"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 information to our
ambassadors. He told them that Napoleon, before setting out from Berlin,
would issue a decree, absolutely prohibiting all commerce with England,
and ordering, 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 produce 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 forbidden 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.[28] Now," added he, in a subdued tone, "I have finished
my communication. You know the treaty of peace, and every thing
belonging to it. You will be able to form a definite opinion 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."
[Footnote 28: Thiers, "Consulat et Empire," vol. vii., p. 880.]
CHAPTER XVII.
THE SECRET COUNCIL OF STATE.
The 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."
"Well, speak," said Louisa. "What do you think of this treaty?"
"I think it is a new proof of the reckless pride of Bonaparte," said
Hardenberg. "In order to appreciate it correctly it is necessary for us
to look back into the past, and to remember how this war arose, which
the emperor asserts to have been provoked by Prussia. But the king, our
most gracious master, never desired war; on the contrary, he withstood,
for a long while, the wishes of his ministers, his court, his people,
and his army. He would have avoided the war, if Napoleon had allowed him
to form a Confederation of the North, conservative in its tendencies,
but not hostile to the Confederation of the Rhine. Deceived, menaced,
insulted, the king continued 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 supporting 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 repudiated and nullified. Every new triumph, every new
capitulation of 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 province--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
recovery 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 ambitious 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 seemingly 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 von
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 as such 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, and 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; I would have died
rather than surrender at discretion in so humiliating a manner. 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 determined 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 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 deprive the Hospodars of Moldavia and Wallachia
of the protection 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 remained unwaveringly faithful, in words as well
as in actions, to his Prussian ally. A large Russian army is already
approaching 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 perfidious 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 Prussia, consequently, would be
irretrievably lost by accepting these conditions; for she would then
have three enemies and not a single ally. Not only honor, but also
prudence commands 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 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."
"I 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 conviction: 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? Fortresses 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 inquiringly 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."
"I 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
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 present. 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 dismissed 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 whispered, "direct his
resolutions, and cause him to choose what is right! Oh, give me strength
to bear my misfortunes 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 fervent voice: "_Wer nur den lieben Gott lasst walten,
und hoffet auf ihn 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.
"Louisa," 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 ratification 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 present 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
beloved 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 consecrated, 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 shall try to
carry on the war. But let us not yield to illusions; 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. "I am
prepared for every thing, provided I may stay with you," she said,
affectionately. "Let the worst befall 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 accompany 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 Napoleon, 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 informing 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 resignation, 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.
"I 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?"
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 advise 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 recommend 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 Kockeritz 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
determination, and declined a second time, proposing to the king to
appoint in his place, as minister of foreign affairs, Count von
Hardenberg, that experienced and skillful statesman.
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 Kockeritz. "I will speak to him myself."
General von Kockeritz hastened away, and an hour afterward 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 arrival, and passed him repeatedly without greeting or even
looking at him. The minister, who at first had stood respectfully 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 another, 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 insist on knowing your reasons. I 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. I 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 thoughts from your majesty.
In compliance with your request, 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?" inquired the king, quickly.
"In 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."
"I must beg your majesty graciously to pardon my frankness, in case my
words should not meet with your approval or should appear too bold and
rash."
"I 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 believe 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 exercising 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 indispensable for the best
interests of the people. Your majesty's ministers have long since
recognized and felt the disastrous influence of this government which is
watching with the utmost 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 illusion 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 directing nothing--this power can foil the
plans of the ministers at any time, reverse their measures, and
counteract their advice."
"I know very well," said the king, angrily, "that, like Hardenberg, you
are constantly on bad terms with Kockeritz, 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 reestablish 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. But if your majesty should gather your
ministers around you as a 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 danger in order to deliver themselves from the yoke of the oppressor,
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 opinions and convictions. I lay them before your
majesty with the sincerity and earnestness which the threatening state
of affairs renders it incumbent on me to manifest. My determination 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 remain, 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 propose?" he asked after a
pause. "Who is to belong to it? What is to be its object?"
"Its 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 admitted 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 govern 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 ministers," said the king,
with seeming calmness, "would you then be inclined to accept the
position I have offered you, and become minister of foreign affairs?"
"Sire," said Stein, firmly, "it would not be enough for your majesty to
appoint new ministers, and hold daily consultations with them, but you
would have also to dismiss, formally and forever, the gentlemen who have
hitherto monopolized 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."
"Enough," exclaimed the king, rising hastily, and pacing the room. "I
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 prejudiced against you. It is true, I knew you
were a thoughtful, 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 constantly 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
promptings 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 attacking, and are bent upon overthrowing. I yielded! I
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 embarrassing 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!"
The king, walking up and down, uttered these words with increasing
excitement, and in 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 prejudices against you were
just, and that you ought to be considered 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 majesty, I--"
"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 unreservedly; but as you are always boasting of being
a truthful man, I hare 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 repress. "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 disrespectful,
but that I set so high a value on your royal words that they are
immediately engraved upon my memory," said Baron von Stein, smiling.
"But, inasmuch as I am also of your majesty's opinion that such
officials as you have described me to be are most injurious to the
interests of the monarchy, I must request your majesty to accept my
declination, and I hope it will be granted immediately."
"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 reliable man, I am sure you only did me justice.
Fealty does not change, however, and he who has once been found reliable
will be so 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 promptings 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 faithful 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 compromise 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 head and heart than is uttered by his lips,
Beyme's eloquence and quick perception fill him with respect; and
because he is so 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 Prussia, 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 Kustrin; the messenger 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."
"I 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 circumstances 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.
It 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, 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 industriously occupied with it,
while the young servant-girl, seated on a low cane chair near the
hearth, her hands clasped on her lap, had fallen asleep.
"Martha," exclaimed the old woman, in an angry voice, "--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 to my bedchamber and sleep!"
"No, you must stay here," said Katharine, quickly; "I do not want to be
alone in such a night. 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 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
a sigh. "The French destroyed his palace, 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 windows. 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. "I 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!"
"Fiddlesticks! 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 welcome!"
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. Behind 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 inward terror; "I must see who you are." |
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