’ ‘Well, what
is it?? asked Madame Goethe. ‘Tell me what you wish, and
I pledge you my word your wish shall be fulfilled, if it is at
all in my power.’ ‘Dear Madame Goethe,’ I exclaimed, im-
ploringly, ‘a week ago we saw your servant-girl pumping water
at the well, and we have ever since been longing to pump
water just once!’ ‘Yes, to pump water just once, but to our
heart’s content,’ begged sister Frederica. ‘You shall do so!’
exclaimed Madame Goethe, laughing merrily, ‘come, we will
go to the well in the vard; there you may pump.’ ‘No, mes-
dames, that is impossible,’ exclaimed the governess, approach-
ing in her dignity, and placing herself with outspread arms
in front of the door, ‘never shall I consent to so unseemly
« proceeding.’ ‘Unseemly!’ exclaimed Madame Goethe, in-
dignantly. ‘Why should it be unseemly for the dear little
princesses to move their arms like other children, and to draw
up the fresh spring-water? It is an innocent pleasure, and
they shall have it as sure as I am Goethe’s mother. Come, I
will conduct you to the well.’ And she walked proudly across
the room to the small door opposite. We accompanied her,
and slipped out, Madame Goethe following us. When Gelieux
exclaimed she would never permit us to pump water, and
would, if need be, use force to prevent us from doing so, Ma-
dame Goethe shouted angrily: ‘I should like to see the person
that would deprive the little princesses of such a pleasure,
which they can enjoy only at my house!’ And just as the
governess had reached the door, Madame Goethe closed and
bolted it. And we, naughty children, went to the well and
pumped water until our arms were quite weak and tired.
That is my story of the omelet and salad, and the pumping
for dessert,” said the queen, concluding her narrative, and
bowing with a sweet smile to her husband.

The king nodded pleasantly to her. “I would I were a
painter!” he said; “I should paint the scene where both of
you are sitting at the round table and eating, while Madame
Goethe is looking kindly on, and your governess with an
angry frown. It would be a pretty picture, I should think.”

“ And I, although no painter, will draw the other picture,”
exclaimed the crown prince; “oh, I see it distinctly before
me. A fine old tree ina large yard; under the tree a well,
oe geen ee =.
A FAMILY DINNER. 341

and the two princesses pumping. Madame Goethe in her old-
fashioned dress, and at the open window of the side-building
the angry face of the governess. Oh, as his majesty says, it
will certainly be a pretty picture, and if my mother will
graciously permit, I shall present it to her as a proof of my
gratitude for her beautiful story.”

“Dear, dear mamma,” exclaimed Prince William, “if you
know another story about an omelet, pray tell it to us, and I
will then also try to paint the scene for you like Fred.”

“See, Louisa, what you have done,” said the king, laugh-
ing. “They are anxious to hear your stories, and will, per-
haps, become great painters, if you tell them more about
omelets.”

“That will unfortunately not happen, my husband,” said
the queen, smiling, “for I do not know any other stories. It
is true,” she added, musingly, “I remember another omelet
that caused me a great deal of pleasure.”

‘Where was it, dearest, dearest mamma? Oh, pray tell us,’’
exclaimed the crown prince. 2

“Pray tell us, mamma,” begged little Prince William; “ be
so gracious as to tell us a story for my picture!”

Louisa looked at her husband. The king nodded. “ Your
last story was so appetizing,” he said, gayly, “that I] am quite
ready to have another.”

“T ate this second omelet during our journey to East Prus-
sia, where the estates of the province were to take the oath of
allegiance. Oh, my beloved children, that was a splendid
journey. The whole world was spread out before me like a
bright summer day; everywhere I heard nothing but greet-
ings of love. Everywhere addresses and banquets! festoons,
pealing bells, children and young ladies strewing flowers!
And our good people did not receive us in so festive a manner
through compulsion, or in accordance with an old custom, but
because their hearts impelled them; for they had already per-
ceived that the young king, your noble father, would also be
their benefactor; they loved and worshipped their king, and,
in their kindness, transferred part of their love and veneration
to myself. We had already passed through Stargard; the
king had preceded me to Coeslin, and I was following him.
At noon J arrived in a large village at no great distance from
Coeslin. All the peasants and peasant-women came to meet
me, dressed in their holiday attire, and the supervisor of the
village, to whose hat a large bouquet had been fastened,
342 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

stepped up to the carriage to deliver an address to me. It
contained but a few artless words; the kind-hearted man
begged me, in the name of the people, to do their village the
honor to alight, and partake of some refreshment, for they
desired to entertain the “mother of the country,” that the
inhabitants of the cities might not deem this an exclusive
privilege. You may imagine that I allowed the gentleman to
conduct me to the farm-house where the entertainment had
been prepared. The cloth was laid on a round table in the
small sitting-room, and a huge omelet lay in a large pewter
dish. I laughed, and, to the great delight of the peasants
looking through the open windows into the room, ate a large
piece, while the girls outside sang with the voices of larks.”

“And the omelet constituted the whole entertainment?”
asked the crown prince, laughing.

“Oh, no, my little epicure; there was also a dessert: bread,
and fresh butter wrapped in green leaves, and more fragrant
than we ever have it.”

“That is a good dessert,” exclaimed the prince. “It seems
to me the entertainment was not so bad, and—”

At this moment the door opened. High-Chamberlain von
Schladen entered and approached the king. “Pardon me,
sire, for venturing to disturb you,” he said. ‘A peasant and
a peasant-woman have just arrived. They ask urgently and
imploringly to see your majesty; and, on being told that you
were at dinner, the woman insisted only the more to be at
once admitted to her majesty, for she had brought her some-
thing necessary to a good dinner. I confess, the bearing of
these persons is so simple and kind-hearted that I ventured to
disturb you, even at the risk of being rebuked for it.”

“Where do they come from?” asked the king, musingly.

“From the lowlands of the Vistula, near Culm, sire, and it
seems to me they belong to the sect of the Mennonites, for
they never take off their hats, and address everybody with
‘thee. ’—'T hese patriotic persons have performed their journey
on foot, and say that their eyes have known no slumber, and
their feet no rest, since they left their village in order to see
the king and queen.”

“Oh, my husband,” exclaimed the queen, “pray do not
make them wait any longer. ‘They come hither to manifest
their love for us, and love must never be kept waiting in the
anteroom.”

“That is not my intention,” said the king, smiling. ‘“ We
A FAMILY DINNER. 343

will admit them at once. Come, Lousia, let us go to your
sitting-room, and M. von Schladen will be so kind as to con-
duct them thither.” He offered his arm to Louisa, she
wrapped herself more closely in the Turkish shawl that
covered her shoulders, and, taking leave of the two princes
with a tender smile, repaired with the king to her own
room.

A few minutes afterward the door opened, and M. von
Schladen ushered in Abraham Nickel and his wife. The
queen sat on a sofa; and the king, supporting his hand on the
back of it, stood by her side. Both of them saluted the peas-
ants, who approached slowly, and who, in their simple, neat
costume, with their pleasant, healthy faces, which betrayed
no embarrassment whatever, made a very agreeable impres-
sion. The woman carried on her arm a basket carefully
covered with green leaves. The man held in his right hand
a small gray bag, which seemed to be heavy. Both saluted
the royal couple very reverentially—the woman making a deep
courtesy, and the man bowing, without, however, taking off
his broad-brimmed hat.

“T suppose thee to be the king, our good sovereign,” said
the peasant, fixing his fine lustrous eyes on the king’s coun-
tenance.

“JT am the king,” said Frederick William, kindly.

“And I see by thy beautiful face,” exclaimed the woman,
pointing with her hand at Louisa, “thee is the queen, the
dear mother of our country—Louisa, whom all love—for
whom we are always praying, and whom we are teaching our
children to love and pray for.”

“JT thank you, kind folks,”’ exclaimed the queen, feelingly,
“T thank you. Yes, pray for me, and above all, pray for.
Prussia; pray that she may be saved and protected, for when
Prussia is happy I am.”

“Prussia will be happy again, and the Lord will not for-
sake her!” exclaimed the woman. “ All of us hope for it,
and we wandered hither to bring to our beloved king and
queen the greetings of their faithful subjects in the lowlands
of Culm, and to tell their majesties that we are praying day
and night that God may drive the French from the country,
and render our king and queen again powerful. But with
your leave we should like to give you a small proof of our re-
gard in the presents we have brought.”

The king nodded his consent, while the queen smiled and
344 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

said: “What you give us with loving hearts we will accept
with loving hearts.”’

“What I have brought is but little,” said the woman.
“But I have been told that our gracious queen likes to eat
good fresh butter, and that the young princes and princesses
are also fond of sandwiches; now,” she added, removing the
leaves from the basket, “this butter is clean and good; I
churned it myself in my dairy, and as the article is so very
scarce at present, I thought it would be acceptable, and the
gracious queen would not spurn my humble gift. Thee looks
so kind-hearted and good, dear queen, and I am glad to see
thee face to face, and shall be doubly so if thee will be so kind
as to accept my butter.”

“T accept it joyfully,” exclaimed the queen, taking the
basket which the woman presented to her. “I thank you for
your nice present, my dear woman, and I myself will put
some of it to-day on the sandwiches of my sons, who shall eat
them in honor of good Mde. Nickel.”

“And now I should like to beg leave to present a small gift
to the king,”’ said the peasant. “ I—”

“Ah, I guess what it is,” exclaimed the king, merrily.
“You bring me a fine cheese to be eaten with the fresh
butter.”

“No, most gracious king. Thy loyal Mennonite subjects in
the province of Prussia have learned with the most profound
grief how great the distress is which God has inflicted upon
thee, thy house, and thy states. We have learned that the
funds of thy military chest are entirely exhausted—that the
French have put them into their pockets. All this affected
us most painfully, and we thought thee might sometimes even
be out of pocket-money. All the men, women, and children
of our community, therefore, looked into their saving-boxes,
and contributed joyfully the mite that is to manifest the love
we entertain for our king. And here is the money we have
collected, good king, and I would urgently entreat thee in the
name of our community graciously to accept the trifle offered
thee by thy faithful Mennonite subjects, who will never cease
to love and pray for thee.”

“No,” exclaimed the king, in a tremulous voice, his face
quivering with profound emotion, “no, I am not poor so long
as I have still subjects so good and loyal as you are!” And
he offered his hand with a grateful look.

The queen had listened to these words with increasing
A FAMILY DINNER. 345

emotion; her beautiful countenance was beaming with joy;
her eyes were lifted to heaven, and her lips seemed to whisper
a prayer of gratitude. When the king cordially shook hands
with the Mennonite, the queen, overcome by her feelings,
burst into tears—tears such as she had not shed for a long
while. She took the costly Turkish shawl from her shoulders
and threw it around the surprised woman.

“Keep it in memory of this interview,” whispered the
queen, in a voice choked by tears.

“Thee permits me, kind king, to give thee our little sav-
ings, and to place them on this table?” asked Abraham Nickel.

“I do,” said the king. The peasant stepped to the table.
After deliberately untying the string of the gray linen bag,
he turned it upside down, and poured out the contents. The
queen uttered an exclamation of surprise, and the king him-
self was unable to suppress his astonishment; for gold-piece
after gold-piece rolled from the bag and fell ringing in a
bright pile on the table. ‘Well, indeed,” said the king,
‘““my people of the Vistula have good things in their saving-
boxes.”’

“There are three thousand louis-d’or, dear king,” said
Abraham Nickel. “ Unfortunately, this is all, although we
ardently desired to make you a better present.”

“Three thousand louis-d’or are too much,” replied the
king, “and I cannot accept the sum asa mere gift. Accept
my thanks, and rest assured that I shall ever gratefully re-
member your kindness. I will, however, accept it as a pres-
ent now, but at a later day, when times are more prosperous,
it must be considered as a loan, which I shall repay with in-
terest. Accept a receipt, my friend, and tell the elders of
your community to preserve it carefully, that I may redeem
it.” *

“The king’s will be done,” said Nickel. “If times re-
main as they are now, thy receipt, dear king, shall be pre-
served in our community as a sacred token of thy love. But
when affairs are better, then thee may do as thee pleases, and
we will gladly permit our king to fill again the saving-boxes
of his people.”

* The king did not forget his promise. In 1816, when the fatherland had been de-
livered, he requeste:! the authorities of Mariemverder to give him information about
Abraham Nickel. It was ascertained that ieee ee eee a ee ee hes
CE ee ane ell aa mueh hetter style than before, gave him

ample means to start again, and redeemed the due-bill he had given to the Mennon-
jee Vide Hippel’s work on Frederick William III. » VO. iii., p. 291.

23
346 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“There will be better times for Prussia,” said the king,
solemnly, “for I hope in God and in my countrymen. I hope
that we shall have strength to outlive these evil days, and to
be worthy of the prosperity to come. Prussia is not lost; she
cannot be, for her people and her king are united in love and
fealty, and that is the source of heroic deeds. God save
Prussia!”

“God save Prussia!” exclaimed the queen, raising her tear-
ful eyes and clasped hands.

“God save Prussia!” whispered the peasant and his wife,
bowing their heads in silent prayer.
BOOK V.

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
FRENCH ERFURT.

Errurt had undergone a great transformation in the
course of a single week. The quiet German fortress, and the
gloomy streets and deserted public places, had become a gay
capital. There were constantly seen crowds of French foot-
men in rich liveries, high-born gentlemen with their stars on
their breasts, and gaping idlers looking wonderingly at the
change. But what feverish activity and toil had been re-
quired to effect this! Paris—nay, all France, had to contrib-
ute their treasures. Long lines of wagons had conveyed to
Erfurt costly furniture, covered with velvet and gilt orna-
ments, from the imperial garde-meubles of Paris, magnificent
porcelain from Sévres, precious gobelins and silks from Lyons
and Rouen, rare wines from Bordeaux, tropic fruits from
Marseilles, and truffles from Périgord. Not only the castle,
but also the prominent private residences, had been decorated
in the most sumptuous style. An army of cooks and kitchen-
boys had garrisoned the basements and kitchens filled with
the delicacies brought from the principal cities of Europe.

France had adorned Erfurt as a bride ready to receive her
lord, and the German princes had come as bridesmen. Nearly
every German state had sent its sovereign or crown prince.
There were the Kings of Saxony, Wiirtemberg, Bavaria, and
Westphalia; the Dukes of Hesse-Darmstadt, Baden, Weimar,
Gotha, Oldenburg, Schwerin, and Strelitz, and more than
twenty of the petty sovereigns in which Germany abounded.
For the first time all seemed to be united, and to have one
purpose. This was, to do homage to the Emperor Napoleon.

He intended to come to Erfurt to meet again the friend
he*had gained at Tilsit, the Emperor Alexander. Nearly
eighteen months had passed since the first meeting of the two
monarchs. Since that time the morning sky of their friend-
348 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ship had been overcast. The meeting at Erfurt was to renew
their former relations. Both emperors felt that they could
not do without each other, and they sought this meeting with
equal eagerness. Alexander desired to continue his war
against Sweden for the possession of Finland. Napoleon had
not yet been able to bring the great struggle in Spain toa
successful end, and had, therefore, to remain at peace with
the only sovereign whose power and enmity he had still to
fear. Besides, the two emperors loved each other; they had
exchanged at Tilsit ardent vows. The world was aware of
this, and could not but regard it as a matter of course that
the imperial friends longed to meet again. The auspicious
period was fixed for the 27th of September, 1808. The ap-
pointed hour had struck; the cannon and the pealing of bells
announced the advent of Napoleon.—All the thoroughfares
and public places were crowded. The people were hastening
with wild impetuosity to the streets through which he was
to pass; the members of the municipality, dressed in their
official robes, proceeded to the gate where they were to wel-
come him; the windows of all the houses were open; and
there appeared beautiful women, adorned with flowers and
gems, awaiting his approach. The imperial guard formed in
line. to the soul-stirring notes of their band, and the Kings of
Saxony and Wiirtemberg, and the whole host of German
princes, had assembled in the large hall of the government
palace to salute the emperor.

A noise as of distant thunder seemed to shake the air; it
drew nearer and nearer. It was the cheering of the people
and the soldiers, for the emperor had now entered the city.
The procession moved on, greeted by the bright eyes of the
ladies, and the shouts of the multitude. Napoleon, wearily
leaning back in the open barouche, drawn by six richly-
caparisoned horses, thanked the people with an indifferent
wave of his hand, and saluted the ladies with a scarcely per-
ceptible nod. His countenance was immovable, and the pub-
lic excitement was unable to betray him into the faintest sign
of gratification. The noisy welcome seemed as stale to him
as some old song which he had heard too often. As his car-
riage made but slow headway through the surging mass, the
emperor started with a movement of impatience. ‘“ For-
ward!” he shouted in a loud voice, and the adjutants, riding
on both sides, repeated to the outriders, ‘‘ Forward! forward!”
The carriage rolled on at a full gallop, regardless of the pop-
FRENCH ERFURT. 349

ulace, followed by a cavalcade of marshals and generals, and
the coaches of Champagny, Maret, and Talleyrand. Having
arrived in front of the palace, the emperor quickly entered.
At the landing of the staircase he was received by the German
princes, headed by the King of Saxony. Napoleon embraced
the old gentleman with an expression of genuine tenderness.
“Sire,” said the king, “you see you have made my heart
young again—you have restored the elasticity of youth to
my old body. I hastened hither with courier-horses in order
to greet you first, and in the impatience of my heart I have
been at the window for several hours to have the happiness of
seeing your majesty.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Napoleon, bending asinister glance on the
other princes, “I would my love could succeed in rendering
you as young as your heart; it would greatly promote the wel-
fare of Germany. You would regenerate the ancient German
empire, and transform it into a real and lasting union.”” He
cordially shook hands with the king, saluted the other for-
eigners with an impatient nod, and walked to his rooms, where
his valets de chambre were awaiting him.

Half an hour afterward Minister Champagny was called into
the emperor’s cabinet. When the minister entered, Napoleon
was pacing the room; his hands folded, as usual, behind him.
A map, covered with colored pins, and on which he cast a
long, dark look, lay on the table. Champagny remained in
respectful silence at the door, waiting the moment when it
would please the emperor to notice his presence. At length
Napoleon stood facing him. “Champagny,” he asked, “do
you know why we are here, and what is the object of this
meeting?”

“Your majesty has not done me the honor of making a
confidant of me,” said the minister, respectfully; “hence, I
do not know, but merely venture to surmise, what may be the
object.”

“ And what do you surmise?”

“T suppose that your majesty intends to give a fresh im-
petus to the friendship of the Emperor Alexander, and to
conclude a firm alliance with him in order to be sure of him,
and to be able to carry on the war in Spain without hinder-
ance, and, if need be, if—”

“Well, why do you hesitate?” said Napoleon, impatiently.

“Tf need be,” added Champagny, “to declare war against
Austria.”
350 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Then you really believe in the possibility of such a war?”
he said. “ Yes, you are right; we must not suffer ourselves
to be deceived by apparent humility and equivocal friends;
they have a smile on their lips, but at heart they are as hostile
as ever, and while with their right hand they greet us, they
are arming with their left. But woe to those scoundrels if I
catch them at their tricks! I willso punish them as to shatter
their thrones and crush their power. Those men who style
themselves ‘princes by the grace of God’ have never learned
any thing and never will. They close their ears with arro-
gance against the events that unerringly speak to them, and
they are still lulled to sleep by the nursery-song of ‘unap-
proachable majesty.” But I will arouse them by my cannon,
and my armies shall sing them a song of the new majesty that
Heaven has sent into the world. It has overtoppled the
thrones of Naples and Spain; so it will that of Austria, if
such be my desire! Austria must not persist in her insolence,
and dare to menace me!”

Frowning, he commenced again rapidly walking the apart-
ment. “Champagny,” he said, stopping in the middle of the
room, “come here close to me, that even the walls will not
hear what I tell you.. You shall learn the object of our jour-
ney to Erfurt, and I will inform you what you are to do. I
have hitherto treated you in the same manner as the admirals
to whom I give dispatches to be opened only on the high seas.
You have now reached them, Champagny, and shall, there-
fore, learn your orders. I have taken you with me because
you are to assist in accomplishing an important object. I
have selected you, and you alone, for I know that I may
confide in your discretion, and that you will not betray any
secret Intrusted to you. Nota word of what you hear now
must ever pass your lips—not a hint even to Talleyrand.
Talleyrand is a sneak and a traitor, who would like to be on
good terms with all parties, so as to be sure of their support
whatever may happen. Oh, I know him; I have fathomed
him, and can read the thoughts which he takes the greatest
pains to conceal. JI know that I ought to distrust him—that
he is intriguing with Austria; and that, if I suffered him to
share in our scheme, he would betray the secrets of my cabinet
to the Austrian ambassador. I profit by his services when-
ever he is useful by his intrigue and diplomatic jugglery; but,
I repeat it, I do not trust him.”

“Sire, I swear that I should deem myself dishonored if my
FRENCH ERFURT. 351

lips ever betray a syllable of the secret projects of my em-
peror!” exclaimed the minister, solemnly.

“Well, well, I trust you,” said Napoleon, nodding to him.
“Now, listen!” He took the minister by one of the golden
buttons of his velvet coat and drew him closer to his side.
“T have brought about this meeting because I desire to dupe
the Emperor Alexander.”

Champagny started and looked surprised. Napoleon smiled.
“T shall accomplish my purpose so far as Alexander himself
is concerned,” he said; “but you must do the same with re-
gard to the Russian minister, hard-headed old Romanzoff.
And let me tell you why. You know what I promised Alex-
ander at Tilsit, and by what means I succeeded in winning his
heart. He is an idealist; the plans of his grandmother
Catharine are constantly haunting him, and his thoughts are
fixed on Turkey—particularly on Constantinople. He is am-
bitious, fickle, and visionary. I promised to realize his
visions, and thereby gained his confidence. I promised when
the time came, not only not to oppose his plans against Turkey,
but to support them to the best of my power. In consideration
of this promise, he approved my ideas with regard to Spain,
and solemnly pledged me his word that he would raise no ob-
jection if I hurl the Bourbons from the Spanish throne, and
place one of my brothers on it. He has kept his word, for,
although the crown is still uneasy on the head of my brother
Joseph, yet he is a king, and Alexander will believe that it
is time for me to keep my word. His envoys, and his confi-
dential minister, old Romanzoff, have already urged the de-
mands of their master. Joseph having made his entry into
Madrid, Alexander desires to enter Constantinople. His im-
patience has risen to the highest point, and to calm and
conciliate him, I consented to his desire for a meeting.
He will renew his demands concerning Constantinople, and
-I shall once more promise.”

“Will your majesty promise him Constantinople?” asked
Champagny.

“Yes,” said Napoleon, smiling, “promise! But I do not
intend to perform. Never will I consent to give Constanti-
nople to the Emperor of Russia, for I would thereby surrender
the key of a universal monarchy into his hands—he would be
at once master of Europe and Asia. He often instructed
Caulaincourt to assure me he did not want the whole of Tur-
‘key; he did not claim any territory south of the Balkan, nor
352 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

any part of Roumelia—not even Adrianople—only Constan-
tinople with its neiguborhood. He calls it the ‘Cat’s
Tongue,’ from its shape, and is more anxious to obtain it
than the ancient Romans ever were to indulge in the deli-
cacy of the tongues of nightingales. But if Russia possessed
this cat’s tongue, it would be transformed into a wolf’s,
armed with formidable teeth against all commerce and na-
tional intercourse. Never shall I permit Russia to annex
Constantinople, for that would be destroying the equilibrium
of Europe.”

“But, sire, you yourself said just now that the Emperor
Alexander was most anxious to seize that city, and that the
object of his journey to Erfurt was principally to obtain the
consent of your majesty to its conquest.”

“And I told you also that my object was to dupe and intoxi-
cate him gradually by delusive friendship and promises, by
festivities and false homage, until it is indifferent to him
whether, as a compensation for the acquisition of Spain by
my brother, I give him Constantinople and the Balkan, or
something else, provided it is palatable. He has an awful
appetite for territory, and it is important to satisfy it in one
way or another. It is easy to persuade a hungry man that a
very common dish is good roast meat. It is our business,
therefore, to suggest to the emperor and his minister another
conquest instead of Constantinople, and so to dress up the idea
that they may relish it, and ask for nothing else.”

“Ah, sire,” exclaimed Champagny, sighing, “it will be
easy for your majesty to fascinate the emperor. But my
efforts with his old minister Romanzoff are likely to be utterly
unavailing. I am not well versed in that art of which you
are a master, and he is too old and shrewd to be fascinated by
any one. He is not easily deluded, and his eyes are stead-
fastly fixed on Constantinople. It is his most fervent hope to
be hailed in heaven by Peter the Great, after assisting Alex-
ander in accomplishing the will of his illustrious ancestor.”’

“And yet we must succeed,” exclaimed Napoleon, stamping
on the floor. ~I tell yon, Champagny, I will and must suc-
ceed! No objections! I told you that I have made up my
mind, and nothing can shake my determination. You will
commence by encouraging Romanzoff in his hopes, and throw
out only, now and then, a vague hint that there are countries,
the annexation of which would be more important and advan-
tageous to Russia. After having prepared his mind in this
FRENCH ERFURT. 353

manner for our plan, you will gradually, and as soon as I have
gained over the emperor, point out to him the conquest which
Russia ought previously to make, and prove to him that Mol-
davia and Wallachia would be the very best territorial aggran-
dizement which he could desire.”

“Your majesty intends, then, to permit the Emperor of
Russia to annex Moldavia and Wallachia?” asked the minister.

“Yes. I must satisfy him with some compensation for
Constantinople. And, it seems to me, the fertile provinces
of the Danube, if I grant them to him immediately and un-
reservedly, are an acquisition which ought to content any
ambition. I cannot do without the friendship of Alexander
at this moment. Spain is in a state of insurrection, and,
owing to Joseph’s timidity, will not be soon reduced to sub-
mission. Austria is trying to get up a quarrel with us; she
is secretly and perfidiously preparing for an attack, and is
only waiting for fresh defeats of my army in Spain to declare
war against me. Prussia, it is true, is not able to injure me,
for Iam keeping her under my heel; but if I were compelled
to withdraw my foot for an instant, she would slip away and
unite with my enemies. Nor do I trust my other allies in
Germany. They are faithful and devoted only so long as they
are afraid of me; they would forsake me as soon as they see
my position endangered. They submitted reluctantly to my
orders to furnish me with auxiliaries for my army in Spain.
If J were to insist on another levy, all these petty princes of
the Confederation of the Rhine would flatly refuse, provided
there was a prospect of their succeeding in their opposition.
I must keep them down by the terror with which I inspire
them. I must prove to all those revolutionary elements fer-
menting in Germany—to insurgents, from the throne to the
cottage—to all those miserable conspirators and demagogues
—that I stand as firm as a rock, from which their fury will
recoil. United with Russia, I will make all Europe tremble.
The echoes of the festivities of Erfurt shall penetrate every-
where, from London to Constantinople; the whole world looks
upon us and sees the Emperors of Russia and France side by
side. Amid these enchantments I believe I shall succeed in
persuading my friend Alexander to accept temporarily Mol-
davia and Wallachia as a sufficient indemnity for Constanti-
nople. You know your duty now, Champagny; lay your
mines skilfully, and you will succeed in blowing up the old
granite fortress of Romanzoff.”
354 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Sire, I assure you I will assist you to the best of my abil-
ity,” said the minister. “Your majesty, however, will permit
me to ask a question. The promise of the annexation of Mol-
davia and Wallachia is not to be a mere sham, and your
majesty will really permit Russia to seize these two provinces?”

Napoleon smiled, and, violently pulling the minister’s ear
in his usual jocular way, said, “What a rash and indiscreet
question! Ofcourse, we shall promise the annexation. When
it is to be fulfilled we must delay it as long as possible, and
the rest will depend on events. In order that I may know
exactly how far you have progressed with Romanzoff, you will
write down your conversations with him every day, and also
your plans, hopes, and fears; I desire to have every night a
letter from you on the table at my bedside. Adieu!” He
nodded pleasantly, and while Champagny withdrew, the em-
peror called in a loud voice for Constant, his valet de chambre.

“Did you send for Talma?” he asked Constant.

“Sire, Talma is waiting for your majesty’s orders in the
anteroom.”

“Very well, let him come in. Have the horses brought to
the door. All the marshals and my whole suite must be
ready. We set out immediately to meet the Emperor Alex-
ander, but I will previously put on my decoration of St. An-
drew’s order; then my toilet will be complete.—Talma!”’

Constant hastened into the anteroom to inform Talma that
the emperor wished to see him, and a moment afterward the
great actor made his appearance. “Ah, you have arrived,
then, Talma,” exclaimed Napoleon, gayly, “and I hope you
have brought with you the most select company of actors, the
finest costumes, and the best pieces?”

“T have brought hither, sire, the actors and the theatre of
the conqueror of the world,” said Talma, “and that says every
thing. The eyes of your majesty will be on us; that is all
that is needed to inspire us.”

“But you will also play before an audience such as perhaps
will never again assemble,” said Napoleon, smiling. ‘‘ You
will have it occupied by kings and sovereign princes.”

“Sire,” said Talma, bowing deeply, “ where your majesty is,
there is but one king and master.”

“No; there is another king, and his name is Talma,” ex-
claimed Napoleon, smiling. “These German princes may
take a lesson from Talma as to the manner in which a king
should bear himself in prosperity as well as in adversity.
FRENCH ERFURT. 355

You will, therefore, perform (dipus, Cinna, Mohammed,
and Andromache, that kings may see how true monarchs
ought to behave. I could have wished, however, that you
had prepared not only the tragedies of Racine, Corneille, and
Voltaire, but also some of the comedies of Moliére. You
know how highly I esteem them. But the Germans would
not understand them. We must show them the beauty and
sublimity of our tragic theatre; they will appreciate it better
than the profound wit of Moliére. Make it indispensable for
the actors, and very particularly the actresses, to speak as
distinctly and loudly as possible, that the Emperor Alexander,
who is somewhat hard of hearing, may understand. You are
the representatives of the honor of French literature; just say
so to the artists in my name, and order the ladies especially to
refrain from their wonted ogling and coquetry. Handsome
Mademoiselle Bourgoin likes also to make conquests, not only
on the stage, but among the spectators; and, while she is
playing tragic amoureuses, she casts on the audience glances
that are more suitable to a beauty of the Palais Royal than to
a heroine, and which contrast strangely with the chaste char-
acters she represents. Tell her that I desire her to abstain
from such follies; she must not desecrate the buskin by the
minaudertes of a soubrette.* For the rest, I rely entirely on
you, Talma. The eyes of Europe are fixed on Erfurt at this
moment, and your immortality is sure.”

“Sire, it was so on the day when, after the representation of
Cinna, your majesty told me that you were satisfied with me.”

“ And perform Cinna to-night. I enjoy the pleasure already
in anticipation. I ask another question. Did you bring the
parts for Voltaire’s ‘Death of Cesar?’ ”

“For the ‘Death of Cxsar?’” asked Talma, in surprise.
“Your majesty—”

“Ah, you want to tell me that the piece is prohibited in
Paris,” exclaimed Napoleon, smiling. “ But Paris is a Vesu-
vius—what is inflammatory in France is perfectly harmless in
phlegmatic Germany. Let the actors prepare for performing
the ‘Death of Cesar;’ I will order it to be played in a few
days. Tell them so.—Well, Constant, what is the matter?”

“Sire, your majesty desired to put on the large Russian
decoration.”

“ Ah, it is true,” said Napoleon; “come, put it on.” And

* Alexander fell in love with this actress at Erfurt. Napoleon tried to prevent
Mademoiselle Bourgoin from continuing this liaison, but the actress was bold
enough to defy the wrath of the emperor.
356 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

while Constant put the broad cordon with the diamond star
over the emperor’s shoulders, and arranged it on his breast,
Napoleon turned once more to Talma. “ You see,” he said,
‘‘we monarchs pursue the same course you do. We put on
different costumes according to the part we play. I wore a
fez in Egypt, and to-day I put on the imperial star of Russia.”

“But, sire, everywhere you play your part with masterly
skill, and the world, which is your audience, applauds your
majesty,” exclaimed Talma.

“Oh, it would not be safe to hiss me,’ said Napoleon, put-
ting on his gloves, and taking the riding-whip which Con-
stant handed to him.

Accompanied by a brilliant suite, the emperor left Erfurt,
and took the road to Weimar, whence the Emperor Alexander
was to come. French troops lined the way, and behind them
was a vast and motley crowd of peasants, who had come from
all parts to witness the cavalcade. Napoleon did not hear the
enthusiastic shouts of the soldiers, but he noticed the silence
of the people, who stared at him with the curiosity with
which they would have stared at any other unusual spectacle.
He bent his head and rode on, absorbed in reflection; the
bridle hung loose in his hand, but his white charger was ac-
customed to this carelessness, and galloped forward, proud of
his melancholy rider.

- Duroc rode up. “Sire,” he said, “I believe that is the
Emperor Alexander.”

Napoleon quickly raised his head, and turned his keen eyes
in the direction the grand marshal had pointed out. An open
barouche, in which a single person sat, was approaching, ac-
companied by a few horsemen. Napoleon waited. The car-
riage drew nearer, and the person seated in it was recognized
by his uniform and the grand cordon of the Legion of Honor.

“Tt is he—the Emperor Alexander!’’ exclaimed Napoleon,
and rode forward at a gallop, followed by his marshals and
generals. The carriage of the Russian emperor also moved
more rapidly, and when both were near each other they sud-
denly halted. Napoleon dismounted; and Alexander, not
waiting for the carriage door to be opened, jumped over it.
The two monarchs rushed toward each other with open arms,
and the soldiers made the welkin ring with “ Long live Napo-
leon! Long live Alexander!”

Napoleon, disengaging himself from the arms of his friend,
saluted the Grand-duke Constantine. A horse was brought
FRENCH ERFURT. 357

to the Emperor Alexander, and as he was about to mount he
looked in surprise at the splendid animal, as well as at its
equipment. “Why,” he said, “this looks exactly as though
I were going to take a ride on my favorite charger in St.
Petersburg. It is precisely of similar color and trappings.”

“That proves that the drawings which Caulaincourt sent
me were pretty correct,” said Napoleon, smiling.

“Ah, then it is another attention of yours,” exclaimed
Alexander, affectionately pressing the hand of his friend.
“Your majesty is bent on infatuating me. I feel perfectly at
home on this horse.”

“Ah, that is exactly what I wished,” said Napoleon; “I
sincerely desired that your majesty should feel at home while
with me. Well, if it please you, let us ride to Erfurt.”

“Very well,” said Alexander, vaulting gracefully into the
saddle, and offering his hand to Napoleon, on whose right he
wasriding. The emperors, chatting gayly, rode on to Erfurt.
Behind them was the Grand-duke Constantine, between King
Jerome of Westphalia, and Murat, Grand-duke of Berg.
Then followed the suite of the marshals and generals, and the
procession was closed by the carriage of old Romanzoff, Alex-
ander’s minister of state. Enthusiastic cheers resounded
along the whole road, and now Napoleon, with a serene bow,
saluted the multitude. Amid the peals of bells, the booming
of cannon, and the cheers of the soldiers and the populace,
the two emperors made their entry, halting in front of the
hotel. Napoleon alighted first to welcome his guest, and con-
duct him to the rooms prepared for his reception.

Late on the same day Napoleon received a letter from his
Minister Champagny. It contained only the following words:
“Sire, I have held the first conference with Romanzoff. It
will be very difficult to persuade this stubborn man that a piece
of meat on the Danube is as good as the cat’s tongue, for
which the old gentleman is as clamorous as a hungry child for
its dinner.”

Napoleon took a pen and affixed the following words: “I
have also held the first conference with the Emperor Alex-
ander. There will be no change in my plans. Moldavia and
Wallachia as an indemnity for the ‘cat’s tongue!’ We must
succeed!” He then folded and sealed the letter, which he
immediately sent back to his minister.
358 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

CHAPTER XL.
THE CONSPIRATORS.

Waite the illumination, with which the good people of the
French city had celebrated the arrival of the two emperors,
was in full blaze on the principal thoroughfares, only a single
dim light was to be seen in a small building situated on the
corner of one of the more quiet streets. The other windows
of this house were dark, and all was silent as though no living
beings were dwelling in it. From time to time, a closely-
veiled man appeared in the neighborhood, and, after glancing
at the light in the upper window, uttered a strange cry. A
second light was soon moving to and fro, and disappearing
again. The man approached and knocked repeatedly at the
door, which opened and admitted him. Twelve men had en-
tered. The light was extinguished; the door bolted on the
inside, and profound silence reigned in the building.

The French police had devoted their whole attention to the
Saale streets of the city, and to the vast crowds that fol-

owed the emperors, who, accompanied by kings and princes,
proceeded to admire the illumination. There were no eyes
for this small, dark house in an obscure alley—no ears to lis-
ten to what was going on within. The twelve men who had
entered in so mysterious a manner, had assembled in a large
back room. They had whispered the password into the ear of
the door-keeper, and were at once admitted.

The windows of this room were covered with heavy black
curtains, which prevented sound, as well as light, from pene-
trating to the outside. Thirteen candlesticks were fixed at
equal distances in the plain white walls. The man who had
entered first approached the first candlestick and lighted the
two tapers. He who came next did the same with the next
candlestick, and the others followed their example. At this
moment the tapers on twelve candlesticks were burning; and
only the thirteenth, which contained six tapers, had not yet
been lighted. Around the long table standing in the middle
of the room, twelve grave and silent men were sitting on cane-
chairs, the high backs of which were carved in a peculiar,
old-fashioned style; these men were closely wrapped in black
cloaks, the capes of which concealed their heads, and their
THE CONSPIRATORS. 359

faces were covered with black half-masks, which they had
put on immediately after entering the house. At the up-
per end of the table stood a black easy-chair, which was
alone unoccupied. The flashing eyes peering from the
capes were directed to this chair; no word was spoken; a
breath was almost audible in the motionless assembly. Sud-
denly a narrow, secret door opened in the opposite wall, and
a tall man, dressed and veiled like the others, made his ap-
pearance.

The assembly remained as before, and seemed to take no
notice of the new-comer. The latter quickly walked to the
thirteenth candlestick, and lighted its tapers. The others
immediately rose from their seats and bowed deeply. “The
president!” they murmured. “We greet him who has called
us—we greet the president!’ He nodded, and then went to
the upper end of the table. Before sitting down, he opened
a little the black cloak enveloping his whole form, and the
others beheld a heavy silver chain adorning his breast, and to
which was fastened a locket, decorated with diamonds. In
the middle of it a skull was to be seen, and under it the in-
scription of “ Liberty or Death!’ As soon as the rest beheld
this, they also opened their cloaks. Hach of them wore a
similar chain, locket, and inscription.

“Resume your seats, brethren,” said the president, sitting
down in the easy-chair. He then said ina loud, solemn voice,
“The hour has come for us to act. Germany has called us,
and, as obedient sons, we come! Germany, our beloved
mother, is here in our midst, although we do not see her.
She stands with veiled head and tearful eyes before her chil-
dren, and asks us to give her an account of what we have
done and accomplished. Brethren, are we ready?”

“We are!” all exclaimed, simultaneously.

“When we parted three months ago, my brethren,” added
the president, “we resolved to meet here to-day. I see that
all have remained faithful to their oath. Not one is absent.
No taper is unlit—the seats are occupied. Germania, that
knows who are hers, and how to call them by their names,
although they veil their heads,—Germania thanks you for
your fidelity. She awaits our report. Let us speak! He
who arrived first will commence.”

One at the lower end of the table rose and bowed respect-
fully. “I arrived first,’ he said.

“You have the floor, then, my brother,” said the president.
360 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Make your report. Where have you been? What connec-
tions did you establish? What hopes do you bring?”

““T was in Northern Germany,” he replied; “for that was
the order which I drew from the urn when we met here three
months ago. In the envelope which I received, I found a
paper containing the words: ‘Ferdinand von Schill at Kol-
berg.’ The first lines of a song were affixed to this address,
I repaired immediately to Kolberg, and found Major von
Schill engaged in equipping and drilling the second regiment
of Brandenburg hussars, of which the king has appointed him
commander. The regiment consists of the four brave com-
panies of cavalry with which Lieutenant von Schill undertook
his bold and successful raids.”

“And did you deliver your credentials to the major, my
brother?”

“Tdid. He received me with a joyful salutation, and sends
his greeting and fraternal kiss to the ‘patriots.’ He said to
me: ‘We pursue with zeal and courage the purpose which we
have sworn to accomplish. Go to the brethren—tell them
that they may count on me and my men, and on the people,
who are gradually being inspired with the true spirit, and who
will rise when the alarm is sounded. When the time comes,
the whole of Germany will rise to a man, break her chains,
and expel the tyrant. Let us prepare for this hour, in the
North and South, in the East and West, that the whole coun-
try may be armed at the first battle-cry of freedom! Let us
work and toil, keeping each other well informed of our prog-
ress. We must all act on one and the same day!’ ”

“Did you hear the words and greetings of brave Schill,
brethren?” asked the president.

“We heard, and engraved them on our heart.”

“Tt is now the turn of the brother who arrived next,”’ said
the president. ‘ Make your report.”

“ Soul-stirring hopes! and I wish you joy of our prospects,”
said he who had now risen. “At our last meeting I drew
from the urn the order to go to Berlin and Kénigsberg, I
was there! Oh, brethren, the days of freedom are near! In
Berlin, I was introduced by one of our friends to a circle of
patriots, who, like us, have formed a secret society for the
purpose of promoting the welfare of the fatherland, and of
ushering in the day of freedom. Those patriots are in com-
munication with men sharing their sentiments throughout
the whole of Northern Germany; committees are organized
THE CONSPIRATORS. 361

everywhere to instruct the people, to disseminate patriotic
views, and to gain adherents to the great league of the de-
fenders of the fatherland. Secret depots of arms are being
established in every city. The central committee, sitting
in Berlin, have taken upon themselves the task of watching
the French troops, their numbers, location, and strength; of
ascertaining the disposition of the people in the provinces,
and of transmitting the results of their observations to the
branches of their league, as well as to the other patriotic
societies. Henceforth we shall also receive those reports, if
one of our brethren will call for them in Berlin.

“Thence, well provided with recommendations by the com-
mittee, I repaired to Kénigsberg. From what I saw there I
derived much consolation and hope for the future of the
country. The spirit of freedom is fermenting, and high-
minded men have erected at Konigsberg an altar on which
they intend to kindle the sacred fire, that it may melt our
chains. The name of this altar is the ‘Tugendbund.’* Noble
and illustrious men are at the head of this league; a prince
js its president; Stein, the great minister, is its protector;
brave General Bliicher, Gneisenau, the distinguished cfficer
—in short, the most eminent and popular men of Prussia are
members. King Frederick William has approved its by-laws;
Queen Louisa is enthusiastically in favor of its patriotic efforts.
It does not intend to enter upon a violent struggle, but will
prepare the people by its words and example for better days. It
intends to increase the moral energy of the nation, that it may
also rise in its physical strength, and be able to cope with the
invaders. This league, my brethren, purposes to propagate
patriotism, courage, attachment to the sovereign and the con-
stitution, love of virtue, art, science, and literature. It in-
tends to cultivate the minds and hearts of the people, that
they may shrink from no sacrifice for the welfare of the coun-
try. My brethren, the ‘Tugendbund’ is the head and heart
of us all; we shall one day be its arm and sword, and trans-
late its teachings into heroic deeds. It sends its greetings to
the brethren, admonishing us never to cease working and toil-
ing, and to maintain a close connection with it, as well as
with all our friends, until the great day of deliverance
dawns upon us. But I do not bring greetings from that
league alone. I have seen also the ‘Knights of Louisa,’ + and

* The celebratea ‘‘ League of Virtue.”

+ Die Louisenritter.

24
362 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

received their fraternal kiss. Brave Major von Nostitz, for-
merly an intimate friend and adjutant of Prince Louis Fer-
dinand, is their president, and the noble queen has permitted
them the use of her name as a token of her sympathy. Asa
further expression of her approval, she has presented the
president with a silver chain, and all the members of the
order wear, as their regalia, a silver chain and a locket with
the queen’s portrait. The ‘Tugendbund’ and the ‘Knights
of Louisa’ send greetings to the brethren, and will unite with
them in struggling for the same holy cause. They await our
messengers, and will inform us of every thing that is done by
them, as well as receive information from us concerning our
own efforts.”

“Your report is highly gratifying,” said the president,
after a pause. “Deliverance will soon come, and true Ger-
mans will be prepared for it. We will now listen to the third
brother.”

“JT was in Westphalia, and bring cheering tidings to the
patriotic brethren,’ said the third brother. ‘‘ The chains are
still clanking in unfortunate Westphalia, but the men are as
undaunted as ever. Noble Chevalier von Dérnberg sends his
greeting. He admonishes us to toil, and to be prepared.
We shall have ready our swords and our strong arms. Thou-
sands of noble and faithful Hessians belong to this league.
The honest minds of the people cannot see what right the
Corsican emperor had to expel their legitimate ruler, and to
place an Italian clown on his throne. Intense indignation ut
the foreign yoke is prevailing throughout Hessia and West-
phalia, and every patriot rallies around Dérnberg waiting for
the signal to expel the oppressor. United with us, Dérnberg
sends his messengers and receives ours.”

“Let the fourth brother make his report,” said the presi-
dent.

“T come from Bavaria, and bring greetings from the society
of ‘Concordists,’ founded by Chevalier von Lang. This so-
ciety is straining every nerve to bring about the liberation of
the country; it is, like our league, preparing the people for
‘their freedom. It is ready to enter into relationship with us.”

“ And what brings the fifth of the brethren?”

“TI bring fraternal kisses from the Rhine, where Jahn, the
bold German, is organizing the legion of the ‘Black Knights.’
I bring also greetings from the chivalrous Duke of Bruns-
wick. The ‘Corps of Vengeance,’ with skulls on their black
THE CONSPIRATORS. 363

helmets, are rallying around the prince, who, with fiery zeal,
18 preparing for the day when he will avenge the despair and
death of his father. he ‘Black Knights’ and the ‘Corps of
Vengeance’ send us greetings, and are ready to toil with us
for the deliverance of our country, and the overthrow of the
tyrant.”

The president requested the sixth brother to take the floor,
and he too stated that he had established connections with
leagues having the same common object. The other six made
similar statements. Everywhere in Germany they had found
patriots, the same hatred of a foreign yoke, and the most ar-
dent longing for freedom.

When the twelfth brother had concluded his report, the
president arose. “Brethren,” he said, encouragingly, “ our
night begins to brighten—the day is breaking. Let us,
therefore, be vigilant, active, and undaunted. Gather around
you the circles of the faithful; initiate and arm them; teach
them to be ready for the battle-cry, that they may rise and
fight, all for one, and one for all. Set out again on your
travels; establish new societies, and join, in a genuine spirit
of brotherly love, such as are already in operation. Work
for the honor and liberty of Germany. Thousands already
belong to us, and you will still enlist thousands more; that,
when the trumpet sounds, the brethren may reénforce the
army of German liberty, not with a battalion, but with legions
of warriors. We have come hither to-day from all parts of
Germany; we know not each other’s names, nor have we ever
seen each other’s faces; yet no one has proved recreant. Go,
then, again into the world, and pursue your sacred mission.
Three months hence we will again meet at this house at the
same hour, and confer as to what ought to be done. Bring
the urn, and draw your duties for the next three months.”

The man who had last arrived rose and walked to the oppo-
site wall, at which the president pointed, as he said, “ Press
the golden button which you see fixed in the wall.”

The conspirator obeyed, and immediately a small door
opened, revealing a black urn, which he handed to the presi-
dent, who said, ‘“ Come hither, brethren, and draw your lots.”

The twelve men rose successively and stepped to the urn,
from which each drew a small folded paper, and, approaching
the light, immediately learned his mission by opening the lot;
as soon as he had read its contents, he burned it, extinguished
his tapers, and withdrew, without word, glance, or gesture.
364 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Nine had already left. Only four candlesticks remained
lighted—three of the conspirators, besides the president, were
still in the room. Each of these three men stood near the
burning tapers, and looked in grave silence at the open paper
in his hand.

“Why are you here still, brethren?” asked the president.

“My order says that, I am to remain here,” answered the
man to whom the president addressed himself.

“My order says the same,” exclaimed the second brother.

“Mine is the same,” said the third.

“Come hither and listen to me, brethren,” commanded the
president. ‘“ What is the motto of our league?” ,

“<Tiberty or death!’ exclaimed the three men, simulta-
neously. “Our fortunes, our lives, our blood, for Germany!
If need be, death for the attainment of liberty, whether it be
on the field of battle, in a dungeon, or on the scaffold!”

“Or on the scaffold!” echoed the president. “Do you re-
member, brethren, that, when we met for the first time, I told
you Germany might stand in need of a Mutius Scaevola, and
require him to assassinate Porsenna? Do you remember that
we all swore, if the day should come to imitate that ancient
patriot?”

“We do.”

“That day has come,” said the president,.solemnly. “ Ger-
many requires a Mutius Scaevola, to kill Porsenna, and, if he
should miss him, to suffer as stoically as the Roman youth.
Enough German blood has been shed. Thousands of our
brethren would still have to die, if we meet the tyrant in open
combat. We must do this, if we cannot get rid of him in
any other way. But before resorting to it, before permitting
Germany to be again devastated by revolution and war, we
will try another way, the course pursued by the Roman.
When the tyrant is dead, Germany will be free and happy,
and the exultation of his countrymen will console the con-
science of him whom the world will call an assassin.”

“That is true,” said the three conspirators.

“Yes,” responded the president. “There are four of us
here. ‘{'wo shall avenge Germany. It is necessary that two
should undertake the task, for if one should be unsuccessful,
the other may not.”

“But there are only three of us here,” said one of the dis-
guised men.

“No,” replied the president, “there are four; I am the
THE CONSPIRATORS. 365

fourth. You must not prevent me from participating in a
deed requiring intrepid courage, and which cannot but involve
incalculable dangers. I insist on taking part in it.”

“But the league stands in need of your services. What
would become of us if you should draw the lot, and, in carry-
ing out the plan, fail and be arrested?”

“In that case, brethren, you will announce on the day of
the next meeting, when the chair remains unoccupied, that
the president has died in the cause, and you will elect another
chief. But, a truce to further objections! Let us draw lots.
Here are two white and two black balls which I put into the
urn. ‘Those who draw the black balls will leave together, and
jointly concert a plan for the death of the tyrant. The blow
must be struck in the course of a week, while he is still in
this city.”

“It must be,” echoed the three, in solemn tones.

“But let us swear not to attempt any life but his—that no
innocent blood be shed—that the dagger or the pistol be
aimed at him alone. Let us swear not to undertake any thing
that might endanger others!”

“We do so swear, for to destroy any but the tyrant would
be murder. Now let us extinguish all the lights save one, and
simultaneously draw a ball from the urn.”

“Tift up your hands and let us see the balls!” said the
president. ‘There was awhite ball in hisown hand. “It was
not God's will. He did not choose me,” he said, with asigh.

“He has chosen us,” said the two who held black balls.
They grasped each other’s hands, and their eyes seemed to
read each other’s thoughts. He who had drawn the other
white ball inclined his head and left the room.

“We go together; our ways do not separate,” said the two
who had drawn the black balls, and walked arm in arm
toward the door.

The president gazed after them until they had disappeared.
Extinguishing the last taper, he groped cautiously along until
he reached the door, and stepping out into a corridor, has-
tened across it to the landing of a staircase, at the foot of
which a small dim lamp was burning. Before descending, he
took off the mask that had covered his face, and the cloak in
which he had been wrapped, and, rolling them into a bundle,
he concealed it in a drawer fixed under the first step of the
staircase, and which was visible only to initiated eyes. In the
flickering light of the lamp the beholder might have discerned
366 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

his tall, slender form, and youthful countenance, whose manly
expression contrasted with his long golden hair. He hastened
down-stairs, and crossed the hall into the street. The noise
had ceased, and nearly all the lights had burnt out. As he
turned a corner rapidly, he was attracted by a transparency.
The inscription, in large letters on a crimson ground, read:
“ Gab’s jetzt noch einen Gittersohn, so ware es Napoleon!” *

A flash of anger burst from the youth’s eyes, and he raised
his clinched fist menacingly. “ You miserable dogs,’’ he said,
in a low voice, “when the true Germans come, you will hide
yourselves in the dust!” He walked rapidly until he reached
a small house at the lower end of the street, and softly enter-
ing, glided across the hall, cautiously ascended the staircase,
halted in front of a door up-stairs, and gently rapped. It
opened immediately, and a young woman of surpassing beauty
appeared on the threshold. “ Oh, Frederick, is it really you?”
she whispered, embracing him. “You are mine again, be-
loved Frederick! You did not draw the fatal lot! Heaven
refused the sacrifice which you were ready to make.”

“Tt isso, Anna,” said the young man. “But why do you
weep, dearest? You were formerly so courageous, and ap-
proved my determination to engage in that desperate enter-

rise!”

She clasped her hands, lifting her large black eyes to
heaven. “ Abraham was ready to sacrifice his son,” she said,
“but when his offering was not accepted, he was thankful.
Thus I also thank and praise God at this moment!”

“Yes,” said the young man, gloomily, “He rejected my
offering, and for the present I am free. I come to take leave
of you, beloved Anna; I must depart this very night.”

“You are going to leave me!” she exclaimed in dismay.
“Ah, you have deceived me, then—you have drawn the fatal
lot! You come to bid me farewell, because you are to perpe-
trate the terrible deed!’

“No, Anna. I swear to you by our love I am free! I did
not draw the lot. But I must go to Leipsic. My mission
here has been accomplished, and 1 must be about my business.
The president of the patriotic brethren must descend from
his exalted position, and once more become a poor insignifi-
cant merchant. But I know, and predict it, Anna, there
will be a day when Germany will choose me to deliver her
from the tyrant. A presentiment tells me that the two who

« “Tf there were now a son of the gods, he would be Napoleon.”
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR. 367

have drawn the black balls to-day will not succeed. Their
hands trembled when they held up the balls, and I saw that
they started when they perceived them to be black. Yes,
they will fail; but I shall not! It is reserved for me; a
shout of joy will resound throughout the country, and the
people will exclaim, ‘We are delivered from the tyrant; Ger-

many is free, and the name of our deliverer is Frederick
Staps!?”

CHAPTER XLI.
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR.

FESTIVITIES were succeeded by festivities, amusements by
amusements, and these days of Erfurt glided by in friendship,
pleasure, and love. Napoleon was the host. It was he who
received the Emperor of Russia, the kings, the dukes, and
the princes, with their legions of courtiers and cavaliers, and
treated all the members of these different petty courts with
imperial munificence. In return there were universal mani-
festations of homage and devotion. The kings and princes
every morning attended his levee. He arranged the enter-
tainments that were to take place, and designated those who
were to participate in them. All bowed to him, even the
Emperor Alexander himself. The most cordial feeling pre-
vailed between the twoemperors. They were alwaysseen arm
in arm, like two loving youths, jealous of every minute that
separated them. At the dinner-table, at the theatre, at the
balls and concerts, they always came together into the proud
society that awaited them. At dinner, Napoleon, playing the
polite and obliging host, always had Alexander placed at his
right. At the theatre, directly behind the orchestra, were
two gilded easy-chairs on a small platform, and the two em-
perors were enthroned on them near each other; on the floor
behind this stood four small arm-chairs, occupied by the
Kings of Bavaria, Wirtemberg, Saxony, and Westphalia; and
in the rear, on common chairs, sat the dukes, princes, counts,
and the large array of cavaliers and courtiers. The queens
and princesses were seated in the proscenium-boxes on both
sides of the stage, and the ladies of the haute-volée in their
rich toilets and wealth of jewelry filled the first tier.

Napoleon kept the promise he had made to Talma: that
celebrated actor played before a pit of kings, and it was, per-
368 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

haps, this fact, or the expectant face of Napoleon, whose eyes
were on him, or the presence of Alexander, who was never
weary of praising him—it was probably all this that enkindled
the actor’s enthusiasm. Never before had Talma played more
effectively—never before had he assumed such a dignity for
enthroned greatness, or better studied its bearing in adversity.
Tis expression of hatred, love, and grief, in his impersona-
tions, were never more famous than in these gala-days of Er-
furt. A sort of inspiration pervaded the great artist, and his
enthusiasm infected the spectators, especially Alexander, who
was carried away by Talma’s passion in the representation of
‘“dipus.” When the actorexclaimed, “The friendship of a
great man is a boon of the gods!” the Russian emperor bent
over Napoleon, and seizing his hand pressed it against his
breast. A murmur of applause was heard; all appeared as-
tonished at this public demonstration; even Cidipus on the
stage seemed to be impressed, and his voice trembled. Napo-
leon alone remained grave and calm, not a feature changed or
betrayed the satisfaction that his heart could not but feel at
this moment; he thanked Alexander only by a glance, and his
attention seemed to be again directed to the stage.

Late at night Napoleon found, as usual, a letter from his
minister Champagny. “Old Romanzoff insists on the prompt
fulfilment of the promises of Tilsit,” wrote the minister.
“ Constantinople—nothing but Constantinople—seems to the
stubborn Russian an equivalent for Spain. I believe the per-
emptory orders only of his master will subdue this obstinacy.”

“Ah,” murmured Napoleon, crumpling the paper in his
hand, “I must put a stop to this. We must arrive at a
definite result. I shall utter the decisive word to-morrow!”

On the following morning the kings and princes appeared
in vain in the anteroom of the Emperor Napoleon to attend
his levee. He had risen at an unusually early hour, and,
allured by the sunny autumnal morning, visited his friend
Alexander, who had just risen when Napoleon, unannounced,
entered with a smiling face.

“ Ah,” exclaimed Alexander, rushing toward him with a
cry of exultation, and embracing him affectionately, “sire, I
dreamed of you all night; you were here at my side, while I
was sleeping, and all seemed bright, but when I opened my
eyes and did not see you, the room appeared dark, although
the sun was shining. But now you are here, and my dreams
are realized.”
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR. 369

Napoleon’s face suddenly turned gloomy, and the smile dis-
appeared from his lips. “I also had a dream,” he said,
gravely. “It seemed to me as though I lay on a bed of flow-
ers, and two stars were twinkling above me, and as they came
nearer I saw that they were not stars, but bright eyes beaming
in a manly face, and looking at me with tenderness. I was
fascinated. I raised myself as if borne on angel-wings, and
stretched out my arms toward the approaching form. Sud-
denly I uttered a scream; the friend had been changed into a
wolf that rushed toward me, and fixing his eyes on mine, tore
my breast and fed upon my heart. Oh, I was in horrible
pain—not imaginary but real—for I screamed so loudly that
Constant, my valet de chambre, hastened fror: the adjoining
room and awakened me. Even now that I think of it I
tremble, and sadness fills my soul.” He bent his head on his
breast, and, folding his hands behind him, paced the room
slowly.

Alexander looked smilingly at him, but approaching, said:
“Sire, why this melancholy? In truth, when looking at you,
one might think, my august friend, that you believed in
dreams.”

“T do,” exclaimed Napoleon, quickly raising his head.
“Dreams are revelations from on high! Had Julius Cesar
believed in his dreams, and in the prophecies of the astrolo-
gers, he would not have fallen by the daggers of assassins.”

“But how will your majesty interpret the dream that tor-
mented you last night?” asked Alexander.

Napoleon bent a strange look on his frank countenance.
“ Alexander,” he said, in a low voice, “could you ever trans-
form yourself into a wolf, and tear out my heart?”

“J, Napoleon, I?” ejaculated Alexander, starting back in
dismay. ‘Your majesty, then, does not believe in my friend-
ship, in the profound admiration for you that fills my soul?
All I have said and done has then been in vain! Instead of
having won your esteem, your majesty distrusts me, and be-
lieves the follies of the imagination in sleep rather than the
protestations of reason, interest, and friendship!”

“No, no,” said Napoleon, affectionately, and almost touched
by the profound grief depicted in Alexander’s countenance,
“T believe that your majesty returns a little the love I feel for

ou. I believe in your noble heart, in spite of all dreams.”

“ And I swear to your majesty that you may believe in me,”
exclaimed Alexander. “My whole policy, the new course
370 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

upon which I have entered, will prove to you, more convinc-
ingly than words, sire, that I am most anxious to establish a
firm alliance between Russia and France; oh, believe me, sire,
I gladly acknowledge you as my superior; all promptings of
jealousy are extinct in my heart; and when, in the face of
the enormous territorial aggrandizements of France, I desire
an enlargement of Russia, too, I do so not for my sake, but
in order to satisfy my people, that they may bear more
patiently your operations in Spain. For my part, I approve
all you have done in that country. King Charles and his son
Ferdinand have abundantly deserved their present fate by
their incapacity and baseness, and I do not pity them. But
one must comprehend the system of the great Napoleon as
clearly and thoroughly as [ do, to be able to pass over the
great catastrophes which your majesty has caused the world to
witness. My people, and, above all, my nobility, have not
yet progressed so far as that, and hence the attention of the
Russians should be turned to important changes in the Orient
that they may look more indifferently at what you are under-
taking in the Occident. As for myself, J am your most
faithful friend, and I have proved it to your majesty by be-
coming the enemy of your enemies, In accordance with your
wishes, I have declared war against England, and shall prob-
ably soon have to do the same against Austria, for I shall re-
quire her in the most energetic manner to explain why she is
secretly arming; and, if her explanations should not be satis-
factory, draw the sword against her. Then, I suppose, your
majesty will believe in my friendship?”

“Oh, I believe in it now,” exclaimed Napoleon, pressing
the proffered hand of Alexander. “For this friendship is my
hope. United, we shall be able to carry out the grand
schemes which we formed at Tilsit. Striding across the
world, we shall lay it at our feet, and one day there will be
only two thrones; but in the beginning we must proceed care-
fully. It took the Creator six days to make the world, and
each day, most likely, comprehended a vast number of our
years. We shall create our world in six years, and then we
shall look at it, and pronounce it ‘very good.’ But caution
is indispensable, for our empires labor under many burdens.
You are waging war in Finland, and I am doing so in Spain.
Prudence advises us not to increase these embarrassments by
seeking at this moment for Russia an aggrandizement which
would fill the world with astonishment, and reécho like a war-
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR. 371

cry throughout Europe. Let the dissolution of Turkey and
her annexation to Russia be the keystone of our creation, the
last work of the sixth day. Let us erect the new empires on
solid foundations, which all the storms of this world may not
shake!”

“When Constantinople is mine, I shall not be afraid,” ex-
claimed Alexander, ardently.

“Constantinople belongs to the sixth day of creation,” said
Napoleon, “but we are only at the second. Tilsit was the
first, Erfurt is the second.”

“ And on the second day you take from me what you prom-
ised on the first?” asked Alexander, whose brow was losing its
serenity.

“No, I only want to secure it to you,” said Napoleon—“ to
give a firm base to the edifice of our future. If your majesty
should take possession of Turkey to-day, one-half of Europe
would arm to-morrow to take it from you, and at this moment
Russia is unable to brave somany enemies. Austria would
rise against you, for, whatever offers you might make, she
would prefer war to a partition of Turkey. England would
see her commerce endangered, and enter into the contest from
calculations of self-interest. Besides, Turkey herself would
wage war with the fanaticism of her menaced nationality.
Where are the armies which your majesty could oppose to the
united forces of England, Austria, and Turkey? It is true,
you have an army on the Danube, sufficiently strong to oppose
Turkey, but too weak if the whole nation should rise. Your
principal army is in Finland, and you have no troops to war
against Austria. I alone, therefore—for, as a matter of
course, I shall remain your faithful ally—I should have to
struggle with Austria, England, Spain, and, perhaps, with
the whole of Germany. To be sure, I might do so, for I have
sufficient power to cope with all my enemies. But would it
be wise to enter at once into enterprises so vast? And what
for? To pursue a chimerical project which, how grand
soever it may be, is not attainable at this time.”

“ Alas!” sighed Alexander, “I see that your majesty is
right, and that mountain difficulties rise between me and my
cherished project! I shall have to return empty-handed to
my ancestors, and when Peter the Great asks me, ‘What have
you done to fulfil my will? Where are the provinces that you
have added to my empire?’ I must hang my head in con-
fusion and say that—”
372 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“No,” exclaimed Napoleon, in a loud and solemn voice;
“you will prondly raise your head and reply: ‘Look at Rus-
sia! I have made her great at home and abroad. I have
given to my people civilization and culture, and added to my
empire new provinces which promote its greatness and power
more substantially than Constantinople itself would have
done. The possession of that city isadream. I have an-
nexed to my country real provinces.’ That is what you will
reply to your great ancestor, sire, provided you go to him be-
fore having arrived at your sixth day of creation.”

Alexander was speechless for a moment, as if fascinated by
Napoleon’s countenance, beaming with energy and determi-
nation.

“What provinces does your majesty allude to?” he asked,
dreamily.

“They lie at the feet of Russia, and seem only to wait for
your majesty to pick them up. Moldavia and Wallachia you
will present as new crown jewels to your empire. They are
substantial realities in place of visionary wishes; solid posses-
sions far more important than Constantinople.”’

“That is true,” exclaimed Alexander. “I have myself
thought so for a long time, but J dare not avow it, because I
was afraid your majesty would not agree with me.”

“France knows no envy,” said the emperor, “and Napoleon
loves his friend Alexander; he will gladly grant to him what
he desires, and what is attainable. Take Moldavia and Wal-
lachia, sire!”

“You grant them to me,” exclaimed Alexander, “and it is
no empty promise, but a definite and immutable agreement?”

“T say, sire, take them at once, and woe to those who would
dare touch your new possessions!”

“JT thank you, sire,” Alexander said. “You have given
me a proof of your friendship to-day, and old Romanzoff will
have to acknowledge that he is wrong in thinking that you
only intended to amuse us with idle promises. Ah, he is a
hard head, and I believe your Minister Champagny cannot get
along with him very well.”

“That is so,” exclaimed Napoleon, laughing, and Alexander
joined heartily in his mirth.

“He will now demand guaranties,” said Alexander, still
laughing. “He is so distrustful that he believes in no words,
though from heaven. My old Romanzoff believes only in
black and white.”
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR. 373

x We will so guarantee Moldavia to him,” said Napoleon.

: Oh, not for my sake,” exclaimed Alexander, carelessly.

Your majesty’s word is amply sufficient for me; let Roman-
zoff and Champagny quarrel about the formalities. ”

“TI will come to the assistance of poor Champagny,” said
Napoleon, “if your majesty, in return, will be kind enough to
make stubborn Romanzoff somewhat more tractable. You
have already occupied these provinces; it will, therefore, be
easy for you to annex them. France will give her consent
by a formal treaty, and not only engage to recognize this an-
nexation so far as she herself is concerned, but also to compel
Turkey, Austria, and England, to acknowledge it. Your
majesty, therefore, will break the armistice with Turkey, and
advance your army to the foot of the Balkan, then to Adrian-
ople, and, if need be, to Constantinople, in order to wrest
these territories from the Porte. In case Austria should in-
tervene, we shall both declare war against her. As for Eng-
land, we are already at war with her. It will only be
necessary for me to give her a bloody defeat in Sapin to ren-
der her insensible to any enterprises we may enter into on
the continent. All this we stipulate not only verbally, but
in writing. Will that satisfy your majesty?” |

“Me? Iam satisfied with your majesty’s word,” exclaimed
Alexander.

“Well, then,” said Napoleon, with a smile, “the question
is, Will your minister be satisfied?”

“Of course, he will; and, moreover, I shall command him
to raise no further objections. Let Champagny and Roman-
zoft draw up the treaty; it will then be merely necessary for
us to sign it, and the whole matter is settled. Our friend-
ship will have been rendered more intimate and lasting by
new bonds, which nothing in the world will be able to break.”

“Ag to our other plans,” said Napoleon, “we shall never
lose sight of them. Every day we draw nearer to their fulfil-
ment. There is yet a vast future before us in which to ac-
complish our purposes with regard to the Orient, and to
remodel its political affairs. Romanzoff is aged, and hence,
impatient to enjoy what he desires. But you are young: you
can wait.”

“ Romanzoff is a Russian of the old school,” said Alexander,

“smiling. “He has passions and inclinations from which I am
free. I attach a higher value to civilizing than enlarging my
empire. Hence, I desire the provinces of the Danube more
374 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

for my nation than for myself. I shall be able to wait
patiently until our plans can be carried into effect. But you,
my noble friend, you ought to enjoy in tranquillity the great
things which you have accomplished, and no longer expcse
yourself to the danger of war. Have you not obtained glory
and power enough? Alexander and Cesar gained no more
laurels than you! Be happy, and let us leave the execution
of our projects to the future.”

“Yes, let us do so,” replied Napoleon. “Iam also longing
for repose. Iam tired of conquest; it has charms for me no
longer, and battle-fields seem to me what they are—the grave-
yards of brave men prematurely taken from their country and
their families. No more war! Peace with the.-whole world,
made more desirable by the friendship of Alexander!’ He
offered his hand with that smile which no one could with-
stand. “Oh!” he continued, “I am so happy at having at
length arrived at an understanding with you, and strengthened
our alliance, that I wish your majesty had some desire that I
might grant, and which it would be difficult for me to fulfil.
Is there nothing at all that you could demand of me?”

‘Yes, sire, there is,’’ responded Alexander, “and I have
both a wish and a prayer to address your majesty. Sire, my
ally, the poor King of Prussia, and his noble consort, are still
living in exile. I saw them, with your consent, on passing
through Koénigsberg, and confess that I promised to intercede
for them, and procure an alleviation of their unfortunate
condition.”

“ An alleviation of their unfortunate condition!” exclaimed
Napoleon, frowning. “Do they not owe their present fate
entirely to themselves? Why do they not pay punctually the
contributions which I have imposed upon them?”

“Sire, because they cannot! Prussia, exhausted, and re-
duced to one-half of her former territory, is unable to pay war
contributions amounting to one hundred and fifty millions of
dollars, in the short space of two years, and to feed, besides,
a French army of forty thousand men. Your majesty ought to
be magnanimous, and restore at least a semblance of indepen-
dence to my poor ally, by putting an end to the occupation.”

“Tf I do so, Prussia would think no longer of fulfilling her
obligations to me,” exclaimed Napoleon. ‘‘ Instead of paying
the war contributions, she would be foolish enough to rise in®
open hostility against me. Queen Louisa hates me; she will
never cease to intrigue against me, and to instigate her hus-
THE FESTIVITIES OF ERFURT AND WEIMAR. 375

band to pursue a course hostile tome. She surrounds herself
and her husband by men who share her sentiments, and are
plotting to revolutionize Prussia—nay, all Germany. ‘here
is, for instance, a certain Baron von Stein, whom the king
appointed minister at the request of the queen, and who is
nothing but a tool in the hands of this intriguing woman.
‘hat Stein is a bad and dangerous man; he is at the head of
secret societies, and I shall immediately take steps to render
him harmless. He and the queen alone make Prussia oppose
me, and refuse paying the stipulated contributions.”

“Sire,” said Alexander, almost imploringly, “I repeat to
your majesty, Prussia is unable to pay the enormous amount
which has even been increased after the conclusion of the
treaty of Tilsit, and, moreover, in the short space of two years.
Oh, your majesty, the fate of the royal family of Prussia is
truly pitiable and weighs down mysoul with remorse. Do for
my sake what you are unwilling to do for the sake of Prussia.
Let me not return without consolation to that mourning royal
family. Let me enjoy the triumph of proving to them that
my words and intercession were able to obtain from your
majesty what neither the queen’s letter, nor all the solicita-
tions of Prince William, and of the Prussian diplomatists, had
been able to accomplish! Oh, sire, you see lam vain, and
would like to demonstrate your friendship for me.”

Napoleon’s countenance grew milder while Alexander was
impressively uttering these words. “Sire,” he said, “who
could withstand your grace and magnanimity? I wished a
few minutes ago to be allowed to grant you some request, diffi-
cult for me to fulfil, in order to give you a proof of my re-
gard! Well, your majesty has really asked something very
difficult for me to grant. But I will comply for your sake,
sire! I will deduct twenty millions from the sum to be paid
by Prussia, extend the time in which the contributions are to
be paid from two to three years, and withdraw my troops and |
officials in the course of six months. Is your majesty satisfied
with this, and will you regard it as a proof of my friend- :
ship?”

“Tt is a proof of your friendship and generosity, and I:
thank your majesty,” exclaimed Alexander. “ Oh, how happy
I shall be when on my return I announce these glad tidings
to the royal couple! Ah, my poor allies have suffered a great
deal, and if your majesty does not object, I should like to in-
vite King Frederick William and his consort, next winter, to
376 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

spend a few weeks at St. Petersburg. Does your majesty
approve?”

Napoleon cast a quick and searching glance at Alexander.
“T do not assume to decide whom your majesty should hospit-
ably receive,” he said, “and I confide in your friendship—you
are henceforth my ally. Get the King of Prussia to join this
alliance, as the latter induced you to join the alliance against
me; that would indeed greatly promote the welfare of Freder-
ick William, and put an end to the intrigues of his queen.
But now, sire, a truce to politics and business! We are
agreed and shall be united in peace as in war. Our business
is accomplished, and the days we still spend here must be ex-
clusively devoted to pleasure and friendly intercourse. The
Duke of Weimar would like to receive us for a few days at
his capital, to arrange a chase and a ball. Suppose we go
thither this afternoon and spend two days? Would it be
agreeable to you?”

“T would accompany your majesty anywhere, were it into
Orcus,” exclaimed Alexander. “Let us go to Weimar!”

“And if you please, sire, to Jena also. I should like to
show the battle-field to your majesty.”

“ And I should like to learn from your majesty how to win
such laurels. I follow you as a pupil.”

 

CHAPTER XLII.
NAPOLEON AND GOETHE.

On his return from the early visit he had paid to the Em-
peror of Russia, Napoleon immediately went to his cabinet
and sent for Minister Champagny, whom he met with unusual
animation; and now, that he dccmed it no longer necessary to
mask his countenance, it was beaming with joy. “Cham-
pagny,” he said, “it will be no longer necessary for you to
send letters to me. The emperor Alexander has accepted my
offers, and Romanzoff will have to hang up his ‘cat’s tongue’
in the smoke-house. For the present the appetite of the
Russian ‘Emperor for new territories has been satisfied with
the provinces of the Danube, and he will compel his minister
to yield. The stubborn old fellow will have to give way, but,
we are obliged to give him our promises in black and white.
I go this afternoon with the emperor to Weimar to spend a
NAPOLEON AND GOETHE. 377

few days, You may in the mean time carry on the negoti-
ations with Romanzoff and draw up the treaty. I shall send
you further instructions to-night.”
_ “And will not your majesty be kind enough to give me also
instructions as to the course I am to pursue toward the Aus-
trian ambassador, Count Vincent?” said the minister. “He
overwhelms me every day with questions and demands. He
is very anxious to obtain an interview with your majesty, to
learn from your own lips that Austria has nothing to fear
from France, and that your majesty believes in the sincerity
ot the friendship and devotedness of his master.” .

“T believe in the sincerity of Austria!” exclaimed Napo-
leon, frowning. “I know her perfidy; I know that she is
secretly arming to attack me as soon as she believes me to be
embarrassed by the events in Spain. But I will unmask these
hypocrites, and meet them with open visor. I will wage war
against them, becanse they disdain to remain at peace with
me. Now that I am sure of Russia, I am no longer afraid of
Austria, for Russia will assist me in the war against her, or at
least not prevent me from attacking and punishing her for
her insolence. It was in my power to overthrow that mon-
archy as I have overthrown those of Naples and Spain. I re-
frained, and Austria is indebted to me for her existence.
Now, however, I am inexorable, and when I once more make
my entry into Vienna, it will be as dictator prescribing laws
to the vanquished. Austria is arming, and France will arm
for another Austerlitz. I authorize you to repeat these words
to Count Vincent. I myself will write to his emperor and in-
trust my letter to the ambassador. Tell him so.” He dis-
missed the minister and repaired to the dining-room.

Breakfast was ready, and had been served on a round table
in the middle of the room. ‘Talleyrand, Berthier, Savary,
and Daru, received the emperor, and accompanied him to
the table, not to participate in the repast, but to converse
with him, as Napoleon liked to do while he was eating, and to
reply to the questions which he addressed now to one, now to
another.

“Well, Daru,” he asked, taking his seat, “ you come from
Berlin? What about the payment of the contributions?”

“ Ah, sire, the prospects are very discouraging,” said Daru,
skrugging his shoulders. ‘ More rigorous measures will prob-
ably become necessary to coerce those stubborn Prussians,

and—”’
25
378 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The door opened, and Constant, the valet de chambre, en-
tered, whispering a few words to Marshal Berthier.

The marshal approached the emperor, who was engaged
with the wing of a chicken. “Sire,” he said, “your majesty
ordered M. von Goethe to appear before you at this hour. He
is in the anteroom.”

“Ah, M. von Goethe, the great German poet, the author
of the ‘Sorrows of Werther,’” exclaimed Napoleon. “ Let
him come in immediately.” A moment later Constant an-
nounced M. von Goethe. Napoleon was still sitting at the
table; Talleyrand was standing at his right; Daru, Savary,
and Berthier, at his left. The eyes of all turned toward the
door, where appeared agentleman of high, dignified bearing.
He was tall and vigorous, like a German oak; the head of a
Jupiter surmounted his broad shoulders and chest. Time,
with its wrinkling hand, had tried in vain to deform the im-
perishable beauty of that countenance; age could not touch
the charm and dignity of his features; the grace of youth still
played on his classic lips, and the ardor of a young heart was
beaming from his dark eyes as they looked calmly at the
emperor.

Napoleon, continuing to eat, beckoned Goethe, with a care-
less wave of his hand, to approach. He complied, and stocd
in front of the table, opposite the emperor, who Jooked up,
and, turning with an expression of surprise to Talleyrand,
pointed to Goethe, and exclaimed, “ Ah, that is a man!” *
An imperceptible smile overspread the poet’s countenance,
and he bowed in silence.

“How old are you, M. von Goethe?” asked Napoleon.

“Sire, Iam in my sixtieth year.”

“In your sixtieth year, and yet you have the appearance of
a youth! Ah, it is evident that perpetual intercourse with
the muses has imparted external youth to you.”

“Sire, that is true,” exclaimed Daru, “‘ the muse of Goethe
is that of youth, beauty, and grace. Germany justly calls
him her greatest poet, and does homage with well-grounded
enthusiasm to the author of ‘Faust,’ of ‘Werther,’ and of so
many other master-pieces.”’

“TI believe you have also written tragedies?” asked Napo-
leon.

*“ Voila un homme!” These words created a great sensation at the time, and
were highly appreciated by the admirers of Goethe, as well as by the great poet him-

self. His correspondence with friends contains numerous allusions to them.—Vide
“* Riemer’s Letters to and from Goethe,” p. 325.
NAPOLEON AND GOETHE. 379

_ “Sire, I have made some attempts,” replied Goethe, smil-
ing. “ But the applause of my countrymen cannot blind meas
to the real value of my dramas. I believe it is very difficult,
if not impossible, for a German poet to write real tragedies,
which fulfil the higher requirements of art, and withal those
of the stage. I must confess that my tragedies are not so
adapted.”

> Sire,” said Daru, “ M. von Goethe has also translated Vol-
taire’s ‘Mohammed.’ ”

“That is not a good tragedy,” said Napoleon. “ Voltaire
has sinned against history and the human heart. He has
prostituted the character of Mohammed by petty intrigues.
He makes a man, who revolutionized the world, act like an
infamous criminal deserving the gallows. Let us rather speak
of Goethe’s own work—of the ‘Sorrows of Werther.’ I have
read it many times, and it has always afforded me the highest
enjoyment; it accompanied me to Egypt, and during my
campaigns in Italy, and it is therefore but just that I should
return thanks to the poet for the many pleasant hours he has
afforded me.”

“Sire, your majesty, at this moment, amply rewards me,”
said Goethe, bowing slightly.

“ Your ‘Werther’ is indeed a work full of the most exalted
ideas,” added Napoleon; “it contains noble views of life, and
depicts the weariness and disgust which all high-minded
characters must feel on being forced to leave their sphere and
come in contact with the gross world. You have described
the sufferings of your hero with irresistible eloquence, and
never, perhaps, has a poet made a more artistic analysis of
love. Let me tell you, however, that you have not been en-
tirely consistent in the work. You make your hero die not
only of love, but of wounded ambition, and you mention ex-
pressly that the injustice he met with at the hands of his
official superiors was a wound always bleeding, of which he
suffered even in the presence of the lady whom he loved so
passionately. That is not quite natural, and weakens in the
mind of the reader the comprehension of that influence which
love exerted on Werther. Why did you do so?”

Goethe looked almost in astonishment at the emperor; this
unexpected censure, and the quick, categorical question, had
equally surprised him, and momentarily disturbed the calm-
ness of the poet. ‘‘Sire,” he said, after a brief pause, “ your
majesty has found fault with something with which no one
380 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

has reproached me heretofore, and I confess that your criti-
cism has struck me. But it is just, and I deserve it. How-
ever, a poet may be pardoned for using an artifice which
cannot easily be detected, in order to produce a certain effect
that he believes he is unable to bring about in a simple and
natural way.”

Napoleon nodded assentingly. “Your ‘Werther’ is a
drama of the heart, and there are none to be compared with
it,” he said. “After reading it, I am persuaded that it is
your vocation to write in this style; for the tragic muse is the
favorite companion of the greatest poet. Tragedy was at all
times the school of great men. It is the duty of sovereigns
to encourage, patronize, and reward it. In order to appreci-
ate it correctly, we need nct be poets ourselves; we only need
knowledge of human nature, of life, and of a cultivated mind.
Tragedy fires the heart, elevates the soul, and can or rather
must create heroes. J am convinced that France is indebted
to the works of Corneille for many of her greatest men. If
he were living I would make a prince of him.”

“Your majesty, by your words, has just adorned his mem-
ory with the coronet of a prince,” said Goethe. “ Corneille
would assuredly have deserved it, for he was a poet in the
noblest sense, and imbued with the ideas and principles of
modern civilization. He never makes his heroes die in con-
sequence of a decree of fate, but they always bear in them-
selves the germ of their ruin or death; it isa natural, rational
death, not an artificial one.”

“ Let us say no more about the ancients and their fatalism,”
exclaimed Napoleon; “they belong toa darker age. Political
supremacy is our modern fatalism, and our tragedies must
be the school of politicians and statesmen. That is the highest
summit which poets are able to reach. You, for instance,
ought to write the death of Cesar; it seems to me you could
present a much more exalted view of it than Voltaire did.
That might become the noblest task of your life. It ought to
be proved to the world how happy and prosperous Cesar
would have made it if time had been given him to carry his
comprehensive plans into effect. What do you think of it,
M. von Goethe?”

“Sire,” said Goethe, with a polite smile, “I should prefer to
write the life and career of Cesar, and in doing so I should not
be at a loss for a model.”” His eyes met those of the emperor,
and they well understood each other. Both of them smiled.
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS. 381

_ “You ought to go to Paris,” exclaimed Napoleon. “I in-
sist on your doing so. There you will find abundant matter
for your muse.”

“Your majesty provides the poets of the present time,
wherever they may be, with abundant matter,” said Goethe,
not in the tone of a courtier, but with the tranquillity of a
prince who confers a favor.

“You must go to Paris,” repeated Napoleon. “We shall
meet again.”

Goethe, who was an experienced courtier, understood the
delicate hint, and stepped back from the table. Napoleon
addressed a question to Marshal Soult, who entered at
this moment. The poet withdrew without further ceremony.
The eyes of the emperor followed the tall, proud figure, and
oo to Berthier, he repeated his exclamation, “ Voila un

omme |”

CHAPTER XLIII.
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS.

THE two emperors made their entry into the decorated city
of Weimar amidst pealing bells, and the cheers of the people.
The Duchess of Weimar, just as she had done two years be-
fore, received the French conqueror at the head of the palace
staircase; this time, however, she was not alone, but her hus-
band, whom the emperor had formerly hated and reviled
so bitterly, stood at her side. Napoleon greeted the ducal
couple with his most winning smile.

The events of those terrible days of the past had been well-
nigh forgotten. A short time had sufficed to veil their mem-
ory, and Napoleon was a welcome and highly-honored guest
two years after the battle of Jena. No vestige of the former
distress remained; but the laurels of the victor had not
withered.

A vast number of carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians,
filled the streets. The whole country had sent its representa-
tives to greet the emperors. All the houses were ornamented
with flags, festoons, busts, and laudatory inscriptions. But
no one cared to stay at home. The inhabitants and strangers
hastened to the forest of Ettersburg, to witness the great
chase which the Duke of Weimar had arranged in honor of
382 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the imperial guests.—Several hundred deer had been driven
up and fenced in, close to the large clearing which was to be
the scene of this day’s festivities. In the middle rose a huge
hunting-pavilion, the roof of which rested on pillars twined
with flowers. Here the two emperors were to witness the
chase, and the two wings of the structure were assigned to the
kings, dukes, and princes. All eyes and thoughts, therefore,
were turned in that direction; and yet no one noticed partic-
ularly two youthful forms, wrapped in cloaks and leaning
against an oak near the gamekeepers. The merry clamor and
the bugle-calls of the hunters drowned the conversation of
these young meu. No one was surprised at seeing rifles in
their hands; they might be hunters or gamekeepers—who
could tell?

“T believe,” said one of them, in a whisper, “we shall ac-
complish nothing. My rifle does not carry far enough to hit
him, and we are not allowed to approach nearer.”

“It is impossible to take a sure aim from here,” replied the
other. “My eye does not reach so far; I could fire only at
random into the pavilion.”

“The order says, however, to strike him alone, and not to
endanger other lives,” said the first speaker. ‘‘ The president
said, if we kill him, it would be an act of justice; but if we
are so unfortunate as to kill another, it would be murder.”

“Oh, what sophistries to lull the warning voice of con-
science!’” murmured the second speaker; “ I—”

Loud cheers interrupted him; the notes of bugles and the
roll of drums mingled with the general uproar. The people
seemed wild with excitement, ana the deer in the enclosure
huddled together in terror. The two emperors with their
suites had just arrived.

“Look at him, brother,” whispered the young man to his
companion; “look at the weird contrast of his gloomy coun-
tenance with the merry faces around him. He stands like
some incarnate spirit of evil in the midst of laughing fools.”

“Yes, but he is himself merry, brother Alfred, or seems to
be,” said his companion.

“The groans of poor Germania are not heard in the flatter-
ies of her princes, who are fawning around him, and guarding
him so well that the hand of a true German cannot reach him.”

“ But the sword is hanging over him, brother Conrad,” said
Alfred, “and if it do not fall on him to-day, it will to-mor-
row. Let us wait and watch for an opportunity.”
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS. 383

“Yes, Alfred, let us wait. We know not what favorable
chance may aid us.”

The chase commenced; amidst deafening shouts the game
were driven from the enclosure. Whenever a deer passed
near the pavilion, the two emperors fired, and when the noble
animal fell at perhaps ten yards’ distance, the spectators
cheered, the bugles sounded, and the two imperial sportsmen
congratulated each other on their skill.

“Tt is in vain to stand here any longer,” said Conrad, im-
patiently. “We shall be unable to reach him, and it is
repugnant to my feelings to witness this butchery.”

“ Let us go, brother,” whispered Alfred. “ We must try to
find another opportunity. Let us reflect. Do you know the
programme of the day’s festivities?”

“T do. After the chase there will be a gala-dinner, and
the sovereigns will then ride to the theatre, where the ‘Death
of Cesar’ will be performed. After the representation of the
tragedy, there will be a grand supper and ball at the palace.”

“The ‘Death of Cesar?’”’ asked Conrad, musingly. ‘‘ Does
fate intend giving us a hint thereby? Does it show us where
to find him and to strike the blow? Let us be the actors in a
similar play, and perform our part at the entrance of the
theatre! Are you ready, brother?”

“T am ready,” replied Alfred, sighing. “We have sworn
to do every thing the league orders us to do—we must obey.”

“Yes,” said Conrad, sighing, “obey or die. Let us take
our daggers to-night, and use them well. Let us place our-
selves in front of the theatre, you on the right, and myself on
the left. We must strike at the same time, when he alights
from his carriage. While all are gazing at him, let us
stealthily slip through the crowd. When you hear me shout
‘One,’ you will shout ‘Two!’ We will then simultaneously
rush forward.”

“ At what time do we meet?”

“At seven o’clock, and if we escape death and arrest, we
shall meet again at the tavern outside the gate. Farewell,
brother Alfred!”

“Farewell, brother Conrad!”

On the same evening, a thousand lights illuminated Wei-
mar. That part of the city between the palace and the
theatre, where the emperors would pass, was especially brill-
iant. When after the chase they had withdrawn to rest a
little, and the high dignitaries of the court were waiting in
384 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

the large reception-halls, Grand-Marshal Duroc approached
General von Miffling, who had left the Russian service; he
was now vice-president in Weimar, and had been charged by
the duke with the supervision of the court festivities.

“Tell me, sir,” said Duroc, in a low voice, “I suppose you
have a good police here?”

“Of course, we have,” replied Miiffling, smiling, “that is
to say, we have a police to attend to sweeping the chimneys
and cleaning the streets, but as to a haute police, we still live
in a state of perfect innocence.”’

“The emperor, then, is to go to the theatre, and your police
have taken no precautions for his safety?’ asked Duroc,
anxiously.

“I believe it is so, M. Grand Marhsal. If you wish to
make any arrangements, pray do so, and I shall approve
them.”

“Thank you,” said Duroc, bowing. “I have secretly sent
for a brigade of French gendarmes. Will you permit them to
guard the doors of the theatre, and keep the populace from
the streets along which the emperors will ride?”

“Do as you please, M. Grand Marshal,” said General von
Miffling, with a slightly sarcastic smile. “A detachment of
the imperial guard will be drawn up in frout of the theatre,
and hence I deemed any further precautions entirely super-
fluous.”

“The grenadiers are posted there only asa guard of honor,”
said Duroc; “I hasten to send the gendarmes thither.”

Fifteen minutes afterward the whole route from the palace
to the theatre was guarded by gendarmes, who pushed back
all who tried to cross the narrow sidewalks, or to step into the
street along which the carriages were rolling. A double line
of grenadiers was drawn up in front of the theatre. An officer
walked up and down, gazing anxiously along the street, in
order to command the drummers to beat according to the rank
of the sovereigns arriving. For the emperors they were to
roll thrice, for the kings twice, and but once for the sovereign
dukes and princes. The drummers had just rolled three
times, for the Emperor Alexander had arrived. Another
magnificent carriage approached; the coachman on the box
was covered with gold lace, and two runners, entirely clad in
gold brocade, accompanied. ‘Two rolls had already been
beaten, a third was about to commence, when the command-
ing officer waved his hand angrily, and shouted, “Silence! It
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS. 385

is only a king!” The stout form of the King of Wiirtemberg
appeared, and hastened into the theatre. Another carriage
approached. The drummers beat louder than before. Once,
twice! And then a third roll. he grenadiers presented
arms, and the people rushed forward. It was the Emperor
Napoleon.

At this moment a young man elbowed himself through the
crowd. He was already close to the emperor. Only a single
gendarme was in front of him.

“One!” he shouted in a ringing voice, pushing aside the
gendarme. “One!” he repeated. No voice replied.

“Stand back!” cried the guard.

The emperor walked past. He had heard the shout. At
the door he turned his stern face, while his eyes flashed for
a mowent searchingly over the crowd. He then slowly walked
on. Noaccident disturbed the representation, and the daggers
that had been lurking outside for the modern Caesar had
failed to strike him.

On the same evening the two conspirators met at the place
agreed on. With disappointed faces they seemed to read each
other’s secret thoughts.

“Why did you not reply to me, brother?” asked Conrad.
“Why were you silent when I gave the signal?”

“IT was unable to get through the crowd,” said Alfred.
“The gendarmes refused to let me pass, and it appeared to
me they were eying me suspiciously. It was impossible to
penetrate to the spot indicated. I heard you call, but could
not reply; I was too far from you.”

“The work, then, must be done to-morrow,” said Conrad,
gravely and sadly.

“Remember, brother, that the order of the president was
to strike the blow within a week. To-morrow is the last
day!”

Yes, to-morrow we must desecrate the sacred cause of the
fatherland by an assassination,” said Alfred, sighing. “ But
we have sworn not to shrink from death if the league requires
it, and must obey!”

“We must obey or die,” murmured Conrad. “Do you
know the programme of to-morrow?”

“JT do, brother. Napoleon wishes to show the battle-field
of Jena to the Emperor Alexander, and to the kings and
princes; and the Duke of Weimar, who participated in the
battle at the head of a Prassian division, has arranged, in
386 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

harmless self-irony, a hare-hunt. That will be a highly
dignified celebration of the anniversary of that battle.”

“Oh, Germania! how thou must suffer!” groaned Conrad.
“Tt is time for us to place a bloody offering on thy altar! It
must be done to-morrow. The road to Jena crosses the small
forest of the Webicht. Let us place ourselves there close to
the road, armed with our muskets. One of their balls will
surely hit him. We must both shoot at the same time.”

“To-morrow, then, in the forest of the Webicht!”

On the following day the imperial and royal visitors re-
paired to Jena, in order to hunt hares on the battle-field of
Napoleon’s famous victory. On the Landgrafenberg, where
Napoleon two years ago had spent the night before the battle
at a bivouac-fire, a magnificent tent had been erected, and the
Duke of Weimar begged leave to call it henceforth “ Napo-
leonsberg.” Napoleon granted the request, smilingly, and
then asked the company to take a walk with him across the
battle-field, that he might explain to them the various oper-
ations of the great struggle. This request of course was re-
ceived with general joy, and the party descended into the
valley. Napoleon led the way; on his right Alexander, on
his left Prince William of Prussia, whom he had taken care
to have by his side. All listened in breathless silence to his
words, which were growing more and more enthusiastic. He
disclosed to his audience his own plans and motives, as well
as the disastrous dispositions of his enemies. Alexander lis-
tened to him musingly; the German kings and princes, in
breathless suspense. The French marshals, however, looked
discontented while their sovereign was speaking. Once, when
the emperor was just expatiating in glowing words on the
correct mode of warfare, his eyes happened to meet the coun-
tenance of Berthier, Prince of Neufchatel, and noticed the
dissatisfied expression of his features.

When Napoleon repaired to his tent, he ordered Marshal
Berthier to follow him. “Berthier, why did you look so
angry?”

“Sire,” faltered Berthier, in confusion, “I do not know
that I did.”

“But I know it. Why were you dissatisfied? Speak! I
command you!”

“Well, if your majesty insists, I will speak,” exclaimed
Berthier. “Your majesty apparently forgot what you have
repeated to us so often: that we ought always to treat our
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS. 387

allies as though they afterward might become our enemies.
Is your majesty not afraid lest the sovereigns should profit
hereafter by the excellent lessons given them to-day?”

The emperor smiled. “Berthier,” he said, kindly, “ that
is truly a bold rebuke, and hence I likeit. I believe you take
me for a babbler. You think, then, Prince of Neufchatel,”’
he added, bending over Berthier and pulling his ear, “that I
have put whips into the hands of the German princes which
they might use against us! Be not alarmed; I do not tell
them every thing.” And Napoleon opened the door of the
tent with a laugh, and gave the signal for the hunt to begin.

Not a human voice was to be heard in the forest of We-
bicht, which was generally much frequented. It was but a
bird’s song that broke the deep silence. Suddenly there was
a rustling noise in the autumnal leaves covering the ground,
and quick footsteps approached the road crossing the middle
of the forest.

Two young men, wrapped in cloaks, glided through the
woods, and _ stationed themselves behind a couple of large
beeches. They looked searchingly along the road; opened
their cloaks, and raised thei weapons to examine them, that
they might make sure work.

“All right,” said Conrad.

“ All right,” echoed Alfred.

“When I call out ‘One,’ we must both fire!”

“Yes, but we have been ordered to kill none but him,”
said Alfred, hesitatingly. “What if he does not ride alone?
If one of the balls should strike an innocent man?”

“Tf one of his marshals or adjutants sits beside him he
would not be an innocent man, for he has assisted in making
our country unhappy! Let German soil drink his blood!
He must not prevent us from carrying out our purpose. We
cannot shrink from it, because we have sworn obedience to
the league, and this is the last day. We must do or die!”

“Hush! let us listen and watch for him, brother Conrad.”
Soon the roll of wheels was heard. The two conspirators
raised their muskets as the carriage approached. It could be
seen that it contained two persons. ;

“Tt is he,” whispered Alfred. “But who is seated by his
side?”

“One of his adjutants,” said Conard; “no matter! Let us
aim, brother.” The large trunks of the beeches concealed
the forms of the conspirators.
388 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“When I command, we fire!” whispered Conrad.

So close were they now that the persons seated in the coach
could be recognized, The man sitting on the right was Na-
poleon. But who was the young man with the fine but down-
cast face?

“Stop,” whispered Alfred. “Do not shoot, brother! He
is no Frenchman! He is a German prince, the brother of
the King of Prussia! We cannot fire!”

“No, we must not fire at the brother of the unfortunate
King of Prussia!” murmured Conrad, lowering his arm. As
the carriage passed by, the conspirators could distinctly hear
the words of Napoleon and his companion. “A fine, fragrant
forest,” said the former, in his sonorous voice, “ just the thing
for German poets and dreamers. For I suppose, prince, the
Germans like to dream?” 3

“Sire,” said Prince William, mournfully, “I believe your
majesty has at last disturbed them in their visionary musings.”

Napoleon burst into laughter, which resounded through
the forest, and startled the pale men standing behind the
trees, and gazing gloomily after him. He chatted gayly be-
side Prince William, without su@pecting that he, the brother
of the King of Prussia, whom Napoleon had humbled so often
and so grievously, had just saved his life.

“We have failed again,” said Alfred, when the noise of the
wheels was dying away in the distance. “The last day is
nearly gone. What shzll we reply to the brethren when they
ask us how we have carried out the order which our country
sent us? What shall we reply when they call us to account?”

“We shall tell them that Heaven refused to allow the sacred
cause of Germany to be desecrated by murder!” exclaimed
Conrad, gravely; “that, faithful to our obligation, although
with reluctant hearts, we tried to accomplish our mission,
but that we were restrained and our strength was paralyzed.
You will tell them so, brother—you alone. Tell them that I
was not forgetful of the oath I took on the day I joined the
league. Having been unable to obey, I die! Farewell,
brother!” A shot reéchoed in the silent forest.

Not long after, a man, with livid cheeks and wild eyes,
might have been seen hastening across the distant heath on
the other side of the woods. As he ran he whispered, “ Un-
happy Germany!” These were the last words of his com-
panion Conrad, who lay dead on the fallen leaves.

Two days after their return from Weimar, on the 10th of
THE CHASE AND THE ASSASSINS. 389

October, the emperors signed the treaty about which they had
agreed, and in which Romanzoff had been obliged to acqui-
esce. France consented in this treaty that Russia should take
possession of Moldavia and Wallachia. Russia also agreed to
whatever changes Napoleon had made, and would hereafter
make, in regard to the government of Spain, and engaged to
assist him in a war against Austria.

On the 14th of October they left Erfurt, and returned to
their states. The object of their meeting had been attained;
both had derived benefit from it. Alexander had gained
Moldavia and Wallachia; Napoleon, a powerful friend and
ally. Europe received tremblingly the news of this alliance
of the West and the East. What hopes remained to Ger-
many !—to that dismembered country, over whose battle-fields
Russia and France had joined hands and concerted measures
against the most powerful of its states—Austria!
BOOK VI

 

CHAPTER XLIV.
THE WAR WITH AUSTRIA.

NApoLeEon, in ill-humor, was pacing his cabinet, while
Minister Champagny was standing at the large desk, covered
with papers and maps, where he was engaged in folding and
arranging several documents.

“They are bent on having war, those insolent Austrians,”
said Napoleon, after a pause, “and they want it now, because
they believe that I am not prepared for it. What an unheard-
of presumption, to arrest my couriers, and take their papers
from them! And now that I am taking reprisals—that I on
my part have issued orders to arrest their couriers on all high-
ways, and in all cities, and to take their papers from them,
the Austrians are raising a hue-and-cry about the violation of
international law; and if war should break out, the blame, as
usual, will be laid at my door!” He paused, but added
immediately:

“T wished to remain at peace with Germany for the present,
for I have enough to do with those wretched Spaniards, who
are rising against my troops like a vast band of guerillas.
But that is just what is giving the Austrians courage. They
believe me to be weakened, isolated, and unable to wage war
with any other power, and hence the cowards take heart, and
think they can obtain spoils from the lion. But, patience!
the lion retains his former strength and vigor, and will finally
destroy his enemies. Champagny, I suppose you have already
sent the Austrian ambassador his passports?”

“Yes, sire, Count Metternich has departed with all the
members of his legation.”

“Very well; let him go to Vienna and announce my speedy
arrival to the Emperor Francis,” exclaimed Napoleon, im-
patiently.
THE WAR WITH AUSTRIA. 391

a Sire, Count Metternich will meet the emperor no longer
in Vienna,” said Champagny calmly.

“No longer in Vienna!” exclaimed Napoleon, laughing
scornfully. “Does Francis II. suspect already that I am
about to come, and has he taken to his heels even before I
have left Paris?”

a No, sire; it seems, on the contrary, that the Emperor
Francis intends to put himself at the head of his troops.”

Napoleon burst into a loud laugh. “The Austrians, then,
believe my soldiers to be sparrows, and think they can drive
them out by setting up a scarecrow! If the Emperor Francis
himself intends to command, he will command the army only
to retreat, for the word ‘forward’ is not to be found in his
dictionary. Have you looked over the dispatches from Ger-
many, and can you report to me what they contain?”

“Tam ready, sire,” said Champagny, glancing at the papers.

“Then commence,” ordered the emperor, sitting down,
and taking from the table a penknife, with which he whittled
the back of the chair.

“The four corps of the Austrian army, with the two reserve
corps, moved on the first of April toward the frontier of Ba-
varia,” said Champagny.

“As soon as they cross the Inn and enter the territory of
my ally, war will break out,” exclaimed Napoleon. “ Pro-
ceed !”

“ On the evening of the 9th of April, the Archduke Charles
and his brother, the emperor, arrived with the army at Linz.
Thence he sent one of his adjutants to the King of Bavaria,
to whom was to be delivered an autograph letter, in which
the archduke announced to the king that he had received
orders to advance, and would regard and treat as enemies all
that would resist his progress, no matter whether they were
German or foreign troops.”

“Why, that is a regular declaration of war,” said the em-
peror, piercing the velvet cushion of the chair with his pen-
knife.

“Yes, sire, it is,” said Champagny, taking up another
paper. “We have received, moreover, a copy of the war
manifesto which the Emperor of Austria has published in the
Vienna Court Gazette, and which was drawn up by Gentz, the
well-known pampbleteer.’’

“Gentz!” ejaculated Napoleon. “Do not those warlike
Austrians see that that is their death-knell, and that it is a
392 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

bad omen for them that Gentz had to blow the war-trumpet?
Is it not the same Gentz who drew up the high-sounding
manifesto for the King of Prussia, previous to the battle of
Jena?”

“Yes, sire, the same.”

“Well, that was in 1806; the six has been transformed into
a nine—that is all the difference,” exclaimed Napoleon.
“Every thing else has remained unchanged. I suppose the
same language of self-reliance, of a wounded sense of honor,
and of noble patriotism, is to be found in the manifesto of
1809 as in that of 1806? Oh, I know it! Those Germans
ever remain the same; they always believe their cause just;
they always want peace, and find war, without any fault of
theirs. Those Austrians have irritated me for about a year
past; they have secretly armed during that time. The busier
they believed me to be in Spain, the more energetically they
continued their preparations; and whenever I had them ques-
tioned about their motives and objects, they made evasive and
unsatisfactory replies. The natural consequence of all this
was, that I.moved my troops toward the German frontier;
that Davoust, Lannes, and Massena, with three corps, had to
approach Austria, and hold themselves in readiness to cross
its boundaries when the Austrians enter Bavarian territory ;
and that, finally, I issued orders to the princes of the Con-
federation of the Rhine to place their federal quota on a war-
footing, and prepare for the outbreak of hostilities. No
sooner had this been done, than the Austrians arrested my
courier contrary to international law, and compelled me to
retaliate. Nevertheless, I suppose, they are entirely innocent
now, and the manifesto of the Emperor Francis proves clearly
that France, by her incessant insults and encroachments, by
her insatiable thirst after new territories, and by her bound-
less ambition, compelled Austria to take up arms. Is it not
so?”

“Yes, sire, it is so. There are at the conclusion of this
manifesto words and ideas that are almost identical with those
your majesty uttered just now.”

- Read this conclusion,” said Napoleon, leaning back in his
chair.

Champagny read: “The Emperor Francis will never deem
himself authorized to meddle with the domestic affairs of for-
eign states, or to arrogate to himself a controlling influence
on their system of government, on their legislative and ad-
THE WAR WITH AUSTRIA. 393

ministrative affairs, or on the development of their military
strength. He demands a just reciprocity. Far from being
actuated by motives of ambition or jealousy, the emperor will
envy no other sovereign his greatness, his glory, his legitimate
influence; the exclusive assumption of such advantages alone
is the source of general apprehensions and the germ of ever-
lasting wars. Not France, in the preservation and welfare of
which his majesty will always take the liveliest interest, but
the uninterrupted extension of a system which, under the
name of the French Empire, acknowledges no other law in
Europe than its own, has brought about the present confu-
sion; it will be removed, and all the wishes of his majesty will
be fulfilled, when that exclusive system will be replaced by
one of moderation, self-restraint, the reciprocal independence
of all the states, respect for the rights of every power, the
sacred observance of treaties, and the supremacy of peace.
Then alone can the Austrian monarchy and the whole political
fabric of Europe be maintained in a prosperous condition.”

“Enough!” exclaimed Napoleon, rising from his chair, and
throwing the penknife into a distant corner of theroom. “I
shall pay Austria for this insolence, and there will be a day
when the Emperor Francis and his scribbler Gentz will repent
of this miserable pamphlet! I will have to treat the former
as I have treated the kings of Naples and Spain. The house
of the Hapsburgs must cease to reign. Or, if in my patience,
I should allow the imperial throne of Austria to exist further
under their rule, it shall not be occupied by this dull and
obstinate man, but by his brother, the Elector of Wtirzburg !*
But woe to this M. Gentz, who has dared to irritate me anew!
Once already I gave orders to arrest and punish him. He
succeeded in making his escape. My police will be more cau-
tious this time. When I have made my entry into Vienna, I
shall remember M. Gentz! Ah, somebody is coming!”

The door opened, and one of the imperial adjutants entered.

“Sire,” he said, handing a sealed letter to Napoleon, “the
director of the Paris telegraph-office has just brought this.”

“At last!” exclaimed Napoleon, seizing the letter, and
then motioning him to leave the room.

“ At last!” he repeated, breaking the seal. His eyes passed
over the paper with an expression of uncontrollable im-
patience. His countenance brightened, and a faint blush

* After Napoleon had made his entry into Vienna, he really requested the Em-
peror Trans ¢ abdicate in favor of the latter’s brother. The battle of Aspern pre-
vented this plan from being carried into effect.

ae
24
394 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

care to his cheeks. He raised his eyes toward the minister.
“Champagny,” he said, in a joyful voice, “war has com-
menced; the Austrians have crossed the Inn and invaded the
states of my ally the King of Bavaria. The decisive moment
is at hand. I shall set out this very night. To-day is the
12th of April; on the 17th I shall be at Donauwérth and put
myself at the head of my army. Now let us go to work and
make our dispositions. — What is the matter now?”

The door opened again, and the court-marshal appeared on
the threshold to announce dinner.

Napoleon cast a hasty glance at the clock. “ Indeed, it is
six o’clock!”’ he exclaimed. “But I cannot go yet. Have
every thing kept in readiness. Tell the empress I wish she
would wait for me in the dining-room. I will soon be with
her. Send for the Prince de Benevento and the Duke
d’Otranto. I want to see them immediately. Now come,
Champagny,” he said, when the court-marshal had with-
drawn; “let us go towork. We have a great many things to
attend to, and there is but little time left, for, as I told you
before, I will set out this very night.”

Fifteen minutes afterward Talleyrand and Fouché entered
the cabinet agreeably to the emperor’s orders. They found
him amid his maps, on which he marched the various armies
by means of the colored pins which Champagny handed to him.

“Gentlemen,” exclaimed Napoleon, saluting the the new-
comers, “the Austrians have commenced war; come hither
and see!”

In the mean time the empress, according to the wishes of
her consort, had repaired with her ladies of honor to the din-
ing-room, and waited for the arrival of Napoleon. The dishes
had already been served up; for, owing to the hasty manner
in which the emperor liked to dine, the various courses could

‘not successively be brought from the kitchen, but had to be
placed on the table before dinner commenced. A number of
silver warming-vessels, filled with hot water, always stood on
the imperial table. Only the roast chicken, which every day
made the last course, and was one of the emperor’s favorite
dishes, had remained in the kitchen; it was still turning on
the spit, and waiting for the moment when it was to be carried
up. But this moment was delayed an unusually long time to-
day. The first chicken had long ago been replaced by a sec-
ond, a third, and a fourth, and this one had been roasting so
much that it was tough and juiceless. It had not yet been
THE WAR WITH AUSTRIA. 395

called for. The waiters returned from time to time into the
kitchen for boiling water, to fill anew the silver vessels on
which the dishes were kept warm.

“Tf that goes on in the same manner we shall depopulate
the whole poultry-yard,” grumbled the chief cook, ordering a
fresh half-dozen of young chickens to be brought in and _pre-
pared for roasting.

The emperor did not come. The clock struck seven, eight,
nine, and ten, and Napoleon had not yet made his appearance
in the dining-room. But this long delay did not cause the
least impatience or anger to appear on the face of the em-
press; not for a single moment did she lose her temper.
Graceful and gay, she conversed with her cavaliers and ladies
of honor, and her eyes but occasionally glanced at the door by
which Napoleon had to enter.

At last the emperor appeared. He walked toward the
empress with a hasty nod, and offering her his hand to con-
duct her to the table, he said: “I believe it is a little late.
LThave kept you waiting, I suppose?”

Josephine laughed. “The question is rather naive, my
friend,” she said; “I have been waiting ever since six o’clock,
and it is now past eleven.”

“Ah, that is late, indeed,’ said the emperor abstractedly.
“JT thought I had already dined; Champagny, however, re-
minded me that this was not the case. Well, Josephine, let
us eat!” And he commenced eating the soup which the
grand-marshal placed before him.

Thanks to the warming-vessels, the dishes had remained
palatable; but the chief cook, when the gratifying announce-
ment was made that the emperor had at length made his ap-
pearance, had just ordered the twenty-third chicken to be
put on the spit for the purpose of having a juicy and freshly-
roasted wing in readiness.

The emperor, who was very reticent and abstracted, took
his dinner even more rapidly than usual, and no sooner had
he finished than he rose impetuously from his chair and left
the table. Without addressing a word to the empress, he
walked across the room.

Josephine gazed after him with a long and mournful look,
and her face was sad. “He is cruel,’ she muttered to her-
self. “ After waiting so many hours, he has scarcely a word
for me, and leaves me without salutation!”

But when Napoleon was near the door, he turned round
396 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

and walked hastily toward the empress. “ Good-night, my
dear Josephine,” he said, giving his hand to her. “It is
already late—near midnight—retire. We shall not meet
again to-day; farewell, and aw revoir!”

He nodded to her, and then left the room for his cabinet.
On arriving there, he bolted the small door leading into the
corridor, and thence into the apartments of the empress, call-
ing in a loud voice, “Constant!” The valet de chambre
entered immediately. “Constant!’’ said the emperor, “ come
hither close to me, and listen. You will quickly set in order
my travelling-coach, so that I shall be able to set out in an
hour. MRoustan and you will accompany me—no one else.
But you must not say a word about my departure. I want it
to be known at the Tuileries, as well as in Paris, to-morrow
only, that I hare left the capital, and it is of the highest im-
portance that it should remain a secret until then. Do you
understand me? And now make haste! In an hour every
thing must be ready!”

Constant bowed in silence and withdrew. “ Yes, yes,” he
murmured, while hastily passing on, “I understood the em-
peror very well. His departure is to remain a secret; that is
to say, especially for the empress. Ah! the poor, good em-
press! How she will weep when she hears to-morrow that the
emperor has again set out without her! Formerly he always
took her with him; she had to share the triumphs and troubles
of the journey; but now she must stay at home. Poor
Josephine! she is so good, and loves him intensely! But I
must obey the emperor’s order. I cannot tell her any thing!
I cannot, but it would be no fault of mine if some one else
should! Ah! a good idea strikes me! The empress had the
gold travelling-case of the emperor brought to her yesterday
in order to have one like it made for the viceroy of Italy. I
must go immediately and get it from her maid, and she is
fortunately tenderly devoted to the empress!”

CHAPTER XLV.
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL.

THE empress in the mean time had returned to her rooms,
sad and absorbed in her reflections. She had dismissed her
ladies of honor; only her mistress of ceremonies, Madame de
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 397

Rémusat, was still with her, and her maids were in the adjoin-
ing room to await her orders until she retired.

No sooner had Josephine reached her room than she sat
down slowly and abstractedly, and, throwing back her head,
fixed her eyes on the ceiling. An expression of profound
grief was visible in her features, and darkened the shade with
which age was veiling her countenance. When smiling,
Josephine was still a graceful and fascinating woman, but
when melancholy it was but too plainly to be seen that her
charms were fading, and neither the flattering rouge nor the
skill of the artist could conceal this fact.

Josephine’s brow was now often clouded, and her youthful
beauty was fast losing its charms. Gloomy forebodings were
constantly passing over her heart; she felt that she was stand-
ing as on the brink of a precipice, and that the days of her
happiness were numbered. She awoke every morning in ter-
yor, for before the evening she might be cast into an abyss of
sorrow—removed from the Tuileries and the side of her hus-
band—replaced by another, a younger woman, the daughter
of an ancient sovereign house, who was to become the wife of
Napoleon and the mother of his sons. Josephine knew that
the brothers and sisters of the emperor were constantly impor-
tuning him to disown his childless wife, and to secure his
throne and dynasty, as well as their own, by choosing another
consort giving an heir to his crown. She knew that Talley-
rand was representing this to him daily as a political necessity,
without which his empire and his greatness would be endan-
gered. She knew also that Napoleon no longer, as formerly,
closed his ears against these insinuations, but, eagerly listen-
ing, held them in serious consideration.

Josephine was aware of all this, and sat in her room a prey
to well-grounded suspicion and sorrowful presentiments.

Madame de Rémusat looked at her awhile, sighing and in
silence; she now softly approached the empress, and, taking
her hand, said in an affectionate voice, ‘““ Your majesty ought
to retire! You need sleep; it is long past midnight, and
your eyes are weary.” Z

“Not from waking—from weeping, my dear Rémusat,” said
the empress, pressing the hand of her confidante. “But you
areright, I willretire. Insleep we forget our grief. Rémusat,
in my dreams I always see Napoleon as affectionate, as loving
as he ever was—in my dreams he loves me still and looks at
me, not with the stern eyes of the emperor, but of a tender
398 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

husband. When I awake, Rémusat, his fine face still before
my mind, and remember that his love is now gone and lost
forever—oh, then a sword seems to pierce my heart, and I
shed scalding tears in spite of myself! And yet I will retire.
He commanded me, and I will obey.”

“How discouraged your majesty is again to-day!” ‘said
Madame de Rémusat, sighing. “Still it seems to me there is
less cause than ever. The emperor was more cordial and
affectionate than usual. He was evidently abstracted, and
occupied with important plans, and yet he returned; his ex-
pression was unusually gentle, and his voice trembled when
he bade farewell to your majesty.”

“But why did he bid me farewell?” exclaimed the empress.
“This is what fills me with anxiety. Heretofore he only said
to me, ‘Good-night!’ and, ‘we shall meet again to-morrow,
Josephine!’ But to-day he said, ‘Farewell, and au revoir!’
Rémusat, there was a hidden meaning in these words. Some-
thing unusual is to happen, for the emperor never took leave
of mein this manner. ‘Aw revoir!’ You never say that to
one whom you meet again in the morning. It means as-
suredly something! But you are right—I need repose, for my
limbs are trembling, and my head is burning, as if I had
fever! Call my maids!” ;

Josephine sighed deeply, and rose to be undressed. She
was so absorbed in her reflections that she, who always ad-
dressed a pleasant word to her servants, did not apparently
notice their presence. In silence she allowed her jewels to be
removed, which Madame de Rémusat carefully put away into
their caskets; in silence she suffered herself to be divested of
her blue satin dress, embroidered with silver, and her white
‘satin underskirt, without observing that her first maid was
absent. When her wrapper was brought by the second maid,
she noticed that the first was not present.

“Where is Dufour?” she asked, hesitatingly.

“Your majesty, she has just been called out to attend to
something urgently required by his majesty the emperor,”
said the second maid, approaching the empress.

But Josephine pushed her back. “To attend to something
urgently required by the emperor?” she asked, breathlessly.
“What does that mean? Ah, there is Dufour! What could
have detained her?” And she rushed toward her and grasped
her hand.

“Dufour, where have you been? What is the matter?”
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 399

“Your majesty, Constant wished to see me. I beg pardon
for coming so late, but it was something very urgent.”

“Urgent! There is the same word again,” exclaimed
Josephine. “ What was it that was ‘urgent?’ ”

“Your majesty, M. Constant wanted the golden travelling-
case of the emperor, which your majesty showed to the jewel-
ler to-day. As it was in my keeping, he applied to me for
it.”

“Well, could he not wait until to-morrow?” asked the
empress.

“No, your majesty, for the emperor needs the travelling-
case, and at once.”

Josephine uttered acry. “He is about to depart! Oh, I
feel he is going to leave me!” she exclaimed, almost beside
herself. And without reflecting and hesitating, regardless of
the fact that she was undressed, her shoulders bare, and her
feet incased in small slippers of crimson velvet—forgetful of
every thing but the distracting thought that the emperor was
leaving her, without even a farewell, she ran across the room
toward the door.

Vainly did Madame de Rémusat try to detain her. Jose-
phine pushed her aside, opened the door, andran out. Breath-
less, bathed in tears, her dishevelled locks streaming in the
air, she hastened through the rooms and magnificent halls in
which she was accustomed to appear in a gorgeous toilet, and
receive the homage of princes. On crossing the threshold of
the first reception-room she lost one of her slippers; but this
modern Atalanta did not know it as she rushed along the corri-
dor and down the stairs. Having reached the palace-yard,
she found that she was not mistaken—there stood the em-
peror’s travelling-carriage. Roustan and Constant were wait-
ing in front of it, but she passed them before they knew what
had happened. Trembling and weeping, she sat down in the
carriage. .

The emperor at that moment entered the palace-yard, while
the two servants were still standing near, speechless, and as if
paralyzed with terror. He took no notice of them, and as-
cending the steps of the carriage beheld the strange white
figure within. .

“What is that?” exclaimed the emperor, standing still.
“Who is there?”

“Tt is I,” exclaimed the empress, in asuppliant voice. “I,
Josephine! You wished to depart again without me, Bona-
400 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

parte; but I will not suffer you; I will cling to you! I can-
not leave you!”

She threw her arms around his neck, but Napoleon pushed
her back. “You are a fool, Josephine!” he said, angrily.
“This is childish; you ridiculously retard my departure. I
do not wish to hear any more! Be kind enough to leave the
carriage! It is necessary that I set out immediately.”

“But, Bonaparte, you cannot be in earnest,” cried Jose-
phine, sobbing aloud. “Havemercyonme! Donotdrive me
from you! I tell you, you must use violence to remove me!
Oh, have pity on me—on my poor, painful heart, and let me
go along with you! Remember that you promised me the
other day that I should accompany you on your next journey.
Oh, Bonaparte, keep your word! Keep your word only this
time! Have pity on me, and let me accompany you!” She
covered his lips and cheeks with her kisses and tears. Na-
poleon’s heart seemed to be softened, for he involuntarily
raised his arms and wound them around Josephine’s neck.
“How cold you are!” he exclaimed. “And your shoulders
are bare! What does this mean?”

“Ti means,” said the empress, half laughing, half weeping,
“that I was just about retiring when—when I heard the car-
riage drive up to the door. My heart told me that you in-
tended to leave me, and that I would not have time to dress
if I wished to see you, and therefore I came at once.”

“And indeed you were right; if you had come a minute

later, I would certainly have been gone.”

‘The emperor entered the carriage, closed the door, and
shouted in a powerful voice out of the window: “ Have every
thing the empress needs for her toilet sent to the first station,
that she may find it on her arrival. Order the mistress of
ceremonies to set out immediately with her majesty’s ladies
of honor. They must be at Strasburg on the 18th. For-
ward!”

Josephine uttered a joyous cry, and sat down on the em-
peror’s knees, pressing his head with her arms against her
bosom. He laughed, and did not resist her. Roustan and
Constant ascended, and the carriage started.

“Bouaparte, thanks! a thousand thanks!” whispered the
empress. “Never shall I forget this hour, for it proves to
me that you still love your poor Josephine, or that at least you
pity her!”

“Oh, you know full well, traitress, that I cannot withstand
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 401

your tears,” said Napoleon, half angrily, half smilingly.
“But you are almost naked!”

“Yes, I am naked, as it behooves a beggar-woman who begs
for love at the palace-gate,” said the empress, smiling. “I
hope, my emperor and lord will give me something to cover
my nakedness.”

“Here is what you want, you impulsive beggar!” exclaimed
Napoleon, throwing the sable robe, which the Emperor Alex-
ander had presented to him, over her shoulders, and wrapping
it carefully around her.

“ Accept my thanks!” exclaimed Josephine, laughing; “I
will wear it as a token of your kindness.”

“You will not,” quickly replied Napoleon. “TI merely lend
it to you until our arrival at the next station, where, I hope,
we shall meet a courier with your wardrobe.”

“But he will not be able to overtake us there, Bonaparte,
and you will have to leave me the robe for some time yet.”

“No; he will travel faster on horseback than we in our
carriage. I would have no objection to the robe myself, for
the night is cold!”

“Tt is cold; come, I will let you have part of it,” wrapping
it around the emperor, and clinging closely to him. Napo-
leon laughed, and winding his arms around the slender waist
of Josehpine, pressed her to his breast. She laid her wearied
head silently on his shoulder. The carriage continued the
journey without interruption, and, exhausted by her previous
excitement, she closed her eyes and slept.

Suddeualy the voice of the emperor aroused her. They had
reached the first station; it was already daylight. The mu-
nicipal officers of the small town were standing in front of the
post-office to present their respects. A man, mounted on a
horse covered with foam, was near them. It was the courier
who had brought the wardrobe of the empress.

“There is your luggage,” said the emperor, pointing smil-
ingly at a small leather trunk which had been placed an the

back seat. “The empress has set out as a travelling ad-
venturer!”’ ; ae
“Yes, you are right,” exclaimed Josephine. “It is just

like a fairy-story. Some poor, disowned princess is met on
her journey by a handsome son of a king, who takes her in
his arms, gives her magnificent dresses, and marries her.
I thank you, my friend, and now I will attend to my toilet.
“T hope not here in the carriage?” asked Napoleon, in sur-
402 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

prise. “We shall have the trunk carried into the house; I
believe the postmaster has a room where you can dress, and a
servant-girl who can assist you.”’

“But, Bonaparte,” exclaimed Josephine, “do you not see
that that is impossible? It is daylight; is, then, the car-
riage to open and the empress to alight with one slipper on
her feet, to be triumphantly conducted into the house? Ah,
my friend, all Europe would smile at the idyllic empress who
accompanied her husband on his journey in such a dishabille.”

“Jt is true,” said Napoleon, moodily, “it would be a fine
anecdote for the so-called legitimate princes, and they would
proudly laugh at the violation of the dehors, committed by
imperial upstarts. As though it were so difficult to learn the
ridiculous rules of their etiquette, if one should deem it
worth while!”

Josephine gently patted the emperor’s forehead with her
white hand. “No clouds must darken my morning sun,” she
said, “for they would foretell a gloomy day. I wish you
could transform yourself into my maid.”

“What!” exclaimed the emperor, laughing. “Transform
myself into your maid?”

“ And why not, Bonaparte?” asked Josephine. “Did not
your brother, the great Jove, transform himself into an ox
for the sake of Europa? The carriage is moving again!
Draw the curtains, and then, my dear maid, we shall com-
mence dressing.” She hastily opened the small travelling-
trunk, which had carefully been filled with every thing
required for her toilet—small velvet gaiters, a comfortable
velvet cloak, one of her large cashmere shawls, and a beauti-
ful red satin dress with lace trimmings.

“You will have but little trouble with me,” said the em-
press, busily examining the contents of the trunk. “ Dear
Madame Rémusat has arranged every thing as judiciously as
possible, and forgotten nothing. There are warm gloves, em-
broidered handkerchiefs—in short, all I need. Ah! there is
but one thizg she has forgotten.”’

“Well, and what is that?”

“It isa mirror. Bonaparte, you must be my mirror to-day.
But come now, my dear maid! enter upon your duties. In
the first place, assist me in putting on my gaiters.”

“What admirable ones they are!” said the emperor. “ Are
these tiny things really large enough for your feet?”

“Yes. Did you forget that your Josephine has the smallest
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 403

and prettiest foot in all France? Formerly, when you were
not the all-powerful Napoleon, but the brave and illustrious
General Bonaparte, you knew it. Ah, I wish you were still
General Bonaparte, and we lived at our small house in the
Rue Chantereine!”

“Indeed, Iam glad that I am no longer there,” said Napo-
leon. “It seems to me General Bonaparte did not forfeit his
glory; he only changed his title and position. That of an
emperor is not so bad, and the Tuileries a very pleasant resi-
dence. But, Josephine, let me see whether this fairy-shoe is
really large enough for human foot!”

“ Bonaparte, envy and jealousy prompt you to say so,” said
Josephine, laughing. “You cannot comprehend how any foot
could be even smaller than yours. But just take into con-
sideration that you are the great Bonaparte, and that I am
but poor little Josephine—the insignificant creature that de-
rives only from you light and life. Bonaparte, you have the
largest foot that man ever had.”

“What! I have the largest foot?” exclaimed Napoleon, in
surprise. “Why, I have always been told that my foot was
very small.”

“Oh, that was a mistake,” said Josephine, gravely, “for
how would it otherwise be possible for you to trample down
the whole of Europe as you are doing?”

Napoleon laughed. “ Very good,” he said, “you are right;
I have put my foot on the neck of Europe, and shall crush all
who resist me!”

“ Bonaparte,” exclaimed Josephine, menacingly, “ no politics
now, no threatening imperial face! Remember that, at the
present moment, you are nothing but my maid. There is
my foot! Put on my gaiter, and see whether it is large
enough!”

Napoleon at once obeyed, his wife’s toilet commenced, and
the first day of their journey passed in laughter and affection-
ate chatting. The empress had not enjoyed so happy a day
for years. All cares and apprehensions were forgotten.
What did light-hearted Josephine care for the future? |

But, alas! the second day was different. ‘The smiles of
the unfortunate woman met with no reply. The emperor was
taciturn and gloomy. Wrapped in his sable robe, he was lean-
ing in a corner of the carriage, and made only stern and brief
answers to Josephine’s questions. The heart and countenance
of the empress grew heavy and anxious.
404 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

When they arrived at Strasburg on the evening of the fourth
day, each of them sat silent—the empress with tearful eye;
the emperor frowning and stern. Napoleon offered his arm
to his consort, and conducted her into the palace. ‘‘ Good-
night, Josephine,” he said, standing still at the entrance of
the rooms destined for her, “ good-night!”

“You will not take supper with me?” asked the empress
in a low, imploring voice.

“No, I have business to attend to. Good-night!” And
he walked away without saluting or even looking at her.
Josephine went into her rooms. She refused to partake of
refreshment, and avoided the necessity of admitting the
officials, who wished to pay their respects to her, by sending
them word that she was too fatigued to receive any one.
Alone she could weep without being disturbed.

At an unusually early hour on the following morning Na-
poleon entered her room. Josephine was just about to dress,
assisted by her Parisian maids. He motioned them to with-
draw, and then commenced pacing the room in his usual man-
ner, when excited.

“Napoleon,” said Josephine, in a tremulous voice, “you
have come with bad news. My heart tells me so, and I read
it on your gloomy brow. Speak, and tell me every thing at
once. Iam prepared, for it.”

“Well, then, I must say,” replied Napoleon, vehemently,—
“you cannot, Josephine, accompany me farther. We must
part this hour. I yielded to your wishes in spite of myself,
but only thus far! A new campaign is about to begin; days
of battles, troubles, and fatigues, are awaiting me. You must
not and cannot share them. You must remain here.”

Josephine cast a melancholy look on him. “But when you
have conquered, when you have made again your triumphant
entry into Vienna, will you then call me, Napoleon? Shall I
then share your triumphs as I used todo? Bonaparte, do not
now make an evasive reply! Tell me the truth, for I can bear
it. Tell me, when the fortune of war has favored you—when
you have vanquished Austria, as you have hitherto every other
enemy—will you then call me to you? The truth, my friend,
the truth!”

“Very well, I will tell you the truth,” exclaimed Napoleon,
after a brief hesitation. “No, Josephine—I will not. You
can share my triumphs no more!”

Josephine uttered a cry, and her eyes filled with tears. “TI
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 405

doomed, then,” shesaid, “and what Fouché told me was
rue!”

“What did he tell you?” asked the emperor, hastily.

“He told me to prepare for a heavy blow—that you, Napo-
leon, had secretly applied to the Emperor Alexander for the
hand of his sister, and that only the resistance of the dowager
prevented you from accomplishing your purpose.”

“Yes,” exclaimed Napoleon, moodily, and, as if absent-
minded, “yes, the proud empress-dowager hates me, and
hastened to marry her daughter to a petty German prince
rather than let her become the consort of the Emperor of the
French.* Well, no matter! other princes have daughters,
too, and one of them will assuredly be only too happy to be-
come my wife!”

“ Napoleon, and you dare tell me so?” exclaimed J osephine,
reproachfully. “You admit, then, that you are about to
disown me?”

The emperor started. “Pardon me, Josephine,” he said,
in confusion, “I was absent-minded, I—”

“Yes, you were,” interrupted the empress, “and while so,
you betrayed your thoughts. It is true, then! Cruel man!
You have forgotten every thing, and the whole past has been
blotted out. You can seriously think of parting with me,
your best friend?”

“No, not now, Josephine,” exclaimed Napoleon. “You
have nothing to fear. I shall not enter Germany as a wooer,
but as a soldier, and I do not desire to seek myrtle-crowns, but
laurels!”

“But, my husband, when you have gained fresh laurels and
new territories with the blood of your soldiers, then, I sup-
pose, Josephine is to be sacrificed ?”’

Napoleon did not reply. He paced the room slowly and
with a bowed head. Standing still, he looked with sad eyes
in his consort’s tearful face.

“ Josephine,” he said, in a grave voice, “you have a noble
heart, and it will bear the truth. Yes, there may be a day
when we shall have to part, although I love you, and I know
well that you are the only faithful friend on whom I can rely!

* Napoleon ordered Talleyrand at Erfurt to inquire of the Emperor Alexander
whether he would permit him to marry his sister. Alexander replied that nothing
could afford him greater pleasnre than that Napoleon should become his brother-in-
Jaw, but the matter did not depend on his decision alone. The empress-dowager
must also be consulted. No sooner had she heard of Napoleon’s wishes than she in-
duced her daughter to marry the Duke of Oldenburg. The notification of the mar-
riage of the grand-duchess to this German prince was the only reply that was ever
made to Napoleon’s inquiring wish.
406 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Judge, therefore, what pangs it will cost me when obliged to
come to the terrible resolution to separate from you, my
guardian angel! But I belong to my people—I belong to my
glory! My power has assumed such gigantic proportions that
I must support it with foundations that cannot be overthrown.
The Emperor Napoleon must have a successor; if you had
given birth to one, I should never have parted from you.
Now all hope is gone, and I shall, perhaps, be compelled one
day to look for a consort among the daughters of kings. I
really do not wish to do so, but my duty to my people makes
it imperative.”

“No, not your duty, but your ambition!” cried Josephine,
with streaming eyes. “You have sacrificed every thing for
that—your tranquillity, your conscience, the blood of your
soldiers, and now your wife!”

“Yes, it is as you say, Josephine,” exclaimed Napoleon;
“it is my ambition that separates me from you, and compels
me to part with her who has been my glory and my life for
sixteen years! Itis ambition that points its iron arm at my
imperial crown, and commands me to look for another em-
press, that I and my son may enter the ranks of legitimate
princes. I have formed vast plans; I shall soon effect new
convulsions: I shall vanquish all my enemies, and Europe will
have to recognize me as her master. But when nothing re-
mains to wish for—when I have so ascended as to leave no
heights above me, then I shall think of securing the happiness
and peace of ny people and of my empire. To doso, Iam
in need of a direct heir. For myself, I ask and wish for
nothing; but my glory belongs to France. After my death
my contemporaries will say of me, ‘He was the only one who
could strive for universal good, while his individual wishes had
been gratified; others thought only of themselves—Bonaparte’s
wishes and deeds were for his country. There was cne thing
that was dear to him personally, and that was his wife! But
the welfare of his people requiring it, he sacrificed this beloved
wife to their interests.’ ”’

“Words!” exclaimed Josephine. “You are vainly trying
to conceal your innermost thoughts from me. J know you,
Bonaparte, and can read your soul! You wish to connect
yourself with the foremost sovereign houses of Europe, because
such a union will flatter your pride and your insatiable am-
bition. When you are the son-in-law of an emperor or a
king, you will believe that you arc at liberty to do every thing
JOSEPHINE’S FAREWELL. 407

with impunity. You will deem yourself a demi-god, and,
accompanied by your victorious legions, you will march to
the conquest of the whole world. But that will not be your
destiny. You believe you can enslave the nations. Beware
lest they one day awake, break their chains, and take a terri-
ble revenge on the tyrant whom they allowed so long to op-
press them! Seduced by your illusive ambition, you will
disown Josephine? Infatuated man! you will perceive too
late that you walk near a volcano. Oh, Bonaparte, I tremble
and weep for you! Remember that you have often called me
your guardian angel. Believe me, when you disown me, you
disown your good fortune. It will forsake the faithless man,
and your star will sink in an eternal night! That is what
wounds my heart, and drives me to despair. You will be
alone in the midst of traitors and false friends. When Jose-
phine is with you no more, no one will have good intentions
toward you. No one will dare tell you the truth, when you
lose your best friend. Falsehood will flatter you, but only to
lead you to the verge of the precipice!’ ‘The empress, with
quivering limbs and pale features, sank on a chair, and cov-
ered her face.

A long pause ensued. Napoleon gloomily continued walk-
ing the room. At last hé approached Josephine, and gently
laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘“ Do not weep,” he said, im-
ploringly. ‘‘ We have once more allowed phantoms to frighten
us, and quarrelled about things that belong to the future.
You are still my wife, and who knows whether you will not
always remain mine? Who knows whether you will not soon
be my widow? Iam about to enter into another war, and it
will be a desperate, obstinate struggle, in which old Austria
will try to wrest the palm of victory from young France.
Victory will perch on my banners. I have no doubt of that,
but who knows whether I shall not have to pay for it with my
blood! for I must not spare myself—I shall always be at the
head of my troops, and, like my private soldiers, with them
bare my own breast to the hail of bullets. In so decisive a
struggle as will take place now, the emperor will be nothing
but a soldier, and do his duty.” ;

“Qh, Bonaparte!” cried Josephine, rising in dismay and
clinging to him, “oh, have mercy on my heart! Do not
rashly expose yourself to the accidents of battle! Remember
that the fate of millions depends on your life! Remember
that I should die if an accident befall you! Oh, my dearest
408 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

husband, be kind and generous—spare yourself, and spare my’
love!”

“Then you love me in spite of your gloomy forebodings?”’
asked Napoleon, with a gentle smile. “Oh, I know my
Josephine is my most faithful and best friend, and whatever
may happen, her heart will always be mine. Let this be our
farewell, Josephine! I must go; I must depart this very
hour. To-morrow J join my army, and my cannon will soon
announce to Germany that the victor of Austerlitz and Jena
is demonstrating his right to rule, and at his own pleasure to
destroy or create kingdoms.”

CHAPTER XLVI.
FERDINAND VON SCHILL.

A TRAVELLING carriage stopped in front of the house on
Frederick Street in which Major von Schill had established
his headquarters since his regiment had been sent to Berlin.
The horses were wet with perspiration, and the carriage was
covered with mud. Every thing indicated that the young
man seated in it had made a long and hurried journey, and
his exhausted and anxious face induced the belief that the ob-
ject could not but be highly important. He alighted hastily,
and approached the house, in front of which a crowd of idlers
were staring at the windows. Addressing one of them, he
asked, “Can you tell me whether Major von Schill lives in
this house?”

“Yes,” said the man, proudly; “every good citizen of Ber-
lin can tell you that Major Ferdinand von Schill, the favorite
of our people and of all partriotic Germans, lives here.”

The young man smiled. “And can you tell me whether
Major von Schill is at home?”

“Well, what should we stand here for, if Schill were not at
home? We are only here to see and salute him when he ap-
pears at the window, and to escort him when he leaves the
house. He is always surrounded by a guard of honor, com-
posed of citizens of Berlin, and the cheers never cease wher-
ever he may be. I myself have not yet seen him, for I was ill.
But yesterday was my birthday, and my wife presented me
with a pipe-bowl with Schill’s portrait; my daughter says he
is the best-looking man in the world, and she has bought a
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 409

locket with his portrait, which she is wearing on herneck. I
have come to see whether the portraits so much in vogue are
like him, and whether he is not only the bravest soldier, but,
as the girls pretend, the finest-looking man. I will cheer so
vigorously as to shake the statues on the arsenal. I suppose
you have also come to see him?”

“That is all I have come for,” said the young man, and,
turning to the postilion, who had just unhitched his horses,
he shouted:

“ Postilion, when you arrive at the post-office, order im-
mediately some fresh horses for me and send them hither.
I shall set out for home in half an hour!”

He then walked toward the house, elbowing himself through
the constantly increasing crowd, and reached the door. After
rapidly crossing the hall, he went upstairs. A footman,
dressed in a rich livery, who was pacing the corridor on the
upper floor, looked inquiringly at the young stranger.

“Does Major von Schill live here?” :

“Yes, sir.”

“ And is he at home?”

“T am not quite sure—I rather believe he has gone out.
He is subjected to visits and invitations to such an extent,
that I really do not know whether there are persons with him
at present, or whether some of his admirers have taken him to
another banquet to be given in his honor. The people of Ber-
lin are perfectly infatuated with my master, and if an angel
should appear upon earth, they could not pay more deference
to him. The fuss they are making about him has positively
made him ill. Day and night he must attend parties, listen,
and reply to a thousand speeches, and take wine with every-
body; and then, again, the ladies are not the least active in
demonstrating his popularity. Oh, the people of this city
will certainly kill my dear, good master in this way, and I
must see to it that he gets occasionally a little rest, and is able
to take a peaceful nap on his sofa, I think I must tell you
now, sir, that Major von Schill is not at home. He returned
only at daybreak from a ball which the city of Berlin gave in
his honor; at noon he will have to attend a banquet to which
the governor of Berlin, General von Lestocq, has invited him,
and which is in fact another testimonial of the public respect
for him. Major von Schill must have some repose, or his
popularity will be the death of him. Please return some
other time. You cannot see him to-day.”

27
410 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUJISA.

“But, my friend, I cannot return,” said the stranger. “TI
am not one of the citizens of Berlin, but I am an enthusiastic
admirer of Schill, and have travelled three days and nights
without interruption, in order to bring important news to
him.”

“Ah, that alters the case,” said thefootman. “If you bring
important news for my master, I will go and see whether he is
at home.”

“Do so, my friend, and tell the major that Referendary
von Bothmar has come from Cassel expressly to see him.”

The footman nodded, and hastened into the room, the door
of which he had hitherto guarded with the affection of a
friend and the obstinacy of a faithful sentinel. He returned
in a few minutes, opened the door, and exclaimed: “The
major requests you to come in!”

M. von Bothmar entered. In obedience to the sign the
footman made to him, he crossed the anteroom and opened
the door of the one adjoining. A fine-looking man in the
uniform of a major, with a fresh, florid countenance, and high
forehead adorned with a broad scar, came to meet him. It
was Ferdinand von Schill, the lieutenant of the queen’s
dragoons, who, ever since the disastrous battle of Jena, had
given such brilliant proofs of his courage and patriotism at
Kolberg (and during the guerilla warfare he had afterward
entered into on his own responsibility), that the people hoped
he would become the savior of the country. The King of
Prussia had promoted him to a majority, and conferred on
his regiment the honorary distinction that it should be the
first Prussian regiment that was to make its entry into Berlin
after the French had evacuated the cepital.

“Let me welcome you, my dear sir,” said Schill, kindly
offering his hand to the young man. “ You told my footman
you had come from Cassel to bring important news to me.
You are, therefore, a good German patriot, and I may greet
M. von Bothmar asa friend and brother. But let me hear
what you bring—glad tidings, I suppose?”

“No, majer, but important,” said M. von Bothmar.

Schill became uneasy, and a deep blush crimsoned his
cheeks fora moment. “ You know Dérnberg?” he inquired.

“T know him, and I was also aware of his plan, and of the
day and hour when his blow was to be struck.”

“Then he has commenced already?” asked Schill.

“Yes, commenced and ended,” said Bothmar, mourn-
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 411

fully. “Our noble Dérnberg expected too much of the
patriotism of the Hessians. He arrived with the legion of
his peasants as far as Cassel, and called upon the soldiers to
join him in order to expel King Jerome and his French min-
ions. But the soldiers did not listen to him; they obeyed the
orders of their officers, and turned their arms against their
German brethren, who were soon routed and dispersed.”

“This is really dreadful!” ejaculated Schill. ‘And
Dornberg?”

“ Dérnberg succeeded in making his escape; he will prob-
ably go to Prague, where the Elector of Hesse is at present
residing.”

“Well, I am glad that he is at least safe,” exclaimed Schill,
breathing more freely. “The defeat is a disastrous blow, to
be sure, but the good news that we have just received will
afford us consolation for it. The Archduke Charles has
gained a glorious victory over the French at Hof.”

“Can that be positively true?” exclaimed Bothmar. ‘“ Dur-
ing my whole journey I did not hear a word about it. On the
contrary, I learned everywhere only the mournful intelligence
that Napoleon had put himself at the head of his army, and
was advancing victoriously in the direction of Vienna.”

“And yet my statement is perfectly true. General Lestocq,
governor of Berlin, in joyful commemoration of this victory,
issued to-day the countersign of ‘Charles and Hof!”

“Heaven grant that you are correctly informed, and that
the general is not mistaken!’ said M. von Bothmar, sighing.
“ Pardon me for not sharing your confidence. The deplorable
turn our affairs have taken in Hesse has discouraged me, and
then—but I am not through yet with the news which brought
me to you.”

“Speak, sir,—what else has happened?” exclaimed Schill.

“Excuse me,” said M. von Bothmar, “should I assume the
semblance of one of your most trusted confidants, and take the
liberty of speaking to you about your most secret plans. You
intrusted to your faithful friend and follower, Romberg, let-
ters and proclamations to be circulated in Westphalia. Am
T right?”

“You are.”

“You gave to him private letters for Counsellor von
Ledebour, at Bielefeld, and for Colonel von Sobbe, who were
to head the insurrection in that part of the country?”

“T did, sir; you are right.”
412 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Well, then, major, Romberg was arrested at Magdeburg;
all his papers, letters, and proclamations, were Seized, and
General Michaud sent him under guard to Cassel.”

“Romberg imprisoned! My dear, faithful Romberg in
danger!” exclaimed Schill, mournfully.

“No,” said M. von Bothmar, solemnly, “Romberg is no
longer imprisoned; he is not now in danger.”

“What do you mean?”

“T mean that Romberg, immediately after his arrival at
Cassel, was tried by a court-martial, and that sentence of
death was at once passed upon him.”

“He has been shot?”

“Yes, Schill, Romberg has been shot.”

Schill uttered a cry, and covered his face with his hands.
“Oh!” he murmured, “I have lost my most faithful friend,
and Germany one of her noblest sons. He was an humble
peasant, but the heart of a great patriot was throbbing under
his blouse. He was the Andrew Hofer of the North, and his
death is a terrible disaster! But I will not complain,” added
Schill—“ no, I will not complain. Blessed are the dead, and
who knows how soon we ourselves shall have to bid farewell to
life? The storm is threatening us on all sides.”

“Andit is threatening our noble Schill, the hope of Ger-
many,” exclaimed M. von Bothmar. “JI have told you that
all Romberg’s papers were seized, and among them the letters
which you wrote to your friends Ledebour andSobbe. Your
proclamations were read by the French authorities, and as they
thereby became aware of your plans, they will at once take
steps to put a stop to your agitation, and, if possible, put you to
death. Would Prussia be powerful and courageous enough
to protect you, if the King of Westphalia should charge you
with beinga traitor and demagogue, andif Napoleon should
insist on your punishment?”

“Tt is true,” said Schill, “you point out to me an imminent
danger, from which I can only escape by striking immediately.
If we give our enemies time to mature their plans, all will be
lost. We must, therefore, act at once. We must hesitate no
longer, but begin even before my comrades here have learned
that Romberg did not succeed in his enterprise. We may be
more successful, for God will perhaps be merciful to me: He
has decreed, perhaps, that Schill shall first of all break the
chains imposed on us by the foreign despot.”

“Germany hopes in Schill,”’ exclaimed Bothmar, enthusias-
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 413

tically, “and hence I was bold enough to violate the oath of
allegiance which I had taken to King Jerome, and disclose to
the German hero the danger menacing him. I am a refer-
endary at the department of state in Cassel, and accordingly
I soon heard of the danger to which you are exposed. Under
the pretext that I intended to enforce tranquillity and obe-
dience among the peasants on my estate, situated a few
miles from Cassel, I obtained leave of absence for six days, -
and hastened hither. I set out from there three days
ago, and, thank God! I have found you in time to give you
warning.”

“Thanks to you,” exclaimed Schill, affectionately embracing
M. von Bothmar; “you have saved my life, perhaps; at all
events, you have rendered an important service to the sacred
cause of the fatherland.”’

“Every one must serve the fatherland in his own way, and
according to his ability,” said Bothmar, gently; “you are
serving it by your heroic arm and soul-stirring example; I am
doing so by trying at least to prevent mischief, and to assist
my brethren as much asI can. My task now is accomplished!
Farewell! and may Heaven grant victory to your patriotic
zeal !”’

“Where are you going?” said Schill, grasping Bothmar’s
arm and detaining him. “ You must not leave me yet; you
must remain here at least to-day, that—but what is the mean-
ing of this bugle-call?”

“It means that the postilion has arrived with horses, and
calls me,” said M. von Bothmar, smiling.

“What! You have travelled three days and three nights,
and are departing so soon?”

“ave I not told you that I obtained leave of absence only
for six days? Well, then, three days hence I shall be in Cas-
sel again, and, I believe, I have improved my six days in a
highly commendable manner.”

“Farewell, noble young man! when we meet again, Ger-
many, if it please God, will be free and happy!” __

“Oh, may it be so!” said M. von Bothmar, sighing. “Be
prudent, sir, do not endanger your life; remember that it
does not belong to you, but to the fatherland, and now fare-
well! The impatient postilion is sounding his bugle again.
Farewell!” :

He quickly left the room, but Schill accompanied to the
staircase the friend he had gained so suddenly. He returned
414 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

to his room and hastened to the window, to wave his hand
once more to M. von Bothmar. Loud cheers greeted him as
soon as his countenance was recognized behind the window-
panes; the crowd in front of the house constantly increased,
and when he appeared to the longing eyes of the citizens, they
could not suppress their loud huzzas.

“They do me too much honor,” said Schill to himself, smil-
ing, and stepping back from the window. ‘But their love
and its boisterous demonstrations are not exactly intended for
myself individually. These kind people greet in me the first
hope dawning to them after a long period of darkness; and,
therefore, I will joyfully indulge them, and I will thank
them by bravedeeds. Yes, by deeds! The time of procrasti-
nation isover. I must hesitate no longer: I must act!”

His servant entered and handed him some letters just
brought for him. He opened and read them rapidly. The
perfume of the firs, written on rose-colored note-paper, made
him smile. “It is the sixth declaration of love that I have
received to-day,” he said, in a low voice, “and the sixth re-
quest for a rendezvous to-night. Oh, women! how innocent
in your enthusiasm for poor Schill! You imagine you love
me, and do not know that it is the fatherland that you love in
me! I will reconquer your country, and bring back that
sweet liberty which the tyrant has taken from us. Until
then, no Cupid’s love! My heart must belong wholly to
Germany!”

He read the second letter. “ Another painter asks me to
sit to him! Why, have not the people already portraits
enough of poor Schill? Has not every old citizen my head on
his pipe or his snuff-box? Does not every pretty girl wear my
scarred face in her locket? I have no time to spare for
painters; I must take the field!”

He opened the third; but while he read it, his eyes were
sad. “ Again the same admonition which I have so often re-
ceived. Do they doubt my patriotism? Do they believe
that I am a traitor, and will suffer the opportunity to pass
by without improving it?”

He looked at the letter again, which contained only the
following words: “Brutus, thou sleepest, awake!” *

“No,” he exclaimed, in a powerful voice, “I do not sleep.

* Schill received almost daily, from various parts of Germany, letters containin
nothing but those words. A secret soviety, extending thronghout Germany, seeme

to have made it a special duty to instigate Schill to strike the blow, lest the homage
he received in Berlin should render him forgetful of his mission.
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 415

I am awake, and behold the golden dawn of freedom! O
Germany, my arm and my honor belong to thee! To thee—
and to her!” he whispered, almost inaudibly. “‘ Yes, to her—
the genius of Prussia! For her I will sacrifice my life!”

The door opened again, and the footman entered. “ Major,
there is another gentleman who desires to see you on pressing
business. I wanted to turn him off, but he said it was indis-
pensable for him to see you. He told me he wished to deliver
to the major something that would gladden his heart. His
name is High-Chamberlain von Schladen, and he said he had
just arrived from Kénigsberg.”’

“Show him in at once,” exclaimed Schill, but, in his im-
petuosity, he himself led the way and opened the door.

“Come in, Mr. High-Chamberlain, and forgive me for mak-
ing you wait even a moment,” he said, offering his hand to
M. von Schladen, and conducting him into his sitting-room.
“You come from Kénigsberg?”

“Yes, major, and I bring you greetings from your friends,
from the brethren of the great league, and also from the king
and the queen.”

“She really told you to greet me in her name?” asked
Schill. ‘Oh, do not deceive me; tell me the truth! Did the
queen really tell you that?”

“She did more than that, major,” said M. von Schladen,
smiling; “she intrusted to me a present for you, which I am
to deliver to yourself, and which she made for you with her
own hands.”

At this moment Schill was a truly handsome man. If the
ladies and the painters of Berlin had seen him just then, they
would have been transported at his noble countenance, as
his black eyes sparkled with joy. “The queen sends me a
present!” he exclaimed—“a present which she herself has
made!”

“Yes, and on which she inscribed your name with her own
hand, that it might be to you a plain and undeniable proof of
her favor.”

“Oh, give it to me, sir!” exclaimed Schill, stretching out
his hands.

M. von Schladen drew a small package, wrapped in paper,
from his bosom, and handed it to Schill. ‘

“On my knees will I receive this present from my queen!”
exclaimed Schill. “Oh, it seems to me as though she were
standing before me, looking at me with that sad smile which
416 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

brings tears into the eyes of all who behold her! When I was
at Koénigsberg the other day, it was permitted me to speak to
her, and press my lipson her hand. With that kiss I devoted
myself to her for my whole life, and she is ever before my
eyes, clothed in a sort of divine beauty—as a Madonna hold- .
ing the Messiah of Freedom in her arms! And the noble
queen, to whom I pray every night as to a saint, sends me a
present which she has made for me with her own hands? Oh,
am I worthy of such kindness; have I done any thing entitling
me to such a proof of condescension on her part, and am [
thus honored by her who is the guardian angel of Prussia!—
whom Napoleon hates, because he fears her zeal and fidelity.
As a vestal, she has kept alive the fire of patriotism on the
altar of her country. When all despair, she still hopes for the
redemption of her people from a victorious but merciless
enemy. I will consecrate my life anew to her, though un-
worthy of the distinguished regard she bestows on me by this
present, the work of her own royal hands.”

“Yes, but you are worthy of the favor of our noble queen,”
said M. von Schladen, solemnly, “for you are the representa-
tive hero of Germany, and Heaven has decreed, perhaps, that
you should break the first link of the chain with which the
usurper has fettered our country. As soon as that link is
broken, it will be easy to break the rest. You, Major von
Schill, are the hope of Germany—the hope of Queen Louisa.
Take, then, the present which she sends you, worthy cham-
pion of the cause of her country!”

He handed the package to the major. Schill, kneeling,
took it and unfolded the wrapper. It contained a magnificent
memorandum-book, embroidered in gold, and closed with a
gold pencil. Schill admired the rich art displayed in the
book, and, opening it, looked for the autograph of the queen.
He uttered a joyful cry. The queen had written these words,
in small, neat characters: “For brave Major von Schill.
Louisa.”

Schill pressed his lips on the words, and then, closing the
book, put it into his bosom, and rose from his knees. “It
will rest on my heart as long as I live,” he said; “its every
pulsation belongs to her! And now, M. von Schladen, what
is the state of affairs at Kénigsberg? What hopes are enter-
tained there?”

“Hopes!” exclaimed M. von Schladen, with a mournful
smile; “ none—only apprehensions.”
FERDINAND VON SCHILL. 417

“And they do not yet think of bidding defiance to the
tyrant, and of recalling noble Baron von Stein?”

“No, they dare not do so. Stein, proscribed by Napoleon,
forsaken by his king, who sacrificed him at the emperor’s be-
hest, is living in exile, deprived of his whole property, which
Napoleon confiscated; he is without employment, without
influence, far from his country, far from his friends. The
Emperor of Austria did what the King of Prussia dare not do:
he gave an aslynm to the proscribed patriot; Baron von Stein
is now with his family at Briinn.”’

“And the king?” asked Schill. “Does he not feel it as a
wound to bow to the tyrant’s behest, and dismiss his noblest
and ablest servant?”

“He does, perhaps,” replied M. von Schladen, hesitatingly;
“but he does not say so. The afflictions of the past years
have broken his courage, and rendered him irresolute and
timid. As soon as he received Napoleon’s orders, he dis-
missed Baron von Stein, without bestowing any token of
kindness or gratitude. Every true Prussian deeply felt this
treatment; one of the most faithful and upright servants of
the king, District-Councillor Scheffner, who has every day
interviews with the queen, dared even to write a letter to the
king, informing him of the indignation prevailing every-
where. He asked the king to gladden the hearts of all good
Prussians, and to give a courageous proof of his royal grati-
tude toward the eminent minister, by conferring the order of
the Black Eagle upon Baron von Stein.”

“ And what did the king say to him?”

“He replied that he was very sorry that he was unable to
comply with this request. Although he entertained the high-
est respect for Baron von Stein, and would be glad to confer
this exalted distinction on him, it would be highly improper
at the present time to make so dangerous a demonstration.”

“Such is the gratitude of kings toward their faithful ser-
vants!’’ exclaimed Schill, in a tone of bitter reproach; “such
is the manner in which they reward those who have sacrificed
for them their property and life! But we do not struggle for
kings and princes; we are serving the adored fatherland; we
are fighting for liberty, and the death which we find on the
field of honor is an order of the Black Eagle which the great
fatherland confers on us! O Germany, one day I shall also
receive this honor at thy hands; free Germany will adorn my
corpse with it!”
418 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Oh, what desponding words you are now uttering!” said
M. von Schladen, anxiously. “Who can be courageous and
hopeful when Schill talks of death?”

“T am not desponding,” exclaimed Schill, smiling, “but I
have a foreboding that I am to seal my love for Germany with
my heart’s blood. Iam almost glad of it, for friendships so
sealed are said to be eternal, and Germany will, perhaps, re-
vere my memory when I die for her.—And Louisa! What
says the queen? How does she bear these days of humili-
ation?”

“Like a heroine! Like a queen whose kingdom is not of
this world. Her cheeks are pale, but a spirt of resignation
pervades her countenance, and when she turns her blue eyes
upward, there is an expression in them that plainly reveals
her yearning for a home in heaven!”

“But her health is good?” inquired Schill, anxiously.
“She is not ill?”

“That is to say, she is not positively ill, but her whole life
is that of a martyr. Her heart is broken; she suffers men-
tally, while she is not altogether free from physical pain.
But she never complains, and, alas! the physicians know of
no remedy. There is but one for our smiling, suffering
queen, and that is the deliverance of her country!”

“Germany must and shall be delivered,” exclaimed Schill,
enthusiastically. “Something must be done! We must arouse
the sleepers; we must compel them to act!”

“You are right! The nation must wake and rise. That
is the opinion of all patriots, as well as of the queen. And
we are looking with trusting hearts toward you; we hope
that you will give this impetus to our countrymen. It is
out of the question to hesitate longer; we must act. Austria
is inthe field; her people are exultingly marching to vanquish
the tyrant, who, with his proud armies, has again penetrated
intoGermany. The report that the Archduke Charles has
gained a victory is as though it were the first herald announc-
ing to us safety and restoration. Hope fills every heart. As
soon as Schill unfurls his banner and calls upon his brethren
to commence the holy struggle for the liberation of the father-
land, patriotic men from all the states of Prussia and North
Germany willrally around him; the enthusiasm of the people
will rush like a torrent carrying away the king and his minis-
ters in spite of themselves; their hesitations, fears, and
cowardice, will be overwhelmed by the public determination.
SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD. 419

The hope of the queen is in Schill’s heroic example; it is the
ae es Gneisenau, Bliicher, and Scharnhorst; it is the hope
of all!

“ And it shall be fulfilled,” exclaimed Schill. “Brutus does
not sleep. He is awake, and ready for action. I swear it by
this precious gift of my queen!” “He drew the memorandum-
book from his bosom. Solemnly laying his hand on it, and
raising his eyes toward heaven, he said: “I swear that I will
draw my sword now for the fight of liberty—that I will not
sheath it until this sacred cause has been carried to a glorious
conclusion, unless forbidden by death longer to serve my
queen and country!” He pressed the book against his lips,
and then opening it read again Louisa’s words. As he turned
over the leaves, a scrap of paper fell upon the floor. Picking
it up, he saw that it contained a single line written in the
same small handwriting: “Der Kénig schwankt; Schill,
ziehen sie mit Gott!” * “ Yes, Heaven is on our side, to fight
for Germany and her noble queen!” exclaimed Schill. “I
will depart to-morrow!”

 

CHAPTER XLVII.
SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD.

THE following afternoon (March 28, 1809) Major Ferdi-
nand von Schill proceeded with his regiment through the
streets of Berlin to the Halle gate. The people saluted him
everywhere with loud cheers and waving of hats.

Schill thanked them more gravely than he had hitherto
done, and marched his soldiers out of the gate. No one was
surprised at this; all supposed that he only intended to-day,
as he had often done, to drill his troops and to encamp near
the city. His adjutants, Barsch and Liitzow, were, however,
aware of his plans, and had secretly made preparations to carry
them into effect. ;

The regiment took the road to Potsdam. Major von Schill
and his two adjutants rode at its head, and patriotic songs
from the soldiers resounded along their march. About half-
way between Berlin and Potsdam, near the village of Steglitz,
the major stopped his horse, and, with a wave of his sword,
ordered the regiment to halt; then to move from the road

* ‘The king hesitates ; Schill, march with God!”
420 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

into the adjoining field, and form in square. The command
was obeyed in a few minutes; and Major von Schill, resting
in the centre on his chestnut charger, surveyed his men with
evident pleasure.

All eyes were turned toward him—all hearts were beating
with affection for that man of indomitable courage towering
above them. Addressing them, his sonorous voice rang over
the welkin as the first notes of a trumpet summoning to the
field of blood.

“Soldiers,” he said, “comrades! the moment has come to
fight the enemy, against whom all our souls are filled with
hatred—the despoiler of thrones, who has plunged our father-
land into such distress; who has trampled under foot all the
rights of man; to whom no treaty, no peace is sacred, and
who is only waiting for an opportunity utterly to destroy the
constitution of our country. The perfidious oppressor thus
treated Spain, after she had made numerous sacrifices to him
in order to preserve peace. He intends to degrade Prussia in
the same manner, and not to rest until he has dethroned our
beloved king and prostrated the illustrious dynasty of the
Hohenzollerns. But never shall he succeed in carrying out
so nefarious a plan! Austria, Germany, every patriotic heart
is rising against him, and we Prussians cannot remain behind.
It is a sacred obligation to fight for the fatherland, for our
beloved king, for the queen whom we all worship, a precious
token from whom I am now holding in my hand, and for
whom we are ready at any hour to die!”

While uttering these words, Schill waved the embroidered
memorandum-book, which flashed in the sunbeams as a
trophy and pledge of victory.

Shouts burst from the soldiers. ‘“ Hurrah!” they cried,
“long live the king and the queen! long live Major von
Schill!”

“Boys,” exclaimed Schill, “ will you follow me, and fight
for Germany and our king?”

“Yes, we will, we will!” shouted the hussars, drawing their
sabres and waving them over their heads.

“Will you swear to stand by your commander to the last
extremity?”

“We swear to stand by you to the last!” was the enthusias-
tic answer, while the soldiers looked exultantly at each other,
and exchanged congratulations at the opening of the cam-
paign. But no one had thought of future dangers or the
‘SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD. 421

necessities of a soldier’s life. They had nothing but their
uniforms; leaving in Berlin all their money and clothing,
and, unaware of this sudden movement, they had not even
taken leave of their parents, wives, and children. Every
thing was forgotten in their partiotism, so soon and un-
expectedly tested—in their glowing desire to save their coun-
try, and gain a name on the field of honor.

The march was continued to Potsdam. There they rested
over night, and the servants of the officers joined them in the
morning, bringing from the governor of Berlin passports for
Schill. The brave little regiment soon after left for an as-
sault on the fortress of Wittenberg. It was not taken, but
the commander of Wittenberg concluded an armistice with
Schill, and permitted him and his soldiers, with their drums
beating, to march under the cannon of the fortress, and to
pass the bridge built at that place over the Elbe.

On the 2d of May the regiment reached Dessau. The duke
had fled, but the inhabitants received the Prussian hussars in
the most ardent manner, and hailed Schill as the hero who
would free the people from the yoke under which they were
groaning.

The expedition was no longer a secret. The joyful news
spread: “Schill has taken the field against Napoleon; he has
called the Germans to arms, and they will rally around his
banner!” He himself believed in success, firmly convinced
that it was only necessary for him to issue a proclamation, and
the people would rise en masse. He resolved to do so from
his headquarters at Dessau. No sooner had he reached that
city than he hurriedly prepared his call “To the Germans!”
The ink was not yet dry, when he took the paper, and, ac-
companied by his adjutants, went to the house of M. Hor-
muth, printer to the court, and asked to see him. The
printer soon made his appearance, and anxiously asked Schill
his business.

“ You will please print this proclamation, sir,” said Schill,
handing him the paper; “it must be ready in an hour.”

“Major,” said Hormuth, glancing despairingly at_ the
scarcely legible handwriting, “I cannot print it, for I am
unable to read it.”

“Oh, I will read it to you,” exclaimed Schill, and he com-
menced:

“To THE GuRMANS!—Brethren, groaning under the yoke

‘of a foreign nation! the moment has arrived when you are
422 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

able to break your chains, and to regain the constitution
under which you have lived in happiness and prosperity for
centuries, un til the boundless ambition of a conqueror brought
incalculable calamities upon our country. Rise! Be men!
Follow me, and we shall again be what we were! Ring the
tocsin! Let this signal fan the flame of patriotism in your
hearts, and be the death-knell of your oppressors! Take up
arms! Scythes and pikes may take the place of muskets.
They will soon be replaced by English weapons already arrived.
Wielded by strong arms, even the peaceful scythe becomes
fatal. Let every one arm himself, and share the glory of the
liberators of the fatherland, fighting not only for himself but
for the safety and happiness of future generations! He who
is cowardly enough to disobey this call, will be consigned to
contempt and infamy. No noble German girl will ever bestow
her hand upon such a traitor. Courage! God is with us and
our just cause. Let the old men pray for us! The armies of
Austria are advancing victoriously, notwithstanding the
boasts of the French; the brave Tyroiese have already broken
their chains; the courageous Hessians have risen, and I am
hastening to you at the head of well-tried and skilful soldiers.
The just cause will soon conquer, and the ancient glory of our
country will be restored. To arms! to arms! ScCHILL.”

“Now, sir,” said Schill, “I suppose you will be able to read
my handwriting and to print it?”

“Now that I know the contents,” said M. Hormuth, shak-
ing his head, “I know also that he who prints this proclama-
tion endangers his life, and that he may lose it just as soon
as Palm. Sir, I have a wife and children; I am happy with
my family; hence life is dear to me, and I should not like to
lose it like poor Palm. He did much less than you ask me to
do. He only circulated a pamphlet hostile to the French, but
I am to print a proclamation calling upon all Germans to rise
in arms against the Emperor of the French. Major, I risk
my life by complying with your order.”

“What!” exclaimed Schill, angrily; “you are a German,
and refuse to serve the holy cause of your country? You re-
fuse to print this proclamation?”

“No, I will print it,” said M. Hormuth, slowly; “I will
print it, but only on one condition.”

“Well, and that condition is—”

“That you, major, be kind enough to hold a pistol to my
breast and threaten to shoot me, in case I refuse. You must
SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD. 423

do so in the presence of my compositors, and give me a writ-
ten certificate that I yielded only to violence.”

“M. Hormuth, you are a very prudent man, and it will
afford me great pleasure to fulfil your wishes,” said Schill,
smilingly, drawing his pistol and aiming at the printer.

“Pray, major, do not cock it, for the pistol might go off,”
said Hormuth, anxiously. “Now be kind enough to hold it
to my breast, and shout in a loud and menacing voice that
you will shoot me like a dog if I refuse to print this paper.
Distribute also some insulting epithets—call me a coward, a
renegade, any thing you can think of, and as loud and
threatening as you can.”

“Very well, I will do all that,” said Schill, laughing, and
his adjutants, as well as M. Hormuth himself, joined in the
sport.

“Now, let us go to work,” said Schill.

“Will you print this proclamation, you miserable coward?
Why, you have not pluck enough to bea German! Task you,
for the last time, will you print the proclamation?”

“Sir, have mercy upon me!” wailed M. Hormuth, in a
terrified tone. “I cannot print it. It is impossible, sir;
impossible!”

“You villain, I will kill you on the spot if you dare resist
me,” cried Schill. “I—”

“My compositors will be here presently,” said M. Hormuth.
“Please go on in the same strain.”

“T will shoot you like a dog if you do not obey!”

“Help! help! oh, major, have mercy!”

The doors opened, and there appeared at one door the com-
positors and pressmen; at the other, Madame Hormuth with
her children.

“Will you print my proclamation, you infamous scoun-
drel?” shouted Schill. “Say no, and I will put a bullet
through your cowardly heart!”

“Sir, I cannot; I—”

“Husband, I beseech you!” cried Madame Hormuth, rush-
ing toward him. “Husband, consider what you are doing;
think of your children, think of me, and comply with the
wishes of the major.”

“No! I will die rather than print so seditious a paper!”

“Very well, then, you shall die,” said Schill. “ You refuse
to print, and I will assuredly shoot you.”

“M. Hormuth, you may as well yield,” said the compos-
424 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

itors. “Itis prudent to submit to necessity. Besides, we are
somewhat interested, for your death would throw us out of
work.”

“J will yield,” said M. Hormuth, sighing. “Take away
your pistol, major. Iwill print your proclamation; but be
so good as to certify that I consent only on account of your
threats and violence. My workmen will sign the certificate
as witnesses, will you not?”

“Yes, certainly, we will cheerfully witness what is true.”

“Very well,” said M. Hormuth. “Now quick, boys; go
to work! Here is the manuscript. Let four compositors
take it. Divide the copy into four parts; the composition
must be done in fifteen minutes, and the printing in two
hours. How many copies do you want, major?”

“Ten thousand.”

“Very well, ten thousand copies to be done in two hours.
We must remember my life is at stake; for I suppose you will
shoot me, major, if we should disappoint you?”

“You may be sure of that. Now give me the pen and ink
that I may draw up that certificate for you.”

The ten thousand printed copies arrived exactly two hours
afterward at the headquarters of Major von Schill, and M.
Hormuth, who refused to take any payment for them, re-
ceived in return a certificate that he had been forcibly com-
pelled to print them.

The brave regiment left Dessau on the following day, still
in the joyful hope that the German people would rise, and
that a host of warriors would respond to the call for the de-
liverance of the fatherland. But alas! this hope was not to
be fulfilled. The population of the cities and villages received,
Schill’s hussars and their heroic chieftain in the most gratify-
ing manner. His proclamation was read everywhere with
unbounded pleasure, but no one dared to follow him; no
scythes or pikes were to be seen in the array of this little band
of patriots. There was but one glad day for Schill; that was
on the 12th of May, when Lieutenant von Quistorp, from
Berlin, joined him with a hundred and sixty men, who had
left their colors and came with him to reénforce “ brave
Schill, the liberator of Germany.”

But Quistorp brought at the same time bad news. The
report of a victory of the Austrians had proved unfounded.
The Archduke Charles had obtained no advantages; on the
contrary, after a succession of desperate engagements, he was
SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD. 425

beaten on the 23d of April at Ratisbon, and escaped with the
remnant of his army into the Béhmerwald. The Emperor
Napoleon had advanced with his victorious forces in the direct
road to Vienna.

“Tf Napoleon takes Vienna,” said Schill to himself, “then
we shall all perish! But we will still hope and trust; the
fortune of war may turn yet. The Emperor of Austria is still
in Vienna, and the citizens have sworn to be buried under the
ruins of their city rather than open its gates again to the
enemy. Let us hope, therefore, and fight.” Turning to
Quistorp, he continued: “Every thing may yet turn out
well. My proclamation may find an echo in the hearts of my
Prussian comrades, and they may unite with us. To-day,
you, Lieutenant von Quistorp, have arrived with one hundred
and sixty men; to-morrow another friend may join us with
several thousand. Before long we shall have a considerable
army, and this will inspire those still hesitating, and make
the timid bold. The larger our force, the firmer will be the
confidence of the king, and finally he will freely and openly
order all the regiments to join us and commence the struggle.”

“Do not hope in the king, major,” said Lieutenant von
Quistorp, sadly. “The failure of Dérnberg’s rising, the de-
feat of the Archduke Charles, and the new victories of Napo-
leon, have made him more resolute than ever; he is afraid of
Napoleon’s anger and vengeance, and, more indisposed than
ever to incur them, he has publicly and solemnly repudiated
your bold movement.”

“What has the king done?” exclaimed Schill, turning
pale; “what do you know?”

“JT now that the king has also issued a proclamation, in
which he says that he cannot find words sufiiciently forcible
to express his disapproval of your illegal and criminal con-
duct; he calls upon the army not to be seduced by your ex-
ample, and orders you, and all with you, to be tried by a
court-martial.”

“That is impossible!” cried Schill, in great excitement;
“the king cannot forsake me in so shameful a manner! You
have been misinformed, Quistorp; certain persons have tried
to deter you from joining me by false reports.”

“No,” said Quistorp, “you are mistaken. I was already
on the march to Arneburg, when, a few miles from here, a
courier, under instructions from General Chassot, overtook
me. In order to warn me, the general sent me the proclama-

28
426 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

tion of the king, and ordered me to face about immediately
and return to my regiment. He added that this was the last
order he would issue, for he, as well as General Lestocq, gov-
ernor of Berlin, had been called, by order of the king, to
Konigsberg, where both of them were to be tried by a military
commission. Here are the papers, major.”

Schill glanced over them, and, while reading, his hands
trembled. ‘‘ Thisisa terrible blow,” he said, sighing. “The
king proscribes me, and brands me as a traitor and deserter.
It is all in vain! Germany is asleep, and our voice will not
awaken her; Germany lies in the dust before the French
tyrant, and the King of Prussia will punish as traitors those
who act courageously! Oh, my country, thou art lost, for
thy own princes betray thee!”

He sank despairingly on a chair, and hid his face with his
hands. In this attitude he remained, groaning piteously, a
prey to his anguish. The adjutants entered the room, but
Schill did not notice them. Absorbed in his reflections and
forebodings, his mind, as it were, had passed from the con-
templation of the present, and beheld nothing but the awful
future.

The three young officers, Liitzow, Quistorp, and Biarsch,
well known for their intrepidity, stood sad and dejected be-
fore their brave major.

Suddenly rising from his chair, he said: “I thank you,
Lieutenant von Quistorp, for having joined me with your
faithful men. Germany will see at least that there are still
brave men who do not forsake their country, and if we sacri-
fice our lives for her, she will at least engrave our names on
the tablets of her martyrs. We cannot retrace our steps, my
friends; we must advance, though death stare us in the face.
This very night we leave Arneburg, and continue our march.
We may still succeed in what Dérnberg and Charles have been
unahle to accomplish. We shall appeal again to the patriot-
ism of the Germans. Perhaps their hearts will practically
yespond—they may hear our voice and follow us. But if
fortune have decided against us, if we succumb without
delivering our country, very well! ‘An end with terror
is better than terror without end!’ Before us is honor,
and at the worst, a glorious death; behind us, contumely
and disgrace. Therefore, forward!”
SCHILL’S DEATH. 427

CHAPTER XLVIII.
SCHILL’S DEATH.

SCHILL was sitting, sad and deserted, at his lonely quarters
in Rostock, where, after many adventures, he arrived on the
20th of May. He had succeeded in nothing; fortune had not
once been favorable to him. He had intended to turn toward
Magdeburg, in hope that its garrison of Westphalian troops
would joyously open the gates of the fortress, and declare
against King Jerome, who had been forced upon them. But,
at a distance of a German mile from the city the columns of
the enemy had met him, and an engagement had taken place
at Dodendorf. It wasin vain that Schill had sent a flag of
truce to his German brethren to request them to join him,
imploring them not to betray the fatherland for the sake of a
French king.

The Westphalians shot the bearer of the flag of truce, and
a murderous fire was their only reply. Now began the des-
perate struggle of brethren against brethren—of Germans
against Germans!

Schill was victorious in this battle. He mortally wounded
the French commander of the Westphalians, Colonel Vautier ;
his hussars fought like lions and dispersed the enemy; a hun-
dred and sixty prisoners, several stands of colors, and a large
number of small-arms, were the trophies of this brilliant
affair. But he was unable to derive any benefit from the
Dodendorf victory; fearing lest a larger corps should leave
Magdeburg and attack him, he retreated, overwhelmed with
grief, for he at last understood that the German soldiers were
deaf to his appeals, and that the Westphalians, faithful to
their French king, refused to desert him.

Nor had Schill’s second victory, the occupation of Dénritz,
been advantageous to him. Moreover, dissensions had arisen
among the officers themselves; the regiment, so enthusiastic
at first, commenced gradually to lose faith in his ability to
succeed in his bold enterprise; the officers insisted on
being consulted as to future operations. They refused
to yield obedience, and demanded that he should listen
to their advice and remonstrances. But resistance ren-
dered him only more determined, and in his obstinacy he fre-
428 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

quently rejected prudent counsel, that he might accomplish
his own plans. His mind was confused by disappointment,
and at length by despair. He was, in fact, unequal to the
dangers surrounding him.

Schill was sitting, sad and deserted, at his lonely quarters
in Rostock, absorbed in discouraging thoughts, and sighing
at the frustration of his hopes. In his hand he held the
memorandum-book the queen had presented to him, and read
again and again the words she had written: “'To brave Major
von Schill.” Suddenly the door behind him opened, and
Lieutenant von Liitzow, with his uniform covered with dust,
entered the room.

Schill slowly turned his head. “ Well, Liitzow, have you
returned?” he asked. “Were you at Doberan? Did you see
the duke?”

“Yes, I was at Doberan.”

“And what news do you bring? Bad news, of course!
Did you see the Duke of Mecklenburg?”

“No, the duke had given orders to admit neither you nor
any of your delegates. He says he will have nothing to do
with insurgents and rebels.”

“Of course,” exclaimed Schill, laughing scornfully, “he is
a German prince, and, therefore, cannot adhere to the cause
of Germany, but must side with France! Oh, I ought to
have known it before. Well, it is all right. What other
news do you bring, Littzow?”’

“Here, major, is a paper issued by King Jerome of West-
phalia. His majesty does you the honor to call you in this
proclamation a chief of robbers, a pirate, and a deserter, and
commands the military and civil authorities to hunt you
down. He also offers a reward of ten thousand francs to him
who will bring you dead or alive to Cassel.”

“Ts that so?” exclaimed Schill, laughing. “Well, M.
Jerome attaches a tolerably high value to my head. Iam
sorry that I am unable to return the compliment. I shall re-
ply this very day to Jerome’s proclamation by issuing one to
the Germans, and by promising a reward of five dollars for his
delivery, living or dead.—What else, lieutenant?”

“The Emperor Napoleon has also issued an edict against
Schill and his men. He says in this document: ‘A certain
Schill, a sort of highway robber, who committed crime upon
crime during the last campaign in Prussia, and was rewarded
with a captaincy, has deserted with his whole regiment from
SCHILL’S DEATH. 429

Berlin, marched to Wittenberg, and surrounded that place.
General Lestocq, governor of Berlin, has declared Schill a
deserter, and the King of Prussia has given orders to arrest
him wherever he can be found, and to put the insurgent on
trial before a court-martial.’ ”

“Yes,”’ murmured Schill, musingly, “the German patriot
has become an insurgent, and is to be punished for what he at-
tempted in the salvation of his country. It was quite un-
necessary for the emperor to abuse and revile him who boldly
opposed his tyranny; the King of Prussia and the governor of
Berlin had already doneso. And what else does Napoleon say?”

“ He orders a corps of observation to be formed on the Elbe,
to be commanded by the marshal, Duke of Valmy, and to be
sixty thousand strong.”

“Sixty thousand men!” exclaimed Schill. “Ah! it seems
M. Napoleon has a pretty good opinion of ‘that deserter
Schill,’ inasmuch as he considers him dangerous enough to
oppose to him an army of sixty thousand men. Thank you,
M. Bonaparte, thank you for this acknowledgment. Itisa
delightful balm to the tortured heart of the poor Prussian de-
serter; it restores his courage. Let us advance undauntedly—
we may conquer yet. The Germans may awake and rally
round the standard of liberty!”

“ Alas, Schill, I am afraid your hopes are in vain,” said
Liitzow, sadly. “Iam not yet done with my bad news.”

“Not yet?” asked Schill, mournfully. “ Proceed!”

“Vienna has fallen!’

“Vienna fallen!” cried Schill, in dismay. “Is that really
true?”

“Tt is. The Emperor Francis and his family have fled to
Hungary, and the Emperor of the French has again made his
triumphant entry.”

“ And the Viennese did not even try to defend their city?”

“They did try, but soon laid down their arms and sub-
mitted quietly to the conqueror. Napoleon has established
his headquarters at Schénbrunn, and issued a proclamation to
the Austrians. He calls upon them to be faithful and obedi-
ent to him, and disbands the militia of Vienna. A general
amnesty is granted to those who surrender their arms.”

“ A general amnesty,” exclaimed Schill, “for the crime they
committed in complying with the request of their sovereign
to take up arms and defend their country! And what is to
be done with those who do not surrender?”
430 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“The houses of both officers and privates of the militia who
do not return home within a specified time, are to be burned
down, their property confiscated, and themselves tried and
punished as rebels.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Schill, raising his hands, “is there still
justice in heaven, or isit alsoasleep! Is there no ear for our
wails, no compassion for our disgrace? What is natural,
grows unnatural; honor becomes dishonor; patriotism, rebel-
lion—and Heaven seems to permit it!”

“Yes,” said Liitzow, with a melancholy smile. “ What
Ovid said of Cato now becomes true of you: ‘The victorious
cause pleases the gods, but the vanquished one pleases you!’”

“Yes,” murmured Schill, “the vanquished cause pleased
Cato! and it shall also please Schill as long as he breathes.
It shall please him though his king call him a deserter, and
a court-martial pass sentence of death upon him. ‘The peo-
ple of Nuremberg hang none but those they have in custody,’
is a proverb often repeated, and I think the people of Kénigs-
berg will not shoot a man they cannot catch! I would rather
be trampled to death by the horses of the enemy, than pierced
by the bullets of my German brethren. The matter is settled,
Liitzow; let us continue the struggle.”

“Continue the struggle?” asked Litzow. “I beseech you,
take my advice and do not follow the dictates of courage
alone; listen also to those of prudence. It will be utterly use-
less, Schill; we should husband our strength for better times.
We are threatened either by military force, or the rigor of
the law. Prussia has drawn up a corps on her frontier to re-
pulse us, if need be, should we come armed; and, if unarmed,
she would have us tried by a court-martial. Napoleon’s corps
of observation is stationed on the boundaries of Saxony and
Westphalia, and even the King of Denmark has ordered Gen-
eral von Ewald to march against us.”

“The stag has been surrounded, but not yet captured,” ex-
claimed Schill. “There is still a place where he may escape.
The King of Sweden has not yet a corps in the field against
us, and Stralsund is occupied only by a garrison of scarcely
three hundred men, commanded by General Candras. Let
us march thither and surprise the fortress. When Stralsund
is ours, we are on the sea-shore, and in communication with
the British; we have ships in the harbor, on which, if every
thing else should fail, we could find an asylum, and hasten
to England.”
SCHILL’S DEATH. 431

“But suppose we should not take Stralsund?” asked Liit-
zow. “How could we escape? I beseech you, listen to
reason, consider our hopeless situation; save yourself—save
the poor soldiers who have reposed confidence and hope in
you! Let us embark for England. There are well-nigh
thirty ships in the harbor of Warnemiinde; if they refuse to
take us on board, we can compel them.”

“No,” exclaimed Schill, vehemently. ‘“ We shall do just
as I said—march to Stralsund and take the fortress. But
Lieutenant Birsch is to seize twenty of the ships at Warne-
miinde and embark on them our baggage, the sick, and the
military chest, and convey them to the island of Riigen. We
start to-morrow and take Stralsund. That is my plan, and it
must be accomplished!”

And Schill’s plan was accomplished. He marched his hus-
sars to Stralsund, and for a moment fortune smiled on him.
The French commander, General Candras, preferred to meet
the enemy in the open field instead of awaiting him behind
the half-decayed fortifications. He marched against Schill
with the whole garrison and a battery of light artillery; but
the Prussian hussars, with a shout attacked the enemy, and
dispersed them, took six hundred prisoners, and made their
triumphant entry into Stralsund.

“ And here let us conquer or die,” said Schill to his officers,
who were standing around him. “Friends, brethren! the
day of success is at hand, and: Stralsund is the first taken.
Let us remain here; throw up intrenchments against the
enemy, and wait for the succor which England has so often
promised.’’

“Let us not wait for this succor,” said one of the officers;
“let us meet it.”

“Every hour of delay increases the danger,” exclaimed
another. “If we do not now embrace the opportunity—if we
do not start without delay, and meet the English squadron in
the open sea, or hasten to the Swedish shore, we must inevit-
ably perish.”

“Tt would be foolhardiness to remain here for the enemy's
superior force to attack us,” said a third. “To struggle
against such odds is folly, and prudent men submit to the
decrees of fortune, instead of resisting them in a spirit of
childish petulance.”’

“Tet us husband our resources for a future day,” said a
fourth. “It will come when Germany, which is repudiating
432 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

us now, will stand in need of our assistance, and call us to her
side. Let us preserve ourselves for more favorable prospects,
and a greater probability of success.”

Schill looked angrily on his officers. “Is there no one who
will raise his voice against these opinions?” he asked. “Is
there no one who will reply to the timid and desponding, in
the name of honor, courage, and patriotism?”

All were silent; a murmur of indignation was the cnly
reply. “Well, then,” exclaimed Schiil, ardently, “T will
myself speak against you all; I will tell you that it is cowardly
to flee from danger, and to think of defeat instead of victory;
that it is perfidious to desert our country when in danger, to
save one’s own miserable life. Accursed be he who thinks of
flight and of forsaking the great cause which we are serving!
We must hold Stralsund to the last man. We must make it
a German Saragossa, and lie dead beneath the ruins of the
city rather than surrender. Let us repair the fortifications,
throw up new earthworks, and await the enemy behind the
intrenchments. This is my resolution; I will not suffer con-
tradiction, but treat as rebels and mutineers those who dare
to act contrary to my orders! The soldiers obey me, and I
am their commander. But such of the officers as do not wish
to participate longer in the struggle; who, instead of remain-
ing true to their duty, prefer to save their lives by flight, are
at liberty to do so. I will not prevent them from making
their escape; they may embark on one of the ships in the har-
bor, and flee whither they desire. Let them remember, how-
ever, that they will leave their dishonor here, and will not
participate in the glory which posterity may grant as the only
conquerors’ crown to poor Schill and his faithful men. Let
such as desire to flee step forth and receive their discharge.”
A long pause ensued. No one advanced.

“We agreed to serve under the leadership of Major von
Schill,” at last said the oldest officer, in a grave, solemn voice;
“we have sworn to fight under him against the enemies of our
country, to remain with him to the last, and to obey his
orders. We shall fulfil our oath, and not faithlessly desert
the banner which we have hitherto followed. Let Major von
Schill consider, however, that he is responsible for the lives of
all those who have united their destiny with his own, and that
his conscience, God, and posterity, will judge him, if instead
of preserving them he should lead them to an inglorious death
or captivity. If Major von Schill is unwilling to listen to
SCHILL’S DEATH 433

prudence—if he refuses to embark and escape with us, we will
all remain, and, with him, await our fate. Speak, then,
major, will you go with us or remain?”

“1 will remain,” exclaimed Schill, energetically. “I will
await the enemy; I will conquer or die on German soil. Oh,
friends, comrades, do not speak to me of flight or submission ;
Schill does not flee, Schill does not submit! I have tried to
arouse my country; I have stretched out my hand toward my
countrymen, and said to them, ‘I will assist you in shaking
the sleep from your half-closed eyes. Rise! and I will lead
you in the path of liberty and honor. My arm is strong, and
my sword is sharp; unite with me, and let us expel the
tyrant!’ But Germany did not listen to my appeal; she is
still sleeping too soundly, and God did not decree that I should
accomplish my task. Perhaps Providence may intend that
you and I shall strengthen the cause of liberty by shedding
our blood—our death will awaken the sleepers, that they may
avenge us. The Germans entertain great admiration for the
dead. It is only toward the living that they are cold and re-
served. Brethren, let us die for liberty if we cannot live for
it. Let us remain united in life and death!”

“Yes, united in life and death!” exclaimed all the officers,
and they thronged around Schill to shake hands with him,
and to assure him of their fidelity.

Four days of repose and peace followed.—Schill profited by
them to repair the decayed intrenchments and fortifications,
and made all necessary preparations for an obstinate defence
against the approaching enemy.

On the 31st of May, early in the morning, while the major
was reviewing his troops in the market-place, wild shouts
were heard in the streets. They drew nearer and nearer.
Soldiers were rushing toward Schill, and behind them, at
some distance, others in red uniforms became visible.

A flash of joy kindled the patriot’s face. “The English,”
he exclaimed, in a loud voice, “see their red coats! The
English have landed, and are coming to our assistance!”

“The English are coming!” echoed the exultant soldiers.

“No, no,” gasped one of the guards, who had just reached
the market-place, “the Dutch are coming—it is the enemy!
They surprised us at the Knieper gate, dispersed our infantry,
and penetrated into the city. See! their assaulting columns
are already advancing! Let every one escape as he can!”

“Tt isthe enemy!” exclaimed Schill, vaulting on his horse.
434 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Come, brethren, let us meet them. The cavalry will remain
here as our reserve. The other troops will follow me to the
T'riebseer gate!” And he galloped into the narrow street
leading to the gate, followed by his men. He was a picture
of heroism as he rode at the head of his band, with his hair
streaming in the wind, aud his countenance beaming with
courage. Turning with a smile to Lieutenant Alvensleben,
who was riding at his side, “Oh,” he said, “it seems to me as
though a heavy load had been removed from my breast, and I
could breathe freely again. The decisive struggle is at hand,
and burdensome life will be resigned with joy. I shall die,
my friend, die. Hurrah! forward! liberty is beckoning to
me, glorious liberty!”

He spurred his horse and galloped more rapidly, Alvensle-
ben remaining at his side.

“Friend,” exclaimed Schill, further on, “when I am no
more, defend me against my enemies, and greet my friends!
Take my last oath of fealty to the queen, and my last love-
greeting to Germany, when she isfree. Hurrah! there comes
the enemy! Let us sing an inspiring song!” And he sang
in a loud voice:

“Tod du siisser, fiir das Vaterland !
Siisser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen !”

“ Willkommen!” he cried again, and galloped more rapidly
past the Dutch soldiers, who were just emerging from a side-
street and cut him off from Alvensleben and his other follow-
ers. The enemy, commanded by the Dutch General Carteret,
was also approaching from the opposite street. The patriot
galloped into the midst of the staff—his sabre flashed, and the
general fell from his horse as if struck by lightning. Schill
turned when he was unable to penetrate through this body of
men obstructing the street. But another battalion had
already formed behind him and cut him hopelessly off from
assistance. Hisown men tried to reach him. Shouts, oaths,
cries of defiance and fury, with the groans of the dying, rent
the air.

Schill saw that he was lost, that he was no longer able to
save himself, his faithful men, or his fatherland! There was
no escape for him. Death was howling around him on all
sides, panting for its prey. Suddenly the column of the
enemy opened; he saw the gap, and spurred his horse with a
desperate effort, making him leap into the midst of the
THE PARADE AT SCHONBRUNN. 435

enemy. The Dutch soldiers fell back in dismay, and Schill
galloped by them into Fihr Street. Forward, as on the wings of
a tempest, he hastened to the assistance of his men. A bullet
hissed past him—another shot was fired. He wavered in the
saddle; the bullet had struck him! A detachment of Dutch
soldiers were just coming up the street. The man heading
them saw the pale Prussian officer, who was scarcely able to
retain his seat.

“Tt is Schill! it is Schill!” he cried out, rushing forward.

“Hurrah, it is Schill!” shouted the others, aiming their
muskets at him. Three shots were fired. The brave Prussian
still kept the saddle, but his hand dropped the bridle, and
the horse stood still. The Dutch chasseurs surrounded and
cut him. He lay helpless on the ground—that herculean
man. He was still alive; his eyes, that had so beamed with
courage, cast their last glance toward heaven, and his lips,
that smiled so sweetly, murmured, “ Tod dw siisser fiir das
Vaterland!” A powerful sabre-stroke at last ended his life.
His enemies despoiled his body, tearing off his decorations,
and robbing him of a small crown of pearls and the memoran-
dum-book, both gifts of the queen whom he loved so well, and
for whom he fought so bravely. They seized the corpse and
dragged it along the street in order to present it to their
general. His hands were besmeared with mire; his uniform
torn by the brutal grasp of the conquerors, and his gory head
trailed along the pavement. He was at last deposited in the
vestibule of the city hall, where the meat-merchants of Stral-
sund trade on market days.

A butcher’s bench was the catafalque of unfortunate Ferdi-
nand von Schill, the martyr of German liberty! There he
lay, a horrible spectacle, with broken limbs, a face deformed
by bruises and sabre-gashes, and his eyes glaring to heaven as
if in accusation of the ignominy of his death and the brutality
of his enemies.

 

CHAPTER XLIX.
THE PARADE AT SCHONBRUNN.

NAPoLEon’s great victory at Wagram had put an end to
the war with Austria, and destroyed only too speedily the
hopes which the battle of Aspern or Hsslingen had awakened
in the hearts of the Germans.
436 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

The Archduke Charles had gained at Aspern half a vic-
tory; and the fact that the Austrians had not been beaten—
that Napoleon had been compelled to fall back with his army
and to take refuge on the island of Lobau, was regarded as a
victory, which was announced in the most boastful manner.
But if it was a victory, the Austrians did not know how to
profit by it. Instead of uniting their forces and attacking
Lobau, where the French army was encamped, huddled _to-
gether, and exhausted by the long and murderous struggle—
where the French grenadiers were weeping over the death of
their brave leader, Marshal Lannes, Duke of Montebello—
where the wounded and defeated were cursing for the first
time the emperor’s insatiable thirst for conquest—instead of
surrounding the French army, or opening a cannonade upon
them, the Archduke Charles fell farther back from the right
bank of the Danube, and allowed his exhausted troops to rest
and recover from the fatigue of the terrible battle that had
lasted two days. While the Austrians were dressing their
wounds, the French profited by the delay, and built new
bridges, procured barges, left the island that might have been
a graveyard for them, and reorganized their shattered forces.

On the 6th of July, Napoleon took revenge at Wagram for
the two days of Aspern, and wrested again from the Archduke
Charles the laurels won at the latter place. Germany was in
ecstasies after the battle of Aspern, but she bowed her head
mournfully after that of Wagram.

Napoleon was again the master of Germany; and Austria,
like the rest of the country, had to bow humbly to his im-
perious will. The “first soldier of Aspern,” brave Prince
John of Lichtenstein, was sent to Napoleon’s headquarters at
Znaim to request an armistice and the opening of peace ne-
gotiations. Napoleon, whose armies were exhausted, whose
attention, besides, was absorbed by the war in Spain, and who
had found out at his late battles what resistance was now be-
ginning to be made in Germany, granted the request, con-
sented to a cessation of hostilities, and that the envoys of
France and Austria should agree upon terms of peace.

These negotiations had already been carried on for months,
and no conclusion had yet been arrived at. Vienna was still
a French city, and the Viennese had to submit to the rule
of a new governor, and to the galling yoke imposed on them
by a foreign police, who kept a close surveillance over every
action—nay, every expression and look. They had to bow to
THE PARADE AT SCHONBRUNN. 437

stern necessity, and to celebrate Napoleon’s birthday, the 15th
of August, by festivities and an illumination, as though it
were the birthday of their own sovereign.

Napoleon was still residing at Schénbrunn, at the palace
which Maria Theresa had built, and where she had signed the
marriage-contract of her daughter Marie Antoinette with the
Dauphin of France. Marie Antoinette had been guillotined,
and the heir of the Revolution and of the French crown was
dwelling at her mother’s palace.

Every morning the French Emperor reviewed his guards in
the large palace-yard, and thousands of the inhabitants of
Vienna hastened regularly to Schénbrunn in order to see him
and witness the parade. These morning reviews had become
a favorite public amusement, and, when listening to the
music of the French bands, and beholding the emperor (in his
gray coat, with his broad brow covered with the three-
cornered hat) gallop down the ranks of his troops, followed
by the brilliant staff of his marshals and generals, amid shouts
of “ Vive ’ Hmpereur,” the kind-hearted citizen sometimes
forgot that it was their enemy who was displaying his power,
and rejoicing in his ambition; instead of cursing, they ad-
mired him and his veterans, whose scars were the signs of many
a victory.

Napoleon was but too well aware of the influence which
these parades were exerting on the minds of the people; he
knew the fascination which his person produced not only on
his soldiers, but the public generally, and he wished to profit
by it, in order to conquer the civilians after conquering their
army. Every one, therefore, had free access, and the subtle
invader had always a kind glance and an affable smile with
which to win their hearts.

On the 13th of October, as usual, a parade was to be held;
and the road leading to Vienna was early covered with car-
riages, horsemen, and pedestrians, hastening to Schénbrunn.
Among those hurrying along the high-road was a man of whom
no one took any notice, with whom no one was conversing,
and who, while all around were laughing, and speaking of the
parade, was pursuing his way in grave silence. His youthful
countenance was sad and pale; long, light hair was waving
round his oval face. His eyes seemed on fire, and his thin,
half-parted lips were quivering as though he were a prey to
intense emotion. He was wrapped in a large black cloak
reaching nearly to his feet; a small black velvet cap covered
438 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

his head. ‘This strange figure looked like an apparition in
the midst of the chatting crowd, the elegant carriages, and
dashing horsemen. All were too busily engaged with them-
selves, with the review, which was to be particularly brilliant,
and with the emperor, who was not only to be present, but to
command the troops.

A few persons referred also to the hopes entertained of a
speedy conclusion of peace, and regretted that they had not
yet been fulfilled, while others conversed stealthily about the
victories of the Tyrolese, and of noble and brave Andrew
Hofer, who, with his faithful mountaineers, still dared to re-
sist the French conqueror. The young man listened gravely
and silently to all this conversation. ‘i

It was yet early when he reached the palace; for the Vien-
nese were anxious to get good places, and to be as near the
emperor as possible, and therefore they had set out several
hours before the parade was to commence.

The young man glanced with an evident air of disappoint-
ment over the large, unoccupied space which lay before him,
and on which as yet not a man of the imperial guard was to
be seen. “ Will there be no parade to-day?” he asked a cor-
pulent citizen of Vienna, who was standing at his side.

“Certainly, sir, there will be one,” said the citizen, with a
self-important air. “But it is very early yet, and an hour
may elapse before the emperor makes his appearance.”

“An hour yet!” exclaimed the young stranger, indignantly.
“T was told I had to be here early in order to witness the
spectacle.”

“You were correctly informed, sir. For if you want to
see any thing, it is necessary to be here at this hour to secure
a good place. Besides, the time you will have to wait will
not be very tedious. The various regiments that are to par-
ticipate in the parade will soon make their appearance; then,
come the imperial guards, who form in line, and, finally, the
emperor with his marshals. Oh, you ought to hear the shouts,
the music of the band, and the roll of the drums when he ap-
pears! You will certainly hear the noise, provided it does
not make you deaf.”

“T think it will not,” said the young man, with a mourn-
ful smile. “But tell me, shall we be able to see the emperor
very near? From which door will he make his appearance,
and where does he generally take his position?”

“He comes generally from the large portal yonder; it is
THE PARADE AT SCHONBRUNN. 4389

there that he mounts on horseback; he then rides down the
front of the soldiers, and halts a short time just there, where
we are standing. ‘Those who desire to say any thing to him,
or to deliver petitions, had better do so on this very spot.
But come, let us go a little farther into the palace-yard, that
we may see better.”

“Very well, lead the way. I will follow,” said the young
man.

“Come, then, sir.” And the kind-hearted citizen of
Vienna elbowed himself through the crowd.

The young conspirator followed him a few steps, and then
halted. Instead of advancing farther he slipped back to his
former place.

“No,” he muttered to himself, “I must not stand close
to, or converse with any one. I must be alone and an utter
stranger, so as to cast suspicion on no one else, and not to en-
danger the lives of innocent persons. The glory of the deed
will belong to me alone, if it should succeed; let the penalty
be inflicted on me alone, if it should fail.” He withdrew
farther from the citizen who had spoken to him so courteously,
and when he had entirely lost sight of him, he approached
the palace cautiously and from the opposite side. “The blow
must be struck at once,” he muttered. ‘Every delay will
involve me in fresh dangers, and my fate might be the same
as that of the two brethren who drew the black balls last year.
I drew the lot this time, and must accomplish what they were
unable to perform.”

The youthful stranger raised his eyes toward heaven, and a
solemn earnestness beamed from his countenance. ‘“ Yes, I
swear it by the memory of Anna, and the tears she will soon
shed for me, that I will not, like those two brethren, shrink
from striking the blow. I drew the lot, and the president
must repair the fault committed by them. I must destroy
the tyrant! Heaven, hear my oath and let my plan succeed!”
He elbowed himself quickly through the crowd, and ap-
proached closer to the entrance of the palace. Once, in the
midst of the surging mass, his cloak was accidentally dis-
placed, and something likea dagger-blade flashed from under
it; but hastily arranging his cloak he glanced around with an
air of uneasiness. No one paid any attention to him, for all eyes
were fixed on the imperial guard marching into line with a
proud step, conscious that they were the favorites of the
greatest general of the age, and the terror of the battle-field.
440 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.,

CHAPTER L.
NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN.

Wuite the regiments were forming in the palace-yard
below, and the spectators were thronging about them, Napo-
leon was still in his cabinet. But he was not alone. Some
of his adjutants and marshals were with him, and stood, like
the emperor, in front of a table covered with strange articles.
There lay a leg encased in a magnificent boot, a hand covered
with a white glove, an arm clad in the sleeve of a uniform,
by the side of which was a foot cut off close above the ankle,
and encased in a neat shoe.

Napoleon contemplated these things with grave glances,
and then turned his eyes toward a small man who was stand.
ing in humble attire and attitude, and who was no other than
the celebrated mechanician and inventor of the metronome,
Leonard Malzl. “You are a genius indeed!” said the em-
peror, with an air of genuine admiration; “people did not
say too much in calling you the most skilful member of your
profession. You really suppose that it is possible to walk
with such a leg?” And the emperor pointed at that lying on
the table.

“Sire, I do not only suppose it, I know it,” said M. Malzl,
gravely; “a man may use these limbs and feet as easily and
naturally as though he were born with them. Please be so
kind, your majesty, as to look at this.” M. Malzl took the
article and placed it in front of a chair. “ Your majesty sees
that it is a foot with about half a leg. It is fastened with
these two suspenders, that are thrown over the shoulders, and
aman may then walk with it.”

“Yes, walk, but he would not be able to sit down.”

“Yes, he would, sire; you touch this spring, and—your
majesty sees, the knee bends and the upper part drops on the
chair.”

“So it does!” exclaimed Napoleon, joyously, but suddenly
his brow became dark and his eyes gloomy. “ Alas,’’ he said,
thoughtfully, “were Lannes still alive, I might have at least
offered him a substitute for the limbs he lost.’’ He stared at
the ingenious work, and stroking his face quickly said, “ You
assert, also, sir, that a man may use that hand, and hold any
NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN. 441

ee with it?” asked Napoleon, lifting up the neatly-gloved
and.

Sire, it is just_as good as one new-grown. The human
will controls every limb and moves these artificial fingers just
as well as the natural ones.’ Will your majesty be so kind as
to order me to take something from the table with this hand
which you see now stretched out?”

The emperor drew a ring, adorned with a large diamond,
from his finger, and laid it on the table. “Let the machine
pick up this ring,” he said.

Milzl took the hand, and, touching the spring fixed at the
wrist, the fingers bent immediately and seized the ring. Na-
poleon looked humorously at his astonished marshals and gen-
erals. “ Now, gentlemen,” he said, “we need no longer be
afraid of bullets, for if we lose the hands and feet that God
He Buen us, we can replace them by thuse made by Mr.

alzl.”

“Sire,” said Mr. Malzl, smiling, “will you convince your-
self that my artificial hand cannot merely pick up, but also
retain an object? Will your majesty try to take the ring
from it?”

Napoleon seized the ring, but the fingers held it with irre-
sistible tenacity. ‘Indeed, these are very sensible fingers,”
exclaimed Napoleon; “they do not give up what they once
get hold of.”

“Yes, sire, they will. I touch this spring, and the fingers
open again.”

“No, no,” exclaimed the emperor, “let them keep this time
what they have, and wear the ring asa memento. I will allow
them only to deliver it to their maker, who knows not only
how to use his own hands so skilfully, but also to manufacture
serviceable ones for others. No thanks, sir! we are greatly
indebted to you, and not you to us, and it certainly behooves
me to thank you in the name of the brave soldiers whose lost
limbs you replace so ingeniously. When the precious day of
peace will come, people will be able to do without your inven-
tion, but I am afraid we shall not live to see that day. We
are, I fear, always exposed to the horrors of war. Hence,
your invention is a blessing that cannot be appreciated too
highly, for, thanks to you, there will be fewer cripples and
unsightly wooden legs. I shall issue orders to select five of
the bravest and most deserving invalids from every regiment
of my army, and you will restore to them their lost arms, legs

29
442 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

and hands, at my expense. Indeed, sir, you imitate the
Creator, and the wonder would be complete if you knew also
how to replace lost heads.”

“Sire, I do know that, too,” said MAlzl, smiling.

“Yes, a head of wax or painted wood!”

“No, sire, a head that moves, opens, and closes its eyes,
and—thinks.”

“A head that thinks?” exclaimed Napoleon, laughing.
“Ah, that isa pretty strong assertion, which you could hardly

rove.”
a: Pardon me, your majesty, I engage to furnish the proof.”

“ How so?”

“Tf your majesty will acknowledge that one must think in
order to play a game of chess, then the artificial man in my
possession is able to think.”

“Where have you that man with the thinking head?”

“Sire, I have caused my assistants to set it up in the ad-
joining room. But I must observe that this man was not
made by myself; it is the master-piece of the late Mr. Kem-
peler, a well-known mechanician, of whose son I bought my
slave.”

“ Ah,” said Napoleon, laughing,“ do you not know that the
trade in human chattels is now prohibited in our civilized
states? But let us see your slave.—Come, gentlemen,” added
Napoleon, turning toward his marshals and adjutants, “let us
look at the work of this modern Prometheus.” He walked
toward the door, but, before leaving the cabinet, he turned to
the chamberlain. “When the Duke de Cadore comes bring
me word immediately.”” He then stepped into the adjoining
room and the marshals and Mr. MAlzl followed him.

In the middle of the room, at a small table, on which was
a chess-board, sat a neatly-dressed male figure, looking like a
boy fourteen years old.

“That, then, is the celebrated chess-player,” remarked Na-
poleon, advancing quickly. “The face is made of wax, but
who will warrant that there is not a human countenance con-
cealed under it, and that this prepossessing and well-propor-
tioned form does not really consist of flesh and blood?”

“Sire, this will convince your majesty that such is not the
case,” said Milzl, touching a spring on the neck of the au-
tomaton, and taking the head from the trunk.

“You are right,” exclaimed Napoleon, laughing, “I am
fully convinced. It is true men are walking about without
NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN. 443

heads, but they are not so honest as to reveal the fact so
openly as your automaton does.”

“Sire, will your majesty grant the favor of playing a game
of chess with him?” asked Milzl, fastening on again the head
of the automaton.

ne the thing will dare to play a game of chess with
me?

“With your majesty’s permission.”

“ And alone?”

“Yes, sire; your majesty will permit me, however, to take
position behind the chair?”

“Certainly. I see the chessmen are already on the board;
let us commence.” The emperor sat down opposite the au-
tomaton, and saluted it with a pleasant nod.

“Well, comrade, let us commence,” said Napoleon.

The automaton made a graceful bow, and beckoned to the
emperor with its uplifted right hand, as though he wished
him to commence.

“Well, I shall commence,’

awn. ‘

The automaton took the pawn in front of the king and ad-
vanced it two squares. The emperor made another move, and
so did his opponent. Looking smilingly at the figure, Napo-
leon played his black bishop as a knight, occupying the
oblique white square. The automaton, shaking its head, put
the bishop on the square it ought to occupy.

“Ah, it does not like cheating,” exclaimed Napoleon,
laughing; “it is a very earnest and conscientious player.”
And the emperor made another move. The automaton con-
tinued the game. Another attempt was made to cheat by
moving the castle in an oblique direction. His adversary
took the castle with an impetuous gesture and placed it aside
like a pawn it had won.

“Tt very properly punishes me,” said the emperor, “We
must play seriously.”

The game proceeded. It became more and more intricate;
the chances were soon in favor of the automaton, and the em-
peror was in danger of losing the game. Forgetting who was
his antagonist, he remembered only that he was about to lose
a game, and became serious. He played hastily, and for the
third time tried to cheat by moving a knight contrary to the
rules. The automaton shook its head vehemently, and upset
the whole chess-board,

’

said Napoleon, advancing a
444 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Ah, it refuses to continue the game,” exclaimed Napo-
leon; “it despises my swindling, and forgets that it is itself
aswindle. You may be thankful, M. Malzl, that we are no
longer in the middle ages; formerly they would have burned
you at the stake as a sorcerer, attempting to do what God
alone is able to do.”

“Sire, permit me to repeat that this machine was nut made
by myself, but by Kempeler. But I hope your majesty will .
permit me to show you my own automaton, and allow it to
indulge in a little music before you.”

“Where is it?”

“Here,” said Milzl, opening the closed curtains of one of
the windows, and pointing at the handsome figure visible be-
hind them.

“Ah, a postilion!” exclaimed Napoleon, “and it will blow
us a tune on the bugle?”

“Sire, it begs leave to play the Marseillaise to your majesty,”
said Malzl, moving the figure on rollers into the middle of the
room.

“ Let it commence,” said Napoleon.

The postilion raised its arm, seized the bugle hanging on a
silken string around its neck, put it to its mouth and com-
menced blowing.

At this moment the door of the cabinet opened; the cham-
berlain entered and approached the emperor. “Sire,” he
said, the “Duke de Cadore has just arrived and begs to be
admitted.”

“Conduct him immediately into my cabinet,” replied Na-
poleon, rising hastily. He then beckoned the mechanician to
his side. “ Let your postilion still play to the marshals. As
to your chess-player, I must buy it of you. You may apply
to Grand-Marshal Duroc for the money. In order to punish
the automaton for nearly beating me at the game, I will buy
it, and it is henceforth to be my slave.” *

“Sire, that is no punishment, but a reward, for which I
beg leave to thank you in the name of my chess-player.”

“You have invented a most acceptable substitute for such
of my invalids as have lost arms or legs,” said the emperor ;
“now you must invent something else for me, and come to
the assistance of the wounded on the battle-field. Make me
the model of an ambulance into which the disabled can be

*This chess-player, which Napoleon bought of Mulzl, remained at the Villa Bona-
ae near Milan, until 1812, when it was removed to Paris, where it is at the pres:
ent time.
“NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN. 445

placed safely and comfortably, and which is arranged in such
a manner that it may be taken asunder and transported on
horseback with the train of the army. You are an inventive
genius, and I shall expect you with your model in the course
of a week. Now let your postilion blow again. Good-by!”
He waved his hand kindly to the mechanician, and then has-
tened back into his cabinet. The Duke de Cadore was there
already, and saluted the emperor with a low bow.

“Well, Champagny,” exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, “do
you not yet bring us peace?”

“No, sire, the ambassadors of Austria refuse peremptorily
to accept the terms proposed to them.”

“Ah,” exclaimed the emperor, menacingly, “those Aus-
trians believe they can bid me defiance. They have not yet
been humbled enough, although I have defeated their army,
foiled the plans of their commander-in-chief, expelled their
emperor from his capital, and am residing at his palace.
They wish for further humiliations, and they shall have them.
If they do not change their mind very speedily, I shall send
for the Grand-duke of Wtrzburg and adorn his head with the
imperial crown of Austria.”

“Sire, that would be replacing one puppet by another, but
not removing the men pulling the wires; and they are all
animated by the same spirit. Prince Lichtenstein and Count
Bubna are no less inflexible than was Count Metternich. It is
true they have already yielded in some points, and declared
to-day that the Emperor Francis had authorized them to ac-
cept some of the conditions proposed.”

“Which?” asked Napoleon, hastily.

“The emperor is ready to cede to France Dalmatia and
Croatia, the territories demanded by your majesty.”

“Well!” exclaimed Napoleon, “we obtain thereby the chief
point. Ishall extend the territory of France to the Save, and
become the immediate neighbor of Turkey. Let the Emperor
of Russia try then to carry his plans against Constantinople
into effect: France will know how to protect her neighbor,
and her troops will always be ready to defend the Porte.
When I have extended my frontiers into the interior of Dal-
matia and Croatia, Russia’s influence in the Orient is para-
lyzed, and France will be all-powerful in Constantinople.
What is it that Austria refuses after granting our principal
demands?”

“Sire, she consents further to cede to Bavaria part of Upper
446 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Austria, namely: Salzburg, Berchtesgaden, and part of the
district of the Inn and Hausruck, but she refuses to give up
one-half of Upper Austria, which we claimed; she refuses
further to cede to Saxony such large territories in Bohemia,
and to Russia in Galicia, as was demanded by your majesty.”

“We may yield a little as to these points,” said Napoleon.
“Tt is always better to make exorbitant demands, because it
is easier then to abate, and appear accommodating. I do not
attach, moreover, any great value to the enlargement of Ba-
varia, Saxony, and Russia. Only the aggrandizement of
France by the extension of our frontiers to the boundaries of
Turkey was to be the object of our ambition. Having at-
tained this, we will yield as to the cession of other territories,
and be satistied with less, provided that Austria accept un-
reservedly and fully the two other conditions I refer to.”

“Your majesty refers to the reduction of the Austrian
army, and the war contribution of one hundred millions of
francs, which we have demanded.”

“Which we have demanded, and which must be paid, un-
less they wish me to resume hostilities,’ said Napoleon,
menacinugly.

“Sire, these are the two points as to which Austria shows
the greatest reluctance,” said Champagny, shrugging his
shoulders. “She contends that a reduction of her army,
brought about by the imperious demands of France, is in-
compatible with the honor and dignity of her emperor; and
further, that she is unable to pay a war contribution of one
hundred millions of francs.”

“She dares then to reject my demands!” exclaimed Napo-
leon, with a gloomy air. “She will compel me to recom-
mence the war for the sake of a few miserable millions of
francs!”

“Sire, Austria makes counter-propositions, and hopes that
an understanding will be arrived at. She promises to reduce
her army considerably in the course of six months, to disband
the militia, and to place the regiments on a peace footing.
She further offers one-half of the sum which we have de-
manded, namely, fifty millions.”

“And she believes that I will be satisfied with that?” said
Napoleon. ‘‘She attempts to beat me down as though I were
a British shopkeeper! She dares to offer me one-half, and
talks to me about the honor and dignity of her emperor! As
if it did not depend on me to trample under foot his honor
NAPOLEON AT SCHONBRUNN. 447

and dignity, and to cast the imperial crown of Austria into
the waves of the Danube, or to place it on my own head, just
as I prefer!” :

“Sire, I believe the Emperor Francis js fully aware of the
danger menacing him, and he igs conscious, too, that his
dynasty is at stake in these negotiations. I do not believe,
therefore, that hostilities will break out again, owing to his
reluctance to submit to these two conditions.”

“T shall not yield,” said Napoleon, “although it seems to
me disgraceful to commence another war for the sake of fifty
millions, and when I know that my own army is in need of
repose. I—” The emperor interrupted himself, and listened
‘to the clock, which struck twelve. “Indeed, it is already
twelve o’clock! My guard must have been waiting for me in
the palace-yard for some time.” He stepped to the window
and looked down. “My splendid guard has already formed
in line,” he said, “and there is a vast crowd of spectators
from Vienna to see the parade.”

“To see your majesty,” corrected Champagny, approaching
the window at a sign made by Napoleon.

“Just look at that crowd!” said the emperor, smiling.
“There are at least three thousand men who have come hither
to see me and my soldiers, and they do not belong exclusively
to the lower classes, as is proved by the large number of car-
riages, the numerous elegant horsemen, and by the windows
yonder.” He pointed at the windows of the opposite wing of
the palace; and when the minister turned his eyes, he beheld
a large number of ladies, whose toilet seemed to indicate that
they belonged to the higher classes of society.

“See!” said the emperor, “that beautiful lady in the
ermine dress; it is the Princess von Fiirstenberg, and the lady
at her side is the wife of Field-Marshal von Bellegarde. They
requested Bausset to lend them one of his windows, that they
might witness the parade. The ladies at their side are all

.members of the highest aristocracy, and the citizens and the
populace generally are in the yard below. You see, these
good people regard us no longer as enemies; they love and
esteem us, and perhaps it would be wisest and best for me to
claim the crown of Austria in order to put an end to all
further quarrels. The Austrians, it seems to me, would be
content with it. Well, we shall see further about it! I will
not make the ladies, the populace, and, above all, my sol-
diers, wait longer. You may remain here in my cabinet.
ee

448 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

There is a note on the table which I want you to finish. I
shall return soon.

The emperor took his hat, and, opening the door leading
into the adjoining room, he called out: “Gentlemen of the
stafi—to the parade!”

CHAPTER LI.
FREDERICK STAPS.

Tue bands played, and shouts of “ Vive ? Empereur!”
burst from the troops. Napoleon had emerged from the pal-
ace door, and the welcome was as a sunbeam brightening his
cold and emotionless face. He slowly descended the steps of
the outside staircase, with his eyes on the soldiers, and he did
not notice the young man who stood below, presenting to him
a petition with his left hand, while he concealed his right
under his cloak.

“Sire,” said the young man, loudly and urgently, “sire,
here is a petition, and I request your majesty to listen to me
fora moment. J—”

Napoleon passed on the other side without having heard
these words. The youth, holding the petition still in his hand,
was about to follow him, but Marshal Bessiéres, who walked
behind, kept him back. “If you present a petition to the
emperor,” he said, “wait here until the parade is over, when
he will return this way.” The marshal proceeded, but the
young man took no notice of his order, and mingled boldly
with the emperor’s suite.

General Rapp at length laid his hand on the youth’s shoul-
der, and said:

“Sir, you must withdraw. This is no place for you.”

“T have to present a petition to the emperor which cannot
be delayed,” said the young man, in a gentle voice, “ pray
permit me to give it to him at once.”

“T tell you it is out of place here,” exclaimed the general,
vehemently. Beckoning to one 6f the second lieutenants,
he said: “Conduct this man away from here.”

“Come, sir,” said the lieutenant; “stand back, soldiers;
let this man pass.” In spite of himself, he was soon hurried
to the rear.
FREDERICK STAPS. 449

“T must attain my object—I must fulfil my oath,” he mut-
tered to himself. “ Napoleon must die to-day, and Frederick
Staps shall be his executioner. Forward!” He elbowed him-
self through the crowd that had assembled behind the soldiers,
and, standing on tiptoe, tried to descry the emperor and his
marshals while walking into the semicircle formed by the
troops.

No one noticed that, seeing a passage in the ranks of the
soldiers, Staps advanced, cautiously and quickly as a snake,
until he was again inside the semicircle. ‘Fate is favorable
to me,” he muttered, “and the moment is at hand when I
will deliver Germany!” He approached the emperor, who
was just coming down the front from the other side. “ Sire,”
he exclaimed, stretching out his paper toward Napoleon,
“take my petition, and listen to me a few minutes.”

The emperor looked for a moment on the pale countenance
of the young man. “I do not understand you,” he said;
“apply to General Rapp.”

Staps apparently had not heard Napoleon’s words; he ap-
proached still closer, and put his right hand under his cloak.
“Sire, listen to me,” he exclaimed, “I—’ A strong hand
grasped his arm and pushed him back.

“Did you not hear that you are to apply to General Rapp?”
asked Marshal Bessiéres. ‘Why did you come the second
time to a place where you do not belong? Leave immedi-
ately, or you will be arrested!”

“Tam going,” muttered Staps, and turned to pass through
the ranks of the soldiers.

At this moment a dark suspicion arose in the mind of Bes-
siéres, for which he was unable to give any good reasons, but
which alarmed him. He beckoned to two soldiers, and,
pointing at Staps, who was pressing his way outside, he
said, “ Arrest that man, and bring him hither!” His order
was obeyed in a moment, and the soldiers, holding Staps by
the arms, dragged him to the marshal, whom the Duke de
Rovigo and General Rapp had now joined. ;

“Why did you have me arrested, general?” asked Staps, in
a firm, calm voice. ;

“Because I distrust you,” replied Bessiéres. “Take off
your cloak!’ -

Staps hesitated. “Take off your cloak! repeated Bes-
siéres; and, not obeying, the soldiers violently tore the cloak
from his shoulders, and, as they did so, something flashed.
450 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

It was the blade of a large knife, in a belt with which he had
fastened his black velvet coat.

“He is saved and I am lost!” muttered Staps to himself,
and dropped his head on his breast.

“ What is the meaning of this knife?” asked General Rapp.
“What did you want to do with it?”

Staps slowly raised his head and lifted up his arm to point
at the emperor, who was standing but a few steps from them.

“J intended to punish him,” he said, solemnly.

“ An assassin! an assassin!” cried the marshals, in dismay,
thronging around him.

The emperor, perhaps, had heard these cries, for he ap-

roached. /

“ What is going on here?” he asked, as his eyes turned to the
pale face of the young man.

“Sire,” said Bessiéres, with an air of horror, “ you see here
a criminal who was about to assassinate you! Here is the
knife with which he intended to perpetrate the deed.”

Not a feature of the emperor’s countenance changed; not
a muscle quivered or betrayed any inward emotion. “Hush,”
he said, in a low, imperious voice. “Take the man into the
palace! Iwill examine him after the parade is over. Let
Savary and Rapp accompany him.—Come, marshals!”

While Savary and Rapp, with the soldiers who surrounded
Staps, hastened into the palace, Napoleon, escorted by his
marshals, walked slowly down the front. He did not finish
the parade a minute earlier than usual. Ascending the stair-
case, he stood on the landing, and received again the saluta-
tions of the military. He then stepped into the lower hali of
the palace. But there he accelerated his steps, and, hurrying
through the anterooms, entered the apartment contiguous to
his cabinet.

An hour had passed since he had admired, in this room,
M. Milzl’s chess-player and postilion, and now he looked
wonderingly at the young man who had tried to assassinate
him. “He is really but a child, and looks very innocent,”
exclaimed the emperor, shrugging his shoulders; “I do not
believe that he is an assassin.”

“Sire, here is the knife that was found on his person,” said
Savary, handing it to the emperor.

“That is, indeed, a strong proof of his intention,” replied
Napoleon. “But who tells you that this knife was designed
for me? I will myself speak to the man. Rapp, are you
FREDERICK STAPS. 451

sufficiently familiar with the German language to be my in-
terpreter?”

“Yes, sire, I speak German.”

“Come, then,” said the emperor, quickly approaching
Staps, whose hands had been tied behind him.

“Whence do you come, and what is your name?”

“T come from Naumburg, and my name is Frederick
Staps,’”’ was the calm reply.

“What is your father?”

“He is a clergyman.”

“A clergyman! and he has taught his son so little religion!
For IJ am told you intended to assassinate me. Is that
true?”

“It was the last means that I had resolved upon to save my
unfortunate native land,” replied Staps, in a gentle voice.
“ But before doing so, I was determined to try another.”

“What?”

“To implore you, in the name of my country, humanity,
and your own future, to give peace to the world,” responded
Staps, enthusiastically. “I hoped that Heaven would impart
strength to my words, so that they would be able to move
your heart; that your eyes would see the fountains of blood
your accursed hand has opened on the peaceful plains of Ger-
many; that the armies of the dead lying in our fields might
satisfy your desire for war. Sire, have mercy on Germany
and on yourself! There are thousands of unburied corpses
accusing Napoleon as their murderer! Our cities and vil-
lages are filled with weeping mothers, and widows, and chil-
dren, arraigning you as the destroyer of their sons, husbands,
and fathers. Sire, have mercy on your own conscience, and
restore peace to the world!”

“He is assuredly insane,” murmured Napoleon to himself.
At this moment he cast his eyes on a miniature, fastened to a
string, and lying on the table.

“What locket is that?” he asked.

“Sire,” replied Rapp, “we took it from the assassin; he
wore it on his neck.”

Napoleon examined it. It contained the portrait of a beau-
tiful woman. “ Whose portrait is it?” i

“ Sire,” said Staps, in a solemn voice, “it is the portrait of
my betrothed—my dearly belovec Anna.”

“What!” exclaimed the emperor. “You have a sweet-
heart—you have a mother and a father—yov are in the flower
452 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

of your life—and yet you intended to commit so horrible a
crime! For you will not deny that murder is a crime.”

“Murder in ordinary cases is one of the greatest crimes,”
said Staps, in his calm, gentle voice. “But to take your life
—to rid the world of Napoleon—is no murder and no crime;
it is an act of justice—nay, it is a sacred duty! If I had
killed you, no one would have called me an assassin; my at-
tempt is criminal because it did not succeed. That is what
one of our own great poets says concerning certain actions:

‘ Conceived and unsuccessful—there’s the crime !
Accomplished, it becomes a deed immortal.
And what succeeds will surely be forgiven,

For God’s own verdict lies in the result !*’’*

“ And God, then, has decided against you,” said Napoleon,
quickly.

“No, God delays only the execution of the blow, and per-
haps Iam not the right instrument. He will choose another,
aud my successors will know better how to find your heart,
Believe me, the Germans know how to do their duty; and to
rid Germany of her tyrant, and restore peace to her people, is
their duty.”

“You have read a good deal, I suppose?” asked the em-
peror. ‘‘ And it seems books have excited your imagination.
What were your favorite works?”

“Sire, historical works,” said Staps, calmly. “I derived
from them the courage required for my deed.”

_“ You know something of Brutus, then?” asked Napoleon,
with a compassionate smile.

“There were two Brutuses. The last Brutus killed the
tyrant, and died for liberty. Mankind have not ceased ad-
miring him, as France has not ceased admiring the Maid of
Orleans. She delivered her country from its enemies, but she
was captured, and perished. I intended to do what that
heroic maid did—save my native land from oppression, but
God decreed that her destiny, and not her deed, should be
mine.”

“Does your father know of your folly?”

“Neither he nor my betrothed, nor any one else, knew of
my purpose. Icame hither alone, and alone I intended to ac-
complish it. Not until I had succeeded was its revelation to

* “ Gedacht bloss und missgltickt—ist’s nur ein Frevel,
Vollbracht, ist’s ein unsterblich Tnternehmen,
Und was nur gliickt, das wird dann auch verziehen,
Denn jeder Ausgang—ist ein Gottes-Urtheil !*”
SCHILLER.
FREDERICK STAPS. 453

be made. And the news would have come to those I love as a
pledge of peace—that the deluge of blood was over, and Ger-
many saved!”

“Your father and your betrothed will now receive bad tid-
ings of you. Are you not afraid of grieving them?”

“Both of them will weep for me—so will many other Ger-
mans, and their tears will water the flowers upon my grave.”

“You believe, then, that I shall have you executed ?”

“T should consider it but natural for you.”

“But it may please me to pardon you. Tell me, in that
case, what you would do?”

“ Accomplish my purpose,” replied Staps, calmly. “I have
sworn to kill you. I must fulfil my oath or die!”

“Ah, you have either a morbid mind or a morbid body!”
exclaimed Napoleon, vehemently.

“No, I have neither one nor the other,” replied Staps, com-
posedly; “my mind is healthy, and so is my body.”

“Send for Corvisart,” ordered the emperor, turning to his
suite. “But let no one dare tell him what is transpiring
here.”

An adjutant hastened out, and Napoleon turned again to
Staps. “ Are you a freemason or one of the Illuminati?”

“ Neither.”

“Did you ever hear of Moreau and Pichegru?”

“T did.”

“And what do you think of these men, who tried to take
my life?”

“T think that they were afraid of death.”

“Did you know Schill and Dérnberg?”’

Staps hesitated a moment, and replied: “I knew Schill.
I saw him on the day after the battle of Jena, and we swore
to devote our thoughts, our energies, and our lives, to the
German fatherland, and never to grow weary in our struggle
against the tyrant. There were three of us who took this
oath. The first was Count Pickler, who shot himself; the
second was shot, Fredinand von Schill; the third will also
be shot, Frederick Staps!”

“He igs insane,” repeated Napoleon, shuddering involun-
tarily at the tranquillity of the prisoner.

The door opened, and the emperor’s physician, M. de Cor-
visart, entered.

“Qorvisart, come hither,” the emperor said, vehemently.
“Examine this young man, and tell me what is the matter
454 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

with him.” The marshals and generals stepped aside, and
the physician approached the prisoner, whose hands had been
untied a moment previously. “ Hxamine his pulse, Corvisart;
examine him carefully and tell me whether he has a fever, or
is insane.” : ,

Staps quietly stretched out his hand; Corvisart took it and
laid his fingers on the pulse. Silence reigned in the room.
The marshals and generals in full uniform surrounded the
group; in the midst stood the emperor, whose face was sadder
to-day than usual; at his side was Staps, with his gentle
countenance and radiant look turned toward heaven, his right
hand resting in that of the physician, who marked every pul-
sation with profound attention.

It was a scene worthy an artist’s pencil. All were looking
at the physician and waited breathlessly for his decision.

“Sire,” said Corvisart, after a long pause, “this young man
is in perfectly good health; his pulse is regular; there is
nothing indicative of insanity in his eyes; his complexion is
good, and in fact there is nothing in his appearance to denote
the slightest indisposition.”’

“Ah,” exclaimed Staps, with a triumphant smile, “ you see
that I was right. I am neither insane nor ill.”

Napoleon stamped with anger, as his eyes flashed fire.
“Te is insane, Corvisart!’ he exclaimed; “examine him
again.”

Corvisart, did so, and in a short time said: “Sire, I can-
not but repeat my previous statement; I do not find a trace
of fever or insanity. His pulse is perfectly regular.”

“Well, then,” said Napoleon, frowning, “this healthy per-
son just tried to assassinate me!”

“ Assassinate you!” ejaculated Corvisart in dismay. “Un-
fortunate young man, what could induce you to attempt such
a crime?”

“The misfortunes and sufferings of my country,” replied
Staps. ‘I desired to deliver it from the tyrant who has been
bringing misery, disgrace, and degradation on Germany for
the last ten years. My attempt was vain, but some one else
will succeed in what I have failed to accomplish, I have no
actual accomplices, but the heart of every German is my ac-
complice, and the knife which dropped from my hand to-day
will fall into another’s. All Germany is in conspiracy. You
may kill me, but thousands are ready to do what I failed to
accomplish,”’
FREDERICK STAPS. 455

‘ The emperor indeed listened to such words, but with a
dark and angry countenance. He beckoned the Duke de
Rovigo to his side.

“Savary,” he said, “ take this boy away, and subject him to
a close examination. ‘Try to discover his accomplices. If he
name them, I will pardon him.”

“Sire, you have the right to execute me, but I do not give
you the right to despise me,” exclaimed Staps.

“Take him away!” repeated the emperor, “and report to
me what he says.” Saluting the marshals with a wave of his
hand, and, casting a last glance on Staps, he walked by and
opened the door of the cabinet, where Minister Champagny
was awaiting his return.

“Champagny,” said the emperor, wearily sitting down on
an easy-chair, “did you not tell me the Prince von Lichten-
stein had informed you that frequent propositions to assassi-
nate me had been made to him?”

“Yes, sire,” replied Champagny, “and the prince told me
he had invariably rejected them with horror.”

“ Nevertheless, an attempt has been made. A young man,
scarcely twenty years old, with the face of a sick girl, came
hither to-day to stab me with a kitchen-knife, as he would a
goose or a calf.”

“ Merciful Heaven, that is terrible!” exclaimed Champagny,
turning pale. “The life of your majesty was really endan-
gered, then?” ,

“Tf the knife which an assassin aims at your breast endan-
gers your life, mine was endangered,” said the emperor, with
a gloomy smile. “It seems my marshals were somewhat dis-
trustful, and did not believe so confidently in the love and
admiration of the spectators as I did, and that saved my life.”

“Tt is, perhaps, only a false suspicion, sire; the knife, it
may be, was not intended for your majesty.”

“Oh, it was! I personally examined the young man. He
confesses his purpose; he boasts of it, and says if I pardoned
him he would attempt the same thing.”

“ Horrible!” exclaimed Champagny.

“Yes, horrible!” repeated the emperor, musingly, “the
more so as he assures me with the utmost tranquillity that
every German shares his hatred of me; that the whole land is
but a hotbed of conspiracy, and that thousands of hands are
already armed to pierce my heart. And this young man 1s in
perfect health, bodily and mentally, according to Corvisart,
456 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

who twice examined him; his pulse is regular, and not in the
least feverish. Ah, these Germans have gall in their veins
instead of blood! They are fanatics, and of such we ought to
beware.” He dropped his head on his breast. After some
time he turned toward the minister, who was sitting opposite
him in respectful silence. “‘Champagny,” he said, hastily,
“we must make peace. I am bent on putting an end to the
war, and on leaving the country. Return to Vienna, and
send immediately for the Austrian plenipotentiaries. You
have already agreed as to the chief points; it is the war con-
tribution alone that still prevents both sides from coming to
a definite understanding. You ask for fifty millions more
than the Austrians offer to pay; well, compromise with them;
induce the ambassadors to assent to the payment of seventy-
five millions, and make peace. I am satisfied with the stipu-
lations of the last draft of the treaty; add to it whatever you
may deem prudent. I rely altogether on you; but, at all
events, make peace! Hasten to Vienna. Good-by.”

The Duke de Cadore left the emperor’s cabinet. Napoleon
was still moodily sitting in his easy-chair, when he mur-
mured: “Ah, these Germans! They cannot be trusted!
They are dangerous fanatics, capable of perpetrating the
foulest and most cowardly crime, and of sanctifying it on the
altar of duty.”

CHAPTER LII
AN EXECUTION.

NApoLeon had passed a sleepless night. The image of this
pale youth, with his determined patriotism, who frankly con-
fessed that his object had been assassination, and regretted
that the attempt was unsuccessful, stood as a grim sentinel by
the emperor’s couch, forbidding sleep to his eyes or peace to
his mind.

It was scarcely dawn when he rose, sad and weary, and
called his valet de chainbre to dress him. His lips scarcely
touching the cup of chocolate presented to him, he pushed it
impatiently aside. Contrary to his usual manner with the
servants, he left his bedroom without a pleasant glance or a
kind word, and repaired to his cabinet. The candelabrason
AN EXECUTION. 45?

the mantel-piece were lit, for it was still dark; and a bright
fire was burning, but the room was not yet warm.

“Germany is a cold, disagreeable country,” exclaimed Na-
poleon, shuddering, and warming his feet at the fire. “We
are only in the early part of October, but it is already like
mid-winter. The sun himself seems to put on the sheep-skin
which every German pulls over his ears. In truth, it is a
wretched country; I wish I could turn my back on it to-
morrow, and bid adieu to these wild dreamers. When so slow
and cold-blooded a nation gets excited, it resembles a bull in
the arena, whose fury is kindled by a red handkerchief.
Such is Germany at this time, and I must step out of the way
if I do not wish to be pierced or trampled to death. That
would be inglorious!”

A low rapping at the door was heard. The emperor
started. “Come in!” he shouted, in an imperious voice.

The door opened immediately, and Constant appeared.
“Pardon me, sire, but it is so early that none of the chamber-
lains are yet in the anteroom.”

“Well; what is it?” asked Napoleon, impatiently. “Quick,
what is the matter?”

“Sire, the Duke de Cadore has just arrived from Vienna
and desires to be admitted.”

“ Show him in immediately,” ordered the emperor, who, in
his impatience, hurried to the door to receive the minister.

Champagny entered, carrying under his arm a large
portfolio.

“Well, Champagny, what brings you hither at so early an
hour? What has occurred? What did you do last night?”

“Sire,” said Champagny, composedly, “ I have made peace.”

“What? Peace!” exclaimed Napoleon, and his counte-
nance brightened, as if the morning had suddenly cast on him
its earliest golden beams. “Peace! And the treaty has
already been signed?”

“Yes, sire, and I bring it to your majesty.”

“Signed! But how did you do that?”

“ Sire, as soon as I reached Vienna last night, I sent for the
Prince von Lichtenstein and Count Budna, and locked myself
with them in my room. We had a long and exciting discus-
sion; but I saw that the plenipotentiaries had received fresh
instructions from their emperor, and that he had ordered
them to make peace. I extorted million by million from
them; at one o’clock in the morning I had already made

30
i
458 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

them consent to the payment of seventy-five millions, the sum
demanded by your majesty; but I saw that I could go farther,
and I did. At two o’clock I succeeded in a war contribution
of eighty-five millions, and with that I was satisfied.”

“What!” exclaimed the emperor, gayly; “you have ob-
tained eighty-five millions when I told you I would be content
with seventy-five millions! That was well done, Champagny,
and I am highly pleased with your conduct. Give me the
treaty. I wish to read it.”

Champagny handed the emperor the papers, and he read
them attentively. “Very well,” he said, when he had fin-
ished, and with a smile—“we have accomplished, indeed, a
very favorable peace. Austria has concluded four treaties
with me within the last twelve years, but I must confess that
this is the most advantageous to us—more so than the treaties
of Campo Formio, Luneville, and Presburg. Austria loses
two thousand square leagues, with three millions and a half
of inhabitants, and pays us a war contribution of eighty-five
millions of francs. I think France may be thankful, for,
from this campaign, we bring her territory, money, and
glory. We have done with Austria; and the insurgents of
the Tyrol, headed by their peasant-prince, Andrew Hofer,
will likewise have to submit. Their own emperor will com-
mand the insurgents to lay down their arms. But I will
make an example, and show the world how such people ought
to be chastised. Andrew Hofer must be delivered to me; he
must be punished as a demagogue! Come, Champagny, let
us lose no time. I will sign the treaty. It is very good.
am content with it.” He stepped to his desk and hastily
affixed his signature. He then cast the pen aside, and his
features assumed an expression of proud scorn. ‘“ Henceforth
Austria is nothing but a vassal of France, and I can annihilate
her whenever I please. Her frontiers are open and unpro-
tected on all sides; she is weakened within and without, and
hemmed in everywhere by French territories. She dares no
longer breathe freely, or raise her arm against us. If, how-
ever, she should, we shall crush her, and reconstruct the
throne of Charlemagne on the ruins of Austria. His crown
belongs to me already; I have it at Aix-la-Chapelle, and I do
not see what should prevent me from placing it on my brow
in Vienna.”

“Sire,” said Champagny, smilingly, “it would, perhaps,
be more desirable for your majesty tc allow the throne of the
AN EXECUTION. 459

Hapsburgs to exist, and to render Austria harmless, not by
destroying her, but by attaching the imperial family to your
majesty by intimate and sacred ties. A vanquished enemy is
always dangerous; but an ally, even though weak, will
strengthen your own power, and Austria is able to give to the
throne of your majesty the last and only jewel that, to the
infinite regret of your subjects, it still lacks.”

“Ah?!” exclaimed the emperor. “ You do not mean to say
that Austria, bleeding from a thousand wounds that I have
inflicted upon her, could make up her mind to put an end to
her hatred by concluding an alliance of love with me?”

“Sire,” said Champagny, “I do not believe that your
majesty is hated by all the members of the imperial family of
the Hapsburgs.”

“What do you mean?” asked Napoleon, casting a quick
glance on the smiling countenance of the minister.

“T suppose your majesty still remembers that, during the
bombardment of Vienna last May, a flag of truce was sent
with the request that no more bombshells be fired at the
palace, because one of the archduchesses had remained there,
having been prevented by sickness from leaving the capital
with the imperial family?”

“T remember the incident,” said Napoleon. “A few shells
had already struck the palace, and I gave orders that it should
be spared. One of the little daughters of the emperor, the
Archduchess Maria Louisa, then a mere child, had been left
there with her nurse.”

“Sire, this child is seventeen years old, and, as everybody
assures me, she is very beautiful, with light hair, blue eyes,
and charming figure. She was deeply moved at the gener-
osity manifested by your majesty; she is filled with admiration
for the hero to whom indeed the whole world is doing hom-
age, and before whose power the mightiest princes pass away:
she is possessed of sufficient energy and courage to give utter-
ance to her sentiments, even in presence of her father the
emperor.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Napoleon, joyfully. “But who told
you so, Champagny?”

“Sire, the Prince von Lichtenstein, during our confidential
interview yesterday; and he added that the Emperor Francis,
notwithstanding the short time that has elapsed since the con-
clusion of the recent bloody war, and the many fresh humili-
ations he has had to undergo, seemed himself tov be an admirer
460 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

of your majesty, for he listened to the eulogy of the arch-
duchess with smiling tranquillity.”

“That is strange,” said Napoleon, slowly pacing the room;
“but the Austrian marriages were always pernicious to
France.”’

“ Sire, it was, however, an Austrian princess, Queen Anne,
who gave to France one of her greatest kings, Louis XIV.”

“That is true,” said Napoleon; “and I should be happy if
my son resembled the great Louis.”

“Sire, he will resemble his great father,” said Champagny.

“ A son—an heir to my throne,” said the emperor, passion-
ately—‘‘a legitimate inheritor of my glory, and a descendant
of an ancient and imperial house, who would dare doubt the
purity of his blood, and his right to reign? His throne I
would have established; and he would confirm by the highest
title the fourth dynasty of France. Champagny, I must have
such a son, and—poor Josephine!”

He paced the apartment with rapid steps, and, halting in
front of his minister, he said: “I shall set out to-morrow;
this air is oppressive. I can hardly breathe it; and besides
I have no longer any business here. You will remain for the
purpose of exchanging the treaties of peace. Immediately
after the arrival of the Austrian plenipotentiary, bringing
the copy of the treaty signed by the Emperor Francis, you
will attend to the exchange of the ratifications, and inform
me that it has been carried into effect. I shall go from here
to Munich, and reach Fontainebleau in the course of a week.
You may tell the Prince von Lichtenstein, in the same confi-
dential manner in which he spoke to you of the archduchess,
that IJ am now firmly determined to separate from the Em-
press Josephine; that a divorce from her had been irrevocably
resolved upon, and that it would be publicly proclaimed in
the course of the present year. That is all that you will tell
him for the present. Champagny, I am determined to make
this sacrifice for the sake of France, however painful it may
be to my heart. The welfare of my country and the stability
of my throne render it incumbent. After the divorce has
taken place, I shall demand a final and categorical reply from
Russia, and if Alexander is unable to give it—if his mother
still refuse to place her daughter on the most powerful throne
in the world—well, then, I shall break off the negotiations,
and remember that the Archduchess Maria Louisa has some
respect and sympathy for me. For the present we may be
AN EXECUTION. 461

content with Austria, and I think the treaty of Vienna is a
work of which we may well be proud. The genius of France
will give it a glorious place on the tablets of history!”

Two days afterward the emperor’s travelling-carriage was
in front of the palace gate of Schénbrunn. Every thing was
in readiness for his departure, and he was about to leave his
cabinet. He only wished to see Grand-Marshal Duroc, who
had just arrived from Vienna.

The door opened, and Duroc entered. Napoleon quickly
met him. “Well, Duroc,” he asked, “did you see him?
Did he name his companions in this crime?”

“Sire, I have, and conversed with him,” said Duroc,
gravely. “He refuses to confess any thing, and talks like a
madman.” :

“What does he say?” exclaimed Napoleon. “Conceal
nothing from me. This young man interests me. I desire
to know all.”

“Sire, he affirms that your majesty is his only accomplice;
the misery brought by you on Germany, he contends, insti-
gated him to attempt the deed, and you ought to blame none
but yourself.” :

“THe does not repent, then? He does not ask for mercy?”

“He regrets only that he did not succeed, and he asks
merely the favor of being permitted to keep the portrait of
his Anna, which he contemplates continually; and he im-
plores her in touching words to forgive him the grief he has
brought upon her.”

“What a strange mixture of ferocity and gentleness!” said
the emperor, thoughtfully. “Has he been closely watched
during these two days?”

“Two gendarmes were locked up with him all the time, and
they speak with astonishment of the unruffled tranquillity of
the young man. For the most part he paces the cell with
slow steps; at times he kneels down and prays in silence.
Not a word of despair has escaped his lips, not a tear dropped
from his eyes. Yesterday, when his dinner was brought, he
took the knife and looked at it musingly. One of the gen-
darmes intended to take it from him, but Staps handed it at
once, and said, smilingly, ‘Fear nothing, I will not hurt my-
self with it; I will not waste my blood; it is reserved for the
altar of my country, and must be shed by my enemies.’

“Did he take any food?” asked the emperor. -

“No, sire, he has not eaten or drunk any thing these two
462 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

days. He says he has done with life, and will have strength
enough left to meet his death with a firm step.”

“ He knows, then, that he is to be shot?”

“Yes, sire, he knows that the court-martial passed sentence
of death upon him last night.”

“But L hope you told him, Duroc, that I had sent you to
him, and that I wished to pardon him, as soon as he repents
of his deeds, implores my forgiveness, and takes an oath to
give up his evil designs? Did you tell him all that, Duroc?”

“T did, sire.”

“ And what did he reply? Tell me every thing!”

“Sire, he replied, that if he could repent of the deed, he
would not have attempted it; that if he accepted pardon, all
Germany would curse him, while he now descends into the
grave, accompanied by the blessings and tears of his country;
in fine, that his death will arouse the Germans, and urge
them to renewed efforts for liberty.”

The emperor made no reply. His whole frame shuddered,
and if Corvisart had felt his pulse then, he would not have
said that it was quite regular. The large drops of perspira-
tion on the emperor’s brow might have alarmed the physician.

“T am sure he is insane,” said Napoleon, after a pause.
“T want him to be looked upon as a lunatic. I hope that the
whole affair will remain a secret, and that the world will hear
nothing of it; but if it should be talked about, we must in-
sist that the man was insane.”

Duroc bowed in silence.

“When is Staps to be shot?” asked the emperor, after a
pause.

“Sire, this morning, at seven o’clock.”

Napoleon glanced at the clock. “It is half-past six,” he
said; “I will set out. Well, the Viennese will not hear the
report of the muskets, for the cannon that is to announce to
them the conclusion of peace will render inaudible the volley
at the execution. Come, Duroc! Iam tired of this fantas-
tic Germany! Let us return to France!”

Quickly crossing the room and approaching the door, he
stood on the threshold and glanced again at the clock. “It
is a quarter to seven,” he said; “in fifteen minutes there will
be one lunatic less in Germany!” A few minutes afterward
a carriage rolled down the avenue of the palace of Schén-
brunn. The emperor had departed.

At the same time the room opened in which Staps had been
AN EXECUTION. 463

confined for three days, under the close surveillance of two
gendarmes. An officer entered; eight soldiers, shouldering
their muskets, drew up in front of the door. Frederick
Staps met the officer with a serene smile. He still wore the
short black velvet coat, fastened around his slender waist by a
broad leather belt, his neck surrounded by a white collar, on
which his long hair fell in dense masses. During the three
days of his captivity he had not undressed, taken no food, and
even abstained from sleep. His time was occupied in prepar-
ing for death, and in writing letters to his beloved Anna and
his old father. These Jetters, folded and carefully directed,
he placed in the belt which the fatal knife had adorned three
days before.

“Sir,” said Staps, offering his hand to the officer, “I sup-
pose you come for me?”

“Tt will soon be seven o’clock,” replied the officer, in a sad,
compassionate tone.

“Oh, sir,” exclaimed Staps, ‘do not pity me! Ishall die
joyfully. But I havea favor to ask of you. I should like
to send my last love-greetings to my father, and the young
lady to whom I was engaged. Will you be kind enough to
send my letters to them? ‘You hesitate? Reply to me, and
consider that a dying man always should be told the truth.”

“Well, sir,” replied the officer, “I am not permitted to
forward these letters to them. Nota word is to be said about
your fate; it must remain a secret.”

“Ah, the tyrant is afraid lest my destiny should become
generally known. He wishes to hide it in obscurity ; but my
name, and that for which I die, will not sink into oblivion.
The day of freedom will dawn yet on my native land, and my
grave will be known and visited by my German brethren.
You will not forward my letters?”

“T am not allowed to do so, sir.”

“Well, then I will forward them myself,” exclaimed Staps,
drawing the letters from his belt and_tearing them into small
pieces, which he threw away. “Go! my greetings and
adieus!” he said; “let the winds bear ye into the quiet par-
sonage of my old father, and the chamber of my faithful
Anna! Tell my countrymen of poor Frederick Staps, who
wished to save Germany, and could only die for it!—Now
come, sir, let us go!” :

“You have no other wish?” asked the officer. “There is
nothing that you desire, and that I could grant you o”
464 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Yes, sir, there is. I do not wish to be tied like a wild
beast, but conducted to the place of execution with my arms
free; I do not wish to be blindfolded. I would like to see
the soil and the sky of my country in the last moment!”

_“That wish will be granted. You shall be executed with
your eyes open, and your arms unfettered.”

“Thank you,” said Staps, cordially grasping the officer’s
hand. “I suppose it is time for us to go?”

“Yes,” said the officer, mournfully, “we must go!”

“T am ready,” responded Staps, and he walked with firm
steps toward the dvor.

The soldiers stepped aside, and then surrounded him and
the officer. The procession moved slowly and silently through
the long and gloomy corridors. Emerging into the open air,
they came to a square inside the bastions. High ramparts
surrounded it on three sides; on the fourth rose the rear wall
of the barracks in which the condemned had spent the three
days of his imprisonment. A few French soldiers were stand-
ing here and there at the open windows, gazing with indiffer-
ent face on the young stranger led to execution, and of whose
crime they knew nothing. He was conducted across the
square to the opposite rampart, and placed in front of the
newly-dug grave which was to receive his body.

A detachment of French soldiers marched from the gate of
the barracks and formed in line, just as the sun cast his first
rays over the rampart, and shone upon the head of the pale
youth. At this moment the earth seemed to tremble as be-
neath a peal of thunder.

“What is that?” asked Staps of the officer who was stand-
ing by his side.

“Tt is the salute announcing that peace has been con-
cluded.” /

“Peace!” exclaimed the dying youth, joyfully. “Oh, tell
me the truth, sir, do not deceive me? Has peace really been
concluded ?”

“Yes, a treaty has been signed. The Emperor Napoleon
leaves Schénbrunn this very day to return to France. Three
months hence there will not be a single French soldier to be
seen in all Austria.”

“Peace restored to Germany!” cried Staps, and, sinking
on his knees, he raised his arms toward heaven; joy beamed
from his countenance, and his eyes filled with tears. “I
thank Thee, my God, I thank Thee!” he exclaimed aloud.
AN EXECUTION. 465

“Thou allowest me to depart amid the booming of cannon
proclaiming peace to Germany! I die happy!”

“Attention! Aim!” ordered the officer.

The young man rose from his knees. “Give me another
minute,” he cried; “let me sing my death-hymn!”

The officer nodded assent. Staps, stretching his arms up-
ward, sang in a joyous voice:

“Tod du siisser ftir das Vaterland,
Siisser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen
Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,
Sei mir willkommen !
Was das Lied nicht léset, lést—”

“Fire!” said the commanding officer, and twelve soldiers
discharged their muskets.

Frederick Staps immediately fell dead, and the blood
streaming from his breast reddened his native soil. While
Napoleon’s cannon was proclaiming the conclusion of peace,
this youthful martyr breathed his last sigh!
BOOK VII.

 

CHAPTER LIII.
HOMEWARD BOUND.

THE 15th of December, 1809, was dawning. Queen Louisa
had long looked for this day with a throbbing heart, and now
that it had come, she felt embarrassed and anxious. It was
the day when the royal family were to leave Kénigsberg and
return to Berlin, where the court was again to reside. Since
the 3d of October the French troops and authorities had left
the capital, and Berlin was once more a Prussian cjty, yearn-
ing for the return of its king and queen.

The carriages were at the door; the princesses, wrapped in
fur robes, were in the anteroom and awaited the queen, whose
toilet had long since been finished. But Louisa had not yet
left her sitting-room. The king made his appearance, ready
to set out, and was somewhat surprised at not finding her with
her daughters.

“The queen does not know, perhaps, that the carriages are
at the door,” said the king. “I will inform her that it is
time for us to start.” He walked rapidly through the adjoin-
ing rooms and noiselessly opened the door of the queen’s sit-
ting-room.

Louisa, wrapped in her travelling-robe, sat on the sofa, her
hands folded, her face bathed in tears, and her eyes uplifted
with an imploring expression. She did not immediately
notice the king, who, as if in profound reverence, stood at the
door. The queen was praying—how could he dare to disturb
her!

At last she lowered her eyes, and suddenly saw that her
husband was present. “Oh, my friend,” she exclaimed, ris-
ing hastily, “my thoughts were with you, and on taking leave
of these rooms where, owing to your love, I have enjoyed,
these last years, so much calm and sacred happiness, I prayed
that God cause it to accompany us to our future residence.”
HOMEWARD BOUND. 467

“But while praying you wept, Louisa?” asked the king.
“I hoped that the days of tears were past, and that my Louisa
would become again as merry and light-hearted as she used to
be. Do you not like to return to Berlin?”

The queen looked down musingly. “TI cannot tell you,”
she said, thoughtfully. ‘ When I think that I shall soon be
in Berlin, and meet again the faithful people, my heart is
joyful, and then again I shed many tears when I consider
that, while I may find every thing there as formerly, there
may in reality be sad changes, and I do not know how I may
be affected. Dismal forebodings are troubling me; I should
like best to sit always alone, behind my little lamp, and in-
dulge in my reflections. I am longing for Berlin, and yet I
am almost afraid to go there.”

“What are you afraid of?” asked the king, pressing his

wife tenderly against his breast.

“T believe I am afraid of prosperity,” she said, with a gen-
tle smile. “I had become entirely resigned, and forever bid-
den farewell to outward splendor, so that its return surprises
and almost alarms me. Oh, my beloved friend, will it not
destroy the humbled, inward repose, which, during the time
of privation, was our support, and the only source of our hap-
piness ?”

“It is true,” said the king, smiling, “during these quiet
years here at Kénigsberg, I was so happy as to have my wife,
the charming consoler of my afflictions, always at my side;
henceforth, the queen will often take my wife from me, and
thousands of hearts which will welcome you so rapturously,
will separate me often enough from my ideal. But I am not
jealous, and the more my beautiful queen is honored, the
greater will be my happiness. Come, my Louisa, let us go!
the carriages are in readiness, and the children are waiting
for us; but, before we leave this quiet room, accept again my
thanks for the fidelity and kindness you have manifested
toward me during my misfortunes. J am indebted to you for
many alleviations of the sorrows which weighed me down. i
am not aman of many words and cannot make fine phrases,
but here in my soul I feel fervently that God has placed you
at my side as an angel of consolation for the days of adversity,
and of happiness for those of prosperity. Because I love you,
I gave your name to our youngest daughter, born here at
Kénigsberg. May she become a Louisa!” ;

“ And may our sons inherit the noble spirit and the faith-
468 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

ful and devout heart of their father!” exclaimed the queen,
deeply moved. “May they bear adversity like him, without
despondency, and enjoy prosperity without haughtiness! Oh,
my friend, why will we say, then, that we are returning to
Berlin poorer and less powerful than when we left the city
three years ago? No, we return richer and more powerful:
for we left with five children, and we return with seven—
seven hearts that love us, and belong to us. Do they not
constitute wealth and power? Come, my husband, let us
hasten to our children! and with what a mother’s pride shall
I show our treasures to the good people of Berlin!” She
smiled and drew the king along; her eyes, from which the
tears had long since disappeared, were now radiant with love
and joy—not a shade of melancholy was to be seen in her
countenance when she embraced her children.

The journey to Berlin could be performed but slowly and in
short stages. The snow-clad roads were almost impassable.
Besides, every city and village through which the royal family
journeyed, would have its share of congratulation. They
were greeted with triumphal arches, and hymns and addresses
of welcome. No one had escaped the miseries of war; mourn-
ing mothers and wives, amid the ruins of a former prosperity,
were everywhere to be seen; but all this was forgotten during
those happy hours when the people, delivered at length from
foreign oppression, rejoiced again in the presence of the
sovereigns who had endured the same afflictions. The whole
journey resembled a triumphal procession—everywhere en-
thusiastic receptions and love-offerings!

On the eighth day at noon they arrived at the village of
Weissensee, a league from Berlin. The shouts of thousands
of happy people received them. The whole population had
gathered at the roadside in order to greet the returning king
and his family, and at the entrance of the village were halting
fifty young citizens of Berlin mounted on fine horses. They
had been commissioned by the inhabitants of the capital to
escort the carriage in which Louisa was to make her entry,
and which the citizens desired to present to her. It was a
splendid gift, richly decorated with silver, and lined with
violet velvet, the favorite color of the queen. The eight mag-
nificent horses attached to the carriage wore violet harness,
adorned with silver rings and buckles. The queen entered it
with her daughter Charlotte and her third son, Prince Charles;
the king and the two oldest princes mounted on horseback.
HOMEWARD BOUND. 469

“Now, Louisa,” said the king, riding up, “we have nearly
reached our destination. There are the spires of Berlin; in
half an hour we shall be there. But how pale you are, and
your lips quiver! Are you unwell? Are you suffering?”

“No,” she said; “I live only in my heart, which is throb-
bing as though it were ready to burst. Oh, I believe that one
may die of joy. But such a death must be very happy!”

“ But you shall live in joy,” said the king, smiling. “ Fare-
well now, Louisa; I must leave you. According to the cere-
monial, I must be with the princes at the head of the proces-
sion. Aw revoir at our house in Berlin!”

“Au revoir,” said the queen, leaning back on the cushions
of the carriage. ‘‘ Charlotte,” she said to the princess sitting
at her side, “‘ when we are near the gate, tell me. I want to
be surprised, and, until I have reached the dear city, I will
look at the sky, and remember that it is the same sky that
was over us at Memel in the days of our deepest affliction.”
She threw back her head. Her eyes, blue and pure as heaven
itself, were looking up, and the bright firmament seemed to
inspire her with devout and grateful thoughts. Prayers were
in her heart, and the memories of other days mingled with
her prayers. It was exactly sixteen years since she made her
entry into Berlin as a happy young bride. At that time, life
was as the flowery spring, and she saw before her in her hope-
ful dreams only a world of happiness, love, and glory. She
was then a. bride, beautiful, loving, and beloved by her young
husband, the inheritor of a kingdom. Now, at her second
entry, she was sixteen years older, a matron of thirty-four,
and a mother of seven children. The storms of life had passed
over her, destroying many of her hopes. Her heart had been
shaken as well as the throne of her husband. The ills of
common mortals had befallen the king and his consort, and
it was not their innate dignity and majesty that had enabled
them to bear up, but their warm human feeling; it was not
their self-reliance that had consoled them, but the faith that
God, the Father of all, would be merciful to them, if, con-
scious of their impotence, they recognized His providence and
believed in His wisdom and goodness.

The queen thought of all this, and compared the entry of
the bride, rejoicing in the dreams of her young love and in
the reality of worldly power, with the entry of the mother and
queen, disappointed in her hopes and robbed of her dominion.

“ And yet it is better to-day,” she murmured, “T am richer
470 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

now than I was then. My heart is richer, my soul is stronger,
7p

“Mamma,” exclaimed the Princess Charlette, “I see already
the Bernauer gate! Oh, hear the shouts, look at that tri-
umphal arch!”

The queen turned her eyes toward the city. The cheers of
the people sounded in her ears like the early greetings of her
happiness, and filled her soul with ecstasy. As the king, be-
tween his sons, rode into the gateway, the bells rang, and the
cannon shook the ground. When the queen’s carriage en-
tered, the soldiers formed in line on both sides of the street,
and behind them surged a dense crowd of men and women.
Nothing was to be seen but happy, smiling faces; love was
beaming from every eve, and with bells, cannon, waving
hands, and the cheers of her citizens, Berlin greeted the re-
turn of her sovereigns.

The king acknowledged these demonstrations with a grave,
thoughtful face; he saluted the people affectionately, but his
countenance grew sad. He thoughtof the many faithful sub-
jects whom he had lost, of the cities and provinces which
had been taken from him, of the grievous and bloody sacri-
fices of the last years; he remembered that he was returning to
his ancestors, possessed only of the smaller portion of the in-
heritance which they had left him, and these reflections over-
shadowed his joy. :

The queen only felt and thought of the happiness of ber
return. These thousands of hearts throbbing for her, this
crowd of greeting men about her carriage to see her and shout
words of welcome, filled her soul with profound emotion.
She did not restrain her tears, and was not ashamed of this
expression of her feelings. She wept, smiled, and rejoiced
with her people.

When the cheers reéchoed through the street as she passed,
the queen exclaimed aloud: “ What grateful music this is!
It sounds in my ears as sacred, and the city seems a vast
cathedral! Charlotte, my beloved daughter, listen! but with
a devout heart. There is hardly any thing more solemn and
yet delightful to a princess than the cheers of her subjects.
She who deserves them must return the people’s love, and
sympathize in their joys and sufferings. My daughter, if you
yourself should one day wear a crown, think of this hour, and
let the affection of the people now occupy your heart.—But,
my child, there is our house, the dear old house where you
HOMEWARD BOUND. 471

children were born! What persons are standing in front of
it? Who are they waving their handkerchiefs toward us?
The beloved sisters of your father, the Princesses of Orange
and Hesse! Who is that tall gentleman at their side? It is
my father, my honored father!” The carriage drove up to
the portal of the royal palace. “Welcome!” cried the prin-
cesses. “Welcome!” shouted the crowd, filling the large
square in front.

The queen did not utter a word; but, stretching out her
arms toward her father, she greeted him with a smile, while
the tears rolled over her cheeks.

The duke pushed the footmen aside and opened himself the
door of her carriage, when the queen, disregarding all eti-
quette, threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him. The
people who witnessed this touching scene, became silent.
With folded hands and tearful eyes they admired her who had
ever been an affectionate and grateful daughter as well as a
beneficent sovereign, and their prayers ascended to heaven for
her welfare. Half carried in the arms of her father, Louisa
entered the palace, and ascended the staircase. The doors of
the large reception-room were open. The king met her; her
two oldest sons stood behind him, and her two youngest chil-
dren, held up by their nurses, stretched ont their little arms
toward her. She joyfully hastened into the room. “Come,
my children,” she exclaimed with a smile, “come, my seven
radiant stars!”

She took the two youngest children, Albert, not yet three
years, and Louisa, one year old, in her arms; the five other
children walking by her side, and thus, in the midst of these
“seven stars,’’ she approached her father. Bending her knee
before him, she exclaimed: “Grandfather! here are your
grandchildren; here is your daughter, who, with her chil-
dren, asks for your blessing, and here is the most faithful and
beloved man, my husband! Oh, father, honor him, for he
has preserved to your daughter her happiness!” She placed
the two youngest ones at the feet of the duke, and took the
king’s hand, which she pressed to her bosom.

The king, who was afraid lest this excitement should be-
come injurious to the feeble health of his wife, after saluting
the duke and his own sisters in a cordial manner, proposed an
inspection of the rooms of their so long deserted house.

“Yes! exclaimed Louisa, “let us show my beloved father
the temple of our happiness; and the good spirits around us
479, NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

no doubt welcome him and us. Come!” Walking between her
father and her husband, and followed by the princesses and
her oldest sons, the queen hastened through the suite of
rooms, hallowed by the remembrances of other days, and
which now seemed to her as beautiful as the halls of a fairy-
palace. “How tasteful, how brilliant!” exclaimed Louisa.
“Formerly, the magnificence of these rooms did not strike me
at all; but now I am able to perceive and appreciate it. Our
houses at Memel and Koénigsberg were much plainer, and I
thought of the beauty of our residence at Berlin.—Ah, and
there is my piano! Oh, how often have I longed for it!
Will you grant me a favor, my king and husband?”

“The queen is in her own rooms; she has to ask no favors
here, but only to command,” said the king.

“You will then permit me to salute the good spirits of our
house with music, and to sing a hymn of welcome to them?”
asked the queen.

The king smilingly nodded, and Louisa, hastening to the
piano, quickly took off her gloves, and sat down on a chair in
front of the instrument. Her fingers swept over the keys in
many brilliant cadences. Her face was cheerful, but grad-
ually she became grave, and, turning her large eyes toward
heaven, her concords were slow and solemn. She thought of
the past—of the day when, seized with forebodings, she sang
here a hymn which she repeated at the peasant’s cottage dur-
ing her flight to Koénigsberg, when her presentiments were
fulfilled. Her hands played almost spontaneously that simple
and beautiful air, and again she sang with emotion:

‘* Who never ate his bread with tears,
Who never in the sorrowing hours

Of night, lay sunk in gloomy fears,
He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers 1" *

CHAPTER LIV.
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AND METTERNICH.

Tue Emperor Francis was pacing his cabinet in evident
uneasiness and excitement. Count Clement Metternich,
since Stadion’s withdrawal from the cabinet, prime minister

*‘ Wer nie sein Brot mit Thriénen ass,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nichte

Auf seinem Bette weinend sass,
Der kennt Euch nicht, Ihr himmlischen Michte )”
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AND METTERNICH. 473

and confidential adviser, was standing at the emperor’s desk,
and whenever Francis, in walking up and down, turned his
back to him, a scornful smile overspread his handsome coun-
tenance; this manifestation of contempt disappeared, how-
ever, aS soon as his master turned again toward him.

“Tt will stir up a great deal of ill-feeling throughout Ger-
many,’ said the Emperor Francis, hastily. “No one will
believe that I, who was hitherto the most implacable enemy
of Bonaparte, should have suddenly done him so much honor.”

“ But at last every one will have to believe it, your majesty,”
said Metternich, in his gentle, melodious voice. “The facts
will refute the surmises of the incredulous.”

“But it is outrageous,” cried the emperor, “and I can
hardly think it possible that I am to assist Bonaparte in mak-
ing a decent match, and that I am to stoop so low as to call
the son of the Corsican lawyer my son-in-law! Let me tell
you, it will never do; I should ever after be afraid of passing
the church of the Capuchins; I should always imagine that
the tombs of my ancestors opened, and their ghosts arose and
asked me, ‘How could you permit the imperial blood of the
Hapsburgs to mingle with that of the little Corsican lawyer’s
son, the insurgent and revolutionary captain, who chances to
be a successful warrior?’ Yes, and I ask myself the question,
How can I permit an archduchess, my daughter, to be mar-
ried to a man seated on a throne which does not belong to
him, and which the Bourbons, the legitimate rulers of France,
will one day take from him? How can I permit it, I ask,
and how am I to bear it, if this fellow without a pedigree
should some day take the liberty to call me his dear father-in-
law? How is it possible for me to expose myself to such risk?”

“Will your majesty permit me to answer these just ques-
tions of your imperial conscience?” asked Metternich.

“Do so,” exclaimed Francis. “Explain the whole matter
to me as though I were not the emperor, but a common citi-
zen offended at the idea that the Emperor of Austria should
permit his daughter to be married to the revolutionary leader
who has the impudence to assume the imperial title. What
would you say? How would you excuse me?”

Metternich advanced a step toward the emperor, and re-
plied: “I would say the Emperor Francis has acted as a wise
statesman and ruler, and as a father of his people. In order
to preserve Austria from new wars, he has sacrificed his most
precious treasure, his only child. It is a pledge securing

31
474 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

peace to his exhausted people. Austria is not now able to resist
Napoleon in case he should again attack her. Our frontiers
are defenceless; our finances are exhausted. Hitherto every
war has caused us grievous losses in money, men, and territory;
and so long as we stand alone, so long as Russia persists in
her absurd policy of being the cat’s-paw of France, it would
be senseless and criminal again to endanger the existence of
the monarchy. We have suffered such immense losses, that
we must have peace to recover what we have lost. Hence we
must be reconciled with France, and this reconciliation
strengthens us against Russia. The very fact that Napoleon
desires to conclude an alliance with Austria indicates a change
in his political system, by which we should try to profit, and
if (what is unavoidable) a rupture with Russia ensues, Austria
ought to derive as much benefit therefrom as possible, and
enlarge her territories. We ought to render our present
position toward France as profitable as possible. The arch-
duchess will be a precious guaranty to Napoleon, for he will
feel convinced that the emperor will be unwilling to sacrifice
his child, and this conviction will fill him with confidence
and a feeling of security. Austria becomes closely connected
with the political interests of Napoleon, and shares the
hatred which all Europe feels against the Emperor of the
French. But this very hatred incurred by Austria will be
regarded by Napoleon as another surety for his fidelity. He
will ally himself more closely with us, and become more hos-
tile to Russia, the natural enemy of Austria; hence it is bet-
ter for us to fight in company with France against Russia
than to allow Russia and France to fight against us. More-
over, our finances are in such a deplorable condition, that a
bankruptcy of the state would be the inevitable consequence
of another war; not only the future of the emperor’s dynasty,
but the fortunes of his subjects would be endangered. In
consideration of this, the emperor, in his wisdom, has pre-
ferred to secure peace, the source of prosperity, to his beloved
subjects, and, like the patriarch, he sacrifices his own child
willingly and joyously. The noble emperor ought to be
blessed and praised for this, and his wisdom, which despises
prejudice, and only weighs and respects the benefits to be
secured by such a measure, should be gratefully acknowledged.
That, sire,” said Metternich, concluding his speech, “is what
I would reply to him who would dare in my presence censure
the marriage of the archduchess to the Emperor Napoleon.”
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AND METTERNICH. 475

“Tt Sounds well enough,” said the emperor, thoughtfully,
“but it is still an unpalatable dish for me, and my tongue
will cling to the roof of my mouth when T am to say, ‘My
son-in-law the Emperor Napoleon!’ He is no real emperor,
although he has placed three crowns on his head, and even
had the impudence of dividing my order of the Golden Fleece,
contrary to law, into three classes; he can never become a
real emperor; he must always remain the son of a Corsican
lawyer.”

“Whom the pope, however, has anointed and crowned em-
peror,” said Metternich, with a sneer.

“Yes, and, in return, this ungrateful fellow has deprived
the holy father of his throne, and imprisoned him! In short,
I detest the usurper. It always deeply pained me to hear of
Bonaparte and his new victories; and since I saw him on that
day after the battle of Austerlitz, he is more hateful to me
than ever. Oh, how superciliously this fellow then looked at
me! He talked to me so haughtily that I felt quite miser-
able, and did not know what to say. Ishall never forgive M.
Bonaparte, and yet I am to allow him to become my son-in-
law! I tell you, Metternich, it will not do, for the end will
be bad.”

“ But the commencement,” said Metternich, smiling, “ will
be good for Austria, and that is the chief point. We shall
take care that the end will not be bad for us either, and that
Austria will not be the loser by it.”

“Tt is all right,” said Francis, nodding, “but the mischief
is, that when the unhappy time comes, M. Bonaparte will be
my son-in-law, and that it may be necessary for me to support
him and his cause.”

“Your majesty,” said Metternich, in a low voice, and
glancing cautiously over the room, “if you do not now hesi-
tate to sacrifice your own child for the welfare of your coun-
try, at a later time you will not shrink from sacrificing your
son-in-law. There are no relatives in politics; Austria has
no sisters and brothers, no daughters and sons-in-law; that is
what the august uncle of your majesty, the Emperor Joseph,
often said, and he was right.”

“Yes, indeed, my great uncle Joseph was right,” exclaimed
the emperor, laughing; “there are no sons-in-law in politics!
Oh, it would do my heart good if I could revenge myself one
day on M. Bonaparte for all the humiliations that I have to
bear now.”
476 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“Your majesty,” said Metternich, in a lower voice than
before, “ there is an excellent Italian proverb, ‘Revenge must
be eaten cold.’ Your majesty knows it?”

“Of course I do,” whispered the emperor. “I know it,
and shall surely remember it. ‘Revenge must be eaten cold;’
he who wants to eat it hot, will burn his tongue. Let us
wait, therefore.”

“Yes, let us wait,” whispered Metternich. He then added
in a loud voice: “ Your mafjesty, then, will graciously accept
the proposals of the Emperor Napoleon as to his union with
the archduchess, order the marriage contracts to be made out,
and permit the Prince de Neufchatel, Marshal Berthier, to
apply to your majesty and the archduchess for the hand of
the imperial princess?”

“Yes, I will,” said Francis, hesitatingly, “but let me tell
you, I am afraid of what the empress, my consort, will say
about the matter, and also of Maria Louisa herself. The
empress never liked Bonaparte, and I do not know how I shall
break the news to her, that the man for whose sake, but a few
months since, so much Austrian blood was shed, and to whom
I had to sacrifice the brave Tyrolese, Andrew Hofer, is to be-
come my son-in-law. And Maria Louisa will be greatly
surprised; I am afraid she will weep a good deal on hearing
the news,”

“T believe the archduchess will cheerfully submit to her
fate,” said Metternich. “I heard her imperial highness
speak in terms of intense admiration of the heroism and mar-
vellous deeds of the Emperor Napoleon.”

“Yes, she did,” rephed Francis, “but I commanded her
not to give expression to such sentiments. Iexplained to her
how much misery and ignominy Bonaparte had brought upon
Austria and our house, and what a cruel, tyrannical, and
bloodthirsty man he is; and my words made so deep an im-
pression on the mind of my dutiful daughter, that she has
detested Bonaparte ever since, and is afraid of him, as though
he were a monster.”

“Perhaps, if your majesty were to tell the archduchess that
the Emperor Napoleon is not so bad after all,” said Metter-
nich, smiling—“if you were to assure her imperial highness
that he is a very great and admirable man, and that his lau-
rels are as good as a long line of ancestors, the words of your
majesty would not fail to impress themselves on her mind, and
her hatred would disappear, particularly if you should show
THE EMPEROR FRANCIS AND METTERNICH. 4t7

her a correct likeness of the emperor, for care has been
hitherto taken to exhibit to the imperial princes and prin-
cesses only those representations of Napoleon in which he is
horribly caricatured. I know that the mistress of ceremonies
of the archduchess, Countess Colloredo, in her passionate
hatred against him, and against France generally, tried this
remedy to cure the imperial princess of her admiration for
the conqueror, and the archduchess sees, hears, and reads noth-
ing but what has been previously examined by the countess.
I repeat, that if your majesty could have a really correct like-
ness of Napoleon brought to the young lady’s notice, her
ideas of him would be somewhat changed.”

“But I have no good likeness of Bonaparte,” said the em-
peror, somewhat embarrassed.

“Marshal Berthier brought one, which he is to present to
the archduchess on solemnly applying for her hand. It is
very costly and correct. The frame consists of twenty very
large diamonds, for which one might buy a whole principality.
I requested the marshal to let me have it an hour, when he
permitted me to see it during the visit I paid to him. JI told
him frankly I wished to take it to the emperor, who would
show it to the archduchess, that she might have some notion
of the real emperor, and receive his suit. The marshal
granted my request, and intrusted the miniature to me.”

“Did you bring it with you?”

“JT did, your majesty. Here it is.” Metternich drew a
morocco case from his bosom and handed it to the emperor.

Francis opened it hastily, and contemplated the precious
locket a good while. ‘“ These are splendid diamonds, indeed,”
he said, “and I am convinced Bonaparte did not inherit them
of his father. Not the slightest blemish, not a single imper-
fection in them; I believe I have no more beautiful diamonds
in my crown!”

“And the resemblance?” asked Metternich. “ Does not
your majesty think that it is excellent?”

“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Francis, langhing. “I had almost
forgotten that, in admiring the precious stones. Yes, it is a
good likeness; he looks precisely like that, but you must
admit it is a revolting face, looking as though there were but
one man in the world, and he were that man.”

“But the expression of so much haughtiness impresses the
ladies very favorably,” said Metternich. ‘‘ They like the man
who loves to consider himself a god, and he is one in their
478 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

eyes. ITreally believe it would be a good idea for your majesty
to show this to the archduchess, and tell her afterward that
it is the likeness of her future husband. If your majesty has
no objection, I will, in the mean time, request an audience
of the Empress Ludovica, and try to convince her majesty of
the necessity of this marriage.”’

“Do so,” exclaimed the emperor, joyously, “it will be very
agreeable to me, and as soon as possibie. In the mean time I
will go to the archduchess, show her the miniature, and tell
her plainly that it is that of her future husband. It is better
to tell her so without circumlocution. The princess will not
dare to oppose my wishes; she knows that it is the duty of an
obedient daughter to accept the husband her father has
selected for her. Go to the empress, Metternich; I shall go
to the Archduchess Maria Louisa.”

CHAPTER LV.
THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIA LOUISA.

THE imperial princes and princesses had just dined to-
gether, as had been their custom since the reign of the
Emperor Joseph, and were still in the large dining-hall,
which was also the play-room of the imperial children. The
Emperor Francis, who had recently married his fourth wife,
had children by his second marriage only, but numerous
enough to secure the continued existence of the dynasty, and,
at the same time, furnish beautiful princesses to other sover-
eign houses. Of these five daughters and two sons, Maria
Louisa, who was seventeen years old, was the eldest. But
though a grown young lady, she liked to be together with her
younger brothers and sisters, and remained sometimes with
them after dinner, in order to participate in their merry play
and conversation. On this occasion, instead of returning
with the mistress of ceremonies to her room, she remained
with her brothers and sisters in the dining-hall. While the
younger princes and princesses were engaged in playing round
a large table, the two oldest, the archduchesses Maria Louisa
and Leopoldine, retired into one of the bay-windows to con-
verse without being disturbed.

It was a charming sight—those two young ladies standing
in the niche, surrounded by curtains as in a frame, and whose
THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIA LOUISA. 479

beauty seemed to have caught a celestial radiance from the
light beaming through the windows. Both were in the morn-
ing of their age, but Maria Louisa, the older sister, was even
more attractive than Leopoldine. Thick ringlets of light-
brown hair floated around her forehead. She had large azure
eyes, telling of her happiness and the kindly emotions of her
soul. Her finely-cut nose gave an aristocratic expression to
her countenance, while her crimson lips, in their voluptuous
fulness, contrasted not unfavorably with the remarkable re-
finement of the rest of her features. An enchanting smile
played about her mouth, and spoke of her noble simplicity
and innocence.

She encircled the neck ef her younger sister With her arms,
and was gazing at her with a tender expression. “ Ah, Leo-
poldine,” she said to her in a sweet voice, “how happy Iam
that we are at length together again! When I remained here
ill and alone, and the enemy was besieging our capital, I was
always thinking of none but you, and yearned to be again
with you. But when the shells struck our palace, I thanked
Heaven that you were not here, and had not to undergo the
fear and anguish which I was enduring. When this Bona-
parte arrived, I was suffering of the scarlet fever, but the ter-
ror brought on an attack of intermittent fever. I shall
never forgive him. But, thank God, these evil times are
over! Now we need not be afraid of being expelled again
from the palace of our ancestors by this bad man, and of see-
ing our dear Schénbrunn degraded by the presence of his
marshals. Now we can live happily and delightfully in un-
disturbed tranquillity.”

“Yes, we can,” said the Archduchess Leopoldine, smiling.
“But do you not think, sister, that our life is indescribably
monotonous and tedious at the present time? Our third
mother, the Empress Ludovica, is certainly a very amiable,
virtuous, and pious lady, but she really believes us still to be
small children, who ought to remain in the nursery, and it
does not occur to her that amusements are sometimes neces-
sary for young princesses of our age. We have passed the
whole winter in an intolerably quiet and wearisome manner ;
we are already in the latter part of February, and have not
had a single ball at court. Ah, Louisa, it is, after all, not so
very pleasant to be a princess. Other girls of our age are at
liberty to indulge in a little pleasure, to attend balls, concerts,
and parties, where they see new faces and interesting persons.
480 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

We are forbidden all this. We must wait until diversion
comes to us, and unfortunately we are not thought of at all!
We are never allowed to pay visits or accept invitations. A
formal court ball, where we may appear for a few hours, and
dance with the most aristocratic cavaliers, is our only amuse-
ment, and at present we are deprived of that. We are guarded
in our apartments like prisoners.”

“ Yes, it is true,” sighed Maria Louisa, “and we have a very
rigorous jailer in the Countess of Colloredo. Do you know,
Leopoldine, that I have had a violent scene with the mistress
of ceremonies to-day?”

“Ah, I am glad of it,” exclaimed Leopoldine, laughing.
“What was tle matter?”

“T wanted to read, and suacatea the mistress of ceremo-
nies to give me new books. She deferred it until to- -day and
brought me then one of the works I had asked for, ‘the Maid
of Orleans,’ by Schiller, but it was mutilated and disfigured
like all books that are given tous. Whole pages had been
cut out, and on those remaining were to be found black spots
rendering whole lines and words illegible—a liberty which the
mistress of ceremonies is in the habit of indulging in, in
reference to all the books we read.”

“Yes, it is true,” sighed the younger archduchess, “ we
cannot read a single good book from beginning to end; and
we are thus deprived of much pleasure. What did you do,
dear sister?”

“T cast the book aside with horror, and requested her to let
me have the latest newspapers. She brought them to me, but
everywhere the same foul marks; not only all the news from
France, but even the local Vienna items were almost illegible
to-day; lines had been cut out, words erased, and half a col-
umn had entirely disappeared. I was almost beside myself at
this treatment. I returned the papers and said, ‘Madame,
this is doubtless a mistake. J am sure these papers were in-
tended for the nursery, that the little archduchesses might
learn to spell; as for myself, I can both spell and read, and I
request you, therefore, to give me legible books and news-
papers.”

“Qh,” exclaimed Leopoldine, merrily clapping her hands,
“that was glorious! You acted like a heroine, my dear
sister!”

Maria Louisa smiled and added, “ ‘Madame,’ I went on to
say, ‘I cannot bear any longer this system of surveillance. It
f THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIA LOUISA. 481

is insulting and repugnant to me to be treated like a child,
and considered so weakminded as to be forbidden books which
thousands of girls of my age are allowed to read. Or do you
want to make me believe that all books and newspapers come
to Austria in this mutilated condition? Oh, I know full
well that the people would not submit to such a system of
tyranny, and that, in case such efforts should be made to de-
prive them of their mental food, assuredly a revolution would
break out, as in France at the time when my unfortunate
aunt, Marie Antoinette, was on the throne.’ ”

“Did you say so?” asked Leopoldine, in surprise. ‘“ But
where did you find the courage and the words?”

“T must avow to you that I had reflected about the matter
for three days, and drawn up, and learned by heart, this little
speech in order to address it to the mistress of ceremonies at
the first opportunity. Jam really tired of being treated so
childishly, when I am a woman, and may expect soon to be
married.”

“ Ah, married!” sighed Leopoldine. “ Who knows to what
dreadful princes we may be married? For, as a matter of
course, we shall not be asked whether we like the match or
not, and we shall not be as well off as the daughters of com-
mon citizens, who, as my maid told me, marry only those
whom they love. We princesses must marry men whom we
have never seen, with whom we exchange the first word only
after our marriage, and whom perhaps we may not like at
all.”

“No matter, our marriage makes us free,” exclaimed Maria
Lonisa, impatiently. “We are then at least our own mis-
tresses, and need submit no longer to the restraints imposed on
us. The example of our third mother, the Empress Ludo-
vica, shows it. She has taken the liberty to pay no attention
to etiquette, and holds a reception at her rooms every night
from eight to ten o’clock, when she does not admit the ladies
and gentlemen of the court, but invited persons, among whom
there are frequently those who do not even belong to the

aristocracy.”
mn . ey ‘
“She does not invite us to the evening parties,” exclaimed
Leopoldine, sneeringly. ‘‘ Maybe we are too aristocratic for

her. But you are right, Louisa—as soon as we are married,
we shall also have the right to change rules of etiquette and

live as we please.” :
“Do you know the first thing I am going to do after my
482 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

marriage?” asked Maria Louisa, quickly. “I shall buy all
the books that I have now, and peruse the cut-out and illegi-
ble passages. JI am sure they are the most interesting and
beautiful in the books, and I believe they all treat of love.
Ah, Leopoldine, I should like to read for once a work con-
taining a very romantic love-story, and over which one might
dream. But, good Heaven! what makes the children shout
so merrily? Come, let us see what they are doing.”

“Come, let us play with them,” exclaimed Leopoldine.

The princesses stepped arm in arm from the bay-window
and hastened to the table. The little archduchesses and their
brothers, it seemed, were engaged in a highly-interesting
game, which their governesses were witnessing with smiling
attention. They were standing about the large round table,
on which a small army of wax figures in green and blue uni-
forms had been placed in neatly-arranged rows. At the head
of this army stood a somewhat larger figure of the most re-
volting appearance. It was a little fellow with hunched
shoulders, a rotund stomach and an unnaturally large head.
The face was of a black-and-green color, and had eyes of a
ferocious expression, and a tremendous mouth without lips,
showing rows of ugly yellow teeth. This figure was dressed
in a green uniform, with broad white facings, and on his head
was a little cocked hat. Opposite this army of wax figures a
row of small brass cannon was placed, and at their side lay
diminutive bows, and arrows furnished with pins. The am-
munition-wagons were filled with black peas.

The game had just commenced. The imperial children had
opened the campaign against the hostile army of wax-figures.
The little Archdukes Ferdinand and Francis Charles stood as
gunners at the field. pieces, while the Archduchesses Caroline,
Clementine, and Amelia, were armed with small bows. The
gunners fired at the ranks of the soldiers; the archduchesses
aimed at the terrible captain of the little army. Whenever
an arrow hit him, or a cannon-ball struck down one of the
soldiers, the children burst into loud cheers.

“What game is this?” asked Maria Louisa, contemplating
with evident delight the blushing cheeks and bright eyes of
her young brothers and sisters.

“That is the Bonaparte game,” exclaimed little Archduke
Francis Charles. “ Papa emperor presented the game to me
when we were at Ofen, and taught me how to play it. It is
a long while since we played it, but to-day we will try it again.
THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIA LOUISA. 483

Look, sister Louisa, that horrible fellow in front of the sol-
diers is the villain Bonaparte, who is stealing the states of all
the princes. He is made entirely of brass, and no arrow can
injure him, but he has a vulnerable spot on the breast, where
the heart is, that is made of wax. On shooting at him, you
always have to aim there; if you hit it, the arrow remains,
and you win the game and obtain the reward. Oh, I am well
versed in the Bonaparte game; papa emperor was so gracious
as to play it often with me at Ofen, when we were fleeing
from that man; and his majesty taught me also how to insult
Bonaparte. See, sisters!” and he took the little bow from
the hands of the Archduchess Marianne, and laid an arrow on
the string. “Now, you miserable fellow,” he shouted in an
angry voice and with flashing eyes, “now I will kill you with-
out mercy! You thief, you stole Venice and Milan from us
—you must die!” He discharged the arrow, but it glanced
off from the figure.

“You missed him! you missed him!” shouted the little
group.

“Tt is my turn now,” exclaimed the little archduchess,
taking the bow from her brother. She put an arrow on it,
and, contracting her eyebrows and making her laughing little
face assume an angry and menacing air, shouted, ‘‘ Now trem-
ble, you bad man! for I will put you to death because you
drove us twice from Vienna, and frightened us so badly that
you compelled us to escape, while you were enjoying yourself
in our fine palaces. Yes, I will kill you, because you shot our
soldiers and took our cannon. You are a wretch, a miserable
thief, and I will now shoot you that you may no longer mur-
der our men and expel our princes, you robber and assassin!”
She discharged her arrow, but with no better success than the
little archduke, and the laughter of her brothers and sisters
punished her for her lack of skill.

“Why, this is a very pretty game,” exclaimed the Arch-
duchess Maria Louisa, langhing. “Come, Leopoldine, let us
try it, and see whether we are able to hit the monster.” The
princesses sat down laughingly between the little archdukes,
and each took one of the bows.

“Pray let me shoot first, dear sister,” exclaimed Leopol-
dine, eagerly. “ Look, my arrow lies already on the string.
Now I will aim at you, miserable Bonaparte, and take revenge
for all the sufferings you have brought upon us. Your last
hour has come; fold your hands and pray, if you can. But
484 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

you cannot pray, for you have a conscience burdened with
crimes; you have sinned grievously against God by insulting
and imprisoning His representative on earth. The Holy
Father has excommunicated you for this, and you are ac-
cursed, delivered over to the tortures of hell, and every honest
Christian turns away from the wretch against whom the bolt
of excommunication has been hurled. You must die without
confession and absolution—in the midst of your sins.” She
discharged the arrow, but, like those of her little brother
and sister, it glanced from the figure and dropped at its
feet.

The little archduchesses and princes, who, on hearing the
imprecations uttered by their sister, had assumed a very grave
air, felt as though they had been relieved of an oppressive
burden, and burst into loud laughter.

“Tt is my turn now!” exclaimed Maria Louisa. She took
the bow and fixed her blue eyes with an expression of pro-
found contempt on the repulsive figure. “ You must die—
ay, die!” she said, gravely. “Bonaparte, I will deliver the
world from you, for you are as insatiable as the Minotaur,
that required every day a human victim for breakfast. You
devour men and countries, and the wails of whole nations are
music to your ears. You must die, also, because you look so
horrible! God has marked you, and given you a monstrous
body, because your soul is that of a monster. I will kill you,
therefore, that you may no longer frighten mankind!” She
put the arrow on the string and shot.

Aloud shoutresounded. The arrow remained in the figure.
Maria Louisa had hit Bonaparte.

“Hurrah, the Archduchess Maria Louisa has killed Bona-
parte!’ cried the little ones. ‘‘ The monster is dead! The
robber lives no more! The wretch and villain!”

“Why, what is going on here? Whom are you abusing so
shockingly?” asked a voice behind them, and the children,
turning around, saw their father, the Emperor Francis, who
had entered unnoticed by them.

“We are abusing the malicious robber, papa emperor,” ex-
claimed the Archduchess Marianne, pointing at the figure.

“Your majesty, dear papa emperor,” exclaimed little Fran-
cis Charles, eagerly—“ only think of it, Maria Louisa has hit
the heart of Bonaparte. The monster is dead; he is unable
now to steal any thing more from us!”

“Sancta Maria!” cried the emperor, “how can you use such
THE ARCHDUCHESS MARIA LOUISA. 485

language, my son? How can you utter such disrespectful
epithets about the illustrious Emperor Napoleon?”

The boy looked at his father in dismay. “ Your majesty,”
he said, timidly, “you yourself told me Napoleon could not
be abused enough, and a genuine Hapsburg ought to execrate
the infamous robber. Those were your majesty’s own words,
papa!”

“Oh, I was only joking,” exclaimed the emperor, angrily,
“and a clever prince, like you, ought to have noticed it at
once. But I am talking in earnest now, and forbid you play-
ing this stupid game any more, or uttering another word
against the Emperor Napoleon. He isa very illustrious, and
moreover an excellent man—a very great emperor—whom
every one loves and praises.”

“Papa emperor,” cried the Archduke Francis Charles,
wonderingly, “but your majesty told me at Ofen that every
one was abhorring Bonaparte, and—”

“You are a pert little fool!’ replied the emperor, vehe-
mently. “What I said then has no sense now. For at that
time we were at war, and Napoleon was our enemy. But now
we have made peace, and he is our friend, and so deara
friend, that I would willingly intrust to him my most precious
treasure; I am sure he would honor and cherish it! Listen
to my orders, therefore, all of you: do not utter another word
against the Emperor Napoleon. Weall loveand admire him,
and that stupid game must never be played again. It must
be laid aside forever.”

The children were frightened and downcast; the emperor
turned from them, and beckoned to the Archduchess Maria
Louisa to follow him. “I came to see you at your rooms,” he
said; “the mistress of ceremonies told me that I would find
you here. J want to speak to you.”

“Your majesty was very gracious to come to me instead of
sending for me,” said the archduchess, bowing to her father.
“Does your majesty command me to follow you to your
cabinet?” :

“No, just step with me into this window-niche,” said the
emperor; “I will not detain you long. I wish to show you
something.” He stepped with the princess into the last win-
dow-niche, and closed the curtain. “Now look,” he said, “I
want to show you a miniature, and you must tell me how you
like it.” He opened the locket and presented it to the arch-
duchess. She gazed at it long and musingly, and a blush
486 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

suffused her cheeks. “Well! what do you think of this
man?”

“Your majesty, he must be a very great and distinguished
man,” exclaimed the archduchess. “It is a countenance that
makes my heart throb; it is more than merely fine-looking,
it is sublime! How much majesty is enthroned on that brow,
and yet the smile seems petulant and childlike; but the eyes
are magnificent.”

“Took at him carefully,” said the emperor, “and do not
restrain your feelings, but fall in love with him. For let me
tell you a secret, Louisa; it is the likeness of your future
husband.”

A deeper blush crimsoned the face of the archduchess, and
half ashamed, half anxious, she fixed her eyes again on the
miniature.

“Yes,” added the emperor, in a graver tone, “it is the
portrait of your husband, and you wiil receive this very day
his ambassador, who will apply to you for your hand. He
has already received my consent, and I am sure my daughter
knows her duty, and will accept obediently the husband I have
destined for her.”

“Yes,’’ whispered the archduchess, “I know that to be my
duty, and shall humbly submit to the will and commands of
my emperor and father.”

“And it is a grand destiny that Providence offers you,”
said the emperor, gravely. “You are to preserve peace to
the world, my daughter; you are to be the bond of reconcili-
ation between those who have hitherto hated and waged war
with each other.”

“Sire,” exclaimed the archduchess, anxiously, “ your maj-
esty did not tell me whose likeness this is?”

“And whom I have determined to become your husband,”
added the emperor. “TI will tell you now, but be courageous
and brave, my daughter, and remember that you must obey
me unconditionally.”

“T shall not forget to do so, your majesty.”

“Well, then, did I not, on entering this room, hear the
children rejoice at your having hit the heart of the Emperor
Napoleon?”

“T was playing with the children, your majesty, and—”

“And your play is to become earnest now, and you are to
take pains to conquer Bonaparte’s heart, that he may love and
trust you. For, my daughter, this miniature, which you
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 487

pronounced so fine-looking, is a correct likeness of the Em-
peror Napoleon, who will become your husband.”

The Archduchess Maria Louisa uttered a cry, and tottered
to the wall.

Her father clasped her in his arms, and placed her gently
on the easy-chair standing in the niche. The cheeks of Maria
Louisa had turned livid, her eyes were closed, and her arms
hung down by her side.

“It is strange how easily women faint!” muttered the em-
peror. “I found that to be the case with all my wives.
When they do not know how to do any thing better; they
faint. All four of mine did, but they always revived, and so
will Louisa. I like it much better that she should faint than
that she should weep. She knows now what she had to know,
and will act accordingly.” He opened the curtain, and
stepped back into the room. “Leopoldine!” he shouted to
the archduchess, “step in here to your sister, Maria Louisa.
She has swooned, but it is of no consequence! Tell her to
wake up, and conduct her to her room. She will tell you
what has happened to her.”

CHAPTER LVI.
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY.

THERE were great rejoicings in Berlin. It was the 10th of
March, the queen’s birthday, and she celebrated it again at
the capital for the first time in three years. Every one has-
tened to manifest his love and sympathy for the queen, and
all classes had sent in requests for permission to choose com-
mittees to present their congratulations to her majesty. The
queen had cheerfully granted these requests, and the deputa-
tions of the old aristocracy, the states, the clergy, the munici-
pality, the academy, the painters, and other artists, the
mechanics, and citizens, were assembled in the large hall of
the royal palace, waiting her arrival.

The folding-doors at length opened, and the queen, pre-
ceded by the grand-marshal of the court, entered. She looked
pale and exhausted, but received with affability and gracc the
cheers given by the assembly at her appearance, and walked
slowly down the long line of the deputations, addressing
a kind word or casting a grateful glance to every one, and
488 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUJISA.

charming all by her beauty, gentleness, and majesty. Sud-
denly her countenance brightened, and she approached a tall,
stout gentleman standing in the midst of the committee of
the artists. “ M. Manager Iffland,”* she said, “let me bid
you welcome. I expected to see you here to-day, in order to
express once more my thanks for the joy you afforded me on
my last birthday, and for the sufferings you underwent for my
sake. But I should like to hear an account of the event from
your own lips, and I ask of you, as a birthday present, to re-
late to me what happened to you last year on this day.”

While uttering these words, the queen stepped back into the
middle of the hall, and thereby compelled Iffland to leave the
committee, and follow her. “ Your majesty is really too kind
to remember so insignificant an occurrence,” said Iffland,
bowing respectfully. “I was on that day only so happy as to
give expression to the feelings animating all. ‘Queen Louisa,
our royal lady!’ that was the motto encouraging us to bear
up under the foreign yoke; it was our consolation when we
thought of his majesty, our beloved king. However galling
our chains might have been, we felt comfort, ‘The royal
lady is with him!’ we said to each other, and with grateful
tears every one remembered his queen.”

“Yes, it is true,” exclaimed the queen with feeling, “we
met with much love and fidelity during the years of affliction,
and to-day I thank from the bottom of my heart all those who
were faithful to us.” Her eyes gazed long and affectionately
on the brilliant circle of those assembled, and she then turned
again to Iffland. “ Well, how was it on my birthday last
year?” she asked. “Tell me, but speak loudly, that every
one may hear.”

“Last year on this day we were not as happy as we are to-
day,” said Iffland. “Our queen was not with us, and we
could not let her read in our eyes the love and fidelity which
we had been forbidden from manifesting toward her by word
or deed. The French authorities had issued stringent orders
everywhere, that the citizens should abstain from any allusions
to or recollections of our queen’s birthday, and that no
demonstrations whatever should be made. We were obliged
to submit to the petty tyranny, but our hearts were filled with
anger, and the love which we could not assert was strength-
ened in its concealment. It needed only a spark to bring
abont an explosion, and the theatre was so fortunate as to

* The celebrated German actor.
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 489

kindle this spark in the hearts of the loyal Prussians. On
the evening of that 10th of March, a small family drama
which I had written was to be performed. It was the simple
and affecting history of a family celebrating happily the re-
union of a mother and her children. ‘The mother’s name was
Louisa, and this name was sufficient to fill the house with a
distinguished audience. All felt that the theatre was on that
day the only place where the public heart, devoted to the
queen, was allowed to throb for her; where glances could be
exchanged and understood, and where it was permitted to
whisper, ‘It is her birthday to-day! Heaven bless her!’
Every seat was occupied in the galleries as well as in the
dress-circle, in the orchestra stalls as well as in the pit, every-
where reigned the same joyous commotion. Only in the boxes
of the French, faces were seen that cast an angry and hostile
expression on that audience.—The curtain rose, and the per-
formance commenced. The actor Lange and myself appeared
in the first scene. Lange had to play the part of a friend of
the house, happening to arrive there on that day. I repre-
sented the son of Louisa, the mother, and appeared on the
stage with a large bouquet on my breast. ‘Why do you look
so happy and well-dressed to-day?’ said Lange. ‘I suppose
you are celebrating a family festival?’ ‘Yes!’ I exclaimed in
a loud and joyous voice, ‘we are celebrating a family festival,
and it is a beautiful festival; we are celebrating the return of
our beloved mother, God bless her! God bless the dear lady
who is to receive these flowers!’ Carried away by my enthusi-
asm, I tore the bouquet from my breast, and held it out toward
the audience. Moved by one and the same feeling of love
and admiration, the whole assembly rose, and thousands of
voices shouted, as it were with one mouth and from one
heart, ‘God bless her! God bless the dear lady—the adored
mother!’ Oh, queen, it was a sublime moment, and God
counted the tears and understood the prayers that we addressed
to Him. He has restored to us our queen, the beloved mother
of her country and people!”

The queen at first listened smilingly: gradually, however,
her countenance became grave. She was standing with pro-
found emotion in front of Iffland, when he concluded his nar-
rative, and tears dropped from her downcast eyes. Silence
reigned in the vast hall, and all faces were turned to the
queen. She raised her eyes slowly, and directed them toward
Iffland with an expression of indescribable kindness. “I

»
32
490 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

thank you,” said Louisa; “ you stood faithfully by your queen
at a time when many were deserting’ her. You have been a
faithful knight of mine, and the king, therefore, wants you
to retain always the title of knight. He permits me to give
you to-day another decoration instead of the bouquet you wore
on your breast a year ago. In the name of his majesty I have
to present to you the insignia of the order of the Red Eagle.”

A pallor overspread. Iffand’s countenance, while he received
the order which the queen handed to him. ‘“O queen,” he
said, deeply affected, “such an honor to me, the actor! I
thank your majesty in the name of all my colleagues, from
whom you have removed at this moment the interdict exclud-
ing them from the honors and dignities of other men.”

The queen smiled. “It is true,” she said, “I believe you
are the first actor who ever received an order in Prussia.
And are you not indeed the first actor? However, you owe
us still the conclusion of your narrative. You described to us
the scene at the theatre, but not the disagreeable consequences
of the occurrence.”

“Ah! your majesty,” exclaimed Iffland, smiling, “the con-
sequences were easy to bear after the sublime moment which
I had witnessed. I was imprisoned for forty-eight hours at
the French guard-house, where they put me on a diet of bread
and water. That was all.” ;

“T thank you for suffering so cheerfully for me,” said the
queen, dismissing Iffland with a pleasant nod. ‘Would I
were able to reward all those who have suffered for us, and
endured persecution in love and patience, and to return days
of joy for days of sorrow!”

Iffland, who looked proud and happy, stepped back among
the members of his committee, and Louisa continued her
walk, uttering words of gratitude and acknowledgment, and
charming all by her winning and withal queenly bearing.

After the reception was over, she returned to her apart-
ments. The smile disappeared from her lips, and her coun-
tenance assumed a melancholy expression. She motioned to
her two ladies of honor to leave her, and remained alone with
her confidante, Madame von Berg. “Oh, Caroline,” sighed
the queen, “I can bear it no longer. My heart succumbs
under these tortures. They call this day a holiday, but to
me it isa day of terror. To-night a party at the palace—a
banquet previous to it,—and I must be gay, though suffering
severe pain! My heart is bleeding, and yet I am to dance,
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 491

address pleasant words to every one, and assume an appear-
ance of happiness. I do not know whither to escape with my
grief! To whom will Prussia belong a year hence? Whither
shall we all be scattered? God have mercy on us!”

“Your majesty views the situation in too gloomy a light,”
said Madame von Berg, consolingly. “No further events
have occurred that need alarm you.”

“No further events!” exclaimed the queen, vehemently.
“You do not know, then, Caroline, that Count Krusemark
arrived from Paris this morning?”

“No,” replied Madame von Berg, anxiously; “I do not
know any thing about it. What is the meaning of this un-
expected arrival of the ambassador?”

“A new calamity is threatening us. Count Krusemark is
the bearer of a letter from Napoleon to the king. Oh, Caro-
line, what a letter it is! One cannot help blushing with
shame and anger on reading it, and yet it is necessary for us
to be silent. Napoleon menaces because the war contributions
are not promptly paid: he talks as a superior to his inferior
who neglects his duty; he scolds as a schoolmaster does his
pupil who has not learned his task: And we must bear it, we
must stoop so low as to beg him to be indulgent! Caroline,
we must now solicit the forbearance of the man who has in-
sulted us by every word he addressed to us, and by every look
he cast upon us. For do you really know what he threatens
to do? He writes that if the king does not immediately pay
up the arrears of the war contributions, he will send an army
to Prussia, to collect the money, and punish the king for his
breach of faith. He will send another army to Prussia !—that
is to say, the war is to begin anew, and, as we have become
powerless, and cannot defend our frontiers, he means to crush
us. He will take every thing, and Prussia will cease to exist.
And we cannot pay, we have no means to obtain those mill-
ions so unjustly claimed!”

“But the ministers will devise means to pay the contribu-
tion, dearest queen; the minister of finance will be able to
suggest a scheme to fulfil the engagements that have been en-
tered into, and to discharge the claims which Napoleon has

against us.” ;
The queen laughed scornfully. “Baron von Altenstein, the
minister of finance, is not of your opinion,” she said. ‘“‘ The

king asked him to suggest measures by which the liabilities
we had incurred might be discharged. But Altenstein re-
492 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

plied that he did not know of any, and he then proposed to
the king to pay the debt by ceding the province of Silesia to
Napoleon.”

“Dreadful!” exclaimed Madame von Berg, indignantly.
“A Prussian minister does not shrink from advising the king,
although we are at peace, to sacrifice the best province that
has remained, and which even the defeats of Jena and Fried-
land, and the intriguing days of Tilsit did not endanger!”

“ And if we do not consent to such a sacrifice (and we shall
not), what next?” exclaimed the queen, despairingly. ‘“‘ Na-
poleon wil! send his army and expel or imprison us, as he
treated the unfortunate royal family of Spain. Oh, Curoline,
I shall be uneasy night and day. Dreadful apprehensions are
constantly meeting me. I think of Spain, and fears oppress
me lest my husband have the same fate as King Charles. Be-
lieve me, his life, his liberty is threatened, and he is every
day in danger of being suddenly seized and taken away as a
hostage, until we have fulfilled the behests of the tyrant, and
given him all that still belongs to us—our honor, our crown,
and, perhaps, our lives. We are surrounded by French spies:
every word, every look, is watched; only a pretext is sought
to ruin us, and it will be found, as it was in Spain. Oh, he
will take my husband from me! he will drag him as a prisoner
from one place to another as he did the King of Spain; he
will sow the seeds of discord in our family as he did in that
unhappy country. He, the tyrant Napoleon, brought about
a quarrel between the Infante and his father; he compelled,
with his iron hand, the unfortunate King Charles to write
that his son’s guilt had raised a barrier between father and
son. But whose hand was it that constructed it? Can there
be any doubt? It was his alone! Oh, will there be a time,
and shall I live to see it, when the hand of God will at length
write the ‘Mene, mene, tekel,’ on his wall?”

“Your majesty will live to see that time,” exclaimed Ma-
dame von Berg. “You will witness the judgment of Heaven
and of the nations overthrowing the tyrant.”

The queen shook her head. “No,” she whispered, “I shall
not live to see it. I think this will be the last time that I
celebrate my birthday here.” *

“Oh, Louisa,” cried Madame von Berg, bursting into tears,
“donot utter such cruel, heart-rending words. You will live,
you must live, for the consolation and joy of usall. It would

*The queen's own words,
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 493

be an injustice, and we should despair of divine equity, if our
queen depart without having seen again the days of deliver-
ance and happiness.”

“My dear, Providence permits such acts of injustice,” said
Louisa, with a mournful smile. “Was it just that noble
Palm should be shot, that Schill had to fall, and to be stig-
matized as a deserter for his heroic actions? Was it just that
Andrew Hofer had to expiate his glorious struggle for free-
dom by his death? The Emperor of Austria was in the same
position as we were. He had to sacrifice Andrew Hofer as
we Ferdinand von Schill. The cruel hand of the tyrant
rested on him as it did on us. And now they have shot the
brave, heroic leader of the Tyrolese at Mantua! My soul
mourns for him, for I hoped in him. It is but recently that
I understood Schiller’s words, ‘On the mountains there is
freedom!’ They resounded in my heart like a prophecy,
when in my thought I looked over to the mountaineers who
had risen at Hofer’s call, My heart fought at his side! And
what a man this dear, honest, simple Andrew Hofer was! <A
peasant who had become a general, and what a general! His
weapon—prayer! His ally—God! He fought with folded
hands, with bended knees, and struck down the enemy as
with a cherub’s sword. And the brave Tyrolese were fight-
ing with him—children in the simplicity of their hearts, they
fought like Titans, by hurling down rocks from the summits
of their fastnesses. And yet it was allin vain! They were
sacrificed, and their leader was shot by the man who to-mor-
row marries the daughter of their emperor. And you doubt
that Providence permits acts of injustice? Oh, I do not
doubt that God is just, but we mortals are often unable to
comprehend his justice, because our life is too short to wit-
ness the result of that of which we have seen only the incep-
tion; but He knows the end from the beginning. And an
end will come for Napoleon with all his glory. But shall I or
any of us ever live to witness it?”

“ All of us will,” said Madame von Berg; “our belief in the
final retribution of Divine justice will give us our strength,
I hope, for many years.”

“TJ shall not live to see that blessed time,” said the queen,
solemnly. “This man, who is to be married to a German
princess to-morrow, has wounded my heart so that it will at
last destroy me. I do not speak figuratively, but mean what
I say. ‘There is something in my heart that leaves me no rest
494 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

night and day. Its palpitations strike like a death-watch.
There is something gnawing there incessantly; at times I feel
that it has nearly pierced my life, that death is surely near.
And Iam dying of the wretchedness and disgrace which he
who is enthroned in France has brought upon Prussia! J am
dying, and he will win further triumphs; the whole of Europe
will lie prostrate at his feet, and his songs of victory will be
my dirge, leaving me no rest even in my grave. But hush,
hush! Let us say no more. I have allowed you to look into
the depths of my soul. You, my friend, are the only one to
whom I sometimes raise the veil covering my bleeding heart.
But tell no one what you have seen; keep my secret a little
while longer, my dear Caroline.—And how is your friend,
excellent Baron von Stein? You told me yesterday you had
received letters from him. What doeshe write? Where does
he live?”

“ He lives in Briinn; his wife and children have joined him,
and his life therefore is outwardly at least less sad than
formerly. He is in constant communication with the promi-
nent statesmen of Germany; all patriots hope in him, and re-
ceive advice and consolation from him. He is preparing
quietly and secretly the great work of deliverance, which,
when completed, will delight the eyes of my queen and receive
her blessing. His eyes are constantly turned toward Prussia,
and it is his profoundest sorrow that he is not permitted in
these times to devote his services to the king.”

“Yes,” said the queen, sighing, “it is the terrible misfor-
tune of the king that, in times so calamitous as these, he is
deprived of the assistance of the patriotic men who alone
would be able to save him and the state. The tyrannous
decrees of Napoleon have taken his noblest and best servants
from him. Stein isin exile. Hardenberg has to keep aloof
from us because the emperor so ordered it. We might have
ministers competent to hold the helm of the ship of state and
take her successfully into port, but we are not allowed to em-
ploy them. Our interests are consequently intrusted to weak
and ill-disposed ministers, who will ruin them, and we shall
perish, unless assistance come soon—very soon! Stein and
Hardenberg are exiled, and we have only Minister Altenstein,
who is bold enough to propose the voluntary cession of Silesia
to the king! Oh, my beloved, unfortunate Prussia, where is
there a prospect of safety for thee?—Ah, the worm is again
at my heart—oh, it oppresses me so that I can scarcely
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 495

breathe! Tell me, Caroline, what else has Baron von Stein
written to you?”

“He describes the deep and painful impression which the
marriage of the Archduchess Maria Louisa with the Emperor
Napoleon has made throughout Austria. There was no rejoic-
ing, for all regarded it as another humiliation of Austria—as
a chain by which she fastens herself to France, and makes
herself a vassal of a powerful enemy. The Viennese particu-
larly received the intelligence with profound indignation, and
even seditious gatherings took place, which had to be dispersed
by the troops. In their sorrow, the inhabitants of the Aus-
trian capital consoled themselves with a little wit; for, on
the day when the Viennese had to illuminate their city in
honor of the betrothal, the populace, marching through the
streets, reached the residence of the French ambassador, and
shouted in a loud and scornful tone: ‘Napoleon is now
ruined! We have at last played him a trick! We have inoc-
ulated him with Austrian bad luck and Austrian stupidity!” *

The queen laughed. “That sounds very silly, and does not
indicate much self-esteem, but there is a deep meaning in it
after all. A connection with Austria has always been disas-
trous to France. Louis XVI. died of his marriage with
Marie Antoinette, and Napoleon will not derive much benefit
from his with the archduchess. He intends to strengthen his
empire by this step, but it will alienate his own people from
him. By this connection with an old dynasty he recedes from
the people and from the liberal ideas of the revolution, which
enabled him to ascend the throne. If this throne should ever
be shaken, he would find that Austria will not support him.”

“Tt will be shaken and fall!” exclaimed Madame von Berg.
“There is an ominous commotion everywhere. Spain is the
first fruit of the new era about to dawn upon us. She has
not yet been conquered, nor will she be, notwithstanding Na-
poleon’s high-sounding phrases and so-called victories. She
is as a rock that will first break the waves of his haughty will.
As a proof of the hatred prevailing in Spain, Baron von Stein
sent me a page from the catechism, which the priests are
teaching the people at the present time, and he added to it a
few passages from the new French catechism. Will your
majesty permit me to read them?”

“Read,” exclaimed the queen; “pray, dear Caroline, let
me hear them!”

* Hormayr, vol. i., p. 89, and other historians relate this occurrence.
496 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Madame von Berg drew several papers from her pocket.
“Let us first be edified by the Spanish catechism, if it please
your majesty,” and she read:

“Who are you, my child?”

“A Spaniard, by the grace of God.”

“What does that mean?”

“A man of honor.”

“Who is our enemy?”

“The Emperor of the French.”

“What is the Emperor of the French?”

“ A villain, the source of all evil.”

“How many natures has he?’

“Two. A human and a diabolical nature.”

“How many Emperors of the French are there?”

“One emperor in three.”

“ What are their names?”

“Napoleon, Murat, and Manuel Godoy.”

“Which is the worst?”

“They are all equally bad.”

“Whence does Napoleon come?”

“From sin.”

“ Murat?”

“From Napoleon.”

“Godoy?”

“From both.”

“What are the French?”

“ Christians who have become heretics.”’

“What punishment deserves the Spaniard who neglects his
duties?”

“The death and disgrace of a traitor.”

“Ts it a sin to kill a Frenchman?” .

“No, aman gains heaven by killing one of the heretical
dogs.”

“ Horrible!” exclaimed the queen, shuddering. “ But that
is their catechism, and these are the doctrines which are act-
ually taught the people, and which filled them with such des-
perate courage at Saragossa. And now, Caroline, let me hear
something of the French catechism.”

“Here is a passage reading: ‘To honor and serve our Em-
peror Napoleon, is to honor and serve God Himself, for it is
he whom the Lord has given to us, that he may restore the
holy faith of our fathers and to rule over us with wisdom and
firmness. He is the anointed of the Lord, owing to the con-
THE QUEEN’S BIRTHDAY. 49%

secration he has received at the hands of the pope, the head
of the Holy Catholic Church. ‘Those who would not fulfil
their duties to the Emperor Napoleon would rebel against the
will of God, and be doomed eternally.’ ”

“That is the fanaticism of a man who believes in nothing
but himself, and whom this self-deification nevertheless will
one day hurl into the abyss,” exclaimed the queen. “But
hark, it strikes twelve! The king will soon be here to take
me to the palace. I will dress, for I must not keep him long
waiting. Ah, there he is already!” Louisa rose quickly
from the sofa and hastened toward the king, who entered the
room. Madame von Berg withdrew quietly, and the king and
the queen remained alone.

The king took the hands which the queen extended toward
him, and pressed them tenderly to his lips. “I come, per-
haps, earlier than you expected,” he said, “but I wished to
see my beloved Louisa on this festive day, before she again
becomes the queen. It seems to me I have not yet seen you
to-day. Since early morning the people offering congratu-
lations and presents have perfectly besieged the house.”

“That is the consequence of celebrating my birthday in
Berlin, my friend,” exclaimed the queen laughing; “it is
your just punishment for refusing to spend the day with me
and the children quietly at our dear Parez, as we always used
to do.”

“T could not do that,” said the king, gravely. “I had to
give our subjects an opportunity to manifest their love for you
and to indemnify them for the last three years, when they
were unable to do so. But do you know, Louisa, why I come
now? I should like to present you two acceptable gifts.”

“More gifts?” exclaimed the queen, almost reproachfully.
“ Your love has lavished so many ccstly and beautiful presents
on me to-day that I hardly know what you may give me.”

“You need not be afraid, for the gifts are not very expen-
sive; they are only two pieces of paper. They will not make
your casket heavier, but I hope they will render your heart
lighter. Here is the first.” He drew a letter from his bosom
and handed it to the queen. “Read the address,” he said.

The queen read: “‘To his excellency, Count von Harden-
berg, at present at the farm of Grohnde.’—What?” she
asked, looking joyously at the king. “My friend, you have
yourself written to Hardenberg?” :

The king nodded. “I myself,” he said.
498 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

“ And what did you write to him?”

“T requested him to come to me without delay, if he feel
strong enough, and resume his former position at the head of
the government.”

“But you know Napoleon does not want Hardenberg to be
your minister.”

“Tam now again, and intend remaining, master in my own
country.”

“Napoleon ordered that Hardenberg should not come
within twenty leagues of the place where the king resides.
Remember, dear friend, he is proscribed.” .

“But I disregard this proscription, and call Hardenberg to
my side. If he is courageous enough he will come, and when
he is here we shall take pains to pacify the emperor’s wrath.
He is at present too busily engaged in arranging his wedding
festivities, and in preparing for the reception of his young
wife; he will not have time to notice that the little King of
Prussia has chosen another minister. We shall try to manage
the matter as prudently as possible, and prevail upon Napo-
leon to leave Hardenberg at the head of my cabinet. I can-
not do any thing with a minister who proposes to me to
sacrifice the province of Silesia, and to sell loyal subjects like
cattle. JI will dismiss Altenstein, and appoint Hardenberg in
his place. I have called him. If he is a good patriot, he
will come; he must write a penitent letter to the emperor,
that he may permit him to remain with us.” *

“Oh, he will come, my friend, and also write the letter,”
exclaimed the queen.

“ And do you approve my resolution to intrust Hardenberg
with Altenstein’s department?” asked the king.

“ Approve it? My heart rejoices at it! Now I have hopes
again of Prussia; now I look full of confidence into the
future, for Hardenberg is a true German patriot, who has the
honor and dignity of his country at heart, who does not want
us to become mere vassals of France, and who will not propose
to sacrifice provinces when we may discharge our liabilities
with money. Oh, my dear, beloved friend, how grateful I
am to you for this joyful surprise! This paper is my most
precious birthday gift, and it really makes my heart glad.”

*Hardenberg complied immediately with the king's request, and came to Pots-
dam, where he had a long interview with him, and declared his readiness to resume
his position at the head of the administration. He submitted also to the galling
necessity of conciliating Napoleon by an humble letter, in which he assured the em-

eror of his devotedness to France, and promised that the war-contributions should
e promptly pate Napoleon was favorably impressed with this letter, and ceased
to object to Hardenberg’s appointment.
LOUISA’S DEATH. 499

“But I have another paper which will afford you pleasure,”
said the king, drawing it from his bosom. “Here, my dear,
affectionate Princess of Mecklenburg, here is my second gift!”

He placed a folded paper into the hands of the queen. She
opened it, and a joyous cry burst from her lips. “‘ Passenger
ticket for Queen Louisa, good for a trip to Mecklenburg-
Strelitz,’”’ she read, laughing. ‘“‘First travelling compan-
ion: Frederick William.’ Iam to go to Mecklenburg,” cried
the queen, joyously, “and you will accompany me? Oh, my
beloved husband, you have divined, then, the most secret and
ardent wish of my heart, and you grant it even before my lips
have uttered it! Oh, how shall I thank you, my own dear
friend?” She encircled the king’s neck with her arms, with
passionate tenderness, and pressed a long:kiss on his lips.
“Dear, dear husband, how shall I thank you?” she whis-
pered, once more with tearful eyes.

The king looked at her long and lovingly. ‘That you are
with me is my greatest happiness. I was thinking to-day of
a poem written by good old Claudius; it expresses my own
feelings. It is an echo of my heart’s gratitude!”

“What poem is it?” asked the queen.

Frederick William laid his hand on her head, raised his
eyes toward heaven, and said aloud:

‘Ich danke dir mein Wohl, mein Gliick in diesem Leben,
Ich war wohl klug, dass ich dich fand ;

Doch ich fand nicht, Gott hat dich mir gegeben,
So segnet keines Menschen Hand !” *

CHAPTER LVII.
LOUISA’S DEATH.

Tue happy and long-yearned-for day, the 25th of June, had
dawned at last. The queen’s wish was to be fulfilled; she
was to set out for her old Mecklenburg home, for her paternal
roof at Neustrelitz. The king intended to foilow her thither
in a few days, for he was detained in Berlin by state affairs;

* On thee my joy, my hopes rely |
How wise to win thee mine !

But surely it was Heaven—not I,
That made me ever thine.

To thee, my loving spouse, I owe
Whate’er of good may be,

Nor could a human hand bestow
This priceless gift on me.
500 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

they were then to go with her family to the ducal country-
seat of Hohenzieritz, and thence to return to Berlin.

How had the queen longed for this day! how joyously had
she awaited the moment when she was to see her old home
again! Even her separation from her beloved children, from
her husband, did not shade her beautiful countenance. She
was to miss her children but for a short time, and her husband
was to join her at the earliest moment; she could therefore
yield to the joy with which the prospect of seeing her father
and his family, and of returning to her old home, filled her
heart.

Home! The carriage rolled from the palace-gate of Char-
lottenburg, and the green fields as she passed had never seemed
so beautiful. But her eyes were often turned to the sky, and
she gazed on the white clouds floating over it as swans on an
azure lake. ‘“‘ Precede me, clouds! inform my father and my
brothers that Iam coming!’ she exclaimed, smiling. “Oh,
why does not my soul unfold its wings, and carry me home
through the air? The horses are too slow!”

And yet the horses were running along the turnpike,
swiftly passing towns and villages, fields and meadows. The
queen, in her impatience, counted the relays. ‘“ Weare already
at Gransee; the next town will be on Mecklenburg soil.
The frontier of my father’s state is between Gransee and
Firstenberg. Forward! home! home!”

“Queen, here we are on the frontier! Here is Mecklen-
burg!” exclaimed Madame von Berg.

“Mecklenburg!” said the queen, smiling. “Hail my
native country!’ And she kissed her hands to the landscape
spread out before her in all its summer beauty. “I greet and
kiss thee, my Mecklenburg! I return with a faithful heart!”

Why did the queen start up so suddenly, and press her
hands so anxiously against her heart? “Oh, Caroline,” she
whispered, “the death-worm, the death-worm! Could it not
be still at this moment? Could it not let me enjoy the bliss of
this hour? Oh, how it tortures my heart!”

“O queen, why such gloomy thoughts now? Look at the
sky, how bright it is!—how mild and pleasant the air—the
air of Mecklenburg!”

“The air of my native country is fanning my face, but the
death-worm is at work in my heart. The gates of my home
above will soon be thrown open for me! But hush! Why
put this drop of wormwood into the cup of joy? I will not
LOUISA’S DEATH. 501

drink it, I will not listen to my palpitating heart! Let us
see whether I am stronger than my pain. I will laugh and
be happy!”

And the queen, leaning forward with smiling countenance,
said: “TI greet thee, my Mecklenburg, with thy waving wheat-
fields and fragrant meadows, thy transparent lakes and forest
oaks, and, above all, thy ruddy sons and daughters! Look,
Caroline, what sunny waves are passing over those ripening
fields, bringing to the farmer the fruits of his labor. Look at
that pretty scene yonder! At the door of the lonely cottage,
in the middle of the rye-field, sits a peasant’s wife; her babe
is resting on her breast, and three flaxen-haired children are
playing at her feet. She does not see us; she sees nothing but
her children, and sings to them. Stop, ‘that I may hear the
song of the good young mother!” The carriage halted. The
wind swept across the plain, and played with the white veil
of the queen, who listened with bated breath to the lullaby of
the peasant’s wife:

“Oh, schlop, mihn lewes, liittes Kind,
Oh, schlop un dréhm recht schén |
Denn alle Engel bi di stind
Un Gott, de het di sehn.

Leev Gott het alle Minschen gihrn,

De Kinner doch am leevsten,

Driim wenn wi man wi Kinner wirn,
Denn har uns Gott am leevsten!

Oh, schlop, mihn lewes, liittes Kind,
Oh, schlop, und dréhm recht schén!"’ *

The queen laughed with delight. “That is a Mecklenburg
patois song,” she exclaimed, “and yet how sweetly it sounds;
how gentle and winning, as though it were the language of
the heart! My native country has greeted me now witn its
most tender notes, with the song that the mother sings to her
children! Forward! I am also a child of Mecklenburg, and
long for my father’s kiss and the embrace of my dear old
grandmother!”

“There are the spires of a town in Mecklenburg! the spires

of Fiirstenberg!”

*Oh sleep! my darling baby, sleep!
And dream without a tear,
For loving angels round thee keep
Their watch, and God is near!
O baby mine,
Sweet dreams be thine!

If we as little children were
The Lord would love us best;
Of such he said, with tender care,
Is heaven's eternal rest !
O baby mine, :
Sweet dreams be thine!
502 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA

The carriage rolled through the gloomy old gate, and halted
in front of the palace.

“My father! My beloved father!”

“My daughter! My beloved Louisa! Welcome!—a thou-
sand times welcome!” They embraced each other and wept
with joy. Heis no duke, she is no queen; he is a father, and
she is his child!

From the arms of her father she sank into those of her
brother—her darling George. “Oh, thanks, dear father and
brother, thanks for this surprise! Now I shall have two hours
of happiness more than I hoped for, for I thought I would
meet you only at Neustrelitz.”

“Come now, my daughter, come; the horses are ready,
and your old grandmother is longing for you.”

“Grandmamma, I am coming!” exclaimed the queen, and’
entered the carriage as merrily as a light-hearted child. Her
father and brother were at her side, and the ladies of the
queen took seats in the duke’s coach.

“Forward, home!” Her hands clasping those of her father
and her brother, the queen rode across the meadows and wavy-
ing fields. Was the death-worm still at her heart? Which
will triumph, that or the queen? She did triumph for a
season—for holy love conquers all, even death.

The face of the queen beamed with happiness. Smiles
played upon her lips; greetings flashed from her eyes to the
people standing at the roadside, and loudly cheeringeher.
She reached her destination! There is Neustrelitz, there is
the palace! At the gate stood the old grandmother who had
charge of Louisa in her childhood, the old landgravine, now
eighty years of age. She stretched out her arms toward the
queen; she called with tender words for her foster-child, her
Louisa! And Louisa rushed into the arms of her grand-
mother. They remained locked in a long embrace, weeping.
The duke himself wiped tears from his eyes. Happiness also
has tears, and sometimes sadness.

“Grandmother,” whispered the queen, “I have wept a
great deal in grief and anguish. Now I am weeping in de-
light, and my tears are praising God!” The queen was at
home with her father, and under the roof of her ancestors.
The storms of adversity had spent their fury. Gladness
beamed from her face as she welcomed the friends and ac-
quaintances of former times.

A brilliant party was given at court on the second day. A
LOUISA’S DEATH. 503

ball took place in the evening. Numerous guests were as-
sembled in the festive halls; all were waiting for the arrival
of the queen. Suddenly the folding doors opened; she entered
the ball-room leaning on her father’s arm, and greeted the
assembled guests. How beautiful she was! Her whole bear-
ing had an indescribable mildness and majesty. She had
adorned herself, for the first time since her adversity, as it be-
came a queen. Her noble figure was wrapped in a white satin
dress, and her bare arms and neck were magnificently adorned.

“Oh, queen, how charming you are to-day!” exclaimed
one of her early friends, transported with admiration. “And
how splendid these pearls are!”

“Yes!” said the queen, “they are. I value them very
highly, and retained them when I was obliged to part with
my other jewelry. Pearls are more suitable to me, for they
denote tears, and I have shed many.” And as the queen ut-
tered these words, she started and pressed her hand against
her heart. Was the death-worm there again? Was it pene-
trating her heart? Was it, after all, stronger than the
queen? No! Louisa triumphed over it! Joy was in her
face; merry words dropped from her lips, and she glided in
the mazes of the dance.

And this day was followed by another of still greater hap-
piness. The king came to see again his longed-for consort
and take her back to her second home, his house, and heart.
She was again united with her most faithful friend. She
gazed with delight at his fine, manly countenance; she was
proud of his regal form, and his constant and earnest love
transported her with gratitude. As she looked toward the
king, who was leaving the room with the duke, in order to
look at the old palace church,—“ Oh, George,” she said to the
hereditary prince, who had remained with his sister in the
duke’s sitting-room, “now I am altogether happy! I would
like to repeat it to all of you!” And, as if these words were
not sufficient, as if she ought to write them down—the queen
hastened to her father’s desk. She took a scrap of paper and
a pen, and wrote in a hasty hand: “My dear father! I am
very happy to-day as your daughter, and as the wife of the
best of husbands. Louisa.” * “So,” she exclaimed, “I have
written it down. My father will not find it to-day, for we
shall immediately set out for Hohenzieritz; but when he re-

* ere the last words the queen ever wrote. The king preserved the scrap
as Duneaivellc, and carried it constantly in his memorandum-book.
504 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

turns the day after to-morrow, and steps to his desk, he will
find this greeting from his Louisa, and it will gladden him,
and—”

“Why do you start so suddenly, my sister? Your lips are
quivering, and you look so pale! What ails you, dear sister?”

“It is nothing, brother—it is nothing! An insignificant
passing pain in my heart; it was sudden, but it is nothing, it
is over now. And if you love me, George, you will forget it.
You will not mention it to any one, and, least of all, to my
husband. They are already returning, our dear ones! Let
us meet them!”

They went from Neustrelitz to Hohenzieritz, the charming
country-seat of the duke on the shore of Lake Tollen. The
carriages halted in front of the palace-gate; Louisa, leaning
on the king’s arm, entered; suddenly a shudder shook her
frame; a mortal pallor covered her cheeks, and she clung con-
vulsively to her husband.

“What ails you, Louisa? Why do you look so ill, and
tremble so violently? What is the matter?”

“Tam quite well, my beloved friend, but I am cold, and
the air here seems close and oppressive to me; and it is as
silent and lonely as if death were dwelling here. Come, let
us go into the garden. Come!” She hastened into the life
and sunshine of the garden. The color came to her cheeks
again, and her eyes assumed their serenity. She walked with
her husband through the long, delightful avenues, and accom-
panied him to the lake. It lay before them, beautiful Lake
Tollen, shining like silver, and fringed with gigantic oaks.

“Oh, my dear Mecklenburg, my dear native country, how
beautiful thou art!” exclaimed the queen, and an echo replied
from the opposite shore, “ Beautiful thou art!”

“The echo is right,” said the king. “And, as I am gazing
at you, you seem to me again the young princess whom I saw
seventeen years ago for the first time. Your return to your
native country has made you once more a girl.”

“But the girl of seventeen years ago was not so happy as is
the matron and mother of to-day,” said the queen. “ At that
time I did not have you, my husband, nor my beloved chil-
dren! Iam younger in my heart to-day than then, for love
imparts and preserves youthfulness.”

“ God preserve you this youth, my Louisa, to the delight of
myself and our children! But come, it is cool here by the
lake, and you look pale again.” They returned to the palace,
LOUISA’S DEATH. 505

and the queen spent in the midst of her family a day of un-
alloyed pleasure. ‘The last day!

When the next morning’s sun shone into the queen’s bed-
room, Louisa attempted to raise herself; her head fell back
heavily, and she pressed her hands convulsively against her
bosom, exclaiming: “Oh, my heart!’ Poor queen! The
death-worm was conquering!

“Tt is nothing!” she whispered to her husband, when the
struggle was over. “Nothing but a cold!” she repeated,
when the doctors, who had been called from Neustrelitz, came
to her bedside.

It was a cold, but the queen was unable to leave her bed to
accompany the king to Berlin, when, a few days afterward,
pressing state affairs called him back to the capital. She was
obliged to remain a few days at Hohenzieritz, in order to rest
and recover her strength. But the few days became weeks.
She was still ill, and suffered as she had never suffered.
Often, in the night, when her friend Caroline von Berg was
sitting at her bedside, she beckoned to her and whispered in
her ear: “The conquering death-worm! Did I not tell you,
Caroline, that it was attacking my heart? Oh, I would the
king, my beloved husband, were with me!’

Couriers went to Charlottenburg to the king, and they came
every day to Hohenzieritz and inquired in his name for
Louisa’s health. He himself was unable to come; he was also
ill with fever, confining him to his bed.

“And I am not with him!” lamented the queen. “I can-
not nurse him, and smile away his cares! I am myself an
object of anxiety to him! Oh, shall I not soon be well again?
Tell me, dear Doctor Heim, you whom the king has sent, shall
I not soon be well, that I may nurse my husband?”

“Yes, your majesty, if it please God, you will soon be well.
But now let me deliver to you a letter from the king, which
his majesty has intrusted to me.”

Louisa’s eyes beamed with joy; she opened the letter and
read it. The words of tender love and ardent longing which
the king addressed to her brought tears to her eyes. “ What
a letter!” she exclaimed. “How happy is she who receives
such!” She kissed ‘the paper and then laid it on her heart.
“Tt shall remain there, and will cure me better than all your
medicine, doctor. If the spasms would only leave me, I
should be well! When they seize me, I cannot help thinking
that my end is drawing nigh.”

33
506 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

Doctor Heim made no reply; he turned and prescribed
cooling beverages and anodynes. No one but God was able
to help her. Her spasms became frequent and violent, and
she often cried—“ Air! air! Iam dying!” She yearned more
and more for her husband and children.

“Doctor! must I die, then? Shall I be taken from the
king and from my children?” The doctor made no reply.

“My God, I am young to die!” groaned the queen. “ Life
has still to fulfil many promises tome; I have shed many
tears and suffered much! Oh, there are these dreadful spasms
again! Doctor, help me! Ah, nothing but death can help
me!”

It was in the night of the 18th of July that the queen
uttered these complaints to her physicians. It was a stormy
night, and the gigantic trees in the garden of Hohenzieritz
rustled weirdly and dark. The silence of the palace was
broken only by low groans.

It was dawning when a carriage rolled into the palace-yard.
The duke hastened out. A pale man alighted and rushed
toward him. “How isshe? How is Louisa?”

The duke was unable to make a reply. He took the king’s
arm and conducted him into the palace. The two sons of the
king, who had arrived with their father, followed them in
silence and with bowed heads. The duke conducted the king
into his room, where he found the old landgravine and the
three physicians of the queen.

Frederick William saluted the princess only with a silent
nod; he then turned his quivering face toward the physicians.
“How is the queen?” he asked. “ What hopes have you?”

They made no reply, standing before him with gloomy faces
and downcast eyes. The king’s face turned livid, and, press-
ing his hand upon his forehead, covered with perspiration,
he said, sternly and imperiously, “ Reply to me, I want to
know the truth! How is the queen? What hopes have
you?”

“No hopes whatever, your majesty,” said Dr. Heim,

;solemnly. “It is an organic disease of the heart, and in such
cases our skill is powerless. The queen has but a few hours
to live!”

The king staggered back to the wall. He neither spoke
nor wept, so great was his sorrow. The venerable old land-
gravine went to him and laid her hand gently on his shoulder,
“ Tope still, my son,” she said, solemnly, ‘“ Louisa still lives,
LOUISA’S DEATH. 50?

and so long as she lives there is hope. God in His mercy may
yet preserve her to us!”

The king shook his head despairingly. “Ah,” he cried in
a husky, sombre voice, “if she were not mine, she would live.
But as she is my wife, she will surely die! But I will see her,
I must see her! So long as she lives she belongs to me!”

“I will go and inform the queen that the king has arrived,”
said Heim, and hastened into the sick-room.

A few minutes elapsed, and Louisa’s voice exclaimed: “ My
Frederick! my beloved husband, come to me!”

The king rushed to her room, the door of which had just
been opened by Dr. Heim. The queen lay on her couch, pale
and beautiful as a broken lily.

“My husband! my beloved friend!” she exclaimed, raising
herself and endeavoring to stretch out her arms toward the
king, who stood at her bedside, but alas, she was unable to do
so. “Oh,” whispered Louisa, sadly, “Iam a queen, but can-
not move my arms!”

The king bent over, and, pressing her against his breast,
kissed her beloved face. Louisa smiled, laid her head on his
shoulder and looked at him long and tenderly. “You are
here! You are mine again! But how are the children?
Have you come alone?”

“No,” said the king, “our two oldest sons accompany me.”

“Mysons! Where are they?” exclaimed thequeen. “ Let
me see them, oh, pray let me see my sons!”

Heim hastened out and returned with the Princes Fred-
erick and William. With eyes filled with tears, they stepped
on tiptoe to the bedside of the queen.

“My children!” exclaimed Louisa, in a loud, powerful
voice, and she raised herself up. Her maternal love gave her
strength to extend her arms.

“Oh, my children, my beloved children!” She pressed
them to her bosom, kissing them with the passionate tender-
ness of a mother.

The two young princes, entirely overcome by grief, sank on
their knees at the bedside of their mother. She laid her hands
on their heads, as if to bless them, and lifted her eyes to the
king, who, pale and silent, was gazing at her in unutterable
despair.

“Now I am happy,” breathed the queen. “You are with
me, and my beloved sons!” 5

The king’s sorrow was overpowering him, and he quickly
508 NAPOLEON AND QUEEN LOUISA.

turned and left the room. Heim approached the princes and
begged them in a low voice to withdraw, because the queen
was unable to bear so much excitement. They rose from their
knees and kissed their mother’s hands. Louisa was so faint
that she could greet her children only with a smile, and was
unable to bear their presence longer. But her eyes followed
them steadfastly until they had withdrawn.

She lay long silent and motionless, and then whispered to
her sister, the Princess of Solms: “ The king acted as though
he wished to take leave of me. ‘Tell him not to do so, else I
shall die immediately. But where is he? Where is my hus-
band? Oh, why is he not with me?”

Frederick William stood in a corner of the anteroom, his
head leaning against the wall, his hands pressed against his
breast, in order to suppress the sobs which escaped from it iu
spite of him. His eyes were tearless; his quivering lips were
murmuring: “My wife is dying! She is dying!”

“Louisa wishes to see you,” whispered the Princess of
Solms, approaching him. “But, pray be gentle; do not
manifest your grief; Louisa says that else she would die
immediately.”

“No,” said the king, sternly, “she shall not die. I will
endeavor to be calm!” And, restraining his grief, he stepped
to the queen’s bedside. “I just had a conference with the
physicians,” he said, almost smilingly. “They make me hope
for the best. Indeed, I never believed that you were in dan-
ger; I was only deeply moved because I saw you suffering so
intensely.” :

The queen looked him-full in the face, and made no reply.
The king sat down on her bed and took her right hand.
Louisa pressed his hand gently, and fixed her eyes with a
thoughtful and grave expression on his countenance. Sud-
denly a dark shadow passed over her face. “It is coming!
It is coming!” she cried in a tone of heart-rending anguish,
and started up in excruciating pain.

The king went to the door and called the physicians, who
hastened into the room, followed by the duke, the princes,
and the whole family. Madame von Berg raised the groaning
sufferer. The physicians were standing in the middle of the
room. ‘“ We cannot help her. It is the last convulsion!”

“Air! air!” cried the queen.

Frederick William bent over her with tearless eyes. The
agony she was suffering paralyzed his heart.
LOUISA’S DEATH. 509

“Lord, end my sufferings!” cried the queen, with a last
effort, and her head sank back into the arms of Madame von
Berg. Another sigh—a long, tremulous sigh. The clock

struck nine. A solemn silence reigned in the palace. The
queen was dead!

THE END.