"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 already seized
Lombard turned around and stepped respectfully aside to let the major
pass.
"In the name of the queen," he repeated, placing his hand on Lombard'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, I am unable to accompany you," he groaned, faintly, "I
cannot walk."
"My soldiers will carry you, then," said the major; making 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 immediately obeyed.
The soldiers seized Lombard, and started off with him. A large number
followed, laughing and deriding 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 to a 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 willing to furnish bedding and food
for the traitor.
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 back 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 spendthrift--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 said, "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 furnish 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 fulfilled. The
governor has ordered the proprietor of the hotel _Zum Kronprinzen_,
under pain of severe punishment, to furnish 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 soldiers 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 longer refused to give you the required 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 the governor had issued
so stringent an order, nothing remained 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."
M. 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 confused, and convinced that the major would
censure him for his conduct. The latter, however, went to meet him, and,
with a kindly smile, offered him his hand. "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 a man."
CHAPTER VII.
THE QUEEN'S FLIGHT.
Louisa 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 following 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 arrested!" exclaimed
another. "Now we need not have any fears for her, and know that she is
able to continue her journey 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.
"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 I shall safely reach my destination. 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
punishment. 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! We are able to bear up under the greatest afflictions when our
soul is free from guilt! And therefore I will meet the future
courageously and patiently, hoping that God will have mercy on us.
Henceforth there will be but one duty for me, and that is, to be a
faithful mother, and a comforter to my husband in his misfortunes. Oh,
Caroline, my heart, which was lately, as it were, frozen and dead, is
reawakening now--it is living and throbbing 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 I am 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 invigorate 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.
The 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 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 beginning 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
superintendent's house and stared at her, without saluting or thanking
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 uneasy."
She rose once more and looked again out of the coach window. The same
silence prevailed. The children were still in front of the house, with
their fingers in their mouths staring at the carriage. At a 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.
"I 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 as 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 immediately."
"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 convulsively 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 Kustrin, 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 moment, and speak to
the postilion who drove us hither."
"I 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. "I am sure your majesty will not--"
"Speak personally to the postilion? Yes, I will. He is a 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, 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."
"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
Kustrin all the time."
"If 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 Kustrin," he
replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I 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 Kustrin, 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 Kustrin--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 with beaming glances, and then 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 shall 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, indignantly. "He has committed a
great crime against his queen and against his fatherland, and ought to
be called to account."
"If 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 faithless subject we met, but he will not be the last. Let us
forget 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 footman 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?"
"If 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 already distinguish their uniforms."
"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 Kustrin."
"Tell the postilion that I shall provide for the education of his
children, if we reach Kustrin in fifteen minutes," replied the queen.
She then sank back for a 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, so as 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 decreased. 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 Cleopatra, the triumphal entry of
the modern Augustus. To live and to die honorably is my motto. I prefer
death to ignominious captivity. Tell it to my husband and my children.
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, when she heard the
words, "There is Kustrin! We are saved!"
She started up, and looked once more out of the window. Yes, she was
saved. The chasseurs were galloping off again, and close at hand was the
first gate of the fortress of Kustrin. 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 bedding, 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.
The queen had again concealed the dagger in her bosom, and looked up to
heaven with eyes full of fervent gratitude.
"I am saved!" she whispered; "I shall see again my husband 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:
"Kockeritz! 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, melancholy 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, imprinted a kiss on his lips. He did 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 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. "I 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 Berlin. The royal
couple learned at the same time that Count Schulenburg had left Berlin
with the troops without permission, and solely on his own
responsibility, and that he had forgotten in his hurry to remote the
immense quantity of arms from the arsenal. Another day dawned and
brought even more disastrous tidings. The French were reported as
approaching the fortress of Kustrin by forced marches!
A panic seized the garrison. Most of the officers and privates, 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 Kockeritz and von Zastrow, and so
thought the commander of Kustrin, 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, "even though we should be
compelled to escape beyond the sea or into the ice-fields of Siberia; we
will remain together, and so long as I am with you, adversity cannot
break my heart."
Frederick kissed her and then went to make the necessary arrangements
for their departure, to give his final orders to the commander of
Kustrin, 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 husband 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
before 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 forever. 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 comprehend and
appreciate the events now befalling us; at a future time, when your
mother will be no more among the living, 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, once 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, you would be
unworthy of the name of princes and grandsons of Frederick the Great.
But if, in spite of all efforts, 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 October he arrived in Potsdam; the royal palace
had to open its doors to him; the royal servants had to receive him as
reverentially as though he had been their sovereign!
Napoleon was now master of Prussia as well as of all Germany. But his
classic face remained as cold and calm in these days of proud triumph as
it had been in the days of adversity. 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, his grand
marshal and beckoned him to his side. "Just notice, grand marshal," he
said, in so loud a voice that it resounded through the palace, "just
notice the strange coincidence. If I remember 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
received 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. "I will occupy the same rooms
which Alexander then occupied," he said, passing on.
Duroc hastened back, to give the necessary orders. Napoleon walked down
the corridor with ringing, soldier-like footsteps, followed by his
marshals, and entered the large portrait-gallery of the Prussian
monarchs, who looked down on him with grave eyes.
The emperor paused in the middle of the hall and glanced 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
Auerstadt!"
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, disturbed their tranquillity.
Not a voice answered these arrogant 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
ancestors 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 moment, 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 surpassingly 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, 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. Is not 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 grand-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 followed Duroc into
the long suite of halls and brilliant rooms which, only a year ago, had
been newly decorated and furnished 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 believe 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."
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 a long 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. Sovereigns 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
scornfully down on me, and tell me, 'You are after all but an intruder
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 immense 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 Napoleon,
quickly. "I will be the first of the Napoleonic sovereigns." His brow
was clouded again. "But it is true," he murmured, "in order to found a
dynasty, I need a son. 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 Eugene."
"No," exclaimed the emperor, gloomily, "the son of the Viscount de
Beauharnais cannot be heir to my 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 was of my blood, and a scion of my family.[12] Poor
Josephine! if her tears and prayers could have saved the child's life, I
should never have thought of taking another wife."
[Footnote 12: 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.]
"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."
"If 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 I shall bewail the
beloved wife."
"No, sire," said Duroc, almost indignantly, "you are unjust. 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 disinterestedly?"
"Sire, I am convinced of it, and so is your majesty. The empress loves
in you her dear Bonaparte, and not the emperor. 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.
"It 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."
"Sire, all will darken again, if you suffer your sun to set."
"Ah, bah! these are nothing but fantastic dreams!" exclaimed 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 immediately. I
have time enough to wait; for as yet I do not stand on the pinnacle to
which I am 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 conqueror 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 defiance of them that I say, I will one
day have a wife--a daughter of the Cæsars--who will think it an honor to
bear a son to the modern Cæsar! 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 myself, and which I then
shall ward off no longer. But a truce to these matters! Let us go to Sans-souci. Come!" |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기