"And I deem myself happy to make the acquaintance of the greatest statesman of the age," said the queen, while Talleyrand's short figure bowed deeply. "Oh, your majesty is indeed to be envied. You have not only gained great glory, but are also blessed with high-minded and sagacious advisers and executors of your will. If the king my husband had always been equally fortunate, a great many things would not have happened."

"Well, we have induced him to displace at least one bad adviser," exclaimed Napoleon. "That man Hardenberg was the evil genius of the king; he is chiefly to blame for the misfortunes that have befallen Prussia, and it was necessary to remove him."

"But he was an experienced statesman," said the queen, whose magnanimous character found it difficult to listen to any charge against Hardenberg without saying something in his defence; "he is a very skilful politician, and it will not be easy for the king to fill the place of Minister von Hardenberg."

"Ah!" said Napoleon, carelessly; "ministers are always to be found. Let him appoint Baron von Stein; he seems to be a man of understanding."

An expression of joyful surprise overspread the queen's face. The king entered. Napoleon met him and offered him his hand. "I wished to give your majesty a proof of my kind disposition in the presence of your noble and beautiful consort, and, if you have no objection, to assure you of my friendship," he said. "I have complied as far as possible with all your wishes. The Emperor Alexander, in whom you have an ardent and eloquent friend, will confirm it to you. I also communicated to him my last propositions, and trust that your majesty will acquiesce in them."

"Sire," said the king, coldly, "the Emperor Alexander laid this ultimatum before me, but it would be very painful to me if I should be obliged to accept it. It would deprive me of the old hereditary provinces which form the largest portion of my states."

"I will point out a way to get compensation for these losses," exclaimed Napoleon. "Apply to the Emperor Alexander; let him sacrifice to you his relatives, the Princes of Mecklenburg and Oldenburg. He can also give up to you the King of Sweden, from whom you may take Stralsund and that portion of Pomerania of which he makes such bad use. Let him consent that you should have these acquisitions, not indeed equal to the territories taken from you, but better situated, and, for my part, I shall make no objection."

"Your majesty proposes to me a system of spoliation, to which I can never agree," said the king, proudly. "I complain of the menaced loss of my provinces, not only because it would lessen the extent of my territories, but because they are the hereditary states of my house, and are associated with my ancestors by indissoluble ties of love and fealty."

"You see that these ties are not indissoluble after all," exclaimed Napoleon, "for we shall break them, and you will be consoled for the loss by obtaining compensation."

"Possibly others may be more readily consoled for such losses," said the king: "those who are only anxious for the possession of states, and who do not know what it is to part with hereditary provinces in which the most precious reminiscences of our youth have their root, and which we can no more forget than our cradle."

"Cradle!" exclaimed Napoleon, laughing scornfully. "When the child has become a man, he has no time to think of his cradle."

"Yes, he has," said the king, with an angry expression. "We cannot repudiate our childhood, and a man who has a heart must remember the associations of his youth."

Napoleon, making no reply, looked grave, while Frederick William fixed his eyes on him with a sullen and defiant expression. The queen felt that it was time for her to prevent a more violent outburst of indignation on the part of her husband. "The real cradle is the tender heart of a mother," she said gently, "and all Europe knows that your majesty does not forget it; all are aware of the reverential love of the great conqueror for Madame Letitia, whom France hails as noble Madame Mere."

Napoleon raised his eyes toward her, and his forbidding expression disappeared. "It is true," he said, "your sons, madame, ought to be envied such a mother. They will owe you many thanks, for it is you, madame, who have saved Prussia by your eloquence and noble bearing. I repeat to you once more that I shall do what I can to fulfil your wishes. We shall confer further about it. At present, I have the honor to take leave of your majesty."

He offered his hand to the queen. "Sire," she said, profoundly affected, "I hope that, after making the acquaintance of the hero of the century, you will permit me to remember in you the generous conqueror as well as the man of genius." Napoleon silently kissed her hand, and, bowing to the king, left the room.

"Oh!" exclaimed the queen, when she was alone with her husband, "perhaps it was not in vain that I came hither; God may have imparted strength to my words, and they may have moved the heart of this all-powerful man, so that he will acknowledge our just demands, and shrink from becoming the robber of our property."

In the mean time Napoleon returned to his quarters, accompanied by Talleyrand. But when the minister, on their arrival at the palace, was about to withdraw, the emperor detained him. "Follow me into my cabinet," he said, advancing quickly. Talleyrand limped after him, and a smile, half scornful, half malicious, played on his thin lips.

"The hero who wants to rule over the world," said Talleyrand to himself, "is now seized with a very human passion, and I am sure we shall have a highly sentimental scene." He entered the room softly, and lurkingly watched every movement of Napoleon. The emperor threw his small hat on one chair, his gloves and sword on another, and then paced the room repeatedly. Suddenly he stood still in front of Talleyrand and looked him full in the face.

"Were you able to overhear my conversation with the queen?" he asked.

"I was, sire!" said Talleyrand, laconically, "I was able to overhear every word."

"You know, then, for what purpose she came hither," exclaimed Napoleon, and commenced again pacing the apartment.

"Talleyrand," he said, after a pause, "I have wronged this lady. She is an angel of goodness and purity, she is a true woman and a true queen. It was a crime for me to persecute her. Yes, I confess that I was wrong in offending her. On merely hearing the sound of her voice I felt vanquished, and was as confused and embarrassed as the most timid of men. My hand trembled when I offered her the rose. I have slandered her, but I will make compensation!" He resumed his walk rapidly; a delicate blush mantled his cheeks, and all his features indicated profound emotion. Talleyrand, looking as cold and calm as usual, still stood at the door, and seemed to watch the emperor with the scrutinizing eye of a physician observing the crisis of a disease.

"Yes," added Napoleon, "I ought certainly to compensate her for what I have done. She shall weep no more on my account; she shall no more hate and detest me as a heartless conqueror. I will show her that I can be magnanimous, and compel her to admit that she was mistaken in me. I will raise Prussia from the dust. I will render her more powerful than ever, and enlarge her frontiers instead of narrowing them. And then, when her enchanting eyes are filled with gladness, I will offer my hand to her husband and say to him: 'You were wrong; you were insincere toward me, and I punished you for it. Now let us forget your defeats and my victories; instead of weakening your power, I will increase it that you may become my ally, and remain so forever!' Talleyrand, destroy the conditions I dictated to you; send for Count Goltz; confer with him again, and grant his demands!"

"Sire," exclaimed Talleyrand, apparently in dismay, "sire, shall posterity say that you failed to profit by your most splendid conquest, owing to the impression a beautiful woman made upon you?" The emperor started, and Talleyrand added: "Sire, has the blood of your soldiers who fell at Jena, at Eylau, and at Friedland, been shed in vain, and is it to be washed away by the tears of a lady who now appears to be as inoffensive as a lamb, but who is to blame for this whole war? Your majesty ought not to forget that the Queen of Prussia instigated her husband to begin it—that, at the royal palace of Berlin, you took a solemn oath to punish her, and to take revenge for her warlike spirit, and for the oath over the tomb of Frederick the Great! Ah, the queen, with Frederick William and the Emperor Alexander, would exult at your tender-heartedness; the world would wonder at the weakness of the great captain who allowed himself to be duped by the sighs and seeming humility of the vanquished, and—"

"Enough!" interrupted Napoleon, in a powerful voice—"enough, I say!" He walked several times up and down, and then stood still again in front of Talleyrand. "Send immediately for Count Goltz," he said imperiously, "and inform him of our ultimatum! Tell him in plain words that all I said to the queen were but polite phrases, binding me in no manner, and that I am as firmly determined as ever to fix the Elbe as the future frontier of Prussia—that there was no question of further negotiations—that I had already agreed with the Emperor Alexander as to the various stipulations, and that the king owed his lenient treatment solely to the chivalrous attachment of this monarch, inasmuch as, without his interference, my brother Jerome would have become King of Prussia, while the present dynasty would have been dethroned. You know my resolutions now; proceed in accordance with them, and hasten the conclusion of the whole affair, that I may be annoyed no more. I demand that the treaty be signed to-morrow."

Prussia's fate was therefore decided. The great sacrifice which the queen had made, and with so much reluctance, had been in vain. On the 9th of June, 1807, the treaty of Tilsit was signed by the representatives of France and Prussia.

By virtue of it King Frederick William lost one-half of his territories, consisting of all his possessions beyond the Elbe: Old Prussia, Magdeburg, Hildesheim, Westphalia, Friesland, Erfurt, Eichsfeld, and Baireuth. The Polish provinces were taken from him, as well as a portion of West Prussia, the district of Kulm, including the city of Thorn, half of the district of the Netze, and Dantzic, which was transformed into a free city. Besides, the king acknowledged the Confederation of the Rhine, the Kings of Holland and Westphalia, Napoleon's brothers, and engaged to close his ports against England. And, as was expressly stated in the document, these terms were obtained only "in consideration of the Emperor of Russia, and owing to Napoleon's sincere desire to attach both nations to each other by indissoluble bonds of confidence and friendship."

Russia, which had signed the treaty on the preceding day, gained a large portion of Eastern Prussia, the frontier district of Bialystock, and thus enriched herself with the spoils taken from her own ally.

Thus Frederick William concluded peace, losing his most important territories, and having his ten millions of subjects reduced to five millions. The genius of Prussia, Queen Louisa, veiled her head and wept!



BOOK IV.



CHAPTER XXXI.

BARON VON STEIN.

Profound sadness reigned for several weeks at the house of Baron Charles von Stein. Tears were in the eyes of his children, and whenever their mother came from her husband's room and joined them for a moment, they seemed in her only to seek comfort and hope. But the anxious face of the baroness became more sorrowful, and the family physician, who visited the house several times a day, was more taciturn and grave. Baron von Stein was ill, and his disease was one of those which baffle the skill of the physician, because their seat is to be sought less in the body than in the mind. Prussia's misfortunes had prostrated Stein. Sick at heart, and utterly broken down, at the commencement of 1807, after the violent scene with King Frederick William, he left Koenigsberg, and travelled slowly toward Nassau. There he met his family, and ever since lived in retirement. Never in his grief had he uttered a complaint, or manifested any loss of temper, but his face had become paler, his gait slower, and indicative of increasing weakness and exhaustion. He yielded at last to the tears of his wife, and the repeated remonstrances of his physician, to submit to medical treatment.

But medicine did not restore him; his strength decreased, and the fever wrecking his body grew more violent. The disease had recently, however, assumed a definite character; the news of the disaster of Friedland, and of the humiliating treaty of Tilsit, had violently shaken his constitution, and the physician was now able to discern the true character of the malady and give it a name. It was the tertian fever which alternately reddened and paled the baron's cheeks, at times paralyzing his clear, powerful mind, or moving his lips to utter unmeaning words, the signs of his delirium.

Baron von Stein had just undergone another attack of his dangerous disease. All night long his devoted wife had watched at his bedside, and listened despondingly to his groans, his fantastic expressions, his laughter and lamentations. In the morning the sufferer had grown calmer; consciousness had returned, and his eyes sparkled again with intelligence. The fever had left him, but he was utterly prostrated. The physician had just paid him a visit, and examined his condition in silence. "Dear doctor," whispered the baroness, as he was departing, "you find my husband very ill, I suppose? Oh, I read it in your face; I perceive from your emotion that you have not much hope of his recovery!" And the tears she knew how to conceal in the sick-room fell without restraint.

"He is very ill," said the physician, thoughtfully, "but I do not believe his case to be entirely hopeless; for an unforeseen circumstance may come to our assistance and give his mind some energy, when it will favorably influence the body. If the body alone were suffering, science would suggest ways and means to cure a disease which, in itself, is easily overcome. The tertain fever belongs neither to the dangerous acute diseases nor to any graver class. But, in this case, it is only the external eruption of a disease seated in the patient's mind."

"Whence, then, is recovery to come in these calamitous and depressing times?" said the baroness, mournfully. "His grief at the misfortunes of Prussia is gnawing at his heart, and all the mortifications and misrepresentations he has suffered at the hands of the very men whom he served with so much fidelity have pierced his soul like poisoned daggers. Oh, I shall never pardon the king that he could so bitterly mortify and humble my noble husband, who is enthusiastically devoted to Prussia—that he could mistake his character so grievously, and prefer such cruel charges against him. He called him—the best, the most intelligent and reliable of all his servants—a seditious man; he charged him with being self-willed, stubborn, and proud, and said he was mischievous and disobedient to the state. Oh, believe me, that accusation is what troubles Stein! The King of Prussia has humbled his pride so deeply and unjustly, that a reconciliation between them is out of the question. Stein lives, thinks, and grieves only for his country, and yet the insulting vehemence and unfeeling words of the king have rendered it impossible for him ever to reenter the Prussian service. He sees that his country is sinking every day, and that she is ruined not only by foreign enemies, but by domestic foes preying at the vitals of her administration. He would like to help her—he feels that he has stored up the means to do so in his experience—and yet he cannot. I ask you, therefore, my friend, where is the balm for his wounded soul?"

"I do not know," said the physician, "but we must get it. Germany has not now so many high-minded and courageous men that she could spare one, and the best of them all. The genius of Germany will assuredly find a remedy to save her noble champion, Baron von Stein."

"Ah, you believe still in the genius of Germany?" asked the baroness, mournfully. "You see all the horrors, the shame, the degradation that Germany, and especially Prussia, have to suffer! The calamities of our country, then, my friend, have transformed you into a believer, and made of the rationalist a mystic, believing in miracles? You know I was hitherto pious, and a faithful believer, but now I begin to doubt. Now I ask myself anxiously whether there really is a God in heaven, who directs and ordains every thing, and yet permits us to be thus trampled in the dust."

"Our duty is, perhaps, to strengthen ourselves by misfortunes," said the physician. "Germany was sleeping so profoundly that she could only be aroused by calamity, and become fully alive to her degrading position. But, believe me, she is opening her eyes, and seeking for those who can help her. She cannot forget Baron von Stein; but must feel that she stands in need of him."

"May you be a true prophet!" said the baroness, sighing, "and that your words—but hark!" she interrupted herself, "some one is violently ringing the door-bell! He must be a stranger, for none of the citizens would announce a visit in so noisy a manner. The inhabitants manifest sympathy for us; many come every morning to inquire about my husband. Without solicitation our neighbors have spread a layer of straw in front of the house, and along the street, that no noise may disturb the beloved sufferer, and—"

Just then the door opened, and a footman stated that a stranger desired to see the baroness concerning a matter of great importance.

"Me?" she asked, wonderingly.

"He asked first for Baron von Stein," replied the footman, "and when I told him that my master was very ill, he seemed alarmed. But he bade me announce his visit to the baroness, and tell her that he had made a long journey, and was the bearer of important news."

"Admit him, baroness," said the physician; "he brings, perhaps, news that may be good for our patient. As for me, permit me to withdraw."

"No, my dear doctor, you must stay," she said. "You are an intimate friend of my husband and of my family, and this person cannot have any thing to say to me that you may not hear. Besides, your advice and assistance may be necessary; and if the news should be important for my husband, you ought not to be absent."

"Well, if you wish me to stay, I will," said the physician; "who knows whether my hopes may not be presently realized?"

"Admit the stranger," said the baroness; and he entered a few minutes afterward.

"High-Chamberlain von Schladen!" she exclaimed, meeting him.

"You recognize me, then, madame?" asked M. von Schladen. "The memories of past times have not altogether vanished in this house, and one may hope—" At this moment his eyes met the physician, and he paused.

"Doctor von Waldau," said the baroness, "a faithful friend of my husband, and at present his indefatigable physician. He is one of us, and you may speak freely in his presence, Mr. Chamberlain."

"Permit me, then, to apply to you directly, and to ask you whether Baron von Stein is so ill that I cannot see him about grave and important business?"

"The baron is very ill," said the physician, "but there is no immediate danger; and, as the fever has left him to-day, he will be able to converse about serious matters—that is to say, if they are not of a very sad and disheartening character."

"Grief for Prussia's misfortunes is my husband's disease," said the baroness; "consider well, therefore, if what you intend telling him will aggravate it, or bring him relief. If a change for the better has taken place—if you bring him the news that that disgraceful treaty of Tilsit has been repudiated, and that the war will continue, it will be a salutary medicine, and, in spite of the warlike character of your news, you will appear as an angel of peace at his bedside. But if you come only to confirm the disastrous tidings that have prostrated him, it may cause his death."

"I do not bring any warlike tidings," said M. von Schladen, sadly; "I do not bring intelligence that the treaty of Tilsit has been repudiated! Hence, I cannot, as you say, appear as an angel of peace. Nevertheless, I do not come croaking of our disasters. I come in the name of, and commissioned by Prussia, to remind Baron von Stein of the words he uttered to the queen when he took leave of her. You, sir, being his physician, are alone able to decide whether I may see him, and lay my communication before him. For this reason I must tell you more explicitly why I have come. You permit me to do so, I suppose, baroness?"

"Oh, speak! my heart is yearning for your words!" exclaimed the baroness.

"I come to see Baron von Stein, not merely because I long to speak to the man for whom I entertain so much love and respect," said M. von Schladen, "but I come in the name of the king and queen. I bring him letters from Minister von Hardenberg, from the Princess Louisa von Radziwill, and from General Bluecher, and verbal communications from the queen. I have travelled without taking a moment's rest in order to deliver my letters as soon as possible, and to inform the baron of the wishes of their majesties. And now that I have arrived at my destination, I find the man sick in bed who is the only hope of Prussia. You will, perhaps, even shut his door against me, and all the greetings of love, the solicitations and supplications which I bring, will not reach him! It would be a heavy misfortune for Prussia and for the deeply-afflicted king, who is looking hopefully toward Baron von Stein!"

"He is looking hopefully toward my husband," exclaimed the baroness, reproachfully, "and yet it was he who insulted the baron in so grievous a manner!"

"But the king repents of it, and desires to indemnify him for it," said M. von Schladen. "I come to request Baron von Stein to return to Prussia, and to become once more the king's minister and adviser."

"Oh," exclaimed the physician, joyfully, "you see now that I am a true prophet. The genius of Germany has found a remedy to cure our noble sufferer."

"You permit me, then, to speak to him?" asked M. von Schiaden.

"I request you to do so," replied the physician. "I demand that you go to him immediately, and speak to him freely and unreservedly. His mind is in need of a vigorous shock to become again conscious of its own strength; when it has regained this consciousness, the body will rise from its prostration."

"Doctor, I am somewhat afraid," said the baroness, anxiously. "He was of late so nervous and irritable, you know, that the most trifling occurrence caused him to tremble and covered his brow with perspiration. I am afraid these stirring communications may make too powerful an impression upon him."

"Never mind," exclaimed the physician; "let them make a powerful impression upon him—let them even cause him to faint—I do not fear the consequences in the least; on the contrary, I desire them, for the shock of his nervous system will be salutary, and bring about a crisis that will lead to his recovery."

"But, doctor, excuse me, you know he had a raging fever all night, and is exhausted. What good will it do to communicate the news to him? He cannot obey the king's call, and, at best, weeks must pass before recovering sufficiently to attend to state matters."

"Ah, Baron von Stein accomplishes in days what others perform only in weeks," exclaimed the physician, smiling. "He is one of those men whose mind has complete control of his body. In his case, if you cure the one you cure the other."

"But I doubt whether my husband will accept these offers of the king," said the baroness, hesitatingly; "he has been insulted too grossly."

"But he is a patriot in the best sense of the word," said M. von Schladen; "he will forget personal insult when the welfare of the people is at stake."

"And even though he should not accept," said the physician, "he receives at least a gratifying satisfaction in the king's offer, and that will assuredly be a balm for his wounds. I shall now go to him once more. If he is entirely free from fever, I will let you come in, and you may tell him every thing."

"But you will not go away," said the baroness; "you will stay here, so as to be at hand in case any thing should happen."

"I shall remain in this room," said the physician, "and you may call me if necessary. Now let me see first how our patient is, and whether I may announce M. von Schladen's visit." He hastened back into the sick-room without waiting for a reply; the baroness sank down on a chair, and, folding her trembling hands, prayed fervently. High-Chamberlain von Schladen looked at the door by which the physician had disappeared, and his face expressed suspense and impatience.

At length the door opened again, and the physician appeared on the threshold. "High-Chamberlain von Schladen," he said aloud, "come in; Baron von Stein awaits you."



CHAPTER XXXII.

THE PATRIOT

High-chamberlain von Schladen entered the sick-room on tiptoe, preceded by the Baroness von Stein, who, hastening to her husband, looked at him anxiously. In fact, the baron looked very ill. His cheeks were hollow and deadly pale; his eyes lay deep in their sockets, and were flashing with that peculiar light emanating from the fever; his thin lips were parched, and he constantly tried to moisten them with his tongue, while his breathing was very painful.

M. von Schladen looked in profound emotion at the patient, and a feeling of melancholy was apparent. He was obliged to acknowledge that the baroness was right, and that this wasted form was not able to rise to obey the king's call; he believed that he had come in vain, and would be compelled to leave without having accomplished any thing, and this conviction was accompanied with a sigh. The sick man heard it, and a faint smile passed over his features. "You find me very ill then, M. von Schladen?" he asked in a tremulous voice. "I suppose I am but the shadow of the healthy, vigorous man who took leave of you at Koenigsberg a few months since? You see, I am still unable to give up my sympathies for Prussia; indeed, I am like her in every respect. Prussia is also but a shadow of what she was a short time ago; she is undergoing her death-struggle, and will succumb unless a strong arm soon lift her up."

"But this strong arm will come," said M. von Schladen.

"You believe so?" asked Stein. "Would you were right! But all I hear is disheartening. We live in a period of degradation and servitude, when we can do nothing better than seek a refuge in the grave, the only place where we may find liberty. You see that I am already on the brink. But I will not now speak of myself, but of you. What brought you hither? To what lucky accident am I indebted for your visit? My physician has told me you had casually stopped in this town, and being informed of my illness had desired to see me. What is your destination?"

"I am returning to Memel, to the King and Queen of Prussia," said M. von Schladen.

"Ah, you are a faithful servant, and I envy you," said Baron von Stein, "for your services are gratefully accepted; you are not treated with contumely, and your zeal is not regarded as malice and self-will. You may assist your country with your head, your arm, and your heart. You are not doomed to step aside, and idly dream away your days instead of seeking relief in useful activity. Oh, I repeat again, I envy you!" While he was speaking, his pale cheeks had assumed some color, and his voice, which, at first, had been faint, grew louder. But now, exhausted by the effort, and by his profound emotion, he sank back on the pillow and closed his eyes.

His wife bent over him, and wiped off the perspiration which covered his brow in large drops. In the open door leading into the adjoining room, appeared the kind face of the physician, who looked scrutinizingly at the patient. He then nodded in a satisfied manner, and whispered to the high-chamberlain: "Go on! go on! Tell him every thing. He can bear it."

Baron von Stein opened his eyes again and glanced at M. von Schladen. "You did not yet tell me whence you came, my dear friend?" he said. "Was your journey a mere pleasure-trip, or were graver purposes connected with it?"

"It was no pleasure-trip, for what German cares nowadays for such things?" said M. von Schladen. "My purpose, in undertaking this journey, was not only a grave, but a sacred one. I undertook it for the welfare of our country, and I come to solicit your advice. I know you loved Prussia once; you will not, although you are no longer in her service, withhold your sympathy from her, when you can be useful, you will joyfully render her aid, will you not?"

"Yes, indeed I will," exclaimed Baron von Stein; "my thoughts were with you all the time; my grief arises from your affliction and the misfortunes of Prussia; every new blow inflicted upon her fell on me, and her ruin prostrated me. Tell me, in what way can I aid you?"

"Your excellency, by assisting me in finding the man whom I am seeking; on whom the eyes of all good Prussians are fixed, and who is alone able to save the country, to reestablish its prosperity at home, and to obtain for it respect and authority abroad. The man whom the queen calls her friend, and of whom she expects help—to whom the king offers his hand, and whom he begs (understand me well, begs) to sustain him with his strong arm and his powerful mind, and, for the sake of Prussia, not to remember the wrongs he suffered in by-gone days—your excellency, I am seeking this high-minded man, who forgets insults, and yet does not close his ears against the cry of his country; whom adversity does not deter, and whom the burden to be laid on his shoulders does not cause to tremble; who forgets his own interests in order to have the satisfaction of saving a state to which, from his youth, he has devoted his strength—the man in whom all patriots confide, whom Hardenberg, when Napoleon's despotic will compelled him to resign his office, pointed out to the king as the only one by whom Prussia might still be redeemed. Your excellency, can you tell me where I may find this man?"

While M. von Schladen was speaking, Stein slowly raised his head to listen. His countenance had undergone a marvellous change; his features had regained their wonted expression, and his eyes beamed with energy.

"Your excellency," asked Schladen again, "can you tell me where I may find this man for whom all Prussia is calling?"

"You have not yet told me his name," whispered Baron von Stein. "To find him it is necessary to know his name."

"His name is on this letter which the Princess von Radziwill requested me to deliver to him," said Schladen, taking one from his memorandum-book, and handing it to the patient.

Baron von Stein quickly took it, and, on looking at the superscription, he muttered, "My name! my name is on the letter!"

"And it is your name that is now on all Prussian lips—that the queen is calling from afar—that the king—"

"Ah," interrupted Baron von Stein, "the king has insulted me too deeply; I should almost dishonor myself if I forget it!"

"You will shed the most radiant honor on your name by forgiving it," exclaimed M. de Schladen. "The king has commissioned me to tell you that he hopes in you alone. He will intrust to you the department of the interior and of finance; he assures you of his most implicit confidence; he promises never to allude again to what has passed between him and you. Here, your excellency, is a communication from Minister von Hardenberg, which will confirm all I have said."

He laid another letter on the table. Baron von Stein took it and looked at the address with a faint smile. "It is Hardenberg's handwriting," he said; "he is a genuine courtier, and takes it always for granted that the king's will is a sacred law for every one. He calls me already 'Prussian Minister of Finance.' And the queen?" he then asked, raising his eyes to M. von Schladen. "What does she say? Does she believe, too, that I can forget, forgive, and return?"

"The queen believes it, because she wishes it, your excellency. 'Stein is my last consolation,' she said to me when I took leave of her. 'Being a man of magnanimity and the keenest sagacity, he may be able to discover ways and means of saving the country that are as yet concealed from us. Tell him that, when he comes, the sun will rise again for me; tell him to remember the sacred vow I received from him to stand faithfully by us, and to come when Prussia stands in need of him, and calls him to her assistance. Tell him that his queen prays Heaven to restore to her country the man who is a defence against wrong and injustice, and one of the noblest sons of Germany.'"

Baron von Stein cast down his eyes; his lips were trembling; and tears rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"Your excellency," said M. von Schladen, urgently, "will you not read the letters? That from the Princess Louisa von Radziwill will give you a more graphic description of the present situation of the court than I am able to do; the one from Minister von Hardenberg will tell you what to do, and how important and necessary it is that you should come as speedily as possible. In Hardenberg's letter you will also find a brief note from General Bluecher, who joins in these solicitations. I have been permitted to read these letters, that, if they were lost on the way, I should, nevertheless, be able to communicate their contents to you. Will you not read them?"

"Yes," said Baron von Stein, breathing more freely, "I will read them. They are the first doves that, after the long deluge of affliction, come to me with an olive-branch of peace. I will see what the letters contain." He hastily opened that from the Princess Louisa and commenced reading it. But the paper soon dropped from his hand; a death-like pallor overspread his cheeks, and, almost fainting, he fell back on the pillow. "Alas," he murmured mournfully, "I forget that I am a poor, sick man! I cannot read; the letters swim before my eyes!" But this faintness lasted only a moment; Stein then raised his head again, and turned his eyes with a tender expression toward his wife, who was sitting at his bedside, and watching all his movements with anxious suspense. "Dear Wilhelmina," he said, "you have been my secretary during the last few weeks, and have rendered evil tidings less disagreeable to me; will you not read these cheering letters to me?"

The baroness bent over him, and, in place of a reply, kissed his forehead. She then read as follows:

"Your friend Hardenberg and the newspapers will have informed you of the melancholy end of all our hopes. Cowardice and weakness, perhaps more than the luck of our enemies, have subjugated us, and Hardenberg's resignation, which he tendered voluntarily, in order to be useful to us even by this sacrifice, and to preserve the king from the humiliation of dismissing him, causes us to feel our yoke painfully. I promised to write to you about the king. He deserves our sympathy at this moment; his courage and firmness have not been shaken by our last disasters; he was ready to make any sacrifice, because he thought it better to fall nobly than to live dishonorably. He clung with sincere attachment to your friend Hardenberg, and just at this moment when all are deserting him, when he has neither power nor will, he loses this well-tried friend, who, actuated by his love of the country, and affection for his master, left him with a grief that deeply moved my heart. At this moment the eyes of us all are turning toward you, my dear Stein. From you we hope for consolation, and for forgetfulness of the wrongs which have removed you from us, and which you will be too generous to remember at a time when he who insulted you only deserves your sympathy and assistance. Can you withstand our solicitations? Can you see this country deserted, and refuse to it the co-operation of those talents that alone are able to raise us from our prostration? Hardenberg sees no other hope for his master than in you, and if you are not restored to us—if you do not yield to the wishes of those yearning for you, what is to become of our future?

"I admit that to call upon you to share our fortune is to deem you capable of the greatest disinterestedness; for nothing has ever been done by you to deserve the conduct formerly manifested toward you; but your soul is too generous to remember those insults, and I know you too well not to be sure that you will unhesitatingly come to the assistance of this unfortunate prince, who for five months possesses just claims to sympathy. Even at this juncture he maintains his dignity; he has gained friends and zealous adherents, and appears to me never more estimable than since these disasters, in which I have seen him assert a courage and resignation of which I should never have deemed him capable. It grieved me to see Hardenberg depart; he himself is very sad, and I am sure that only the hope of restoring you to the service of his master sustains him. Do not refuse to comply with our request, my dear Stein, and be not as cruel as that destiny which is taking from us all the distinguished characters that were able to reconcile us with life and mankind. I look for your reply with impatience; may it be favorable to us! It needs no assurance of mine to make you believe in the affectionate and constant attachment which I have always felt for you.

"LOUISA."

Stein listened to the letter with eyes half closed. A faint blush had gradually suffused his cheeks, and a smile was playing on his lips. "And what do you think of this letter, Wilhelmina?" he then asked. "What does your heart reply to this call?"

"I am fearful for you, my beloved friend," said the baroness, mournfully. "My heart shrinks from this career into which you will reenter, and in which you will be exposed again to ingratitude, and the persecutions of your enemies."

"Not to ingratitude," said M. von Schladen. "All Prussia will be grateful to you, and the king will be the first to thank and reward you with his friendship for having complied with his invitation. Your excellency, will you not read the letter from Minister von Hardenberg? It will tell you in the most convincing manner how firmly you may rely on the king and on his gratitude, and how necessary it is that you should repair to him as soon as possible."

"No, no, I will not hear any more," exclaimed Stein, in a loud voice. "It shall not be said that the flattering words of a friend induced me to do what is my duty. Call the doctor; I must see the doctor!"

"The doctor is here," said Dr. von Waldau, entering the room. "When patients are able to shout in such stentorian tones, they must indeed stand in need of assistance."

"Doctor," exclaimed Stein, "come here; feel my pulse, look me full in the face, and tell me, upon your honor, when I shall be able to set out."

The physician took the proffered hand and laid his finger on the pulse. A pause ensued; all looked in breathless suspense on his face. The doctor smilingly nodded. "It has turned out as I predicted," he exclaimed. "The 'genius of Germany' has come to our assistance, and saved her bravest and noblest champion. The pulse is regular and strong, as it has not been for weeks. The crisis for which I hoped so long has taken place. Baron von Stein, in two weeks you will be well enough to set out."

"In two weeks!" exclaimed the baron, in a contemptuous tone of voice. "You did not hear, then, that Prussia stands in need of me; that the king calls me, and that Hardenberg tells me it is of the highest importance I should immediately enter upon the duties of my office? No, I shall not depart in two weeks, nor in two days, but immediately!" He raised himself in his bed, and imperiously stretching out his arms, he exclaimed, "My clothes! I will rise! I have no more time to be sick! Give me my clothes!"

"But my beloved friend," exclaimed the baroness, in dismay, "this is impossible; just consider that the fever has exhausted your strength, that—"

"Hush, do not contradict him," whispered the physician. "The contradiction would irritate him, and might easily bring about a fresh attack of fever."

"My clothes! my clothes!" exclaimed Baron von Stein, louder and more imperiously than before, and he cast angry glances on his wife.

The physician himself hastened to the clothes-press, and, taking the silken dressing-gown from it, carried it to the patient. "Here is your dressing-gown," he said; "let me be your valet de chambre." Baron von Stein thanked him with a smile, and lifted up his arms that the garment might be wrapped around him.

"And here are your slippers," said the baroness; "let me put them on your feet."

"And permit me to support you when you rise," said M. von Schladen, approaching the bed. "Oh, lean on me only for a moment; afterward the whole of Prussia will lean on you."

Baron von Stein made no reply. He put on the dressing-gown and the slippers, and then raised himself, assisted by M. von Schladen. But his face was pallid, and large drops of perspiration gathered on his forehead. He left his couch, and stood free and erect. "I am well again!" he exclaimed. "Prussia calls me! I am not allowed to be ill; I—" His voice died away in a faint groan; his head bent down, and his form sank to the floor. M. von Schiaden and the baroness caught him in their arms, and placed him again on his bed.

"Doctor," exclaimed the baroness, in a menacing tone, "if he die, you are his murderer; you have killed him!"

"No," said the physician, quietly, "I have saved him. This swoon is the last struggle of death with triumphant life. When Baron von Stein awakes he will be no longer seriously ill, but convalescent. When he is conscious again, the crisis is over. See, he begins to stir! Ah, his brave mind will not suffer his body to rest, and will assuredly awaken it."

The baron very soon opened his eyes, and looked with a perfectly calm and conscious expression, first at his wife, then at the physician and the king's messenger. "M. von Schladen," he said, "will you read to me Hardenberg's letter? Wilhelmina, lay your arm around me and support my head a little. Waldau is right; I will not be able to set out to-day. I am still very weak."

"But you will be able to set out in ten days," exclaimed the physician. "You see I yield to you. I ask no longer for two weeks, but only for ten days."

Baron von Stein gave him his hand with a grateful glance. "And now, High-Chamberlain von Schladen, I request you to read once more Hardenberg's communication." M. von Schladen looked inquiringly at the physician, who nodded his consent.

"Read, read," said the baron, entreatingly, supporting his head against his wife's shoulder. M. von Schladen opened the letter, and laid General Bluecher's note, enclosed in it, on the table and commenced reading.

The letter urgently requested Baron von Stein to accept the two departments of finance and of the interior, which the king wished to intrust to him because the welfare of Prussia required it. Besides, Hardenberg asked Stein to repair immediately to the king, because it was of the highest importance that the ears of Frederick William should not be besieged again by hostile insinuations. He gave him cautious hints as to the manner in which he would have to win the confidence of Frederick William, and assured him that he would retain it, provided he never pretended to rule over the king. He called upon him in the name of Prussia and Germany not to decline the difficult task, but to fulfil the hopes which patriots were reposing in him. He advised him to impose such conditions as he might deem prudent before accepting the offer, and to address a letter to his majesty in regard to them.

A pause ensued. Stein had listened to the words of his friends in silence. All looked at him anxiously. His face was calm, and when he slowly opened his eyes, they indicated entire composure.

"High-chamberlain von Schladen," asked Stein, "you have made the long journey from Memel to this place for no other purpose than to deliver to me these letters and the order of the king?"

"It was the only object of my journey," said M. von Schladen. "I travelled by way of Copenhagen and Hamburg, in order to avoid French spies."

"And when do you intend setting out again?" asked the baron.

"Your excellency, as soon as I have obtained a reply."

"Ah," exclaimed Stein, with a gentle smile; "you want to prevent me, then, from writing immediately, that I may retain you for some time as a welcome guest?"

"No, your excellency, let me entreat you to give me at once your reply to the solicitations with which the king and the queen—all Prussia—nay, all Germany turn to you, and implore you to lend to the fatherland your strong arm."

"Alas, my hand is so feeble that it can scarcely hold a pen!" said Baron von Stein, sighing. "Wilhelmina, you are always my kind and obliging friend—will you now also lend me your hand, and be my secretary?"

The baroness cast a mournful and loving look on him. "I read in your eyes," she said, sadly, "that you have made up your mind, and that, even though I implore you to desist for my sake and that of our children, it would be in vain. We shall lose you again; your house and my heart will be lonely, and only my thoughts will travel with you! But it hardly becomes me to dissuade you from your purpose. In these days of general distress it does not behoove German patriots to confine themselves to the happiness of their own firesides, and to shut their ears against the cries of the fatherland. Your heart, I know, belongs to me. Your mind and your abilities belong to the world. Go, then, my beloved husband, and do your duty; I will fulfil mine." She kissed the baron's forehead, and then stepped to the table at the window. "Your secretary is ready," she said, taking the pen; "tell me what to write."

Baron von Stein raised himself, and dictated in a firm voice as follows:

"TO THE KING'S MAJESTY:—Your gracious orders and the offer of the department of the interior, have been communicated to me by a letter from Minister von Hardenberg, de dato Memel, July 10, which I received on the 9th of August. I accept the office unconditionally, and leave it to your royal majesty to arrange with what persons, or in what relations to my colleagues, I am to discharge my duties. At this moment of my country's distress it would be wrong to consult my own personal grievances, particularly as your majesty manifests so exalted a constancy in adversity.

"I should have set out immediately, but a violent tertian fever is confining me to my bed; as soon as my health is better, which I trust will be the case in ten days or two weeks, I shall hasten to your majesty. Your obedient servant,

"STEIN."

Baron von Stein kept his word. Two weeks afterward, although still suffering and feeble, he entered his travelling-coach to repair to Memel, and to hold again in his powerful hands the reins of the Prussian government.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

JOHANNES VON MUeLLER.

The French authorities had informed the municipality of Berlin that peace had been concluded at Tilsit, between the Emperor of the French and the King of Prussia. They ordered that the inhabitants of Berlin, in view of this important event, should manifest their gratification in a public manner. German singers were to perform a Te Deum at the cathedral in honor of this treaty, and at night the people were to show, by a general illumination, that they rejoiced at the restoration of peace. The rulers of the city had issued orders to this effect, and the citizens were obliged to obey, although deeply affected by the humiliating terms of the treaty, which the Berlin Telegraph had communicated in a jubilant editorial. The capital of Prussia had to celebrate the disgrace of the country by a festive illumination. But the public officials could not compel the people to give their hearts to such outward rejoicings, or even to manifest their approval by their presence. At the cathedral, the organist with his choristers sang the ordered Te Deum to the accompaniment of kettle-drums, but the church was empty. Only the French officers and a few hired renegades witnessed the solemnity.

At night, all Berlin was in a blaze of colored flame, but the streets were deserted. No glad populace were thronging them—no cheering or merry laughter was to be heard; only here and there, troops of French soldiers were loitering and singing loudly; or a crowd of idlers, such as are to be found wherever their curiosity can be gratified, and who, devoid of honor and character, are the same in all cities. The better classes remained at home, and disdained to cast even a fugitive glance on the dazzling scene. Nowhere had more lights been kindled than were ordered by the French authorities. At one house, however, on Behren Street, a more brilliant illumination was to be seen; variegated lamps were there artistically grouped around two busts that stood in strange harmony, side by side, and excited the astonishment of all passers-by. They were the busts of Frederick the Great and Napoleon, on whose foreheads beamed the same radiant light. At this house lived Johannes von Mueller, the historian of Switzerland, who had caused this exhibition to be made, and who surveyed his work with smiling face. "It is all right," he said to himself, "it is a beautiful spectacle—those splendid heads; and it does my heart good that I have succeeded in this annoyance to my opponents. They shall see that I am not afraid of their attacks, and that I am quietly pursuing my career, in spite of their slanders. They call me a renegade, because I did not escape with the rest; they call me a friend of the French, because I delivered a French address at the Academy on the birthday of Frederick the Great, and their vulgar minds were displeased because in that speech I dared to compare Napoleon with Frederick. It is also distasteful to them that I have renounced the title of secret councillor of war, and call myself, briefly and simply, Johannes Mueller. As if a title were not a superfluous addition to Johannes Mueller, whom Germany loved before he had a title, and whom she will love when he has one no longer. Yes, my enemies envy my glory, they call me a friend of the French simply because I do not abuse them in their absence, and in their presence keep quiet and assume a stupid indifference. I keep my hands free; I write openly; I am no hidden reviler of the French, but a public worshipper of all that is sublime. For this reason I have placed here, side by side, the busts of the two greatest men to whom the last century has given birth. And now, great heroes! shine upon me in the radiance which a man whom the people have honored with the name of the German Tacitus, has kindled for you! Shed your lustre on the city, and tell the Germans that Johannes von Mueller does homage to genius, regardless of nationality or birth! Watch over the study of the historian, and while he works guard him from the spirits of evil!" He waved his hands to the busts, and was about to sit down to his books and papers, when his old servant entered to inform him that a gentleman wished to see the councillor of war immediately.

"Michael Fuchs," exclaimed Mueller, "how often have I told you not to address me by that absurd title, which, I hope, I shall soon cast off as the ripe chestnut its capsule. Councillor of War! For my part, I never counselled any one to commence this senseless war, and now that there is peace, I scarcely regard myself as a Prussian functionary; and yet you continue repeating that ridiculous title!"

"Well, well," said the old servant, smiling, "when we received that title four years ago, we were overjoyed and felt very proud. It is true, times have changed, and I believe that Clarke, the French general, with whom we dined again to-day, does not like the title much. We may, therefore, cast it aside. But, sir, while we are quarrelling here, the gentleman outside is waiting to be admitted."

"You are right, Michael Fuchs," said Johannes von Mueller, in a gentle tone, as if he desired to pacify him; "let the stranger come in."

Old Michael nodded pleasantly to his master. Opening the door and stepping out, he said aloud: "Come in, sir! I have announced you, and M. von Mueller awaits you."

"He is a very good, faithful old fellow!" murmured Johannes von Mueller, meeting the visitor who was entering the room.

"Oh, M. von Nostitz," exclaimed Mueller, joyously, "you here in Berlin! I thought you were on your estates."

"I was not on my estates, but at Memel with our king," said M. von Nostitz, gravely. "Honored with some commissions by his majesty, I have arrived here, and as one of them concerns you, Mr. Councillor, I have hastened to call upon you."

"The king, then, has received my letter at last and grants my resignation?" asked Mueller, quickly.

"The king has received your letter," replied M. von Nostitz.

"And my resignation? You come to notify me that it has been accepted?" exclaimed Mueller, impatiently.

"Then you are really in earnest about your request?" asked M. von Nostitz, almost sternly. "I must tell you that none of us would believe it, and that I have come to entreat you in the name of the king and the queen—in the name of all your friends, who, faithful to their duty, followed the royal couple, to change your mind and remain with us. The queen, especially, refuses to believe that Johannes von Mueller, the great historian, who, but a few months ago, spoke and wrote for Prussia with so ardent an enthusiasm, now intends to leave us voluntarily and to escape in faithless egotism from the calamities that have overwhelmed us all. I am to beg you in the name of the queen to remain with us. Her majesty cannot and will not believe that you are in earnest about this resolution to resign your office and leave the country. She has commissioned me to beg you not to treat the state at this critical juncture in so ignominious a manner as to despair of it, and assures you that your salary will always be punctually paid. She admonishes you through me to think of your numerous friends here, of the favorable disposition of the Prussian government toward you, of the agreeable life you are leading in Berlin, and, finally, of the work on Frederick the Great, which you have just commenced, and to remain in the Prussian service."

"The kindness and solicitude manifested by her majesty cannot but profoundly touch my heart," exclaimed Mueller, in a tremulous voice, "and I wish from the bottom of my heart, which is truly loyal and devoted to the royal house of Prussia, that I were allowed to comply with these gracious words. Her majesty and all my friends know the high opinion and sanguine hopes which I entertain with regard to Prussia, and that I feel convinced Providence has intrusted to this state the championship of truth, liberty, and justice in Germany."

"The queen is right also in saying that I am leading quite an agreeable life here; and that Berlin, if it should become a great centre of education for the north, would be a highly interesting place. It is very true, too, that I have warm friends here; that I am living at a fine villa; that I have no indispensable duties to perform every day, and that my salary has hitherto been promptly paid. But I confess I feel attracted toward my dear friends in Southern Germany and Switzerland. I am longing for peace and quiet, to finish my history of the land of Tell, but here I do not see any prospect of it. I am afraid, on the contrary, that the ferment and commotion of affairs will last a good while yet. I have been assured that important reforms and reductions in the financial administration of the country are in contemplation, and that men of high rank, who have served the state for half a century, and are by no means wealthy, will suffer; how, then, could I hope that these reforms would leave me untouched, when I have been but three years in the Prussian service?"

"That is to say, you are afraid of losing your salary, notwithstanding the queen's assurances?" asked M. von Nostitz.

"That is to say, I am unfortunately not rich enough to be contented with less; I have nothing but my salary, and have to pay my debts with it. When Prussia lost two-thirds of her revenues, I offered to give up my position here, which yields me an income of three thousand dollars. I believe that was honorable, and will cast no reproach on my character and sentiments."

"That is to say, sir, you tendered your resignation because the King of Wuertemberg offered you a professorship at the University of Tuebingen."

"But I should never have accepted it had I not deemed it incumbent upon me not to receive any money at the hands of Prussia at a time when her exchequer is hardly able to pay the salary of a superfluous savant. Take into consideration that, when I accept this offer, which would first necessitate my removal from the Prussian service, I cannot assuredly be charged with having done so from motives of avarice. Other reasons impel me to leave a pleasant position in the finest city of Germany, and move to a small university town, where I shall have only half the salary I am receiving here. I shall live in a remote corner of the world, but be enabled to lead a calm, undisturbed life, and finish the works I have commenced."

"All my remonstrances, the wishes of the queen, the exhortations of your friends, are in vain, then?" asked M. von Nostitz.

"I requested his majesty the King of Prussia in an autograph letter to accept my resignation," said Mueller, evasively; "I want, above all, a categorical reply whether I must remain or go."

"You may go, sir," exclaimed Nostitz, almost contemptuously. Taking a paper from his memorandum-book, he added, "here, sir, is your dismission. I was ordered to deliver it into your hands only when my solicitations and the representations made in the name of the queen should make no impression upon you. You are free; the king dismisses you from the service; Prussia has nothing further to do with you. Seek your fortune elsewhere; your glory you will leave here. Farewell!" Saluting him haughtily, and without giving him time to reply, M. von Nostitz turned and left the room.

Johannes von Mueller gazed after him with a long, mournful look. "Another man who will charge me before my friends and before the world with treachery, perfidy, and meanness!" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, stupidity and empty words! They want to accuse me of treachery because it suits them best, and because they refuse to comprehend that a poor savant ought at least to be protected from want in order to be able to live for science. A reduction of salaries and pensions is impending; I owe it to myself and to the works I have commenced, to provide against this misfortune, and to seek a place where I can labor without being disturbed, and, thank God! I have found it. Now I may go to Tuebingen, for I am free!" He took the paper from the table, and hastily breaking the seal read the contents. "Yes," he repeated, "I am free! I can go. All hail Tuebingen! so near the Alps, so near the grand old forest! In thy tranquillity I will return to my early enthusiasm as to the bride of my youth! My history of Switzerland will at last be completed and bequeathed to posterity! Already methinks I breathe the pure air of the mountains; and sunny Italy, while I cannot return to her, invites me to thee, quiet Tuebingen!"

Johannes von Mueller did not perceive that, while he was speaking to himself, the door behind him had softly opened, and a gentleman, wrapped in a cloak, his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat, had entered the room and overheard the last words. The savant, staring at the muscular form of this stranger, drew back in surprise. "What does this mean?" he muttered. "Where is Michael Fuchs?"

"Michael Fuchs is outside, and considers it very natural that an old friend should desire to surprise his master rather than be solemnly announced," said the stranger, approaching and taking off his hat.

"Frederick von Gentz!" exclaimed Mueller, in a joyful voice, yet not altogether free from fear. "My friend, you dare to come hither, and yet you must know that the emperor of the French is highly exasperated at you; that he believes you to be the author of all sorts of seditious pamphlets, and that it would be very agreeable to him to have you arrested and confined."

"Yes, it is true," said Gentz, in his careless, merry way, "Napoleon Bonaparte does me the honor of being afraid of me and my pen, and would like to render me harmless, as he did poor Palm. Once I was in imminent danger of falling into the hands of his police, and I escaped in disguise, but only after a great deal of trouble."

"And yet you dare to come to the seat of the French administration in Germany?" exclaimed Mueller. "Oh, my friend, your danger nearly deprives me of the delight I feel in seeing you again, and I have to mingle my loving salutations with warnings and presentiments!"

"You are right; I was rather bold in entering the cobweb of the French spiders," said Gentz. "Still, it is not so dangerous as you believe, and you may be perfectly at ease so far as I am concerned. I am here with a charming lady friend, the Princess Bagration. I figured on her passport as her private secretary, and have a regular Russian one of my own, purporting to be issued to M. de Gentzowitch. Besides, no one suspects me here; we have just arrived, and will leave Berlin to-morrow before daybreak to return to Dresden. We are now at peace with France, and the authorities here will hardly dare to lay hands on a subject of the Emperor of Russia, the friend and admirer of the Emperor of the French. You see, therefore, you need not be afraid about me, and I may safely chat with you for an hour here in your study."

"Then, my dear friend, let me welcome you," exclaimed Mueller; "let us enjoy this hour, and renew the pledge of friendship." Mueller welcomed Gentz with great cordiality, but the latter did not share the ardor of his friend.

"You have remained faithful to our reminiscences?" Gentz asked, as Mueller led him to the sofa, and sat by his side. "You have not forgotten the past, and your heart still retains its old friendship?" While uttering these words, he fixed his dark eyes on the face of Johannes von Mueller, who seemed not to be able to bear his steadfast gaze, and became embarrassed.

"Oh, my friend!" he exclaimed, "how can you ask whether I remember other days? My heart frequently feels exalted at the idea of friendship, which so few can appreciate at its true value. What attachment was that of Jonathan, himself a victorious warrior, for Jesse's noble son! How great Jonathan was, who knew that the throne of Israel would pass from his house to David! I was always affected by David's exclamation at Jonathan's death. I thought of it just now. And Scipio had a disinterested friendship for Laelius, although he was aware that envious men desired to rob him of the glory of having conquered Carthage, and ascribed every thing to the skilful plans of Laelius. Just as if, when I narrate the heroic deeds of our ancestors, some one should say, 'The best passages were written by his friend!' What Scipio felt was once illustrated, at a private dinner, by Ferdinand of Brunswick, the hero of Crefeld and Minden. He also had a friend, and to him were attributed the successes of the prince. Ferdinand himself smilingly said to me, 'Between real friends it is a matter of indifference to whom the credit is given.' Oh, the spirits of David, Jonathan, and Scipio, must have rejoiced at these words as heartily as I did. So, my dear Gentz, you ask me whether I have forgotten our friendship?"

"Words, words!" exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. "Instead of deeds, you have nothing but words. I will speak to you plainly, and with the sincerity of a true German. That is what I have come for."

"Like a true German?" repeated Mueller. "Are there still any true Germans? Are they not by this time extinct, leaving behind only slaves and renegades? This is not the age for true Germans, and if any really exist, they ought to hide themselves and be silent."

"And you can say that—you who once called so enthusiastically for deeds?" exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. "Listen to me, Johannes von Mueller! I tell you once more, it is for your sake that I have come. I wanted to appear before you either as your guilty conscience or as your friend, as your judge or as your ally. I refused to believe in all that was told me about you. I would trust only my own ears, my own eyes. Johannes von Mueller, I have come to ask you: Do you still remember the oath we took in so solemn a manner at Frankfort?"

"I do," said Johannes von Mueller, timidly. "Carried away by the enthusiasm of our hopes, we covenanted for the welfare of Germany, and especially for her deliverance from foreign tyranny."

"We swore to unite in active love for Germany, and in active hatred against France," exclaimed Gentz, solemnly. "I have fulfilled my oath; I have toiled incessantly for the deliverance of Germany. The persecutions I have suffered at the hands of the French, and Napoleon's wrath, speak for me! I have well improved my time. But what have you done? Where are the friends enlisted for our covenant? Where are the allies gathered around you to assist against France? The time for action is coming, and we must be ready to fight the battle and expel the tyrant. Johannes von Mueller, where are the troops you have enlisted—the men you have gained over to our cause?"

"I have enlisted no troops—prepared no battles, and concentrated no corps," said Mueller, sighing. "On the battle-field of Jena lie buried not only our soldiers, but our hopes. The disaster is boundless; name, rights, existence—all gone! A new order of things is at hand. The great period of many monarchies, since the downfall of the Roman empire, is closed. No other path to prosperity and glory remains to us than that of the arts of peace; we cannot succeed by war."

"It is true, then," exclaimed Gentz, mournfully, "that you are a traitor and a renegade, and have not been slandered! You have not only lost your faith, but the consciousness of your perfidy! Oh, I refused to believe it; I thought it was impossible. I did have confidence in you. It was well known to me that you had long since lost your courage and inclination to struggle for our cause. I was also aware that, even before the commencement of the war between Prussia and France, your irresolution and timidity had increased. I was not greatly surprised, therefore, that you remained at Berlin when all faithful men left the capital, or, as some assert, you returned hither agreeably to an invitation from the French. After this, I was no longer astonished at seeing you repudiate your principles, your glory, your friends, the cause of Germany, every thing great and good that you had advocated for years, and truckle in the most cowardly manner to the conqueror, carry on disgraceful secret negotiations with him, and issue equivocal declarations and confessions; but that you should betray all that ought to be dear to you—that you should publicly renounce your principles—of such treachery I never deemed you capable!"

"And where did I commit any such treachery?" asked Mueller, reproachfully; "where did I secretly or publicly renounce all that had hitherto been dear to me? Tell me, accuse me! I will justify myself! This will show you how ardently I love you, for I will accept you as a judge of my actions, and allow you to acquit me or to find me guilty."

"Be it so!" exclaimed Gentz. "I do not stand before you as an individual; but as the voice of Germany—of posterity, that will judge and condemn you if you are unable to justify yourself. Listen to the charges, and reply to them! Why did you remain in Berlin when the court fled; when all those who were loyal to the king and his cause left the capital, because they refused to bow their heads to the French yoke?"

"I remained because I did not see any reason for fleeing. I am no prominent politician; politics, on the contrary, are only a matter of secondary importance to me. My principal sphere is science, and every thing connected with it. Now I was better able to serve it here than elsewhere. I had my books here, and a large number was on the way to me; accordingly, I had to wait for them; besides I had commenced studying the royal archives of Berlin to obtain material for my history of Frederick II. These are the reasons why I remained, and I confess to you that I had no cause to repent of it. No one injured me, or asked any thing dishonorable of me; no one insisted on my doing any thing incompatible with my duty and loyalty; on the contrary, all treated me politely. They seemed to regard me as one of the ancients, living only in and for posterity. Never before was the dignity of historical science honored in a more delicate manner than by the treatment I received at the hands of the French. Thus, amid the crash of falling thrones, I have quietly continued at my history of Switzerland, written articles for several reviews, and made extracts from many of the ancient classics, from the whole Muratorian Thesaurus, and from other printed and manuscript volumes. This, my friend, is a brief sketch of the quiet and retired life I have led since the disastrous day of Jena."

"You forgot to mention several essential points in your sketch," said Gentz, sternly. "You did not allude to your friendly intercourse with Napoleon's praetorians; you forgot even to refer to the remarkable visit you paid to the Emperor of the French. How could you, who so recently in public addresses had called upon every one to rise against the usurper—how could you dare to enter the lion's lair without fearing lest he strike you dead by a single blow? Napoleon Bonaparte might invite me twenty times in the most flattering manner, I should still take care to refuse, for I feel convinced that I should never return. The bullets that struck Palm's breast would be remoulded for me. How did it come that you did not feel any such apprehensions? How could you hope that the French would forgive your former Prussian patriotism, unless you had made concessions to them—unless you had proved recreant to the cause to which you had hitherto adhered?"

"I made no concessions. They were unnecessary; no one asked me to make them," said Johannes von Mueller, gently. "I remained in Berlin, because I was unable to flee with my whole library, and because I was no more bribed by France than by England, or any other power."

"Ah, I understand you; you will now turn the table, and accuse me instead of justifying yourself. It is a very common thing nowadays to tell marvellous stories about the large sums with which England has bribed me to speak and write against the usurper, who tramples upon our freedom and nationality. You can scarcely open a newspaper without finding in it, side by side with eulogies of the great German historian, and of the gratifying manner in which 'Napoleon, the hero, whose eagle-eye discerns every thing, knew how to appreciate his merits,' systematic attacks against me, and allusions to the rumor that I had been bribed by England."

"I did not intend accusing you," said Mueller. "I am only justifying myself; first, as to my remaining here, and, secondly, as to the visit I paid to the Emperor Napoleon. He sent for me, and, rest assured, I did nothing whatever to bring about this invitation. Ought I to have refused? He did not say a word about the king, the queen, myself, my wishes or plans. Dear friend, will you permit me to relate to you the particulars of my interview with Napoleon? Will you listen to me quietly, so as to judge for yourself whether that visit, which has been censured so severely, was really so great a crime, so terrible a perfidy against Germany, as my enemies have seen fit to pretend?"

"Speak! I told you already that I come to accuse you in the name of Germany and of posterity, and to listen to your justification."



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE CALL.

Johannes von Mueller shook his head, and as he spoke his voice grew louder and his face kindled with enthusiasm. "M. Alexander von Humboldt had made me acquainted with the French minister of state, M. Maret, who frequently invited me, with Humboldt and some other savants, to dine with him, and seemed to like my conversation. One morning he called to inform me that the Emperor Napoleon desired to receive me at seven o'clock in the evening. At the hour appointed I rode to Maret, and was introduced to Napoleon, who was seated by himself on a sofa; several persons, unknown to me, stood in a remote corner of the room. The emperor commenced by referring to the history of Switzerland, and told me I ought to finish it, because the more recent period of the history of that country was by no means devoid of interest. From Swiss history we passed to the history and constitution of ancient Greece, to the theory of constitutions, to the striking difference of those of the Asiatic nations, and the causes of this difference, to be found in the climate and in polygamy, to the widely different characters of the Arabs (whom the emperor extolled very highly), and the Tartars, which led us to the invasions always threatening civilization from that side, and the necessity of raising a bulwark against them. We then spoke of the real value of European culture, and stated that there never had been greater freedom, security of property, humanity, and better times in general, than since the fifteenth century; further, that there was a mysterious concatenation in all terrestrial events, that every thing was directed by the inscrutable dispensations of an invisible hand, and that the emperor himself had become great by the very actions of his enemies. We referred to the great confederation of nations, an idea that had already been entertained by Henry IV.; to the sources and necessity of religion; we said that man was, perhaps, not able to bear the whole dazzling truth, and required to be kept in bounds; but that, nevertheless, it was possible to bring about a happy order of things if the numerous wars ceased that had been produced by constitutions too intricate, such as that of Germany, and by the intolerable burdens imposed on nations by large standing armies. A great many other things were said, and, in fact, almost all countries and nations were alluded to. The emperor spoke at first in his ordinary tone, but in a lower voice as the conversation became more interesting, so that I had to bend down, and no one else could have understood what he said. I myself shall never repeat several statements he made on this occasion. I contradicted him repeatedly, and he entered into a discussion with me.

"If I am to speak impartially, I must say that Napoleon's knowledge, the correctness of his observations, his understanding, the grandeur of his views, filled me with admiration, while the amiable manner in which he spoke to me could not but enlist my affection. A few marshals and the Prince de Benevento in the mean time entered the room, but he did not interrupt himself. After I had conversed with him about an hour and a half, he ordered the concert to commence, and I do not know whether it was a mere accident or whether he did so to oblige me, but he asked the musicians to play Swiss airs, and among them the Ranz des Vaches. He then bowed to me kindly, and left the room. I must confess I was fascinated. Since my conference with Frederick II., twenty-four years ago, I never had a more interesting interview, at least none with a prince; if my memory does not deceive me, the emperor's conversation was even more solid and comprehensive than that of Frederick, who did not conceal his admiration for the views of Voltaire. For the rest, Napoleon's tone is firm and vigorous, but there is as winning an expression about his mouth as there was about that of Frederick. It was one of the most remarkable days of my life. Napoleon conquered me, too, by his genius and unaffected kindness. This, my friend," said Mueller, "is a faithful account of what occurred during my visit to him, and how I was charmed by his genius."

"Woe to you that he succeeded!" exclaimed Gentz—"that he confused your understanding and infatuated your judgment. Are you, then, really in earnest about this admiration and fulsome praise of a man whom you abhorred formerly—to whom at Frankfort you vowed everlasting hatred—whom, in your wrath, you called the scourge that was torturing us, that we might be aroused from our stupor? Do you now seriously praise him as the great genius to whom we ought to do homage and bow as humble worshippers?"

"Yes, I say that Providence has intrusted to him the most sublime mission," exclaimed Mueller. "I feel convinced that God has given him the empire of the world. Never before has this been more apparent than in the late war, in which he obtained victories with which only those of Arbela and Zama can be compared. Inasmuch as the old and rusty order of things was doomed to disappear, it was fortunate that these victories were vouchsafed to Napoleon and to a nation that is distinguished for its culture, and appreciates the toils of learned men far more readily than other nations. Just as little as Cicero, Livy, and Horace, concealed from the great Caesar, or from Augustus, that they had formerly been opposed to him, have I concealed that I had belonged to a different party, or rather entertained different views, which, the issues being decided, I willingly give up, ready, if not to cooeperate in, at least to become the impartial historian of the reorganization of the world. Now, it is an inexpressibly edifying occupation to raise our eyes from the ruins of Europe to the whole connection of history—to seek for the causes of events, and boldly to remove a little the veil that covers the probable future. These ideas seem to me so grand and gratifying that they fill my soul, absorbing all my reflections. Thus I try to prepare as well as I can for what is to come. History teaches me that, when the time for a great change arrives, resistance against it is utterly useless. True wisdom consists in a correct perception of the signs of the times, and true virtue is not transformed into vice when this or that phase passes away. The ruler of the world will certainly never overlook him who demonstrates his manhood, and whose skill and courage entitle him to human respect."

"Yes," exclaimed Gentz, laughing scornfully, "you are indeed a true man! When the country was overwhelmed with calamities—when your friends, whom your clarion-notes once led to the charge—when the royal couple that had overwhelmed you with manifestations of kindness and esteem, and all the loyal and faithful fled, you acted like a true man! You only thought of yourself and your personal interests, and forgot what you once swore to me, and in reference to which I stand before you at this hour. Johannes von Mueller, I renounce you forevermore! Germany will accept no further services at your hands, even though you should desire to espouse her cause again, for no one reposes confidence in the faithless. Posterity will honor Johannes von Mueller, the historian; but they will despise Johannes von Mueller, the man. I know you now thoroughly. Your whole character is a strange error nature committed in uniting intellect of extraordinary strength with one of the feeblest souls. The many sublime thoughts, the ingenious and often profound combinations which for many years have characterized your pen, were apparently intended only for others; you yourself derive no benefit from them. You are, and will ever be, the plaything of every accidental and momentary impression. Always ready to acknowledge and embrace whatever came near you, you were never able to feel either enduring hatred or attachment. Your life is a mere capitulation. If the Evil One himself should appear on earth in visible form, I could show him the way by which he could league with you within twenty-four hours. The true source of your inconsistency is the fact that, separated from all good and true men, and surrounded by knaves and fools, you see and hear nothing but what is ignoble and false. If you could have made up your mind to leave Berlin, you would probably have been saved. Your real guilt consists in your staying here; the remainder of your faults were only consequences of it. Whether this judgment is more lenient or rigorous, more mortifying or honorable, than that which you may expect at the hands of the public, I will not decide. As for myself, it is conclusive."

"But it is not for me," exclaimed Mueller, with grave dignity. "I forgive you the insults you have thrown into my face; and, instead of turning away from you in silence, and in the consciousness of right, I will address you a last word of justification; for you know full well that I have loved you, and my heart renounces reluctantly its dream of friendship. You have preferred serious charges against me; you have threatened me with the judgment of posterity; but posterity will have better ideas of justice than you, whose eyes are blinded by partisan feelings and political hatred. It is true, I have said on every page of my works that men ought not to shrink from sacrificing their lives for their country, for truth, and justice; but I am unconscious of having done any thing to the contrary, nor have I ever been exposed to such an alternative. Never have I changed my principles. What I desired when I entered into the covenant with you at Frankfort, was to bring about a firm alliance between Austria and Prussia, and thereby to transform Germany into a strong power, interposing the two great empires. For that purpose I have striven, acted, spoken, and written. My utterances were not listened to, and the year 1805 destroyed all my hopes. The times changed, but my principles did not, based as they are on the great truth of all possible liberty, dignity, and happiness for the nations, according to their different circumstances and peculiarities. Never, however, did I permit personal considerations to influence me; I wrote for Prussia in the good cause of the princes' league, and against Prussia in the bad one of the separate peace. It is true, I was not quiet with regard to the blunders committed: I did not encourage the mad expectations of the war-party, and was opposed to misleading the public by false rumors and inflammatory appeals. I desired the truth, and proclaimed it; but the so-called German patriots think I ought to have kept silence. When the Jews were warned with tearful eyes to submit to the conqueror, into whose hands Providence had delivered Asia for a certain time, they deemed it patriotic to persecute the prophet, but Jerusalem was burned. Why did he not keep silence? Because God commanded him to speak. That is the servility, the faithlessness, and treachery with which I am now reproached. Hypocrites! Every crime has its motive. Did I intend to increase my glory? Certainly not. It was self-interest, then? Yes!—to give up the beautiful city of Berlin, the title of councillor of war, and a salary of three thousand dollars, doubtless to go to Paris and receive a large pension from the French government! No! but to accept a professorship of two thousand florins in the little town of Tuebingen, and to have the honor to work hard to pay my debts! That is the brilliant position which is asserted to have induced me to sacrifice my nation, my liberty, and my honor. I am tired of sacrificing myself, of toiling incessantly, and of being exposed to danger, in an ungrateful age and for a degenerate nation, cowardly in deed, slanderous in word, and senseless in hope. A supreme intelligence is ruling over us; one era is past; another is approaching, and of what character it will be, depends on our own reformation! It was Providence that sent Napoleon as the instrument of the transition."

"I acquiesce in the dispensation of God, who, during the latter centuries, has so ordered events as to prevent mankind from receding from the degree of civilization they had attained. The people must take heart, concentrate their moral and mental strength, and devote themselves to the culture of the peaceful and the good. That is my last confession. If you understand me, and it satisfies you, give me your hand, and we are reconciled; if you wish to continue to misrepresent me and condemn my course, farewell! for, in that case, our paths diverge forever."

"Let us, then, pursue different paths!" exclaimed Gentz, contemptuously, taking his hat and preparing to leave. "I go, but not without painful emotion. Let your heart, in memory of the past, tell you whether I have judged correctly. I feel what it is to lose you! As a friend of patriotism, I pass an inexorable sentence on you; as a man, as your former friend, I feel nothing but compassion—to hate you is beyond my power. If God fulfil our wishes, and crown my efforts and those of my companions, then there will be but one punishment for you, and it will be terrible. Law and order will return, the robber and the usurper be humbled, and Germany, flourishing under the rule of wise sovereigns, will again be free; but you will have to stand aloof, and never be permitted to join in the sacred hymns of our patriots! Farewell!" He turned and hastily left the room.

Johannes von Mueller gazed after him mournfully. "I have lost another friend! Ah, I wish I could escape into the grave from all this turmoil—these painful misunderstandings and broken friendships." Standing silent, he placed his hand over his tearful eyes. "No," he said; "I will not despair! The hand of Providence is everywhere; it will support and protect me. I have lost a friend; very well, I will return to my immortal friends—to the ancients! They never cease to instruct and strengthen me by their exalted sentiments." He stepped to his desk, and, sitting down, seized one of the large open volumes. "Come and console me, Juvenal," he exclaimed, enthusiastically. "You are to me rather a new friend, whom I have learned but lately to understand thoroughly. O Juvenal! let the fire burning in your works warm my heart, and invigorate me by your words, which are among the priceless treasures of mankind!" He bent over the book and commenced reading. His face, which, at first, had been melancholy, soon assumed a serene and almost good-humored expression, and, forgetful of the present, he became entirely absorbed in reading the Roman author.

All was silent in his room. The busts of Napoleon and Frederick looked down on the illuminated but deserted street, as if they were guarding the great historian from any evil thoughts or cowardly despondency that perchance might disturb his thoughts. Suddenly a horseman galloped up, and a carriage approached the house. Two gentlemen alighted and entered. Johannes von Mueller saw and heard nothing. He read and copied such passages from old Juvenal as pleased him best.

Some one rapped violently at the door, and a deep voice called out in French, "May I enter?"

"General Clarke!" exclaimed Johannes von Mueller, almost in dismay, starting up and rushing toward the door; but, before he reached it, the French governor of Berlin, General Clarke, appeared, followed by a young orderly, whose dusty uniform told that he had just left the highway and the saddle.

"M. Johannes von Mueller," exclaimed Clarke, cordially nodding, and offering his hand to the savant. "See what I bring you!"

"Well," asked Mueller, in surprise, "what does your excellency bring?"

"I bring you a courier whom the minister of state, M. Maret, by order of the emperor has sent you, and who has been hunting for you all over Germany. At Frankfort he was informed you were already at Tuebingen, and on arriving there he learned that you had not yet left Berlin, although you had been expected for six months."

"I could not go," said Mueller; "I had not yet received my dismissal; it arrived only to-day."

"It is well it came to-day," exclaimed Clarke; "it has arrived just in time. My friend," he added, turning to the courier, "this is M. von Mueller; deliver the letter into his hands."

The courier produced a large letter to which an official seal was attached. "When can you let me have the reply?" he asked. "I have been instructed to return to Paris without delay."

"The reply?" said Mueller. "But I do not yet know the question?"

"My learned friend," exclaimed Clarke, laughing, "this game of questions and answers with Napoleon resembles a thunderstorm; almost as soon as the flash is seen, the thunder is heard. There must be no hesitation—no delay. It is the emperor that asks. Permit the courier, in the mean time, to retire into the anteroom. On crossing it, I noticed a sofa. You will permit him to take a little rest until your reply is ready. I have also commissioned your servant to fetch a glass of wine and some food. You must take into consideration that the poor fellow has been on horseback, day and night, and has but just left the saddle."

"Go, sir," exclaimed Mueller, in an impressive voice, "take a little rest and some food. I am sorry that I have caused you so much trouble."

"And now, sir," said Clarke, when the courier had left the room, "read the letter from Minister Maret."

Johannes von Mueller broke the seal and opened the paper with a trembling hand. While he was reading, a blush suffused his face, and an exclamation of joyful surprise burst from his lips. "This letter contains extraordinary news! I am to go to Paris! I am to receive an important office that I have never solicited!"

"Yes, sir, you are to go to Paris, and, as speedily as possible," said Clarke, smiling. "I also received a letter from the minister by this courier, and his excellency requests me to have you set out without delay. It is the emperor's order, sir, and must be complied with. His majesty himself has appointed you to the exalted position which you are to fill at the court of his brother, the King of Westphalia. Jerome's kingdom sprang from the soil of Germany in a night; hence it is right that you should be his minister of public instruction. That is the office to be intrusted to you, sir. The emperor has so ordered it. He promised his brother a minister of the German nation."

"I, a poor book-worm, who have had more intercourse with the dead than the living—I am to become a minister! That will not do. I lack the necessary ability and experience."

"Nonsense, sir!" exclaimed Clarke; "when the emperor bestows an office on a man, he gives him the understanding required for it. Hesitation is injurious, because it only postpones your departure. Please notice that you have not been asked whether you wish to accept or not, but that the emperor orders your presence, and that quickly. I shall lend you my own travelling-coach, and send my secretary with you. You will travel by way of Mentz and Strasburg, and in five days you must be at Fontainebleau, where the emperor is awaiting you to give you further instructions. Well, when do you intend to set out?"

"When shall I set out? I feel as one dreaming, or as if all this were the play of my imagination."

"You will have to admit, however, that it is at least brilliant. It is worth while, I should think, to make a journey to Paris to receive the appointment of cabinet-minister. I ask you again: When will you set out? Remember, it is the emperor that calls you."

"Oh, then he has not forgotten me, the great man!" exclaimed Mueller. "After so many victories, he still remembers that interview in which I learned to admire him. I must not be ungrateful for so gratifying a remembrance. Only sublime and salutary ideas spring from the head of Jove; hence, I submit in every respect to his will, and shall go to him to receive his orders and comply with his wishes."

"Well said!" exclaimed Clarke. "You will set out to-morrow morning. I shall prepare every thing that is necessary. But, remember, the courier is waiting for your reply. Quick, my friend! write an answer to the minister. But few words are required. Just say to him: 'Your excellency, I come!' That will be sufficient."

Johannes von Mueller, almost intoxicated with delight, hastened to his desk, and wrote a few lines. "I have written what you told me," he said, smiling, and handing the paper to the general. "I have written: 'Your excellency, I come!'"

"Now fold it up and direct it," said Clarke.

Mueller did so, and gave the sealed letter to Clarke: "Well, general, here is the letter—I deliver it into your hands, and with it my future."

"Mr. Minister, permit me to congratulate you," said Clarke, smiling, and, going to the door, he gave the letter to the courier.

"Minister!" said Johannes von Mueller, with a joyful air, "I am to be a minister!" But suddenly his face became gloomy. "Alas!" he murmured, "now my country will call me a traitor indeed, and Gentz will seem to be right in denouncing me as an apostate, and accusing me of having tendered my resignation to obtain a more lucrative office. Well, no matter," he exclaimed, after a pause, "let them denounce and slander me! My conscience acquits me, and I may be permitted, after all, to be useful to Germany in my new position. May God in His mercy guide me!"



CHAPTER XXXV.

FINANCIAL CALAMITIES.

"Heaven be praised that you are again restored to us!" exclaimed the queen, smiling gratefully, and offering her hand to Minister von Stein. "Oh, believe me, such a sunbeam is welcome to us in these dreary days of Memel."

"It is true," said Stein, sighing. "Your majesty has passed disastrous days, and I am glad that I am able again to assist my adored queen in her troubles."

She shook her head mournfully. "I do not believe in the possibility of any alleviation or change. We have suffered great misfortunes, and greater may befall us. Since the days of Jena and Auerstadt our sorrows have increased. We are constantly experiencing some new humiliation; even the treaty of Tilsit is not the climax of our calamities. They come as an avalanche, and sometimes I wish to be buried beneath them."

"Then the last ray of hope for Prussia would disappear," said Stein. "If your majesty desert us, we are irretrievably lost, for your life, your courage, and your spirit, are the support of your husband. Without Louisa, Prussia and her king would perish."

"Oh, it is true he loves me," cheerfully exclaimed the queen. "The king treats me more affectionately than ever. And that is great happiness after a wedded life of fourteen years! I will be grateful to him as long as I live, and to Prussia for loving me. But, alas! I have no other thanks for them than my devotion and my prayers!"

"You have still your courage and a strong hope in the future of your country. You must animate the desponding and strengthen the weak. Let that be your majesty's great and holy duty."

"You are right, I must not despair," responded the queen, "and I thank you for having admonished me. Oh, it is sometimes very difficult to bear such disasters, and I feel that my health is giving way more and more. And tell me where am I to look for consolation? The storm is upon us, and where shall we find a refuge? How shall we escape the thunderbolt?"