“Think you so?” asked Waldow, shrugging his shoulders. “It seems to me more likely that the steward has imitated the rats, who always forsake a sinking ship, and has gone off. The palace has been ransacked and von Wallenrodt was nowhere to be found. He has probably gone to the new Stadtholder, thinking to benefit himself by betraying you.”
“You slander my faithful servant,” said the count. “I know him better, and am confident that he will not betray me. Come, Waldow, accompany me to my father’s cabinet.
“I will now show you that you have judged my steward falsely,” he continued, when they had reached the cabinet.
“This apartment conceals a mystery, known only to my father, myself, and Wallenrodt. Now, you shall become acquainted with it, and learn at the same time that there is still good faith in the world.”
He crossed the spacious apartment to the large mirror, which, reaching down to the floor, filled up the whole space between the windows. He pressed an ornament of the frame, and the mirror flew back, having become a door, which opened and revealed a niche concealed in the wall. From this niche stepped forth the steward, with a great roll of papers in his hand.
“Most gracious sir,” he said quietly, handing the roll to the count, “here are the papers of your writing desk.”
“Thank you, my faithful Wallenrodt!” cried Adolphus Schwarzenberg, offering him his hand. “I knew that I could count upon you, and, when the writing desk was found empty, knew that you had understood my glance. But now, before we advise as to what is further to be done, let me examine these papers, for I do not exactly know whether they contain all that I would wish to conceal from Burgsdorf and my other enemies. Step into that window recess, friends, and let me look over these papers.”
The two gentlemen retired into the deep window niche, and conversed together in whispers, while Count Adolphus rummaged over the papers with quick and nervous fingers. Ever quicker, ever more nervous became the movements of his hand, ever darker grew his brow, ever more anxious his countenance. As he laid aside the last sheet a sudden pallor overspread his face, and for a moment he leaned back in the fauteuil, quite faint and exhausted.
“Dearest sir!” cried the steward, hurrying toward him, “are not the papers all in order?”
“It is just as I feared,” said the count, sighing. “My whole correspondence with my father, during my last sojourn at Regensburg, besides copies of my letters to the Emperor and Marwitz, were in the drawer of my father’s writing table, and have been carried off with the rest.”
“And did these letters compromise you, count?” asked Herr von Waldow, drawing nearer to him.
“With these letters in his hand, President von Goetze, the chairman of the committee of investigation, can arraign me as guilty of high treason and condemn me to death.”
A long pause ensued. With gloomy countenances all three cast their eyes upon the ground. Then the steward lifted up his head, with an expression of firm resolve.
“You must flee, gracious sir,” he cried earnestly.
“Flee?” repeated the count, shrugging his shoulders. “Ah, you have not heard of what further happened after you withdrew to your place of concealment!”
“The whole palace is surrounded by soldiers,” completed Herr von Waldow. “At each door stand two sentinels, and even at the park gate two guards are stationed.”
“You see plainly, Wallenrodt, that flight is impossible,” said the count.
The steward smiled. “Through doors and windows you can not escape, in truth. There is a third way, however.”
“What sort of way, Wallenrodt?”
“The secret passage, count.”
“I know of no secret passage.”
“But I do, count. Your late revered father had this secret passage built at the time the cities revolted and the Swedes were threatening Berlin. He had fifty workmen brought from Vienna, who were kept concealed in the palace, and worked every night upon this subterranean passage, and as soon as it was completed he had the men sent back to Austria. It is not to be supposed that you should know anything of this, count, for it happened at least fifteen years ago, when you were but a lad. While the work lasted the count resided at Spandow, taking all his household with him, that no one might know anything about the secret passage. Only the old castellan and I remained behind, to overlook the work. We were the only two besides the Stadtholder who knew the secret. You must flee through the subterranean passage, gracious sir.”
“Whither does the secret passage lead?” asked the count.
“Winding along underground, it has its outlet in the little pavilion in the center of the park. The key to the outer door hangs within the passage, as does also the key to the garden gate. All is in good order, for, fearing that the count’s affairs might take a bad turn, I examined the passage through its whole extent until I arrived at the pavilion. Your grace can escape in that way unperceived.”
“And you, my faithful friends, will accompany me,” said the count, extending his hands to the two gentlemen. “You were right just now, Waldow, when you said we should conquer or die. It seems now as if we must be ruined. Our enemies have gone to work with more zeal and determination than ourselves. While we pondered, they acted; while we tarried, they strode energetically forward. The young Elector has made good use of his time, and like a spider has caught us in the net with which he had lightly and secretly encircled us. All my foes, all the sworn adversaries of my father, has he called out to battle against us. Envy, hatred, malice, are the regiments which the young lord musters into the field, and by means of these he has for the moment conquered us. But only for the moment. A day of reckoning will come to the haughty young sir. He thinks himself free and independent, but he shall learn that there is one higher than he to whom he must bow, to whom he owes obedience. Yes, the Emperor Ferdinand will avenge me upon this arrogant young man. He will cause his proud neck to bend, and force his vassal to give me satisfaction, and to reinstate me in all my offices and dignities, which he would unjustly withhold from me. I shall go to the Emperor at Vienna, and–Ha, what a thought!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself. Rushing across to his writing table, whose empty drawers were stretched wide open, he tore one out and thrust his arm into the vacant space.
“The secret compartment,” he cried triumphantly. “Old Burgsdorf’s keen scent failed him this time. Here it is, safe and inviolate. Here!”
When he drew forth his hand it contained a small box, which he opened by touching a spring. The lid flew open; the box contained nothing but a dainty, perfumed note. Still the count esteemed it a precious possession. He took the paper and waved it exultingly above his head.
“This is my salvation!” he cried. “With this paper in my hand I am armed against all the villainy and malice of the Elector. Oh, my dear, noble father, I must thank you for this security, thank you that I shall come forth victor from this contest with my enemy. It was you who pointed out to me the significance of this paper, who gave me the wise counsel to preserve it for future use. Thank you, oh, my father! At this hour this paper is the most precious inheritance which you have left me. I shall use it in accordance with your views, and as actuated by your spirit.
“Now, my friends,” he continued, “now am I ready for flight. Let us consider what is to be done.”
“Gracious sir, I have already considered,” replied Wallenrodt warmly, “and I hope you will approve my plan. You can not make use of the subterranean passage by day, for, as I said before, it has its outlet in the center of the park, and if you pass through the lower garden gate in safety, you have still to go through the suburbs of Cologne. Every one would recognize you, and who knows whether Colonel von Burgsdorf may not have placed sentinels there too? You must, therefore, make your escape by night. I, on the contrary, dressed as a simple burgher, will take advantage of the subterranean passage now, and, watching my opportunity, when the street is quiet will leave the park and go away.”
“Where are you going, Wallenrodt?”
“To Spandow, gracious sir, to Colonel von Rochow. I want to inform him of the course events have taken–to tell him that you are forced to leave Berlin. When nightfall comes your grace will be pleased to go through the subterranean passage in company with Herr von Waldow, emerge into the park, and then proceed up the street. Without especial haste, for any appearance of haste might excite remark, you will go to the Willow-bank Gate. Outside I will await you with two saddled horses. These you will mount, and ride at full gallop to Spandow, where Herr von Rochow will be ready to receive your grace. From that place the count can depart when so disposed.”
“Your plan is good and feasible,” said the count. “I accept it. Hasten, therefore, good friend, hasten to Colonel von Rochow with tidings of what has befallen us here. Tell him that the time for hesitancy and delay has passed, that the hour of action has come. He has hitherto manfully refused to give in his oath to the Elector, and therefore the fortress of Spandow belongs to the Emperor, the sworn lord of its commandant, rather than to the Elector of Brandenburg. The walls of the Imperial fort will afford us protection and security, and from that point we can begin our contest with the enemy, who has so treacherously attacked us. Be off, my Wallenrodt, be off, and may we meet to-night in freedom and joy!”
“Only forget not to arm yourself, gracious sir, and take care that no one watches and pursues you.”
“I shall precede the count with two loaded pistols,” cried Herr von Waldow. “I will shoot down whoever shall dare to oppose him, and open a free path for him to the Willow-bank Gate, where you will be waiting for us, Wallenrodt.”
“We will both go armed and defend ourselves bravely,” said Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg. “We would rather die than fall into the hands of our enemies. Go now, Wallenrodt, for you have verily a long way before you. The road to Spandow is long.”
“In three hours I shall be there, honored sir. We shall then have ample time to make our preparations for defense, and meet you here at twilight with horses. Come now, gentlemen, that I may show you the approach to the subterranean passage. It is in the little corridor next your late father’s cabinet.”
VIII.–THE FLIGHT.
How dreary and desolate was the day which Count Adolphus now passed in the palace–how the hours lengthened into days, and the minutes into hours! How glad were they when twilight at last drew near, what sighs of relief they breathed when night at last set in!
A dark, silent night. The sky was obscured by clouds, not a star was to be seen. A night well fitted for enveloping fugitives in her friendly mantle, and concealing them beneath her gloomy shades. Away now, away! Night is here! Freedom beckons! The spacious palace was to-day nothing but a close, oppressive prison. Nothing did Count Adolphus hear but the walking to and fro of the sentinels and the corporal’s call to relieve guard. Nothing did he see, when he went to the window, but soldiers slowly pacing their round before the park railing.
Away from this prison, whose splendor and luxury seemed like sheer mockery, away from this house teeming with bitter memories of past grandeur and glory!
Night was here, the night of deliverance. Away, away!
They wrapped their cloaks about them, drew their hats low over their foreheads, and entered the subterranean passage. Waldow lead the way, a burning taper in one hand, a pistol in the other. Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg followed him, a pistol in either hand, firmly determined to shoot down whoever might dare to oppose his progress.
The passage was traversed, and safely the two emerged into the open air in the park pavilion. Now forward quickly, down the dark alley to the lower garden gate. The key was in his pocket, there was nothing to obstruct their flight.
One moment they paused within the half-opened gateway and listened. Nothing moved in the street without. All life seemed already extinct, all the inhabitants of the wretched houses had retired to rest. Not a light glimmered through the windows. All was hushed and still. They pushed open the gate and stepped out upon the street. They looked up and down; nowhere did they see a sign of movement, nowhere a human form, nor anywhere hear a rustling sound. Forward now, forward up the street, around the corner of the park, across the cathedral square.
The night was quite dark, and the two fugitives looked ever ahead, not once behind them. They did not see that another shadow followed their black shadows, nor that a second shadow glided across the cathedral square to the Electoral castle.
To that castle, too, were Count Schwarzenberg’s eyes directed. There it loomed up, veiled in mystery and gloom, its dim outlines barely distinguishable from the mass of overhanging clouds in the background. In the lower story, where was situated the guardroom, burned a bright light, shining like a clear, yellow star, and irradiating the darkness of the night.
Count Adolphus saw it, and also saw the light suddenly eclipsed by a shadow; then flame forth again. He saw the shadow, but did not suspect that it bore any relationship to his person or movements. He only continued to look toward the castle, and to think of the past, taking farewell of his memories, farewell of the dreams of his youth! He thought of the insult put upon him that dreadful night when he had been mocked and deceived by her whom he loved, and he vowed vengeance for the tortures endured by him that night!
“Forward, Waldow, forward!” He took his friend’s arm, and they pressed on. The shadow behind them advanced when they advanced and stopped when they stood still. Through the pleasure garden the pair proceeded with hurried steps, through the gate at the castle moat they entered upon the Willow-bank suburb, then down the deserted little streets of wretched huts. They reached the great Willow-bank meadow without the walls, passing through a gate not far from the bridge over the Spree.
“Wallenrodt, are you here?” whispered Schwarzenberg.
“Yes, count, I am here.”
The tramp of horse’s hoofs, the voices of men speaking in whispers.
“Colonel von Rochow expects your grace. The whole fortress is at your service. He will defend you to the last man, and would rather blow the whole fortress into the air than surrender you to the enemy.”
“Yes, better be blown up by gunpowder, than fall into an enemy’s hands!” cries the count, vaulting with glad heart into the saddle.
“Are you ready, my friends?”
“Yes, we are ready.”
The count gave the word of command, “Forward!” and grasped tighter his horse’s reins.
“Halt! halt!” called a loud voice, and the shadow which had crept behind them now changed into the form of a tall and powerful man, who sprang through the gate and seized the count’s horse by the bridle.
“Back!” shouted Adolphus Schwarzenberg furiously.
“Halt! halt!” cried the other. “You shall not escape. In the name of Colonel von Burgsdorf I arrest you, Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg.”
“Who are you, poor man, who are you who dares to oppose me?”
“I am the police master Brandt. I arrest you in the name of the Stadtholder in the Mark!”
“Wretched traitor! You swore fidelity to my father, and have now become the tool of his enemies. Hands off! It will cost you your life! Back!”
“No, I will not leave you, I arrest you. You must stay here!”
“Let us make an end of this, count,” shouted von Waldow “The night is so pitch-dark that we can not distinguish friend from foe, else I would have shot him long ago.”
“For the last time, hands off my horse, or I shall shoot you.”
“For the last time. Yield peaceably, or I shall shoot you. Living or dead I must keep you, I have–“
A flash, the report of a pistol, a death groan interrupted the police master’s words. The three horsemen bounded forward into the night. Forward at breakneck speed, but for the sand, that dreadful sand. This is the Rehberg, they know it by the sand in which the horses sink, from which they extricate themselves only to sink again. Yet what matters it if they do make rather slow progress? They will surely reach Spandow before daybreak, and Colonel von Burgsdorf will be cheated out of his precious prisoners.
What is that? What strange sound does the night wind bear to the three riders? Simultaneously all three turn in their saddles and listen.
They hear it quite plainly. It is the noise made by trotting horses. It comes on–it comes nearer.
“Wallenrodt, Waldow! We are pursued!”
“Yes, count, but we have the Rehberg almost behind us, and they must go through it. We have a good start. They will not overtake us.”
“Forward, my friends, forward!”
They put spurs to their horses, they press their knees into their flanks, and the animals struggle faster through the sand. In spite of every hindrance they have now reached firmer ground and bound bravely forward. But the noise behind them has not ceased, not even become more remote. They must have good steeds, those pursuers, for they seem to come nearer and nearer.
“Friends, better die than fall into the hands of the enemy!” shouts the count. “I tell you the very moment Burgsdorf touches me I shall shoot myself. Greet my friends for me. Bid them farewell forever!”
“You will not shoot yourself, count, for the enemy will not overtake us. Forward! Put spur to your horses. Heigh! Huzza! Forward!”
They rush through the darkness!
Clouds dark and threatening course swiftly through the sky, horsemen dark and threatening course swiftly over the earth.
“Waldow! they come nearer! But we have still the start of them!”
“Only see, count! That dark mass there against the sky. That is our goal. Just one quarter of an hour and we shall be safe in Spandow.”
“One quarter of an hour! An eternity! Heigh! Huzza! On! on!”
“Halt!” is heard behind them. “Halt! in the name of the Elector, in the name of the law! Halt! halt!”
“That is Burgsdorf’s voice!” cries Count Schwarzenberg, and spurs his horse with such violence that it rears and then shoots forward, swift as an arrow from a bow. But the pursuers, too, dash forward, as if borne upon the wings of the wind, and the distance between them constantly grows less. Already they hear the horses pant; ever clearer, ever more distinct become the passionate outcries of Colonel Burgsdorf.
He swears, he threatens, he rages! He orders the fugitives to halt, and swears to shoot them if they do not.
What care they for threats or orders? Forward! forward! Behind them sounds a shot–a second, then a third! The balls whistle past their ears, and they laugh aloud, to prove to the enemy that they are still alive.
Before them flash lights, like golden stars, like bonfires of rejoicing.
“Count, those are the lights of Spandow! Just see those torches there! The commandant is waiting for you at the entrance to the fort with his torchbearers.”
“On! on!” shout the three, and they race onward at lightning speed. And at lightning speed the pursuers follow. Nearer they come, ever nearer.
“I have them! I have caught them!” exults Burgsdorf, springing forward and stretching out his hands toward the fugitives, for it seems to him as if he can indeed lay his hand upon them. “Halt! halt! in the name of the Elector!”
“Forward! forward! What care we for the Elector? What care we for Burgsdorf? Forward!”
The lights increase in size and brilliancy. Now they distinguish torches and the figures of men.
“Are you there, count?” calls down Colonel von Rochow from the wall.
“It is I, colonel!”
The gate is open, they gallop in!
Over the wooden bridge gallop the pursuers after them. Now they are at the gate. But the gate slams to with thundering sound. The pursuers are left without.
“Undo the bolts, Colonel von Rochow! I command you, undo the bolts!”
“Who is it that dares to command me?” calls down Colonel von Rochow from the fortification walls.
“I command you! I, the commandant in chief of all the fortresses in the Mark!”
“I know no commandant in chief, and trouble myself about no such person. I am commandant of Spandow, and have sworn to serve the Emperor, and him alone.”
“Colonel von Rochow, in the name of the Elector and in the name of the Stadtholder in the Mark, I command you for the last time to open the gate!”
“The Elector is not my master to command me, and as to the Stadtholder in the Mark, here he is at my side. Only Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg do I recognize as such, and he forbids my opening the gate. Go back quietly to Berlin, colonel, for the night is cold, and your ride will warm you.”
“And I must pocket this insult,” muttered old Burgsdorf, gnashing his teeth. “I can do nothing but turn around and go back with shame!” Almost tearfully he gave his men the order to face about and return to Berlin.
In the castle within, Count John Adolphus cordially offered his hand to Commandant von Rochow.
“Colonel, you have saved my life by furnishing me a refuge. I would have shot myself if Burgsdorf had overtaken me. I shall commend you to the Emperor’s Majesty for this friendly service.”
IX.–THE LETTER.
“Well, here you are at last,” exclaimed Elector Frederick William, holding out his hand to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun. “You have at last returned from your difficult journey.”
“Yes, gracious sir, you may well call it a difficult journey. Four long months of endless debate, wrangling, and dispute with those arrogant Swedish lords, who were ever ready to take but never to give. Such was my experience day by day for four long months.”
“Yes, you are right,” said the Elector thoughtfully. “Four months have indeed elapsed since you set out upon your journey and I undertook the duties of ruler. My God! it seems to me as if many years had rolled by since then, and as if I had become an old, old man! I do not believe I have laughed once during these four months, or enjoyed one quarter of an hour of pleasure or relaxation. Discord and discussion everywhere with Emperor and empire, with the States, with Poland, Juliers and Cleves. They are all my foes, and not one single hand is held out to me in friendship. I have felt at times right lonely, Leuchtmar, and sorely sighed for you. It could not be, though, and I have learned already to submit to necessity. Necessity alone is the despotic mistress of all princes, and we nothing but her humble vassals. It is a humiliating thought, but nevertheless true. I must learn to endure mortifications, and to consider them but the price which I pay for my future.”
“It grieves me to perceive that your highness is somewhat downcast and discouraged,” sighed Leuchtmar, looking sadly at the Elector’s pale, sober countenance, upon which the last four months had indeed left the imprint of years.
“Downcast? Yes,” cried Frederick William; “for my affairs progress but slowly, and to gain anything I am compelled on all sides to make unpleasant concessions and to submit to irksome restraints. But discouraged–no, Leuchtmar, I am not discouraged, and by God’s help never shall be! I know my purpose, which I shall pursue with immovable steadfastness, and, although the results of these first four months of government are barely discernible, I comfort myself that in as many years I shall have accomplished much. It is strange, Leuchtmar, that you have returned to-day, the very day which brings home my Polish ambassador with the tidings that the King of Poland is ready solemnly to invest me with the dukedom of Prussia, thanks to our money and our fair speeches. This very day I also expect decisive news from Colonel von Burgsdorf at Berlin. On the self-same day I sent you forth. You were like doves sent from a storm-tossed ark to seek for land. Almost at the same time you return to the ark, but I fear that none of you brings with him an olive branch.”
“Yet, most noble sir, I do bring you a small olive leaf,” replied Leuchtmar, with a gentle smile. “I come to announce to your grace that I have at last succeeded, after a four months’ contest, in wringing from the Swedish lords a few concessions, and concluding an armistice, which is to be binding for two years.”
“A two years’ cessation of hostilities is equivalent to ten years of refreshment, of reinvigoration!” cried the Elector with radiant looks. “Tell me, Leuchtmar, what concessions did these hard-headed Swedes make at the last moment?”
“Your highness, they have pledged themselves not to allow their soldiery to enter the Mark, unless unavoidably compelled to march through on their way elsewhere, and that then they shall be quartered and fed only under the direction of an Electoral commissary; and that, moreover, separate agreements shall be entered into with regard to the maintenance of the Swedish garrisons of forts in Pomerania and the Mark.” [49]
“Yes,” murmured the Elector, with dejected mien, “so low are we reduced that if they even acknowledge our natural rights, it strikes us in the light of a concession, a grant, and we must esteem ourselves happy in having obtained it! Ah! Leuchtmar, when will the time come when I can take my revenge for these humiliations, the time when they will bow to _me_, and when it will be for _me_ to concede and grant favors? Hush, ambitious heart, be soft and still! Go on, tell me what further settlements you concluded with the Swedes.”
“Gracious sir, I have no other concessions to mention, except that something has been done for the protection of our mutual traffic by sea and land. But that is as much to the advantage of the Swedes as of ourselves. The demands of the Swedes are truly far greater than their concessions!”
“What do they demand?”
“They demand in advance that they be left in undisturbed possession of the fortresses they are now masters of.”
“I have not the power to take them by force of arms!” cried the Elector, shrugging his shoulders. “Let them keep what I can not force from them! What else?”
“They demand, besides, that the Werben fortress be delivered up to them.”
“I will not deliver it up to them!” cried the Elector; “but I will have it destroyed, that it be not seized by the Imperialists. What else?”
“The Swedes further desire that the Kuestrin Pass be closed to imperial troops.”
“To that I willingly consent, for it is in accordance with my own interests,” said Frederick William, smiling. “By Kuestrin is the road to Stettin, and it is important for us, too, that this way be closed to the Imperialists. Methinks a time will come when it shall be closed to the Swedes as well, and once closed, I shall not open it again. What else?”
“The Swedes crave the privilege of having a resident at Kuestrin, who shall attend to carrying out this article.”
“That I shall never consent to!” cried the Elector passionately. “No, that can not be, for such a permission would involve degradation, and the concessions which I am willing to make for the welfare of my torn and bleeding land need not go to the extent of degradation. I must have an armistice, that my subjects may recover from the effects of these bloody, trying times, and gather strength for renewed existence. I must have an armistice, in order to gain time for the re-establishment of law and order. But there need be no armistice tending to dishonor me, and place me under Swedish surveillance in the midst of my own land. No, no Swedish spy, no resident at Kuestrin–that is the condition of my agreeing to the armistice. All else I acquiesce in.”
“And I hope to prevail upon the Swedish lords to recede from this claim yet,” said Leuchtmar. “Rest is very essential to them also just at this time, for they have enough to do to contend with the Imperialists, and the Danes are threatening them with war. They will not desire to be embroiled with Brandenburg at the same time. I will guarantee the conclusion of the armistice, and, if it meets your highness’s approbation, will travel again to Sweden to effect this alteration and then bring the articles to your highness for your signature.”
“So be it, dear Leuchtmar. Return to Stockholm. Strike the iron while it is hot. Much I hope from this armistice. It will make the lords of Warsaw, Regensburg, and Vienna more pliant and yielding, for it will show them that the Elector of Brandenburg is no longer drifting helplessly about in a leaky boat, but that he has succeeded at least in stopping one hole and keeping himself above water! And now, friend Leuchtmar, how fared you in your secret mission? Did you hand my letter to the young Queen?”
“Yes, your highness; I even had the opportunity of delivering it to her in a private audience without witnesses.”
“And did she accept it in a kind and friendly manner?”
“Gracious sir,” replied Leuchtmar, smiling, “a queen of fourteen years of age is very sensitive with regard to her dignity, and takes it very ill if she is not treated with due reverence and extreme devotion.”
“Was my missive wanting in these respects?” asked Frederick William.
“I beg your highness’s pardon, but the young Queen seemed to be rather of this opinion. She was visibly delighted when I handed her your letter, and especially delighted that she received it secretly, without witnesses, and not in the presence of Chancellor Oxenstiern, whose guardianship seems to be very irksome and unpleasant to her. The young Queen blushed, sir, when she took your letter, and I must confess that at this moment she looked pretty and graceful enough to be the wife of my gracious master. But her countenance soon became clouded, as she read your communication, whose contents seemed to afford her little satisfaction.”
“But she answered my letter, did she not, and you bring me her reply?”
“Oh, yes, most gracious sir, she answered it, and I have with me Queen Christina’s reply. But I must beforehand make your grace an apology for this answer.”
“Well, let me see it, Leuchtmar. Give me the answer.”
Leuchtmar drew a folded paper from his pocket, and handed it to the Elector, who unfolded it. A number of torn bits of paper fell to the floor.
“What is that, Leuchtmar?” asked the Elector in amazement.
“Your highness,” replied Leuchtmar, “that is Queen Christina’s answer.”
The Elector picked up a few of the larger scraps of paper, and examined them attentively. “It seems to me, Leuchtmar,” he said, “that I recognize specimens of my own penmanship. Yes, yes, it is my writing!”
“Yes, indeed, your highness, it is your own writing. It is your letter to Queen Christina of Sweden.”
“She sends it back to me torn?”
“She tore it with her own exalted hands, trampled it under her royal feet, and literally wept for rage.”
“My heavens! what have I done to enrage her little Majesty so?”
“In the first place, noble sir, you wrote to the Queen in German instead of Latin, and she found that very wanting in respect, and thought you might have given yourself the trouble to write to her in the language most agreeable to her.[50] In the second place, you addressed the young Queen as ‘Your highness,’ when she is entitled to be called ‘Most serene highness.’ She is certain of that, for Oxenstiern had told her that he gained the title for her as an especial prerogative for her from your father and the house of Brandenburg. And in the third place, the Queen was annoyed that your writing was so cold and serious, and contained so few love words. ‘If the Elector had nothing more to say to me than is contained in this letter,’ cried the Queen, ‘he need not have troubled himself to send it privately. This is a political document, which might have been handed by his envoy to the assembled States, and read aloud in public. But, if I do run the risk of receiving and reading a letter secretly, contrary to the high chancellor’s wishes, let it at least be a love letter. I merely gave you audience because I was curious to get a love letter at last, and to know how such feelings are expressed. This is no love letter, though, and to such a note I have no other answer than this.’ And then the Queen tore the letter into little bits and scattered them on the floor. I gathered up the pieces, in which she aided me assiduously, lest Chancellor Oxenstiern, whom she momentarily expected, might notice something peculiar, and suspect that she had received a secret missive. I asked her most serene highness if I should bring your grace these torn bits of paper as her answer. She replied with a bewitching smile that I must do so. Her cousin Frederick William might thereby learn to write her a better letter, when she would give him a better answer. This, gracious sir, is the story of the letter you intrusted to me for Queen Christina of Sweden.”
The Elector laughed aloud. “A charming story!” he cried, “for which I must thank my young relative, for she has lighted my somber existence by a ray of sunshine. It pleases me that my cousin is so forward, and thereby candid. The little maid of fourteen sighs for a love letter, and hopes that her cousin Frederick William, who sues for her hand, will write her one, and is so innocent as to suppose that he woos her because he loves her. Poor child, disappointed in her curiosity and her wish to know herself beloved! Yes, yes, it is the perpetual longing of the young heart to be loved, and when the first love letter is received, the foolish young creature fancies itself the happiest being upon earth, and feels itself transported into the blessedness of paradise. Alas! they know not that all this is only an illusion, a sweet morning dream from which they will speedily be roused by rude, ungentle hands. Leuchtmar, I can not gratify the little Queen of Sweden in her wish; I can write her no love letter, for I would be guilty of deceiving this young heart. No, I can utter no tender protestations, while my heart is still bleeding from inflicted wounds. But a cordial, friendly letter I will write to my dear cousin. I will write to her in faultless Latin, and couch it in most reverential terms. Who knows, perhaps I may yet win her heart, and she heal mine! I will write the letter, and you shall secretly transmit it to Queen Christina. I will so express it that it shall not seem to her fitted to be read before the assembled States, even though it be no love letter. Go now, Leuchtmar, and rest after the fatigues of your journey. But to-morrow evening, when business is ended, come to me in my cabinet, and let us read a couple of Horace’s odes for my strength and encouragement, as we used to do when I was still a free young man and not the Elector, the slave of position.”
He offered the baron his hand, and affectionately conducted him to the door himself. Just at this moment that door was quickly opened, and a page appeared.
“Your Electoral Highness,” was his announcement, “the imperial envoy, Count Martinitz, craves an audience for himself, a special messenger from the Emperor, and his attendant.”
“Admit his Majesty’s envoys,” replied Frederick William, as he again crossed the room and seated himself in the armchair before his writing table.
X.–A SECRET AUDIENCE.
The three persons announced entered the Electoral cabinet. First came Count Martinitz with important air, dressed in the richly embroidered costume of a Spanish courtier, followed by an old man of venerable aspect and the bearing of a scholar, clad in a suit of black velvet, and by a young lord in a magnificent court dress. The Elector sprang up on beholding the latter, and a flush of indignation suffused his countenance.
“Count Martinitz,” he asked hastily, “whom do you bring to me?”
“Your highness,” replied. Martinitz, with firm, composed voice–“your highness, I beg to be allowed to present these two lords to you. This is Dr. Gebhard, a very learned and wise man, the Emperor Ferdinand’s cabinet and privy counselor, sent by his Majesty to your highness, charged with a confidential and secret errand. Permit me now to present to your highness, this other gentleman.”
“I know him!” cried the Elector, with flashing eyes and angry mien. “I am only too well acquainted with Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg and all the plots and intrigues concocted by him in Berlin, and his efforts to lead my officers into insubordination and revolt. But when I ordered investigations to be made into these matters, and the count should have justified his actions, the boastful lord showed himself to be but a cowardly deserter!”
“Your highness!” exclaimed the count coming forward with long strides, and touching the hilt of the dress-sword hanging at his side–“your highness, I have come to justify myself against the calumnies of my enemies. Will you be pleased to hear me patiently, and not impugn my honor as a gentleman and a count of the empire before you have listened to my justification?”
“You would justify yourself! Do you dare to attempt this?” asked the Elector indignantly. “Look, here on my table lies the paper which the States of the Mark have addressed to me, and in which they accuse you. The Emperor’s Majesty has sent me a scholar, who can certainly read it aright, if I perchance have made some mistake. Read, if you please, Dr. Gebhard, read these lines, and hear what the States write to me!”
He handed the imperial legate the document and pointed out with his finger the passage in point.
Dr. Gebhard read: “Count John Adolphus Schwarzenberg, however, eluded the investigation by flight in the night-time, and despite a guard set. In an unusual way and in utter contempt of your highness’s received orders, he secretly escaped.”[51]
“Now,” cried the Elector passionately, “would you maintain, that my States have reported to me what is not true?”
“It is true,” said Count Schwarzenberg. “I saw myself forced to escape unjust pursuit, and–“
“Forced by your bad conscience, sir,” interrupted the Elector impatiently. “You left it for others to draw out of the fire the chestnuts which you had thrown in, and when you found out that I was not the timid, powerless Prince you supposed me to be, who could be frightened at a contest with you and your faction and awed by your glory and dignity; when you saw that I would bring you to justice, you evaded the course of law and fled precipitately from the judges.”
“Because I knew that these judges were my enemies, and that he who was at their head, President von Goetze, had been my father’s implacable foe of old.”
“That is to say, he had been of old an honest, true Brandenburger, not merely having proved himself an incorruptible man, but never having condescended to bribe others for the sake of obtaining honor, position, or wealth for himself.”
“Your highness,” called out the count hastily, “would you defame my father even in his grave?”
“Have I pronounced your father’s name?” asked the Elector, with dignity.
“Is it not rather you who asperse your late father’s fame by referring to him what I said with regard to bribery?”
The count cast down his eyes and was silent. Frederick William now turned by a slow movement of the head to Count Martinitz.
“Sir Count,” he said gravely and ceremoniously, “I interrupted you in your presentation. Continue it, and introduce this gentleman to me. I must know in what capacity he dares return to my dominions and intrude upon my presence.”
“Your Electoral Highness, I have the honor of presenting to you the count of the empire, Adolphus John von Schwarzenberg, imperial privy counselor and chamberlain, also _attache_ and associate of the Emperor’s ambassador extraordinary, furnished with a safe conduct signed by the Emperor himself.”
“I well knew,” cried the Elector, “that this gentleman had made sure of his own safety before venturing near me. That was the reason of my question. As imperial officer and chamberlain he is secure against my just wrath, and his Majesty’s safe conduct a glorious wall behind which to hide himself. Let him profit by it; I shall not see him behind the wall, but instead only a piece of white paper, on which his Imperial Majesty has inscribed his name, and accordingly I shall respect this piece of paper, which otherwise I would tear in twain.”
“Your highness!” cried Count Schwarzenberg–“your highness, I–“
“Count von Martinitz,” interposed the Elector haughtily, “I empower you to say to the ambassador extraordinary of his Imperial Majesty, that I give him leave to deliver the Emperor’s message to me and to impart to me his Majesty’s desires.”
“Most respected lord and Elector,” said Dr. Gebhard with solemnity, “his Majesty the Emperor Ferdinand sends me to your highness in the assured hope that in your justice and exalted wisdom your grace will be superior to all personal enmities, and not visit upon the son faults, perhaps unintentional, committed against you by the father.”
“Of what father and son do you speak, sir?” asked the Elector.
“Of the father who for twenty years was the honored counselor and friend of Elector George William, who, faithful even beyond the tomb, forsook the earth no longer tenanted by his lord and Elector. Of the son who has committed no crime except that of being his father’s heir, and not allowing his patrimony to be diminished and torn from him. For this son, in the Emperor’s name, I would plead with your Electoral Highness for grace and favor, beseeching you not to deprive him of his rights, but to restore to him what belongs to him.”
“Tell me, Dr. Gebhard,” asked the Elector, “what those rights are of which I have deprived him, according to his Majesty’s opinion, and what things I have taken from him which belong to him?”
“Already in his father’s lifetime Count John Adolphus Schwarzenberg was elected his coadjutor in the Order of St. John, therefore on his father’s demise he had a right to the vacant dignity of grand master, and yet this has not been accorded him by your highness. As his father’s heir, Count John Adolphus received all his father’s property, and entered into possession of it. Yet this your highness did not allow him uncontested, and withheld what was his. Nay, your highness even instituted a criminal process against the young count, his father’s heir. This last proceeding is especially distasteful and annoying to his Majesty; the Emperor wishes above all things that your highness withdraw this criminal suit, referring it to the imperial court at Vienna, and that you again receive Count John into favor.” [52]
“Truly his Imperial Majesty asks and requires a great deal of me,” cried Frederick William, with flashing eyes and cheeks flushed with anger. “More than a prince dare give, who has to act not merely in subjection and dependence, but as Sovereign of his people. It seems to me as if no one had cause to interfere in this affair of Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, for it concerns the interior interests of my realm. Within the limits of my own country I alone am lord and ruler, and only one lord there is, before whom I bow, and whom I recognize as my superior–_the law_! Law is properly supreme within the Brandenburg provinces, and shall and must reign over high and low! But my favor, sir, my favor, can only flow spontaneously from within, and can not be arbitrarily bestowed even at an Emperor’s behest. I have not withdrawn my favor from Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, for he never possessed it. Law and right alone must decide for or against him. Many of my subjects have brought accusations against him, and for these I am pledged to procure justice at the hands of the courts of justice. What was done in my lands must be also judged in my lands, else my subjects might be wounded in their sense of right; and to assign this suit to the imperial court at Vienna would be in the highest degree derogatory to the Electoral power and jurisdiction. I can not therefore gratify his Imperial Majesty in this wish.[53] As concerns his right to the place of grand master, that appointment belongs not to me, but to the members of the order. They, however, will not elect the young count, and I can not compel them to do so. Lastly, as regards the estates claimed by the heir of the Stadtholder in the Mark, his title to them is wanting, and, moreover, there are no accounts to prove that the money for which the estates were mortgaged was ever used by the Stadtholder for my father’s benefit. Besides, even if such contracts existed, they were entered into without the consent of the States, and consequently by the laws of the land were null and void. This is the reply I have to make to the imperial envoy, of which I can alter and abate nothing, however I may deplore any apparent disrespect to his Imperial Majesty’s wishes. Return to Vienna, Dr. Gebhard, return with your associate and _attache_, and repeat to the Emperor what I have said to you. You are dismissed, gentlemen.”
“Your Electoral Highness will pardon me for venturing to add one more word,” said Count Martinitz, “but I am empowered to do so by the imperial order. The Emperor Ferdinand commissioned me in his own handwriting, in case that your highness refused to accede to the demands made by Dr. Gebhard–“
“Demands?” broke in the Elector. “I did not hear Dr. Gebhard make use of any such term. Mention was made only of imperial wishes and requests. You mean that in case I do not grant Dr. Gebhard’s requests–Proceed, Count Martinitz.”
“I am in that case commissioned to desire your highness in the Emperor’s name to grant a private audience to the _attache_ of the imperial embassy, the Emperor’s privy counselor and chamberlain, Count Adolphus von Schwarzenberg, as he wishes to make an important and confidential communication to your highness.”
Frederick William’s piercing eyes were fixed with a questioning expression upon the count’s face, whose eyes returned the look with a bold and steady gaze.
“You presume greatly upon the respect I owe the Emperor,” said the Elector after a pause. “I have wished to regard you hitherto merely as a piece of paper hallowed by the Emperor’s superscription. But now you voluntarily step forth from behind the protecting paper, and present yourself to me as a man, a self-dependent individual, who is responsible for his words and actions. Consider well what you risk, sir, and take my advice: retreat, while yet there is time! Ask me not to look upon you as you actually are, but be content, inasmuch as in you I respect the Emperor’s safe conduct. Reflect once again, and then speak!”
“Your Electoral Highness,” said the count after a pause, “the Emperor has condescended to request a secret audience for me of your grace. I entreat your highness to grant it to me.”
“You desire it? Be it so, then!” cried the Elector. “You, gentlemen, Count von Martinitz and Dr. Gebhard, are dismissed. Count Schwarzenberg may remain. For the Emperor’s sake I am ready to grant him the secret audience. Take your leave, gentlemen! Your audience is at an end!”
The two gentlemen bowed low and withdrew. The Elector followed them with his eyes until the door closed behind them. Then he slowly turned his head toward Count Schwarzenberg.
“Speak now,” he ordered coldly and severely. “Say what you have to say, but weigh well each word, and take heed of rousing my wrath, for I tell you the measure of my patience and forbearance is well-nigh exhausted! What would you have of me? What do you want?”
“Justice, your highness, justice! Enter into no contest with me! Take not away from me the estates given in pledge by the Elector George William to my father, which have not yet been redeemed. Acknowledge me as the Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, graciously nominate me Stadtholder in the Mark, and I swear to you that I shall be your faithful and devoted servant, your mediator with Emperor and empire! You see, your highness, I ask for nothing but justice!”
“Justice!” repeated Frederick William, while with flashing eyes he approached one step nearer the count. “Beware of reminding me that I have not exercised justice toward you! Ask it not, for then I must needs summon a guard and have you arrested! Then must I call a court-martial, have you tried, and see you mount the scaffold!”
“The scaffold!” exclaimed the count, turning pale. “But then the Emperor would call you to account for this deed of violence, and–“
“Deed of violence, you call it?” interposed the Elector. “You are mistaken, sir; it would only be a merited punishment! You deserve this punishment, not on account of anything done by your father, although in sooth you bore a full share in his deeds, but on account of your own crime.”
“Crime, your highness?”
“Yes, count, crime! You are a conspirator, a rebel! You incited my officers to revolt, entangled them in a conspiracy, and when I would have brought you to judgment you fled like a cowardly woman.”
“Your highness!” screamed the count, “I beseech you, weigh your words, provoke me not too much! Otherwise I might forget the respect due you.”
“And if you should venture, I have ample means of leading you back to the proper bounds, of forcing you to respect me, to fall down in the dust, and plead for pardon! Do you know what you are? Do you know what you were?”
“What I was I know,” cried the count. “I was the favored lover of your sister, Princess Charlotte Louise!”
“Ah! Now at last you drop your mask, now you show your real face. The face of a slanderer, a liar! For you utter a falsehood. You calumniate the virtue of a noble lady, and boast of a favor you never received.”
“I speak the truth, your highness, and am in a condition to prove it. Princess Charlotte Louise gave me her favor, and went further than was seemly for a modest maiden. She volunteered to grant me a rendezvous impelled by ardent love.”
“That is not true.”
“It is true, sir, and I can prove it! I have the writing with me, in which your sister invites me to a rendezvous in the castle at Berlin. She wrote it with her own hand, and signed it with her name. Until now, no one has known the secret, and no one shall know it if we can agree.”
“We agree?”
“Yes, your highness, _we_! Your sister’s letter is well worth what I ask. I demand nothing but my rights. Leave me my estates, acknowledge me as grand master, appoint me my father’s successor, give me the hand of Princess Charlotte Louise.”
“My sister’s hand to _you_?”
“To me, for I have a right to that hand. The Princess engaged herself to me, and granted me favors.”
“Wretched man, to boast of them!” interrupted the Elector.
“She appointed a meeting with me to take place by night,” continued the count quietly. “Your honor would be destroyed if any one knew of this. Let me keep it intact! Give me your sister’s hand! For I tell you if you do not the world shall hear of this _faux pas_ on the part of the Princess. I shall publicly expose the letter she wrote to me, and a laugh of scorn will pursue both you and her through the whole of Germany! Give me your sister’s hand!”
“Were you the Emperor himself I would not give her to you. And if you were in a position to defame my whole house, I would not give her to you! And were my sister to fall at my feet weeping at my refusal, I would not give her to you! Yes, and if I knew that my lands and wealth would be doubled by this marriage, I would _never_ give my sister to you! I asked you just now if you knew what you were and what you are. To the first question you replied that you were my sister’s lover. Now I will tell you what you are: you are the son of a poisoner and a murderer!”
“Sir!” screamed the count, bounding forward in fury and with a sudden movement drawing his dagger from its sheath–“sir, you assail my father in his grave, I will defend him! You owe me satisfaction for this insult! It is not the Elector who stands before me, but a man who has wounded my honor, and I demand satisfaction. You dare not refuse it, or–“
“Or you will complete your father’s work, will you? Will hire murderers to do what you dare not attempt yourself? Oh, you may very probably find a second Gabriel Nietzel, whom you may goad on to crime, profiting by his agony and distress of mind to change a thoughtless deceiver into a poisoner! Do not stare at me in such amazement, as if you understood not my words! You know Gabriel Nietzel well, and your dagger would not have fallen from your hand if your conscience had not struck it down!”
“I know nothing of Gabriel Nietzel!” cried the count, “I only know that you have called my father a murderer and–“
“And, I did wrong in this, for certainly the murderous deed miscarried! _I_ live! And _he_ was forced to die. Do you know of what your father died?”
“Of grief, and the humiliations which you prepared for him!”
“No, he died of remorse. A stroke, they say, put an end to his life. Yes, it was conscience that smote him to the earth. Gabriel Nietzel stood before him and reminded him of his deeds, demanding of him his wife, whom your father murdered because she saved my life!”
“Horrible!” muttered the count, with sunken head and downcast eyes.
“Yes, horrible!” repeated the Elector. “Gabriel Nietzel was the avenging sword sent from on high for your father’s punishment. He, the unhappy one, himself confessed his crime to me, and I have forgiven him. I will forgive your father also, for he stands before a higher tribunal, and _He_ who tries the heart, will reward him according to his deeds. But I am your judge, and your deeds accuse you before me! I could have you arrested and tried, and, believe me, I would do so, despite the imperial safe conduct, behind which you have ensconced yourself, but I honor in you the memory of my father, who loved yours, and would not have the world discover how shamefully the magnanimous heart of George William was deceived. Regarding the property you claim from me, let the law decide; regarding the military title you aspire to, let the knights of the order decide; but regarding the accusation which you bring against my sister, and the offer you make me on her account, the Princess alone is the proper person to consult. You shall speak with her this very hour, for I would not have your vain heart puffed up with the idea that the Princess loves you, and that it is only my tyranny which separates you from her. No, you shall speak with the Princess herself, and she shall decide the question between you. And that you may not suppose that I have influenced my sister, you shall speak to her before I communicate with her myself.”
He took the handbell and rang; a page appeared. “Request her Electoral Grace the Princess Charlotte Louise to have the kindness to come to me.”
“Your Electoral Grace,” said the page, “Colonel von Burgsdorf has just come into the antechamber, and urgently insists upon my announcing him to your grace.”
“Admit him and call the Princess. When the gracious young lady has entered the antechamber, let me know. Admit the colonel.”
“Here I am, your highness, here I am!” cried Conrad von Burgsdorf, coming in with hasty steps. “I am just from Berlin, and bring my dearest lord good news, and–But what is that?” interrupted he, fixing his lively gray eyes upon Count Schwarzenberg, who, pale and visibly disconcerted, had withdrawn into one of the window niches.
For one moment Burgsdorf stood still, as if bewildered by the unexpected sight, then he sprang forward like a tiger, and laid his hands like iron claws upon the count’s shoulders.
“In the name of the Elector and the law, I arrest you Count Schwarzenberg!” he shrieked.
“Let him go, Burgsdorf,” commanded Frederick William.
“No, gracious sir,” cried Burgsdorf, “I can not, must not let him go. I must hold fast to my prisoner until I have put him in a safe prison. If I take my hands off him, he will surely find some mousehole to creep through. I know the fine gentleman, and have had experience of his mouselike nature. I thought I had him safe at Berlin, imprisoned in his own palace, and sentinels stationed everywhere. A man could not have escaped, but a mouse can find a hole to retire to almost anywhere. Master Mousy here slipped off through an underground passage. Fortunately I had stationed a couple of spies in front of the park, and one of them came to inform me that they had seen two suspicious personages issue from the park, while the other dogged their footsteps. I flew to horse, and, thinking that the young count would make for Spandow, raced with my men to the Spandow Gate. Exactly, they had just fled on before. We gave them chase. Huzza! that was a hunt! Already I thought I had the fugitives within my reach, and stretched out my hand to grasp them, when they galloped into the fortress, the gate was shut, and I stood baffled on the outside, and had my mortification increased by hearing Colonel Rochow’s mocks and jeers from the wall above. And now when I can take my revenge, when I at last have my prisoner trapped and caught, now, your highness commands me to let him go. No, your highness, it is impossible; for trust me, as soon as I let him go he will find his way to some mousehole. I arrest you in the name of the Elector and the law, Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg!”
“Burgsdorf!” cried the Elector in a commanding tone, “once more, I command you to let him go, and come here. Obey without delay!”
The colonel muttered between his teeth a few wild words of wrath, but released the count, and with bowed head and chagrined air slunk toward the Elector.
“You treat me like a well-trained pointer, your highness!” he growled. “You whistle for me, and I drop the prey which you would not have me keep.”
“You do yourself too much honor, old Burgsdorf,” said the Elector, smiling. “A well-trained pointer does not follow a false scent, and that was what you were doing just now. Did you expect to find a fugitive in your master’s cabinet? You thought that this was Count John Adolphus Schwarzenberg, whom I was compelled to arraign as a criminal, and who, in his consciousness of guilt, took refuge from trial in flight. Look closely at what is in the window niche and acknowledge that you were mistaken, and that it is not Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg.”
Colonel Burgsdorf, perfectly bewildered, gazed with wide-open eyes first on the Elector and then on the count, who returned his stare with a scornful smile.
“Most gracious sir,” he then cried, “my head is not clear enough to discern your meaning, and I stick to it: that is Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, my escaped prisoner.”
“And I repeat it, you are mistaken, your old eyes deceive you! Look once more right sharply and closely, and you will perceive your error and comprehend that this is not Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, to whom I could never have granted an audience in my cabinet. Only look closer and you will see, old Burgsdorf, that there is nought in the window niche but a great sheet of parchment, inscribed with manifold characters, furnished with the seal of the empire, and signed by the Emperor Ferdinand’s own hand. I know that you do not read with ease, and therefore will tell you what is marked on this parchment, and what it means. It means a safe conduct, and the Emperor himself has written upon it that this parchment must be held in honor and sacred from all attack.”
“Ah!” cried the colonel–“ah! I begin to understand now.”
“Well truly that is a fortunate circumstance,” said the Elector, smiling.
“Yes, your highness,” repeated Burgsdorf, “I begin to understand. Let me examine the thing narrowly once again.”
He covered his eyes with his hand, as if he were blinded by a ray of light, and again stared at the window niche.
“Yes, indeed,” he said slowly–“yes, I see it quite plainly and distinctly now. Yes, that is no man, but a veritable piece of parchment, and I recognize, too, the imperial seal and the Emperor’s handwriting. Where were my eyes that I did not see it from the first, and what a stupid fool I was to suppose that I saw a man there! What misfortune would have ensued if I had defaced the Emperor’s handwriting or broken the seal, perhaps!”
“It would have been a wrong done to Imperial Majesty itself,” smiled the Elector, “and might have brought me under the ban of the empire, or perhaps produced a war.”
“Good heavens! a war about an ass’s hide,” exclaimed Burgsdorf, with an expression of horror.
“Surely, your highness,” shrieked the count, stepping forth from his place of retirement, pale and trembling with passion, “you can not ask me any longer to submit in silence to such gross insults.”
“Gracious sir,” asked Burgsdorf, “may the ass’s hide speak? May a piece of parchment, merely because hallowed by the Emperor’s signature, venture to leave its place and threaten?”
“Hush, Burgsdorf! And you, sir, step back into your recess, stay in the place pointed out to you, and wait.”
“Learn to wait!” cried Burgsdorf. “Oh, gracious sir, that is the very window niche in which I was once forced to stand in order to learn to wait. I thank you, gracious sir, for in this hour you give me my revenge. Now it is for my enemy to learn; and I beseech Your Grace to give me leave to open my budget from Berlin. The parchment must hear it and learn. Oh, I know how it feels to have to listen in silence to have to learn to wait!”
“Colonel Conrad von Burgsdorf,” said the Elector with majesty, “you are here to bring me tidings from Berlin. Speak out and be assured that no one will venture to interrupt you. In the first place, have you executed my orders?”
“Yes, gracious sir, according to the best of my abilities and the means at my disposal.”
“As their superior officer, have you required an oath of allegiance to me from the commandants and garrisons of the forts?”
“I sent your orders everywhere, requiring the commandants to swear their men into service in your name, and to come to Berlin that I might administer the same oath to themselves.”
“And have they done so? Have my officers and troops sworn to serve me faithfully?”
“A few commandants have done so, but Kracht, Rochow, and Goldacker have refused, declaring that they would rather blow their fortresses up than swear fealty to the Elector. Hereupon I forthwith had the commandant of Berlin, Colonel von Kracht, arrested, and would have proceeded in like manner against the Commandants von Rochow and von Goldacker, but the traitors got wind of my intentions. Goldacker left Brandenburg with thirty horse, and, report says, went over to the Imperialists. Colonel von Rochow, however, in his fortress assumed a warlike attitude, and gave out that he was ready to do battle with the enemy to the death. Meanwhile Margrave Ernest conferred with him under a flag of truce, and the committee of investigation at Berlin diligently prosecuted their labors, and brought to light heinous offenses committed by the two colonels and Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg.”
“Do you know the particulars? The colonels were accused of cheating and embezzlement, were they not?”
“Yes,” said Burgsdorf with a little embarrassment, “the question regards the payment of the troops enlisted, for which the colonels received money, and–and–“
“And yet the men were not enlisted,” said the Elector, with an imperceptible smile. “Had they done nothing more than this, I would have pardoned them; if they had shown themselves in other respects true and faithful, and repented of their folly.”
“But this they have by no means done!” cried Burgsdorf eagerly. “They have rather shown themselves to be obstinate and untoward. Goldacker has been extorting bonds in Fuerstenwald, plundering whole villages, and putting the magistrates in chains, because they would not say that Goldacker gave the press money to the young fellows of the village, although these had not made their appearance. Colonel von Rochow put the clerk of his muster roll in irons, and had him condemned to the gallows by a court-martial, because the poor fellow would not bear false witness and swear that the colonel had made payments to him. When the Stadtholder demanded the clerk’s release, Colonel von Rochow insolently refused to give him up, and now the margrave ordered me to arrest him. But von Rochow did as his accomplices–he fled and made his escape to the Imperialists.”
“Let the Imperialists keep Goldacker and Rochow,” said the Elector. “I would have them know that I from this time forth cheerfully resign their services, and yield them up with good grace to the Emperor and empire. With these two, therefore, we have done. Tell me now, how the Schwarzenberg affair stands. We gave orders that in due time the papers found in the palace of the deceased count should be sealed and handed over to the committee of investigation. Was this done, and has it perhaps been made evident from the examination of the papers, that the son of the Stadtholder was innocent of complicity in the intrigues of his father and friends, and been falsely accused by us?”
“On the contrary, your highness, it was proved that Count John Adolphus had conspired, not merely with the rebellious officers, but with other persons not subjects of your highness. Among the papers of the old count was found the young gentleman’s secret correspondence. It was in cipher, it is true, but there are very learned men on the committee of investigation, and they discovered the key, and were able to read the letters. Oh, most gracious sir, all your faithful servants were shamefully slandered and calumniated in these letters. Your highness even was not spared, and the young gentleman expressly wrote that he would do all he possibly could to effect the downfall of the Elector Frederick William. Of the States, he said that they were almost all friends of the Swedes and foes of the Emperor, and, above all, he represented me, Conrad von Burgsdorf, as a bitter enemy to the Emperor, and said that on that account all orders came to me. But the States will complain to the Emperor that the rebellious slanderer, Count Schwarzenberg, has blackened them so abominably and accused them of high treason.”
“They can do so,” said the Elector–“they can call the slanderer to account, and you can do so too, Burgsdorf, if it seems necessary to you.”
“But it does not seem at all necessary to me, your highness,” cried the colonel. “I have only one master, yourself, and if I had injured your grace I should have been guilty of high treason. Henceforth I shall be nothing but the most devoted and diligent servant of my dear young lord and Elector, and I care very little about Schwarzenberg’s having aspersed me to the Emperor if I am only blessed with your favor.”
“I have recognized you as a true and faithful servant,” said the Elector kindly, “and I am no ingrate. You shall experience this hereafter, for I shall find means to reward my old friend as he deserves!”
“Your highness, you have rewarded me already,” cried Burgsdorf–“you have called me your friend, my Elector, and I thank you out of a full heart.”
The Elector nodded. “In time all the world shall learn that I honor and esteem you as my friend,” he said. “But now tell me, what progress has been made in quieting the refractory soldiery in the Mark? Have you begun that difficult task?”
“We have begun, your highness, and will also end, although at first there was much insubordination and mutiny, and although the cart had been driven so deep into the mire that we could not have drawn it out altogether without great difficulty, even if there had been more of us.”
The door of the antechamber opened, and the page made his appearance.
“In accordance with your highness’s request, the Princess has entered the antechamber.”
“Beg the young lady to wait a moment. I will come directly to conduct her grace into my cabinet.”
“Burgsdorf,” said the Elector, turning to the colonel, “go up now, and pay your respects to my mother. You can tell her what is going on at Berlin. Her grace will hear you gladly, for she takes great interest in the cities of Berlin and Cologne.”
“Very curious stories I can tell the Electress, since your highness accords me that permission!” cried the colonel. “Many thrilling affairs have happened, and–“
“Go now, my friend,” said the Elector, pointing to the door through which Burgsdorf had entered. Then he crossed over to the opposite end of the apartment himself and opened the door of the inner room.
XI.–MEETING AND PARTING.
“Be kind enough to come in, dear sister,” said the Elector, standing in the doorway and smilingly greeting the Princess, who now entered the apartment.
“I have come at your bidding, Frederick,” said the Princess, accepting her brother’s proffered hand, and looking up at him with a sweet, affectionate smile.
In the window niche stood John Adolphus Schwarzenberg, and the fires of passion and resentment burned in the glance which he fixed upon the Princess, whom he now saw for the first time after a lapse of three years. How much pain and mortification had he not suffered during these three years on her account? The only change wrought in the Princess by the flight of time was a more perfect development of beauty and of grace of carriage. The count heaved a deep, painful sigh, and the rage of despair took possession of his soul at the sight of that noble, tranquil countenance.
“She has not suffered,” he said to himself. “She never loved me, and will now despise me!”
“Forgive me, sister, for troubling you to come to me,” said Frederick William, nodding affectionately to the Princess. “I ought indeed to have come to you, but I wished to speak with you on a matter strictly confidential, which I did not wish our mother and sister to know anything about.”
“Is it really a secret, then?” asked Charlotte Louise–“no bad secret, I hope, Frederick?”
“It at least touches very grave matters,” replied the Elector. “Look yonder at that window niche.”
The Princess turned quickly, and looked in the direction indicated. A low scream escaped her lips, and she sank trembling upon a seat.
“Adolphus!” murmured her quivering lips.
This single utterance spoke more eloquently to both men than the most elaborate arrangement of sentences could have done. It told them that years of separation had not estranged the Princess from Count Schwarzenberg; that her heart still called him by the familiar name accorded him by love; that with the count, Charlotte Louise was not the proud Princess, but only the humble, loving maiden. The Elector understood this, and a cloud overshadowed his brow.
The count understood it, too, and his dark countenance brightened. With uplifted head he rushed from the window niche to the Princess, and, kneeling before her, seized her hand to press it to his lips. But this touching of her hand seemed to restore to the Princess her strength and self-possession. By a hasty movement she released her hand and rose.
“Brother,” she said, “is it customary to greet princesses in this style? Be pleased to tell me, for you know I have been but little in the world, and am, therefore, but little conversant with its forms.”
“No, Louise, it is not customary,” replied Frederick William, breathing more freely; “but Count Schwarzenberg seems to suppose, that as your favored lover he need not regard the laws of ceremony.”
“As my favored lover?” asked the Princess, a blush suddenly suffusing her brow and neck, while her blue eyes, usually so soft, sparkled with indignation. “Did I hear aright? Did you actually say that to _me_, brother, to your sister? Did you call this or any other man my favored lover?”
“I only repeated the words made use of by Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg in suing for your hand, sister. This gentleman affirms that you have granted him more favor than was seemly in a modest maiden. And when I doubted it he replied that he could prove it, for he possessed a note, written with your own hand, in which you invited him to a rendezvous by night.”
“He said that!” cried the Princess. “He said that, and you did not kill him on the spot?”
“I did not kill him,” answered the Elector gravely and solemnly, “because no one should die for the truth. And he maintains that he speaks the truth: that by means of this letter of yours he can dishonor you and my house in the eyes of the whole world. Say then, Louise, is it true; does he actually possess such a letter?”
Charlotte Louise shuddered and tottered backward.
“Yes!” she breathed–“yes, he speaks the truth–he does possess such a letter!”
“No!” cried the count, “he did not speak the truth! Oh, forgive me, Princess, forgive me this slander, which my lips uttered, uttered in the delirium of pain, love, and despair! I lied, Princess, you never wrote to me, never! I said that in order to force your brother to give me your hand, because I love you, Princess, you know not how dearly! Ah! you little imagine with what fervor of devotion my soul clung to you, and what you did that time when you mocked and betrayed me, treating me like a despised beggar! That hour wrought a change in my whole nature! The most sacred blossoms of my love had been crushed by you, and I trampled them under foot and strove to bury my despair in mirth and pleasure. I did not succeed. The sacred old song of the buried love was forever making itself heard in low, sweet strains. I would not listen, I tried to drown it. I became a conspirator, a rebel, for I longed to take vengeance upon you and your house. Fate was against me; my revenge constituting my punishment. I must flee, I must leave as a fugitive the land in which you live. The Emperor received me graciously, giving me rank and titles, and bestowing upon me marks of favor and regard, thus opening to the ambitious heart a career of fame, dignity, and honor. All was in vain, though. I felt too late that love, not ambition, had urged me into the dangerous paths of insurrection and revolt. I could not forget you. Like a radiant star, you ever shone upon the midnight darkness of my soul. I must see you again, to obtain from your own lips my sentence of pardon or condemnation. I despised all danger, even the order of arrest issued against me, and obtained the Emperor’s leave to accompany his ambassador here. I came and suffered the severest mortification that a man can suffer. I subjected myself to your brother’s scorn and contempt. Then at last my heart rebelled, and when he scornfully refused your hand to me, I claimed it as my right, by virtue of the love you once vowed to me. The Elector disputed your love for me, and then, in the rage of my heart, I boasted of a favor which I never received, boasted of having received from you a letter, and an invitation to a rendezvous. Oh, forgive the madman who kneels here at your feet and suffers the agony of death. He has no right to claim anything, he only implores from you an act of grace!”
While the count thus spoke in passionate excitement, the Elector had slowly retired, and, standing apart with folded arms, gazed upon the couple with melancholy eyes. In the beginning the Princess had sunk upon a chair, with bowed head and hanging arms, pale as a drooping lily. But the glowing words which fell upon her ear seemed to find an echo, a painful echo, in her heart. Slowly she raised her head, and breathlessly listened to his words, while the color once more mounted to her cheek. When the count stopped, she slowly rose and proudly and indignantly drew herself erect.
“You speak falsely now, Count Schwarzenberg,” she said, “for what you told my brother was true. Yes, three years ago, in the childish folly of my heart, I granted you a favor unseemly for a modest maiden. Yes, I wrote you a note with my own hand, inviting you to a rendezvous in the castle at nine o’clock in the evening. Brother, I confess this, although I know that I am thereby forever forfeiting your esteem. But this man has accused me, and I honor the past of my heart, while I acknowledge the fault of which he accuses me. Yes, I have loved him, warmly, inexpressibly, and have wept and lamented him in a manner little becoming a princess, but in my love I was only a poor simple maiden, who wanted nothing in the whole world but his heart. Well I know that I sinned grievously against my mother and the laws of virtue and propriety in carrying on a clandestine love affair, in allowing my heart to be deceived by his ardent protestations of love and even in my delusion going so far as to grant him a rendezvous–nay, even to ask for one.”
“Did you really do that, sister?”
“I did, and have repented it for three long years. That I confess this, that I reveal my secret, should prove to you that I now speak the truth. And therefore you will believe me, Frederick William, when I affirm that this is the only favor of which the count can boast. I have to blush before you, but not before him.”
“Not before me either, Louise,” said the Elector. “I know love, and in my own heart have battled with all its follies and illusions. I know what you suffer, by remembering my own experiences. It is a bitter grief to be obliged to admit that you have wasted the holiest feelings of your heart upon an unworthy object.”
“Yes indeed, it is a bitter grief,” sighed the Princess.
“O Princess! spare yourself this grief!” cried the count, still kneeling before her. “You have freely owned that you love me. Why, then, will you turn away from me? Accept me as your husband, and I will love you, serve you, obey you, ask nothing but the privilege of looking upon you, and basking in your presence.”
She gave him a long, cold look. “And if I decline your hand, you will revenge yourself, will you not, by displaying my note to the Emperor and the whole world, you will defame me and all my house? Was not that your threat?”
“I spoke in frenzy, in despair. But you shall see that I will ask nothing from you for fear, but all for love. See, here is the note. I have hitherto preserved it as my most precious jewel; my father bade me do so, and told me that this paper might save me in the hour of greatest peril. This hour is now at hand, but I will not have it save me. Here is the note; I offer it to you. Take it, tear it up, and then decide!”
With outstretched hands he held out the paper, but she took it not, and quickly stepped back.
“Keep the paper,” she said. “Why should I ask whether you will turn it into a weapon against me? I will accept no favor or advantage from you. Only let it be known at the imperial court, to the whole world, that I loved you; show this paper everywhere, and all will turn from you, all women will despise you, and all men blush for the traitor to love!”
“No one shall despise me, no one shall turn, from me!” cried the count, springing to his feet. With trembling hands he tore the paper into little bits, and threw them on the floor.
“There lies the secret, Princess! Now I am entirely in your power! Now I have no weapon of defense. Call Burgsdorf, your highness, have me arrested, if it seems good to you, I renounce the Emperor’s safe conduct, as I just now renounced your sister’s letter.”
“We accept no act of generosity or renunciation from you,” replied the Elector with dignity. “The Emperor’s safe conduct I shall respect, and as I allowed you to speak quietly to my sister, although you misrepresented much and put matters in a false light, so I will allow you to depart unmolested. As regards the love letter, your excuse for demanding my sister’s hand, the fragments testify as strongly against you as the letter itself. My sister alone has to reply to your offer.”
“I have no answer to give this man, for he dare not ask anything more of me,” said the Princess proudly. “He who can betray the secrets of the heart degrades himself. The man who boasts of a favor received is unworthy of it, and every woman will despise him. Not merely now, in the hour of danger, have you bethought yourself of my letter, Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, but you had spoken of it previously to your father. You have turned a young girl’s letter into a political bond, which, as a cunning merchant, was to be redeemed and converted into money. Now you have redeemed it; there lies the letter! I give you for it my contempt.”
“I think you have now received my sister’s answer,” said the Elector, “and we have nothing more to say to one another, for the courts must settle other subjects of dispute between us. Go, Count Schwarzenberg, return home to Vienna, for your mission is ended. You are dismissed.”
The count answered not a word. One long glance of grief and rage he cast upon the Princess, who stood loftily erect at her brother’s side. Then, with a slight bow of salutation, he turned and strode through the room.
Not a sound interrupted the solemn silence save the count’s footsteps as he advanced to the door. There he once more paused and turned back his livid, wrathful countenance. The Princess still stood erect, calm, and unmoved, beside the Elector. Schwarzenberg cast down his eyes and left the room. The Princess heard the door shut, and a heavy sigh escaped her breast. “He has gone,” she murmured softly, “he has gone; I shall never see him again.”
She leaned her head upon her brother’s shoulder and wept bitterly.
“You loved him very dearly, then?” asked the Elector gently, throwing his arms around her neck.
“Yes,” she whispered softly, “I loved him dearly, and I am afraid I love him still, and will mourn for him forever. No one on earth has mortified me so deeply as he, and yet I shall never love another as I have loved him.”
“Poor child,” said Frederick William sadly, “you love him still, although you despise him!”
With folded arms he walked several times to and fro, while his sister dropped into a chair, covered her face with her hands, and quietly wept. The Elector stopped in front of her and gently drew her hands from before her face.
“Sister,” he said tenderly, “I will dry your tears, for I may do so, and in this hour of most sacred confidence not the shadow of an untruth shall lie between us. When you wrote that billet to the count three years ago he did not come to the rendezvous, did he?”
“No!” cried the Princess; “he dared to let me expect him in vain, to decline the interview which I had granted him. O Frederick! when I think of this I could die for very shame, so much do I hate him who humiliated me so deeply, so much do I despise myself for having incurred and merited this humiliation.”
“Louise,” said the Elector softly, “if that is your only reason for hating him, then you can love him again, for this is probably the only fault of which he is innocent. Lift up your head, sister, for I can relieve you from this humiliation. It was Count Schwarzenberg’s wish to keep the appointment. He stood for two hours before a locked door seeking admission. I, however, stood on the other side of the door, guarding it, and did not depart until he had gone away in despair.”
“You, brother?” asked the Princess, whose cheeks grew suddenly crimson. “You knew about it? You prevented the interview?”
“I wanted to guard my sister against her own indiscretion; I wanted to preserve her from error.”
“You knew it and kept silence, magnanimously kept my secret from my mother? Oh, and _he_ is innocent? He did not scorn and insult me? I can think of him without anger, without–No, no; forgive me, brother, I–“
“Hear me, Louise,” said he softly. “I will prove to you how much I have your happiness at heart, and how gladly I would promote it. If in spite of all that you have learned to-day, in spite of his mode of wooing, you still love Count Schwarzenberg–so love him that for his sake you can forever–mark well my words, _forever_–give up mother, brother and sister, home, country, yea, religion itself, sundering all the ties which bind you here–if you so love him that he is family, home, everything to you, then tell me so, sister, and I will overcome my repugnance and have the count recalled, will accept his offer, and bestow you upon him in marriage. Only you must choose between him and us. In that hour, when I join your hands, we have seen each other for the last time, and never will your return home be possible. But if you really love him, go, for well I know that love only finds its home in the heart of the beloved one. Choose then, sister. Will you follow him? Speak, I shall not reproach you–speak, and I will have him recalled!”
She flung her arms around his neck and gently laid her head upon his breast. “No,” she said softly–“no, do not call him back. He has betrayed and desecrated love. My heart revolts from him and turns with deep affection to you. Thank you, brother, for acquainting me with the truth and taking that weight of humiliation from my soul. Now I shall be comforted, now I can hold up my head again. I am not the rejected, but the rejecter. Yes, brother, I have renounced love and happiness. The golden morning dream is over, and I am awake! Let me weep, Frederick, my last tears for a lost love!”
The Elector bent over her and imprinted a kiss upon her brow. “Weep, sister, weep,” he said softly. “And if it can in any degree console you, know that I have wept and suffered as you do now.”
[Illustration: Wladislaus IV, King of Poland]
XII.–THE INVESTITURE AT WARSAW.
At last all matters of dispute were settled, all difficulties smoothed over. King Wladislaus of Poland had declared himself ready to receive the oath of allegiance from his vassal the Elector of Brandenburg, and to invest him with the duchy of Prussia. Hard conditions, truly, were those imposed upon the young Elector, and heavy the sacrifices which the King and, more pressingly yet, the members of the Polish Diet required. That the Elector should pay a yearly tribute of thirty thousand florins, besides a hundred thousand florins from the naval taxes, was a condition to which he had agreed without a struggle; but much severer and more humbling compliances he had to make.
They wished to make him feel that the King of Poland was still lord paramount of Prussia, and that the Elector must give way to him. The nobility of Prussia were therefore to have the right, in all civil and difficult cases, to appeal from the decision of the Elector to that of the King. On the other hand, the Elector was not, without the King’s express permission, to occupy a neutral position with regard to any enemy of Poland; he was to receive the King’s commissioners whenever it pleased the latter to send them to inspect the fortresses of Memel and Pillau. But the hardest thing was, that the Elector must pledge himself to protect and exalt the Roman Catholic worship in Prussia with all his might, and to do nothing for the further spread of the Reformed Church in Prussia. He was to build up the decaying Catholic Church at Koenigsberg, and, besides that, have a new one built. The Catholics were to be protected in the free exercise of their worship, and guarded against every attack of the Protestant preachers.
Hard and degrading were these conditions, but the Elector had accepted them. He had bowed his proud heart and constrained it to be humble. Tears of indignation had stood in his eyes as they handed him the document on which were inscribed all these conditions; his hand had trembled when he took the pen, but still he had appended his signature, and none but Burgsdorf had seen the tears which fell from Frederick William’s eyes upon his hand as he signed.
“Burgsdorf,” he said, pointing to his signature, “do you know what I have written there?”
“No, your highness, that I do not. I am not stupid enough to give myself much trouble deciphering the scratches of a pen. But I know and have read what is written upon your face, sir.”
“Well, and what stands written there, old friend?”
“Most gracious sir, it is written there that you suffer now, but will be revenged hereafter. It says that you now in a submissive manner offer your hand to the insolent, cursed Pole, but that on some future day you will shake your fist in his face, and amply requite his haughty arrogance.”
“Well done; you have read correctly,” exclaimed the Elector, laughing. “You have divined my most secret thoughts.”
“And may a good God only deign to grant me this one favor, that I may live long enough to see your thoughts put in action, gracious sir! May he preserve me from gout and paralysis, that I too, may have a hand in the deeds of that blessed day, and strike a few well-aimed blows.”
“Well, it is to hoped that not many years will elapse ere the dawning of that day,” said the Elector. “I shall not know ease or rest until it is here, and I can have my revenge. Let us think of this, old friend, and be meekly patient and wear a placid mien on our way to Warsaw, to humble ourselves. You know a man must sometimes swallow bitter medicine when he is sick and faint, and the bitterest will appear sweet if he drinks it in order to imbibe new life and health. My poor country is, indeed, sick unto death, and therefore I go to Warsaw to swallow a bitter pill for the health and salvation of my land. But we go on crutches, two hard crutches.”
“I know the names of those crutches, your highness,” said Burgsdorf. “One crutch is called ‘Imperial,’ the other ‘Polish.'”
“You have guessed correctly, old friend,” answered the Elector. “But some day we will throw aside the crutches on which we must now lean, and Prussia shall be the sword which we shall unsheathe and draw against all our foes. I must now submit to having a lord over me, but the time will come when the Prussian black eagle will feel itself strong enough to do battle against the white eagle of Poland, and soar aloft on bold, strong wing. Once more I tell you, old friend, think of that, if we do go now to Warsaw! You are to accompany me, and when you ride into Warsaw at the head of my soldiers, as their colonel and chief, show a smiling visage to the fair Polish women and enchant them by your grace.”
“I will so enchant them, your highness,” laughed Burgsdorf, “that for rapture at sight of me they will not look at you, and not even make an attempt to win your heart.”
“My heart, Burgsdorf?” said the Elector. “I have no heart, at least no personal one. My thoughts and feelings belong only to my country, my ambition, and my future. I now go to Warsaw and bow my head in the dust, that at a later period I may lift it up the more proudly and independently.”
And on the 7th of October, 1641, Elector Frederick William of Brandenburg made his entry into Warsaw. At the head of his splendidly equipped regiment rode old Conrad von Burgsdorf, his broad, bloated face flushed crimson, and, as he stroked his long, light moustache, he bowed right and left, saluting the fair ladies, who looked down upon the glittering procession from windows hung with tapestry and decorated with flowers and ribbons. But the fair ladies took but little notice of old Burgsdorf. Their bright eyes were all turned to the handsome young nobleman, who, quite alone, followed the regiment of soldiers. Behind him was seen a brilliant array of gentlemen in handsome uniforms; but all this vanished unnoticed. Only upon _him_, yon youth who rides his horse so proudly and so gracefully, upon him alone were all eyes fixed. How finely his figure was outlined in that closely fitted velvet coat, trimmed with golden “Brandenburgs,” and crossed by the golden shoulder belt from which hung his German broadsword. How gracefully fell his long brown hair over his shoulders, how boldly sat upon his head the cocked felt hat, with its crest of black and white ostrich plumes! How fiery and penetrating the glance of those dark-blue eyes, and how sweet and captivating the smile of those full, fresh lips.
Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, shield your heart, lest it glow with love for the handsome stranger who now draws near, and whom they call the young Elector of Brandenburg! He looks not at _you_, he thinks not of _you_. But _you_–you look at him and think of him. They have told you that they will wed you to him, that the little Elector will esteem it a great honor to become the husband of a daughter of the King of Poland. Why, she is a princess of imperial blood, for her mother is an archduchess of Austria, a daughter of Emperor Ferdinand I! It will, indeed, be a great honor to the little Elector, if they bestow upon him the hand of a king’s daughter, an emperor’s grandchild, and happy will he be to be allowed to receive it, and to become great by means of his great connections!
Look closely at him, Princess Hildegarde; look at him with your heart and soul, rejoice in his youth, beauty, and proud bearing, for he is to be your husband! Your father will do him the honor to receive him as his son-in-law, and the Emperor will condescendingly admit him to his relationship! See now he has approached quite near the throne which has been erected upon the square fronting the palace. On the throne sits King Wladislaus in the rich national costume. Beside him stands his brother, Prince Casimir, while to the right and left on the steps of the throne stand the magnates with their insignia of rank, the bishops and prelates. Close behind the throne is the kingly palace, and there, upon a balcony hung with gold brocade, stands the Queen; to the right and left of her the two royal Princesses, both so lovely to look upon in their picturesque Polish garb, their raven tresses surmounted by the Polish cap with its heron’s plumes.
Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, you need not fear, you are so charming, so attractive; surely you will win his heart, and he will woo you not merely from political motives, but from love!
Does he see you, and is he looking up at you? No, he only looks up at the King as he now stands at the foot of the throne, beside that magnificent cushion studded with emeralds and pearls. His knights and bodyguard range themselves to the right and left of the throne, and reserve a small open space in the midst of the broad square, which is densely thronged by masses of people behind the closed ranks of the soldiers. In this small vacant space stands he, the young Elector of Brandenburg!
High is his head, radiant the glance which he now lifts higher than the King’s throne. Looks he at you, Princess Hildegarde, gazes he upon you, fair maiden of a royal line?
No, his glance mounts higher; to heaven itself he raises both eye and thought! He communes with God and the forefathers of his house, who once, like him, stood at the foot of that throne. And he vows before God and his ancestors that he will be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bend the knee as vassal to the Polish King. He will free his land and crown, and be the vassal of none but God alone!
So swore the Elector Frederick William as he stood at the foot of the throne on which sat the Polish King, resplendent with his crown and scepter, and this oath made his countenance beam with joy and his eyes flame with energy and spirit.
Now is heard the flourish of trumpets and kettledrums, and the bell of every tower in Warsaw rings, for the solemn act begins: the Duke of Prussia is to swear allegiance to the King of Poland!
Three cannon thunder from the ramparts! The bells grow dumb, the trumpets and drums are silent! A breathless stillness pervades that spacious square. The people with dark, flashing eyes gaze curiously upon the heretic, the unbeliever, who is to swear fealty to his Catholic Majesty. The Polish deputies look threateningly upon the bold duke, who dared to enter upon the government of Prussia before he had given his oath of allegiance; the papal nuncio turns his head aside with sorrowful looks, and can not bear to see a heretic, an apostate, invested with authority over a Catholic country.
The King, however, smiles good-naturedly, and the ladies from the balcony in the rear kindly incline their heads and blushingly greet the young Elector, who, doffing his plumed hat, gracefully salutes them.
Three senators approach the Elector. One holds out to him the red feudal banner, which the Elector grasps firmly in his right hand. The second offers him the _Juramentum fidelitatis_ (oath of fidelity), on which the young Prince is to lay his hands and swear. The third holds in his hand the parchment on which is inscribed the feudal oath. The high chancellor now descends from the steps of the throne and takes the parchment out of the senator’s hands. The Elector bends his knee upon the richly embroidered cushion, a crimson glow flushes his cheeks, and deep in his soul he repeats: “I shall be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bow in the dust before another Prince. I shall make my Prussia and Brandenburg great. I shall free them from Emperor and King, and shall own no superior but God! To that end, O Lord, grant me thy blessing, and hear the vow my heart utters while my lips are speaking other words!”
The King waves his golden scepter and the lord chancellor begins with resonant voice to read off the oath of allegiance couched in the Latin tongue.
Loud and clearly the Elector speaks each word after him, loud and clearly his lips pronounce words of which his heart knows nothing. To be a submissive vassal, his lips swear–to fulfill faithfully and obediently all the obligations due from him as Duke of Prussia to the King, as is written in the oath of fealty subscribed by him. How full and strong is his voice, sounding distinctly over all the square, and yet how sweet and harmonious every tone!
Oh, King’s daughter, King’s daughter, shield your heart! Look not down upon his lustrous eyes, heed not his voice, though it ring like music in your ear! Beware of loving him, for you know not whether his heart inclines toward you!
God be praised! The formula of the oath is ended. The Elector may rise from his knees, and, as he does so, he says to himself: “Never again shall this knee bend to man! Never again shall I endure what I have endured to-day!”
But his countenance betrays nothing of the emotions of his soul, and with a smile upon his lips he ascends the steps of the throne, and takes his place upon a seat at the left hand of the King.
And again are heard the ringing of bells and nourishing of trumpets, as they announce to the city of Warsaw, that the Elector Frederick William has just sworn allegiance to the King of Poland. The solemnity is over, and the King, the Elector, and the nobles of his realm, repair to the palace to partake of a banquet which has been prepared there for them.
A sumptuous banquet! The tables glitter with gold and silver plate, around which are ranged the nobles in their striking national costumes. The Brandenburg officers are arrayed in gold-laced uniforms, and between them sit the beautiful Polish ladies, richly adorned with flowers and sparkling gems, themselves the fairest flowers and their eyes the most brilliant gems. Between the King and Queen sits the young Elector, opposite him the two Princesses.
Oh, King’s daughter, shield your heart. He talks with you, indeed, and smiles upon you, and sweet words flutter like butterflies across! Butterflies take speedy flight, sweet words are scattered to the wind! Nothing remains of them but a painful memory! If it should be so with you, King’s daughter!
The Elector is no longer the humble vassal with serious face and melancholy mien; he is the young ruler, the hero of the future. His eyes glisten, his lips smile, witticisms drop from his mouth, his countenance beams with merriment and youthful joy. Not merely are the ladies delighted with him, but the men also, and the royal pair are glad of heart, for well pleased are they to present such a husband to their amiable daughter.
Not until late at night is the _fete_ concluded, and when the Elector goes home to the Brandenburg Palace, all the nobility attend him with torches in their hands–a long procession of five thousand torches! Like a golden flood it streams through the streets of Warsaw, flashes in at all the windows, and inscribes on every wall in shining characters, “The Elector of Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia, has given the oath of vassalage to the King of Poland!”
The _fete_ is over, but the next morning ushers in new festivities! To-day the Elector gives a splendid entertainment to the royal family and the chief nobility. At table the Queen sits on his right hand, on his left Princess Hildegarde, the King’s daughter.
The Elector is cheerful and unembarrassed in manner; she is thoughtful, reserved, and silent. She is wont to be so lively and talkative in her girlish innocence. The Elector, however, knows not that her manner is changed. His heart is a stranger to her, and his glances say no more to her than to all other pretty women! In the evening he dances with her at the Queen’s ball–that is to say, the Elector dances with the King’s daughter, but not the young man with the beautiful young girl.
Will he not propose? The Queen hints at the great honor which they destine for him; the King says tenderly to him that he would esteem himself happy, if he could call so noble a young Prince his son. But the Elector understands neither the Queen nor the King, he is silent and does not propose. He is so modest and diffident–perhaps he dare not. They must wait awhile. If he has not declared himself on the last day of his visit, they must take the initiative and woo him, since he will not woo.
On this last day it is the Princesses who give a ball to the Elector–a splendid masquerade, for which they have been preparing three months, arranging costumes and practicing dances. A half mask is to-day well chosen for the Princess Hildegarde, for it conceals her agitated features, her anxious countenance. She knows that to-day her fate is to be decided! She knows that at the close of this _fete_ she is to be betrothed to the Elector of Brandenburg.
Yes, since he will not woo, he must be wooed! The King’s daughter, the Emperor’s grandchild, is exalted so high over the little Elector, the powerless duke, that he actually can not venture to sue for her hand, but must have his good fortune announced to him.
Count Gerhard von Doenhof is selected by the King to execute this delicate commission, and doubts not that his proposition will be auspiciously received.
He requests of the Elector an interview in the little Chinese pavilion near the conservatory, and with smiling, free, and cordial manner tells him how much the Queen and King love him.
“And I reciprocate their feelings with all my heart,” answers the Elector. “These delightful days, like brilliant stars, will ever live in my remembrance. Tell their Majesties so.”
“Your highness should carry home with you a lasting memento of these days,” whispered the courtier.
“What mean you, Count Doenhof?”
“I believe that if you were to ask the hand of Princess Hildegarde, their Majesties would cheerfully grant you their consent and bestow upon you a royal bride.”
Gravely the Elector shook his head. “No,” he said solemnly–“no, Count Doenhof, so long as I can not govern my land in peace, I dare seek no other bride than my own good sword.” [54]
And smilingly, as if he had heard nothing, as if nothing uncommon had happened, the Elector returns to the conservatory.
The Princess Hildegarde also smiles, looks cheerful and happy, and dances with all the cavaliers. But not with the Elector! He does not approach her again.
She seems not to perceive this, and maintains her cheerfulness, even when at last he approaches the Princesses to take leave of them.
“Farewell, Sir Elector! May you have a prosperous journey home and be happy!” So say her lips. What says her heart?