"In our hopes for a more glorious future," said Stein, energetically.

"Future!" exclaimed Louisa. "There is no future without independence, and where is that to be found to-day? All are slaves and bow in the most abject humility to a master who, in his turn, is but the slave of his own boundless ambition and arrogance, and, alas! there is no man living who would dare to set bounds to them! Do you know how disdainfully our envoy, M. von Knobelsdorf, was treated? He was utterly unable to prefer his remonstrances and prayers that Prussia might be protected from further extortion, and that the French armies might be withdrawn. Napoleon received him but once, and then, as it were, accidentally. The Prince of Baden and Cambaceres were in the room, and our ambassador was no more noticed than a crumb of bread. The emperor's attendants treated him in the same manner, and Minister Champagny remarked to Knobelsdorf that they would see how Prussia behaved. He hoped we would comply as much as possible with the emperor's wishes, for such a course would alone be likely to give us relief, and that we ought to blame no one but ourselves. Are you aware of this, and are you still hopeful and speak of a happy future?"

"Yes, I am aware of all this, and it is precisely for this reason I speak as I do," said Stein. "We must work to dispel the dangers to which your majesty referred; we must erect lightning-rods to attract the dangerous fire. If your majesty had a less vigorous soul, I should conceal from you the calamities still threatening Prussia, notwithstanding the treaty of Tilsit; but Queen Louisa is the genius of Prussia, and I apply to her for assistance!"

"Oh!" exclaimed the queen, anxiously, "bad tidings again, I suppose?"

"Yes," said Stein, sadly—"bad tidings! We have received the last propositions or rather decrees of Napoleon. He imposes on Prussia contributions amounting to one hundred and fifty millions, one-third to be paid immediately in cash; bills will be accepted for fifty millions, and estates are to be ceded to France for the last fifty millions. The five fortresses of Graudenz, Kolberg, Stettin, Kuestrin, and Glogau are demanded as security for the payment. Forty thousand French soldiers are to garrison the fortresses, ten thousand of whom will be cavalry, uniformed, armed, and fed by Prussia, which is to furnish twelve millions for this purpose. The estates of the king in the districts of Magdeburg and Brandenburg, between the Elbe and the Oder, and in Pomerania, are to be ceded and disposed of in what manner the emperor may deem prudent. As the forty thousand men will be unable to find sufficient room in the five fortresses, certain districts of Prussia will have to be assigned them."

"And what remains then to the king?" exclaimed Louisa, with flaming eyes. "What remains to us?"

"This must not be," said Stein. "We must leave nothing undone—we must strain every nerve to prevent it. The disasters of Prussia compel us to shrink from nothing to avert this last and terrible blow, or the country will be hopelessly ruined. Oh, I cannot describe to you the distress, the misery, the disgrace I witnessed in the cities through which I passed on my journey. Your majesty knows that I was at Berlin; I saw that Daru and Clarke behaved in the most reckless and scornful manner, refusing with sneers to listen to any remonstrances. They seemed to be bent on oppressing and impoverishing the country, and drinking the last drop of its heart's blood! I beheld everywhere the same heart-rending spectacle that I witnessed at the capital. Every city and fortress has its systematic tormentor in some governor or commander, distinguished for arrogance and cruelty. The distress is unutterable, and yet the people hope for speedy deliverance. The eyes of all are turning with tears, it is true, but with love and hope, to Memel, the heart of the Prussian monarchy. All the hopes of your subjects are centred in the king and the queen; to you they look for alleviation."

"Alas!" exclaimed the queen, bursting into tears, "is there, then, any way by which we can help them? Oh, name it! What can the king—what can I do to procure relief for Prussia?"

"The greatest burden at this moment is the presence of the French troops, and the oppressive conduct of the public officials, who are openly disregarding all the laws and institutions of the country, and trampling under foot the most solemn rights. We must make every possible effort to rid Prussia of these men. To accomplish this, we must, in the first place, try to find means to pay the first third of the contribution; and next, to induce Napoleon to grant us better terms for the payment of the remainder. We must endeavor to induce him to consent to a gradual liquidation (which would be more in accordance with our ability), and without insisting on retaining the fortresses as security, and oppressing us with an army of forty thousand men. In this way our exhausted treasury would not be required to pay the additional twelve millions for equipping the French soldiers, and the country would be preserved from the tyranny of a hostile occupation."

"But you may depend on it, there is no way to soften that heart of Napoleon," said the queen, sighing. "He is certainly a victorious warrior, but he is not great in the highest sense—he is not good, for he knows neither compassion nor love. He has marked out his path in lines of blood, and he pursues it over the slain of the battle-field and the ruins of once prosperous and happy nations. Napoleon has no pity, and our complaints would but gratify his pride."

"And yet we must try to dispose him to comply with our wishes," said Stein. "The king has resolved upon writing to-day to the Emperor Alexander, and imploring him to instruct Count Tolstoy, his ambassador in Paris, to remonstrate with Napoleon, and convince him of the cruelty and injustice of his demands. Oh, the king is ready, with an energy deserving the highest admiration, to do every thing to lessen the burdens under which his subjects are groaning. He himself has drawn up a financial plan to procure the first twelve millions, which we shall offer to pay immediately. He is ready to order reductions in the budget of the army, the opera, the ballet, and the extraordinary pensions. He himself sets an example of self-denial and economy. He will reduce further his household, and retain only the most indispensable servants. Notwithstanding my protestations, he insists on refusing to accept the civil list due him."

"Oh," exclaimed the queen, "who can call me unhappy when I am the wife of the noblest of men? But I will also take part in these sacrifices, and I hope the king has also refused to accept the money paid me by the state treasury."

"No, your majesty. That should not be curtailed; I would never advise it, and the king would not consent."

"But I insist," replied the queen, firmly. "My king and husband must forgive me if I choose for once to have a will of my own. If the king is ready to suffer privations, then it is my right and duty to share them."

"But your majesty ought to think of your children, who would also suffer. Pray take into consideration that the royal family would be reduced to a very small income, and that the most rigid economy could not preserve you from embarrassments. A portion of the royal estates is to be mortgaged or sold for the purpose of defraying part of the French contribution; considering the universal distress, it is very probable that the income to be derived from the other estates will not be paid at all, or very tardily. The king, moreover, gave up very considerable resources by sending the large gold dinner-set to the mint to be converted into coin, which he did not use for himself or his household, but paid into the state treasury. If your majesty, like the king, refuses to accept money from the treasury, pecuniary difficulties will arise, which will be the more painful to you, as your children will suffer, deprived of the comforts to which they have been accustomed."

"That will produce a salutary effect," said the queen, quickly. "Circumstances educate men, and it will certainly be good for my children to be familiar with something more than the sunniest side of life. If they had grown up in opulence, they would ever consider it as a matter of course; but that there may be a change, they learn now from the gravity of their father, and the tears of their mother. It is especially good for the crown prince to become acquainted with adversity—when, as I hope, happier times come, he will better appreciate his prosperity. Let them share our adverse fortune! I know how to protect them from real want. I have still some means left, and the Lord will not forsake us. Do not call this stubbornness or presumption. You know we have not refrained from every exertion to lessen our calamities. I have even gone so far as to beg the Duke de Rovigo, who is now governor of East Prussia, to intercede with the emperor concerning the contributions, and to have restored to us our estates, because they were our only possessions. Do you know the reply the duke made? He told me that all solicitations would be in vain, and even the intercession of Russia would be of no avail in regard to this matter. He added that there remained to us one way of procuring money, and he advised us to sell our plate and jewels."

"The impudent villain!" exclaimed Stein, indignantly. "How could he go so far as to use such language toward your majesty!"

"It is true," said the queen, gently, "it pained me grievously, and brought tears. Not that my heart cares for worldly splendor, but there is something inexpressibly offensive in the scorn with which those men, and particularly the Duke de Rovigo, imitate the example of their master. But, after all, that sagacious duke was right, perhaps, for useless jewels may be converted into money. I admit," added the queen, with a smile, "that I had never thought of it; it would never have occurred to me that we might get money by selling our personal property. In fact, I ought to be grateful to M. Savary for his advice."

"Your majesty," said Stein, deeply affected, "you must not think of selling your jewels. Better times will come. Even in these days of adversity there will be occasions when you must show yourself to your people at public festivities and demonstrations; they like to see their queen adorned in a regal and becoming manner."

"My most becoming ornament will be simplicity, and the tears of gratitude with which I shall receive those who wish to honor me."

"But your jewels are the heirlooms of your children, your majesty."

"The only inheritance of our children which we are not allowed to part with is our honor," said the queen, firmly. "We would not sell it for all the empires of the world. That must remain to us. As for the rest, we must learn to do without it."

"But it will greatly pain the king should your majesty sell your jewels. It will be another humiliation."

"Oh, I can conceal it from him," exclaimed the queen. "I shall sell those superfluous articles secretly. There will be no festivities here, and hence it will be unnecessary for me to appear in royal attire. Two-thirds of the money realized will pay the pensions of the king's old servants; for I know the unsettled arrears cause my husband many a pang. When these worthy men, who are to be deprived of the salaries which they so richly deserve, send in their receipts, then let my husband find out whence we have obtained the money; then, I hope, he will forgive my having taken this step without his permission. You must assist me in this matter, and take upon yourself the payment of the pensions and salaries; will you promise me to do so?"

Baron von Stein endeavored to reply, but the words died on his lips; he bowed over the hand the queen offered him, and tears fell on it as he pressed it to his lips.

"Oh," said the queen, "was I not right in saying that I should never lack ornaments? Are there any more precious than the sympathizing tears of a high-minded man?"

"Pardon me," whispered Baron von Stein. "I wish I could transmute them into diamonds, and lay them at the feet of my queen."

"And what," asked Louisa, "would they be worth compared with your noble and faithful heart? We can do without jewelry, but not without your services."

"Henceforth all my thought and energy shall be devoted to Prussia," said the minister. "But your majesty must be so kind as to assist me. I must implore you to unite with me to obtain from Napoleon less rigorous terms, and the withdrawal of the French troops."

"Alas! what can I do? You see I am ready to do any thing to lessen the sorrows of Prussia. Tell me, therefore, what I am to do."

"I have the honor to inform your majesty. I have drawn up a plan which will enable Prussia to pay this burdensome debt in the course of three years. It is true, we have to consent to large reductions, collect the war-debt due from Russia, negotiate loans, impose on the subjects of Prussia, besides the ordinary taxes, extraordinary contributions, and an income-tax, and issue paper money. These onerous expedients will deliver us at least from the present pressure by furnishing us the means of paying the French contributions. It is only necessary to send my plan to Paris—to deliver it safely into the hands of Napoleon, and induce him to accept it."

"I hope you will not ask me to go to Paris for this purpose!" exclaimed the queen, in dismay.

"No," answered Stein, "I have proposed to his majesty to intrust this task to his brother, Prince William. The king has approved my proposition, and sent for the prince to request him to undertake this difficult and dangerous mission."

"He will joyfully consent to do so," exclaimed Louisa. "He loves his king and his country, and will shrink from no sacrifice. Alas, he will have to endure many a humiliation, and in vain; it will lead to nothing."

"We must send powerful auxiliaries with him," said Stein, quickly. "And now I shall state the request which I desire to make to your majesty. You must support the prince, and help him in his difficult undertaking. I beseech you, therefore, to give him an autograph letter to Napoleon; condescend to entreat the emperor to be merciful and generous; depict to him the distress of your country, the sufferings of your subjects, and the privations of your family, and appeal to his magnanimity to desist from his demands, and accept our plan of payment. Oh, your majesty, in your enthusiasm and patriotic love, you are inspired with a power of expression which even Napoleon will be unable to resist; and whatever he would refuse to the prayers of the prince he will yield to those of Queen Louisa!"

"Never!" she exclaimed. "Never can I subject myself to this humiliation! Never can I stoop so low as to write to that man! Oh, you do not know how pitilessly he insulted me; otherwise you would not dare to ask me. Remember what I have already done, how low I have humbled myself, and all for nothing. Can I forget those days of Tilsit, when I seemed to live only for the purpose of heightening the conqueror's pride by my woe-begone appearance—when I felt as if chained in a triumphal car, and endeavored with a mournful smile to conceal my shame and misery, in order to meet him politely whose heartless glances made my soul tremble? How can I write to him whom I implored at Tilsit, but who carried his cruelty so far as to make promises which he afterward renounced—who designated as acts of gallantry the assurances he had given in reply to the tears of my motherly heart? If I could save Prussia, and secure the happiness of my husband and children, I would willingly suffer death, but this renewed humiliation is beyond my strength."

The minister, folding his arms, looked with deep emotion at the excited queen, as she rapidly walked up and down the apartment. Standing in front of him, she said in a gentle, imploring voice: "I am sure you feel that your request cannot possibly be granted."

"May I repeat to your majesty," said Stein, solemnly, "the words you uttered just now with regard to Prince William?—'The prince will joyfully consent to undertake the difficult mission. He loves his king and his country, and will shrink from no sacrifice.'"

The queen burst into tears, and, turning away from Stein, again but slowly paced the room, her head thrown back, her eyes turned upward with a suppliant expression, and her lips quivering.

"She is undergoing a terrible struggle," said Stein to himself, "but she will be victorious, for her heart is noble, and eternal love is in her and with her." He was not mistaken. Gradually she grew calmer; her eyes became more cheerful, and her features assumed a serene expression.

"Baron von Stein," she said, "I will do what you ask of me; I will conquer myself. As you believe it prudent, I will write to the Emperor Napoleon, and entreat him to spare Prussia. I desire you to draw up the letter for me, so that it may be only necessary to copy it."

"I foresaw this, and complied with it in advance," said the minister, taking out his memorandum-book, and presenting a sheet of paper. "Here," he said, "is a draught of the needed letter. If your majesty approve it, I venture to request you to copy it speedily, for this business must not be delayed, and if the prince accepts the propositions of the king, it would be advisable and necessary for him to set out to-day."

The queen hastily glanced over the letter. "It is all right," she said; "I approve all you have written. I wish to get through at once with this painful matter, and I request you to wait until I have copied it. You may take it with you, and lay it before the king."

She hastened to her desk, and wrote rapidly, but at times hesitating, as though her pen refused the humiliating words. But at last she finished, and having quickly read what she had written, she called Minister von Stein to her side. "Here," she said, sighing, and handing the paper to him, "take it, the sacrifice has been made. Will my people," she added, weeping, "will my children be hereafter grateful to me for having humbled myself for their sake? Will they ever think how painful must have been these sacrifices? Will they remember and thank me for them in happier days?"

"Your majesty," said Stein, enthusiastically, "never will they forget such devotion to your country; and when our great-grandchildren talk of these days of wretchedness, they will say: 'Prussia could be humiliated, but she could never perish; for Louisa was her good genius, praying, acting, and suffering for her.'"

"Well," whispered the queen, sadly, "my slumber in the grave will be sweet." Starting suddenly, she laid her hand on her heart. "Oh," she groaned, "how long before this troubled life of mine shall cease!—I will tell you something, Baron von Stein. Death is not far from me, and I feel that he comes nearer every day. There is no future for me on earth. But God's will be done. I read the other day somewhere, 'Sufferings and afflictions are blessings when they are overcome.' Oh, how true that is! I myself say, in the midst of my afflictions that they are blessings! How much nearer I am to God!—how clear and true my ideas of the immortality of the soul! Seen through these tears, the solemn facts of the future come to me with resistless power. Adversity, if rightly used, does instruct and bless. I do not complain therefore that I have been called to weep." A low knocking at the door interrupted her, and the footman announced the arrival of Prince William.



CHAPTER XXXVI.

PRINCE WILLIAM.

The queen met her husband's brother with a pleasant smile, and offered him her hand. "I suppose, my brother, you come to bid me farewell?" she asked.

"I come to get from my noble sister the letter that I am to deliver to the Emperor Napoleon," said the prince, respectfully kissing the hand of his sister-in-law.

Louisa turned her eyes toward the minister. "The king knew, then, that you were to request me to write the letter?"

"Yes, but he forbade me to say that he deemed it necessary. It was to depend on your majesty's unbiassed judgment whether it should be written or not."

"You see, my sister," exclaimed the prince, "I had no doubt whatever as to your decision."

"Nor I that you would set out to-day," said Louisa, smiling.

"But will your majesty pardon me when I confess that I have not come merely for the letter, and to take leave of you?" asked the prince. "I heard from the king that Minister von Stein was with your majesty, and as I am going to set out to-night, and my time accordingly is very limited, I decided to have settled a little business affair with the minister."

"It affords me pleasure," said the queen.

"And you, minister," asked the prince, bowing to the baron, "will you grant me a brief audience to-day?"

"I shall immediately repair to the anteroom of your royal highness, and wait until you return," said Stein, approaching the door.

"Oh, no! pray, stay here," exclaimed the queen. "I offer this room to the prince as a salle de conferences, and shall retire into my cabinet."

The prince followed the queen, who was about to withdraw, and conducted her back to the sofa. "Pardon, my sister," he said, "I do not desire to confer with the minister about secrets that your majesty cannot hear. I only wish to ask a favor of his excellency, the minister of finance. You, doubtless, need a great deal of money at the present time, while my wife and I are spending much less than heretofore, because we are living here in very humble style. We have made our calculations, and ascertained that we are able to do with two-thirds of our income. Accordingly, I request you to accede to my resolution that, until times are better, I give up one-third, and beg you to pay this amount into the state treasury."

"Ah, my brother," replied the queen, "you are worthy of being the brother of the best of kings, for you vie with him in every virtue. Prussia cannot be crushed so long as such princes stand by her side."

"And so long as she is protected by such a queen," said the prince, kissing the offered hand of his sister-in-law. He then turned again to the minister. "Your excellency," he said, "I am commissioned to reveal the same resolution to you in the name of my brother. Prince Henry also gives one-third of his income, and requests the minister of finance to pay this amount into the state treasury. Is this verbal declaration sufficient, or will it be necessary for us to repeat it in writing?"

"It will be necessary for your royal highness, as well as for Prince Henry, to make a written declaration to this effect, and hand it to the minister of state. It will then be deposited in the archives of the royal house, and will one day be a splendid monument of your patriotism."

"In that case, a declaration in writing being required, I request you to be so kind as to accompany me to my house. We will settle the matter at once, and invite Prince Henry to participate in the transaction. Can you spare us fifteen minutes, and will you accept a seat in my carriage?"

"I am at the service of your royal highness," said Stein, bowing.

"Then I beg my sister to dismiss us," said the prince, approaching the queen. "I have many things yet to attend to, so that every minute is precious, and, above all, I have to inform my wife of my speedy departure. Let me beg you, my sister, to be a faithful friend of Marianne in my absence; take my beloved wife under your protection, and, when she is afflicted, permit her to be near you."

"We shall weep together, my brother," said the queen, deeply moved. "All of us will miss you, and it will seem as though life had become drearier when you are absent. But, considering your generous resolution, it does not behoove me to complain of our fate. Joyfully, as you have done, we shall submit to it. I entertain the firm belief that there are better days for Prussia. Go, my brother, and assist in hastening them by word and deed. God will protect you, and the love of your wife, and of your brothers and sisters, will accompany you! Farewell!" She waved her hand, and turned away to conceal her tears.

The prince withdrew in silence, followed by the minister. The queen heard the door close after him, and, raising her arms toward heaven, exclaimed in a fervent tone: "My God, protect Prussia! Oh, bless our country and our people!" She stood thus praying, with uplifted arms.

After a pause, she murmured, "Now it is time to attend to my business with the jeweller. The king is in his cabinet, and never comes at this hour." Having rung the bell, she ordered the footman to request the court-jeweller to call at once on the queen. Going to her dressing-room, she took from the table a large leathern box containing all her jewelry. She succeeded with difficulty in carrying the heavy box into the reception-room, but she thought, smilingly: "The heavier it is, the better." Opening the caskets, the brilliant ornaments gladdened her more than they had ever done. The table was covered with them, and she contemplated their beauty and value "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I did not know that I was so rich. These precious stones will certainly bring money enough to pay all arrears, and there will be something over for my children."

At this moment the door of the anteroom opened, and the footman announced Mr. Marcus, the court-jeweller. The queen ordered him to be admitted, adding, that no one else was to be announced while he was present. She then locked the opposite door leading into the small corridor, and thence to the rooms of the king. In the mean time the jeweller had entered; he remained respectfully at the door, and waited for the queen to accost him.

"Mr. Marcus," said Louisa, gracefully acknowledging his bow, "I sent for you to confer about my jewelry. I should like to make some changes in it; and then, as we cannot tell whither these stormy times may drive us or our property, I wish to make an invoice of these articles, and ascertain their cash value. Please step to the table, and be kind enough to tell me how much all this is worth."

Mr. Marcus approached and carefully examined the magnificent array before him. "These are real treasures, your majesty," he said, admiringly; "several pieces among them are exceedingly rich."

"Yes," exclaimed the queen, "I suppose one could get a great deal of money for them?"

"Your majesty," said Mr. Marcus, shrugging his shoulders, "it needs much money—in fact, an enormous fortune, to buy them. Part of their value consists in their artistic setting."

"Ah, I understand; you mean to say that, if they were to be sold now, one would not get as much as was paid for them."

"Not half as much, your majesty! The intrinsic value is very different from the cost, which depends much on the setting."

"Pray tell me, then, their intrinsic value."

"Your majesty, to do so correctly, it would be necessary for me to examine every piece."

"Do so, Mr. Marcus. I will take my memorandum-book and enter each one, affixing the price. Afterward we can ascertain the whole amount."

The jeweller looked in surprise at the queen; she apparently did not notice it, but pointed with the lead-pencil, which she had in her hand, at one of the caskets. "There is my large diamond necklace; what do you think that is worth, sir?"

The jeweller took up the necklace, twinkling as a cluster of stars. "These diamonds are magnificent," he said; "they are only a little yellow, and here and there is a slight defect. I think, however, that the stones, without the setting, are worth five thousand dollars."

"Five thousand dollars," wrote the queen. "Now, the necklace of rubies and diamonds."

"These Turkish rubies belong to that very rare kind to be met with only in royal treasuries," said the jeweller. "They are antique, and look like sparkling blood. Their value is immense, your majesty; only a connoisseur would be able to appreciate them, and it is difficult to appraise them but by the standard value of other Turkish rubies. A jeweller might, however, receive twice as much as I name—four thousand dollars, according to the ordinary standard."

"Four thousand dollars," wrote the queen; "now, the next."

"Here," he said, "is a complete set of the most beautiful round pearls: a diadem, a necklace, earrings, and bracelets," taking up a large case which had not been opened, and raising its lid.

"No," said the queen, blushing, "we will not appraise these pearls. I have inherited them from my lamented mother, and they are therefore of priceless value to me." She extended her hand and laid the casket on the table at her side. "Now tell me the value of the other articles; take that necklace of Indian emeralds—"

Half an hour afterward the list was completed. "Thirty thousand dollars," said the queen; "that, then, is the full value of my jewelry?"

"Yes, your majesty, but its cost must have been several hundred thousand dollars. I have stated only the imperishable value of the stones; it is impossible to appraise the setting."

"Well, just now I care only for the cash equivalent," said the queen, quickly. "And now, sir, listen to me. When I was requested to procure you the appointment of jeweller to the court, I made inquiries concerning your character, and heard nothing but the most flattering opinions. You are known as an honorable man in whom all may repose confidence. I will prove to you the high value I attach to public opinion, and I rely on you to keep secret what I am about to tell you."

"I swear by all that is sacred that what your majesty is gracious enough to reveal shall remain buried in my heart as a precious gem in the depths of the sea."

"I believe you," said the queen. "I want to sell all these diamonds, emeralds, and rubies—every thing, except my pearls."

"Sell them!" exclaimed Mr. Marcus, starting back and turning pale. "Oh, no, pardon me, your majesty, I have misunderstood you. My hearing is a little impaired. I beg pardon for my mistake, and request your majesty to be kind enough to repeat your orders."

"You did not mistake my words," said the queen, kindly. "I do want to sell them."

"Has it come to this," said the jeweller, sighing, "that our noble and beautiful queen is unwilling to wear again her accustomed ornaments; and that she considers it no longer worth while to be seen by her poor, unhappy people in the splendor of a queen?" Sobs choked his voice, and, unable to repress his tears, he turned away and covered his face with his hands.

"It has come to that, sir, that the queen will also take part in the privations of her country; that she will have no other diamonds than the grateful tears of her loyal people, and that she believes herself sufficiently adorned when at the side of her husband, and surrounded by her children. I thank you for your sympathy, for they prove your honest disposition toward me. But believe me, I need no pity. If every good man has peace in his own heart, he will have cause to rejoice. And now, sir, let us talk calmly about this matter."

"I am ready to receive the orders of your majesty," said Mr. Marcus, making an effort to regain his composure, "and entreat my august queen to forgive me that my feelings overcame me in her presence. But now I must examine the jewels more carefully than before. Believing that they were merely to be invoiced without reference to their sale, I stated only their lowest value. I am sure better prices might be obtained for them, and, besides, it remains for me to ascertain the value of the gold setting by weighing it."

"Oh, no," said the queen, smiling. "Let us not enter into such minute details. Besides, the purchaser ought to have something for his trouble, and for the risk of being unable to sell again. We will, therefore, let your first appraisement stand as it is. The question is, whether you know of any one who is willing to pay so large a sum in cash."

The jeweller reflected a moment. "Well," he said, "I know an opportunity to dispose of them immediately. If your majesty permits me to do so, I will purchase them myself. The Emperor Alexander of Russia, during his late sojourn at this place, gave me a large order in reference to a wedding-gift for the betrothed of the Grand-duke Constantine. I have received bills of exchange, drawn on the wealthiest banking-houses of St. Petersburg, and the emperor has authorized me to send in at once precious stones to the amount of fifty thousand dollars. I am able to pay you half the appraised value to-day, and for the other half I will give you bills, drawn on St. Petersburg bankers, payable in two weeks. But I repeat to your majesty that I have appraised the stones at a very low rate, and that I shall make large profits, and realize at least four thousand dollars. Your majesty ought to permit me to add the value of the setting."

"I told you already that we ought not to add any thing to the first appraisement. Well, the bargain is made," said the queen, gently. "Bring me the money and the bills of exchange, and you may then take the jewelry. Let us say I have intrusted it to you to make some alterations in it."

An hour afterward, the caskets disappeared from the queen's table; in their place stood a box filled with rolls of gold-pieces, and the bills of exchange lay at its side. The queen, placing a few of the rolls in her desk and the bills in the box, hastened to write the following letter to Baron von Stein:

"I request you to grant me the same favor which the prince obtained from you. I desire likewise to pay some savings into the state treasury, and send you, therefore, twenty-five thousand dollars with this letter. Pray do not forget to pay, in accordance with our agreement, the arrears of salaries due the men of science and art, and the faithful old servants of the king. LOUISA."

"Oh," said the queen, laying aside the pen, and looking up with a grateful expression, "how many worthy men will be delivered from distress by this unexpected payment! What fervent prayers for their king will ascend to heaven! Merciful God, hear them, and let my husband and children be again happy; then I shall have nothing more to desire on earth!"

In the evening of the same day Prince William, accompanied only by an adjutant and a footman, set out for Paris in order to deliver to the Emperor Napoleon the financial plan drawn up by Minister von Stein, and the letter of Queen Louisa, and to try to induce Napoleon by verbal remonstrances to withdraw his demands, and accept less ruinous conditions. Before entering his travelling-coach, the prince, in his cabinet, bade farewell to her whom he loved so passionately. They remained long without uttering a word or even a sigh. The beautiful face of the Princess Marianne was pale, but her tearless eyes beamed with hope. "Go, my beloved husband," she said, disengaging herself at last from the arms of the prince, "go and perform your noble sacrifice! My love will accompany you. Your life is my life, and your death my death! Go! I fear nothing."

"But at this solemn hour I must communicate a secret to you, Marianne," said the prince, "and ask your consent to a resolution that I have taken. Should all my efforts be of no avail—should Napoleon be induced neither by Stein's plan nor by the queen's letter, nor by my own solicitations, to consent to the proposed mode of liquidation, owing to his belief that he would not have sufficient security for the payment of the contributions, then, Marianne, a last remedy would remain, and I would assuredly not shrink from it. In that case I shall offer myself as a hostage. I shall tell him that I must remain his prisoner, and allow myself to be transported to If, to Cayenne, or where he pleases, until the king has made all the promised payments. This will prove to him that I myself feel convinced that these will be made. He may be sure the king's brother will be redeemed. Tell me now, Marianne, do you approve my resolution?"

The princess laid her hand on the head of her husband. "You offer to surrender not only yourself but both of us," she said. "Both of us, William, for I want to be where you are. I will also share your devotion to Prussia. You may offer both of us as hostages to the emperor. I shall be happy when with you, whether in a dungeon or in a palace. The love uniting us will sustain us even then, and, when our captivity is over, we will return happy to our beloved country. But if it be otherwise—if circumstances occur delaying the payments, and calling down upon you the wrath of the conqueror—if he then desire to take revenge upon you—oh, then, I shall know how to find a way to his heart so that he will permit me to die with you. We are alone; our children are dead, and, therefore, we are at liberty to pursue such a course. Oh, William, then we shall be happy forever! Go, my beloved husband! and when the hour comes, call me to your side. Let us live, and, if need be, die for the fatherland! Let it be inscribed on our coffin: 'They have done their duty. The fatherland is content with them!'"[34]

[Footnote 34: Prince William really carried out this resolution. He found at his first interview that Napoleon was by no means friendly toward Prussia, and particularly toward King Frederick William. Carried away by his enthusiasm and generosity, the prince took at this audience the step which he had intended to reserve if all else should prove unavailing. He offered himself and his wife as hostages to the emperor, and entreated him to permit them to remain in French captivity until the payments were made. Napoleon listened to him, and while he was speaking the countenance of the emperor gradually became milder. He approached the prince, embraced him affectionately, and exclaimed, "That is very generous, but it is impossible. Never would I accept such a sacrifice—never!" For the rest, the mission of the prince was an utter failure. Napoleon referred him to Minister Champagny, who, by all sorts of subterfuges, managed to protract and finally to break off the negotiations. The prince was detained several months in Paris, and returned, without having accomplished any thing, to Koenigsberg, whither the royal family had removed in the mean time.]



CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE GENIUS OF PRUSSIA.

The queen was alone in her room. She sat on the sofa, and a dress of heavy silk, interwoven with flowers, lay spread out on the table before her. She turned over the dress, as if carefully examining it. "Sure enough, there it is!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Now, quick to work!" She hastened to her table, on which was to be seen a beautiful silk embroidery just finished by the queen. Among the threads she selected one that was of the same color as the dress, and hastily threaded her needle. "Now I will finish my work before any one surprises me," whispered Louisa. She was so assiduously employed that she did not notice that the opposite door, softly opening, had admitted the king. He stood still for a moment and looked at the queen. Advancing, he asked, frowningly, "What are you doing, Louisa?"

The queen uttered a cry, and a deep blush suffused her cheeks. Pushing aside the table and the dress, she rose from the sofa and went to salute her husband. "Welcome, dearest!" she said, lovingly clinging to him; "you knew that it was cold and lonely here, and you come to gladden me. Thanks, my Frederick, thanks and welcome! I feel as though you were given to me anew, and I greet you every morning as with the young heart of a bride." She laid her beautiful head on his shoulder, and her delicate hand played with his hair.

But the king did not return her caresses, and his eyes, which usually looked so lovingly at his wife, were directed to the dress on the table. "You have not yet replied to me, Louisa," he exclaimed.

"Replied to what?" she asked, raising her head from his shoulder, and calmly looking at him.

"You know it," said the king—"to my question."

"To your question? And what did you ask?" replied the queen. "You asked me whether I loved you and had already thought of you this morning. Yes, my king and husband, you are the object of all my thoughts, and I think of you with every pulsation of my heart. And do you know what just occurred to me, and what I am going to propose to you? It is a fine winter-day, and the snow is sparkling in the sun. We have half an hour until dinner. Let us improve it and take a walk. Let us go to our two princes, who are skating with their instructor. Tell me, my friend, shall we do so?"

The king shook his head gloomily. "You wish to divert me from my question," he said, "which proves that you have heard it. I will repeat it. What were you doing with that dress when I entered?"

The queen hung her head in evident embarrassment, and her face assumed a melancholy air. "You insist on a reply, my husband?" she asked. "I hoped you would notice my confusion, and generously desist."

"I must know every thing that happens to you," said the king; "I must know the full extent of our misfortunes, that I may not be deceived by any illusions. Tell me, therefore, what were you doing?"

"Well, then, my husband, I will tell you," said the queen, resolutely. "I like the dress, not because it is made of very costly and beautiful materials, but you yourself selected it for me. You know that we give a party to-morrow to celebrate the birthday of the crown prince, and I wished to wear that dress. Now, I knew what no one else knew, that the last time I wore it I had torn it by a nail in the wall, on crossing the corridor. If I had informed my maid of this mishap, I should have been unable to wear it again, for custom, I believe, forbids queens to wear mended dresses. I was, however, bent on saving it. For this purpose I took it stealthily from my wardrobe to mend the small hole as rapidly as possible, while my lady of honor was taking a ride, and my maid was at dinner. I had just finished when you entered, and if you had come a few minutes later the dress would have disappeared, and no one would suspect to-morrow that my rich attire had been mended. Now, you know my secret, and I entreat you to keep it and allude to it no more. But you must also reply to me: shall we take a walk?"

The king made no answer, but gazed at her with melancholy tenderness. "You do this, Louisa, because you shrink from the expense of buying a new dress," he said. "Oh, do not deny it; do not try to deceive me. I know it to be true."

"And suppose it were true?" asked the queen, gently, drawing her head from his hands. "Will you be sad because I do in these times what all our subjects are obliged to do—because I try to be a little economical?"

"The Queen of Prussia, my consort," exclaimed the king, "is compelled to mend her own dresses! Is the cup of disgrace and humiliation not yet full!"

"And why do you speak of disgrace?" asked the queen, laying her hands on the shoulders of her husband, and looking tenderly in his face. "Why do you say I humble myself by mending my dress? I only followed the example of your noble ancestor, Frederick II. Did not the great king also mend and patch his clothes? Did he not repair with sealing-wax his scabbard, because he did not want to buy a new one? Well, I believe little Louisa will be allowed to do as the great Frederick did, and need not be ashamed of it. On the contrary, my husband, when I sat there sewing, my heart was glad, for the memories of my early years revived in my mind: I saw myself at the side of my venerable grandmother, the Landgravine of Hesse-Darmstadt, and I lived again in those sunny days that I spent with her in Hanover. My grandmother taught me how to mend, and I frequently profited by the skill I had acquired with her. For you married the daughter of a poor prince, who was not a sovereign at that time, but only a younger brother, and the Queen of Prussia does not blush to confess that when she was yet a princess of Mecklenburg, she not only mended her dresses but even trimmed her shoes with her own hands. It is no jest, my king and husband, I really often did so, and I never felt humiliated. Never did I consider it a disgrace to do sometimes what thousands of the most virtuous and amiable women are always doing. When I used to sew my shoes, I was poor, for I did not yet know you; but now, although I have repaired my dress, I am rich, for I have you—I have my children—I am the wife of a man who suffers because he values his honor higher than worldly greatness—who would perish rather than break an alliance he has sworn to, and refuses to give his neck to the tyrant's yoke. Oh, my husband, when I look at you, my soul is transported with gladness, and I thank God that I am allowed to love you. Since you are mine I feel happy, rich, and powerful."

She placed her beautiful arms around the king, who pressed her against his breast. "Thanks, my Louisa! thanks for your joyful love. Your eyes gladden my life, and your voice is the only music that can lull my grief. That is the reason I come to you now. I seek here consolation in my affliction, for when you help me to bear the burden, it is less oppressive. I have received two letters to-day which gave me pain, and which I desire to communicate to you."

"I shall be grateful to you, my husband, for doing so," said the queen. "Come, let us sit down together, and communicate the letters to me. Who wrote them? Whence did they come?"

"One is from Koenigsberg, from our daughter Charlotte."

"From Charlotte!" exclaimed the queen, starting. "Has any thing happened to her? Has she been taken ill?"

"No, she is well, and nothing has happened to her. She is, on the contrary, in excellent spirits, and, like all young girls, wishes to dress well. She writes to me, asking me to send her money that she may renew her winter wardrobe. Here is the letter."

The queen quickly glanced over it. "Oh, the dear, good child," she exclaimed, "how tenderly she loves us—how prettily and affectionately she gives expression to her feelings! And yet she often appears outwardly cold and indifferent.—She resembles her noble father: she does not wear her heart on her tongue, but it throbs lovingly in her bosom. She is seemingly reserved and haughty, but she is affectionate. If God permits her to live I anticipate a brilliant future for her."[35]

[Footnote 35: The very words of the queen.—Vide "Queen Louisa," p. 302. This prophecy was fulfilled, for the Princess Charlotte afterward married the Emperor of Russia.]

"A brilliant future!" echoed the king; "for my daughter—for the daughter of a king without a kingdom—of a man who is so poor as to be unable to gratify her just and modest wishes! She asks for money to replenish her winter wardrobe. Now, do you know what I have written to her? I have sent her five dollars, and given her at the same time the wretched consolation to be content with that sum, for it was all I could spare."

"Well," said the queen, with a gentle smile, "at all events, five dollars will enable her to buy a warm winter dress, and by and by our finances will improve."

"I do not see any such prospect," exclaimed the king, vehemently.

"All our resources are exhausted; all the public funds are gone, and even your generosity will be unable to create new ones. My noble queen, in generous self-denial, sacrifices her jewels in order to gladden and comfort others, and to lay her own contribution on the altar of her country. She did not think of herself in doing so."

"Yes, I did," said the queen, smiling, "I did think of myself. I reserved five thousand dollars, and with that sum all the bills we owed—all our debts for the household, for the stable, and the servants, have been paid. But you intended communicating two letters to me. What about the second?"

"The second," said the king, mournfully, "is a farewell from my faithful subjects in the province of Mark, whom, alas! with a heavy heart, I have absolved from their oath of allegiance, and ordered to serve another sovereign, and to obey the new King of Westphalia. I am not ashamed of confessing it, Louisa, I wept on writing to them, and on reading their reply. There it is. Read it aloud. It will do me good to hear again these touching words."

The queen unfolded the large letter, to which several official seals were attached, and read in a tremulous voice:

"Our heart was rent when we read your farewell letter, good king. We cannot believe even now that we, who always loved you so affectionately, are to cease being your subjects. As sure as we live, it was neither your fault, nor ours, that your generals and ministers were too confused after the defeat of Jena to march the dispersed divisions of the army to us, and to lead them, united with our whole people, into a struggle which, with the blessing of God, would have been successful. We would have willingly risked our lives, for you must not doubt that the blood of the ancient Cheruscians is still flowing in our veins; that we are proud of calling Hermann and Wittekind countrymen of ours, and of knowing that on our soil was that field of battle where our ancestors defeated their enemies in so decisive a manner that they never fought again. We also would assuredly have saved the fatherland, for we have, we believe, marrow in our bones, and remain uncorrupted by modern luxury and effeminacy. But no one can escape the decrees of Providence. Oh, farewell, then, our father and king! Heaven grant you more faithful generals and more sagacious ministers for the remainder of your states! You are not omniscient, and you were sometimes obliged to follow them into blind paths. Unfortunately, we must also submit to what cannot be helped. God help us! We trust our new sovereign will be a father to us, and honor and respect our language and customs, our faith and rights, as you always did, dear and beloved king! Health, joy, and peace!"

"And you call us poor and disgraced when such hearts are throbbing for us," exclaimed the queen, with radiant eyes. "No, we are rich, for our subjects love us, and even when compelled to part with you, they send you their love-greetings!"

"But I cannot reward their love; I have no means of showing how my heart appreciates it," exclaimed the king, mournfully. "Oh, Louisa, I am a poor, wretched man; my heart is desponding, and even your cheering words are unable to console it. Wherever I look, whatever plans I form, I see nowhere a prospect of change for the better. My country is occupied by hordes of foreign soldiers. My subjects, exposed to the overbearing and avarice of the French, who think they are sovereign rulers of my states, are vainly praying to their king to come to their assistance. Their courage is exhausted; their strength gone; commerce is prostrated; manufacturers and mechanics are idle; the farmers have no seed-corn, nor courage to cultivate their fields, for they know that they will be robbed of the fruits of their labor. Our soldiers walk about with bowed heads, and scarcely dare to wear their uniforms, for they remind them of Jena and Auerstadt, of the capitulation of Prenzlau, of the surrender of so many fortresses, and, like myself, they wish they had been buried on the battle-field of Jena. Want, misery, and suffering are everywhere, and I am unable to help! I must still permit the enemy to inundate my states, although it was expressly stipulated by the treaty of Tilsit that the French army was to evacuate Prussia in the course of two months. I must also permit the Emperor Napoleon (though after the conclusion of peace, and contrary to the treaty) to take New Silesia, and add her to the kingdom of Warsaw; to transform the two leagues of the new territory of Dantzic into two German miles, and, without even asking my consent, to deprive me of my property. But I am determined to suffer this injustice and humiliation no longer, and to make the last sacrifice."

"What are you going to do, my husband?" exclaimed the queen, laying her hand with an anxious gesture on the arm of her husband. "What sacrifice?"

"Myself!" said the king, gloomily, "for it is I alone who bring misfortune on my people. A sinister fatality pursues me, and has pursued me from my earliest youth. Only one star ever rose on my troubled firmament, and that was you, Louisa. But it will not set, even though I carry out my purpose. In solitude and sorrow it will still shine hopefully upon me. My childhood was wretched, and embittered by long-continued sufferings; while I was crown prince, I had to submit to the affliction of not possessing the heart of my father, and of being unable to approve his actions. I was so unfortunate as to be compelled to begin the first day of my reign with a demonstration against his course by having the woman arrested whom he had loved so long and ardently, and to whom the final wishes and thoughts of the dying sovereign had been devoted. It is his spirit, perhaps, that now brings all these calamities upon me. But my people shall not suffer; I will deliver them from the fatal influences attaching them to me, and in order to conciliate my fate I will voluntarily lay down my crown."

"Never! my husband, never shall you do so," exclaimed the queen in great excitement. "Never shall my noble and brave king declare that his spirit is crushed and vanquished. Majesty would thereby render itself guilty of suicide. For majesty, like life, is a boon sent by Providence, and you are no more allowed to divest yourself of it arbitrarily than to put a voluntary end to your life. And, least of all, are you permitted to do so in times of adversity and danger, for such a course would look like cowardice with which my king and husband assuredly cannot be charged. Charles V. and Christina of Sweden were at liberty to abdicate, for when they did so they were at the acme of their power, and yet they ever repented of it; they felt that all nations were scornfully exclaiming: 'Behold the faithless, suicidal servant of God! Behold the stigma on that anointed brow! The crown sanctifies the head that wears it. But that coward has dishonored himself, and the glory that God gave him.' Oh, my beloved husband, the nations must never speak in this manner of you; the annals of history must never report that you deserted your people when they were oppressed, and that, in order to obtain peace and safety for yourself, you gave up your country, and cast away your crown. It is true, fortune is imposing grievous burdens on us; but at such a time it behooves a true man to meet adversity with a bold front."

"Ah, if I were possessed of your unwavering faith and cheerfulness!" said the king, profoundly sighing. "But my hope is gone; our misfortunes have crushed out not my courage but my belief in a better future."

"And yet they were necessary that we might one day obtain real happiness," said Louisa. "Oh, I begin to perceive distinctly that the events which have afflicted us will redound to our own welfare. Providence is evidently introducing a new era, because the old one has outlived itself. We fell asleep on the laurels of Frederick the Great, who was the master-spirit of another century; we did not progress with the times, and they outstripped us."

"There must be many changes, I am satisfied, in our administration," said the king, thoughtfully. "The army must be reorganized, and those who in the hour of danger are cowards must be judged with inexorable severity. Alas! all this will be in vain; I succeed in accomplishing nothing; all my measures turn out to my detriment, and to the advantage of our enemy."

"It is true," said the queen, sighing, "he has much success. Even our most deliberate plans are fruitless. Though the Russians and Prussians fight like lions, and are not defeated, they are obliged to evacuate the field of battle, and the French emperor claims a victory. Nevertheless, it would be blasphemous to say that God was on his side; he is an instrument of Providence in order to bury that in which life is extinct, but which still clings to that destined to live. We may derive lessons from him, and what he has accomplished ought not to be lost to us. Oh, I firmly believe in Providence, and a great moral system ruling the world. I cannot see it, however, in the brutal reign of force, and hence I believe that these times will be succeeded by more prosperous ones. All good men hope for them, and the eulogists of the hero of this day must not mislead us. All that has happened is not the ultimate order of things; it is a severe yet salutary preparation for a new and better destiny. We must not delude ourselves, my beloved friend, with the idea that this is remote; in spite of all obstacles, we must strive to reach it with strength, courage, and cheerfulness. With the merciful assistance of Providence, we must continue to battle for our honor and our rights!"

"Yes, be it so!" exclaimed the king, "God is with me, for He has placed you at my side; He has given me an angel who fills my heart with that courage which is based on faith in Him. Oh, forgive my timidity and despondency; I pledge you my word I will meet the future with a strong heart. Only remain with me, my dearest Louisa; look at me with your cheering eyes, and inspire my heart with hope. Whenever I falter, remind me of this hour in which I vowed to you to struggle to the last."

"Thanks, my king and husband!" exclaimed the queen; "whatever may happen, let us meet it, united in love, hope, and faith in God!"

"Yes," said the king; "adversity itself is not devoid of exalted moments, and you, my Louisa, have become dearer to me in these days. I know now by experience what a treasure you are to me. Let the storm rage outside, if all is calm within."

"It is my pride and happiness to possess the love of the best of men," said the queen; "and though we leave no inheritance to our children, we shall leave them at least the example of our wedded life; let them learn from it to be happy in themselves."

"Madame la Reine est servie!" shouted a merry voice behind them; and when the queen turned, she saw her son, Crown-Prince Frederick William, who approached her with rosy cheeks and laughing eyes. "Pardon me, dearest parents, for venturing to enter the room without your permission, but I longed to salute you, and therefore assumed the duty of the steward, who was about to announce that dinner is ready."

"And I suppose my son found this announcement exceedingly interesting, and longed just as much for his dinner as for his parents," exclaimed the queen, smiling and looking with beaming eyes at her favorite son.

"Oh, no, no," said the crown prince, laughing, "I thought first of my beloved parents, but then—yes, I confess the idea of getting my dinner is very agreeable, considering that I have been on the ice for several hours."

"Well, my husband," asked the queen, merrily, "shall we comply with the wishes of the young epicure? Shall we permit him to conduct us to the dining-room?"

"Yes, certainly," said the king, offering his arm to his wife. "Lead the way, M. Steward!" The crown prince assumed a grave air, and, after bowing to his parents in the reverential manner of a royal steward, he preceded them with ludicrous strides, and commenced singing in a ringing voice: "Immer langsam voran, dass die oesterreichsche landwehr nachkommen kann."[36]

[Footnote 36: "Always slowly forward, that the Austrian landwehr may be able to follow,"—a well-known humorous song, ridiculing the slowness of the Austrian militia.]

The king laughed more heartily than he had done for many weeks, while the queen looked lovingly at her son who had performed this miracle.



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A FAMILY DINNER.

In the dining-room was William, the younger prince, who hastened to his parents, and returned the tender salutation of his beautiful mother by covering her hand with kisses. There were no guests at the royal table; the king preferred to dine en famille, and for several days the queen had ordered the ladies and gentlemen of the court to dine by themselves, and only with the royal family when company was not distasteful to her husband. The king looked with a smile of content at the small table, on which he noticed only four covers, and, conducting his wife to her seat, he said, with a grateful glance, "You have anticipated my most secret wishes, Louisa; I like, above all, to dine alone with my family. Guests and strange faces always bring etiquette with them, and that renders our repasts formal and unpleasant. Thanks, Louisa!"

It was a very frugal meal, hardly suitable to a royal dinner-table. Frederick William and the queen, however, contentedly partook of the plain, wholesome food; and, gayly chatting, they did not seem to notice that the dinner was served up in common china dishes, and that the plates before them were of the same cheap material. Prince William ate with the appetite of a healthy little boy; the crown prince, however, who was twelve years old, did not seem to relish his food. He had disposed of his soup, although he thought it weak and not well flavored, supposing the other courses would be more to his taste. But when it was succeeded by roast meat and cabbage, he made a wry face, and handled his fork very daintily.

"I suppose you do not like cabbage?" asked the king, who had noticed the reluctant appetite of the crown prince.

"No, your majesty," said the prince, smiling, "there are dishes that I like better, although I know it to be a very respectable one, with which the French just now are made acquainted. I will leave the shucrout[37] to them, and console myself in the mean time with thinking of two things—of the entremets now, and of my birthday to-morrow."

[Footnote 37: French pronunciation of sour-crout.]

"I suppose you entertain a good many wishes in regard to your birthday?" asked the king, putting more cabbage on his own plate. "Tell me, Fred, what is it you wish?"

"Above all, that my gracious father and my dear mother may continue to love me," said the crown prince, glancing at the queen, who nodded to him. "But, besides, I have a few other wishes. In the first place, I would like to have a nice horse with handsome new saddle and bridle, and I would like to be allowed to take frequent rides with my parents, but always at a gallop—at a full gallop!"

"But, Fred, that would be bad for you, considering that you are not yet a skilful horseman," exclaimed the queen, laughing.

"Well, then," said the prince, gravely, "I wish for another birthday present, that I may become a skilful horseman without learning, for that is a very unpleasant and slow affair, as I found it out again to-day, when, in skating, I wanted to imitate my teacher in describing a circle on the ice, and only succeeded in falling on my nose!"

"Every thing in the world has to be learned," said the king, "and although you may at first fall, you learn thereby to stand the firmer afterward, and to keep your head erect. But have you told us all your birthday wishes, or are there any more?"

"Oh, there are a great many yet, your majesty," exclaimed the prince, laughing. "If I could sow all my great and small wishes, like the dragon's teeth of Cadmus, I would be at the head of a very pretty regiment of soldiers to-morrow."

"It is strange how many desires young folks have nowadays," said the king, thoughtfully. "That boy, although he is but twelve years old, wishes to have a saddle-horse as a birthday present, and in times so hard as these! When I was as old as you, there were golden times in Prussia, and yet I did not receive many presents on my birthday. Sometimes I had to be content with nothing but a small flower-pot, worth a few shillings, and if my instructor wished to be particularly kind to me he took me to a public garden, and treated me to one, or, at the best, two silver groschens' worth of cherries."

"Oh," said the queen, with tearful eyes, "it makes my heart ache when I think of the cheerless youth of your good and noble father, and of the sufferings he had to undergo under his harsh instructor."

"It is true, Counsellor Benisch was a rigorous and harsh man," said the king; "he treated me very roughly, often wreaked his ill-humor upon me, and thought he ought to rob me entirely of my youthful pleasures. He did not do so because he was a bad man, but because he believed it to be the best system of education. And then it produced good fruits. I learned early to bear disagreeable things, and uncomplainingly to do without agreeable ones; thus I succeeded in submitting to a great deal that seemed intolerably burdensome to others. When I was a boy, it was a holiday for me, for instance, when the entremets at dinner consisted of omelet, while I see that our Prince Fred is no better satisfied with that than with the cabbage."

"Your majesty is right; I do not like either," said the crown prince, "and it was in vain that I consoled myself with the hope that there was something more to my taste."

"What?" exclaimed the queen, smiling. "You do not like omelet? If you are a true son of mine, it must become a favorite dish, for when I was your age, I greatly liked it; and if you will now eat a good plate of it, I will tell you a story about omelet and salad."

"Oh, mamma, just see, I have liberally supplied my plate; I am, therefore, entitled to the story," exclaimed the crown prince.

"I will tell the story if the king will permit me," said the queen, looking at her husband.

"The king requests you to do so," said Frederick William, nodding pleasantly. "I wish to hear your story, Louisa; you always know new and very pretty ones; your memory is really a little treasury!"

"It is not a very interesting story, after all," said the queen, thoughtfully, "except to myself as a youthful reminiscence.—I had gone with my father and my brother George to Frankfort-on-the-Main to witness the coronation of the Emperor Leopold. I remember but little of the festivities, for at that time I was only fourteen years old, and the pompous ceremonies, together with the deafening shouts of the populace (who cheered the roast ox, larded with rabbits, no less enthusiastically than the German emperor), were indescribably tedious to me."

"Dear mamma," exclaimed the crown prince, "possibly the people may have taken the roast ox for the German emperor."

"Possibly my witty son may be right," said the queen, "and the people may have rejoiced in so boisterous a manner because they were better pleased with the roast ox than with the emperor himself. The ceremonies lasted too long for me, and as all eyes were fixed on the emperor, and no one paid any attention to the daughter of a younger son of Mecklenburg, I softly slipped from the gallery of the princes, beckoned to my sister Frederica, and, followed by our governess, dear Madame Gelieux, we left the Roemer, and entered our carriage, which made but slow headway through the dense crowd, but finally conveyed us to a more quiet street. We intended to do homage to some one else—to pay our respects to the king of literature. We desired to make a pilgrimage to the place where the greatest poet of Germany was born, and visit the dear lady his mother, Mde. Counsellor Goethe.

"Our heart was transported with gladness when the carriage halted in front of the door, and a handsome face, with dark, brilliant eyes, appeared at the window, and nodded to us very cordially. We were old friends and acquaintances, and, therefore, did not beg leave to enter, but hastened directly into the sitting-room. Madame Goethe met us with a kind salutation, and made a sign to the servant-girl to remove the table standing in the middle of the room. But we saw that the dish was still filled, and that Madame Goethe, after returning from the coronation, was about to take dinner.

"'Madame Goethe,' we exclaimed, 'if you do not have your dinner immediately served up, we shall leave at once, and will never believe again that you are our friend, and that we are your children, as you always call us. If you will eat, and permit us to be present, we will remain; but if you persist in receiving us ceremoniously as princesses, and in having the dinner removed, we must go.' 'Good heavens,' exclaimed the good lady, in surprise, 'I will comply with the wishes of the little princesses, and eat if they insist on it. I am only ashamed of my dinner to-day, for I have permitted the cook to go to the coronation, and she has not yet returned. The chambermaid, therefore, prepared some food for me; it is so plain, however, that I cannot invite you to partake of it.'—'Oh, we do not want to eat, but only to sit with you,' exclaimed Frederica and I; we then took the arms of the old lady and conducted her to the table. She sighed, but yielded to our solicitations. We sat down opposite her, and Madame Gelieux took a seat close to us in the window-niche. Madame Goethe quickly ate her soup, and rang the bell for the servant to bring the second course. When she appeared and placed two dishes on the table, madame became greatly embarrassed. 'That is a dinner,' she said, 'that ought to be ashamed of showing its mean face in the presence of two little princesses so beautiful, and dressed in brocade! Why, it is nothing but an omelet and a salad.' And she then cut off a small piece of the omelet and put it among the green leaves of the salad. We looked on, and the dish seemed by far more desirable to us than the imperial ox. In spite of our brocade dresses, we were not at all ashamed of having a strong appetite. I looked at my sister Frederica, and she looked at me, and then both of us looked at the omelet, and at our governess. Finally, I was unable to resist the temptation any longer, and said, timidly, 'Madame Goethe, pray let me also have a little.' 'Ah, yes, dear madame,' said my sister, 'give us some.'"

The two princesses interrupted the queen's narrative by loud laughter, and the king himself joined gayly in it.

"That was right, mamma," exclaimed the crown prince. "Your story has given me an excellent appetite for omelet, and I have eaten all on my plate."

"That is just what I intended," said the queen, smiling.

"But what is the end of the story?" asked the crown prince. "Did Madame Goethe give you some? I hope she complied with the request of the Queen of Prussia."

"I was not yet Queen of Prussia, my son," said Louisa, with a slight expression of melancholy; "but even queens beg sometimes in vain. Then, however, I did not. The kind old lady cheerfully consented, and it was of no avail that Madame Gelieux admonished us not to deprive Madame Goethe of her dinner, and not to eat at so unusual an hour. We moved our chairs to the table; Madame Goethe laid two covers for us, and, notwithstanding the brocade dresses, and the coronation of the emperor, the two princesses of Mecklenburg commenced partaking of the omelet and salad with the strong appetite of peasant girls. Madame Goethe looked at us with a smile; our governess, however, frowningly. But only after eating all before us did we look up and see the kind countenance of Madame Goethe, and the angry air of Madame Gelieux. The dish had greatly increased our courage; instead of being afraid of the governess, we only looked at the face of the dear old lady, and when she said, 'Now I wish I had some good dessert for my two little princesses,' I exclaimed quickly, 'I know something that I would like to have for dessert!'

"'I know it also!' exclaimed sister Frederica, 'we have already been wishing for it for a whole week.' 'Well, what is it?' asked Madame Goethe. 'Tell me what you wish, and I pledge you my word your wish shall be fulfilled, if it is at all in my power.' 'Dear Madame Goethe,' I exclaimed, imploringly, 'a week ago we saw your servant-girl pumping water at the well, and we have ever since been longing to pump water just once!' 'Yes, to pump water just once, but to our heart's content,' begged sister Frederica. 'You shall do so!' exclaimed Madame Goethe, laughing merrily, 'come, we will go to the well in the yard; there you may pump.' 'No, mesdames, that is impossible,' exclaimed the governess, approaching in her dignity, and placing herself with outspread arms in front of the door, 'never shall I consent to so unseemly a proceeding.' 'Unseemly!' exclaimed Madame Goethe, indignantly. 'Why should it be unseemly for the dear little princesses to move their arms like other children, and to draw up the fresh spring-water? It is an innocent pleasure, and they shall have it as sure as I am Goethe's mother. Come, I will conduct you to the well.' And she walked proudly across the room to the small door opposite. We accompanied her, and slipped out, Madame Goethe following us. When Gelieux exclaimed she would never permit us to pump water, and would, if need be, use force to prevent us from doing so, Madame Goethe shouted angrily: 'I should like to see the person that would deprive the little princesses of such a pleasure, which they can enjoy only at my house!' And just as the governess had reached the door, Madame Goethe closed and bolted it. And we, naughty children, went to the well and pumped water until our arms were quite weak and tired. That is my story of the omelet and salad, and the pumping for dessert," said the queen, concluding her narrative, and bowing with a sweet smile to her husband.

The king nodded pleasantly to her. "I would I were a painter!" he said; "I should paint the scene where both of you are sitting at the round table and eating, while Madame Goethe is looking kindly on, and your governess with an angry frown. It would be a pretty picture, I should think."

"And I, although no painter, will draw the other picture," exclaimed the crown prince; "oh, I see it distinctly before me. A fine old tree in a large yard; under the tree a well, and the two princesses pumping. Madame Goethe in her old-fashioned dress, and at the open window of the side-building the angry face of the governess. Oh, as his majesty says, it will certainly be a pretty picture, and if my mother will graciously permit, I shall present it to her as a proof of my gratitude for her beautiful story."

"Dear, dear mamma," exclaimed Prince William, "if you know another story about an omelet, pray tell it to us, and I will then also try to paint the scene for you like Fred."

"See, Louisa, what you have done," said the king, laughing. "They are anxious to hear your stories, and will, perhaps, become great painters, if you tell them more about omelets."

"That will unfortunately not happen, my husband," said the queen, smiling, "for I do not know any other stories. It is true," she added, musingly, "I remember another omelet that caused me a great deal of pleasure."

"Where was it, dearest, dearest mamma? Oh, pray tell us," exclaimed the crown prince.

"Pray tell us, mamma," begged little Prince William; "be so gracious as to tell us a story for my picture!"

Louisa looked at her husband. The king nodded. "Your last story was so appetizing," he said, gayly, "that I am quite ready to have another."

"I ate this second omelet during our journey to East Prussia, where the estates of the province were to take the oath of allegiance. Oh, my beloved children, that was a splendid journey. The whole world was spread out before me like a bright summer day; everywhere I heard nothing but greetings of love. Everywhere addresses and banquets! festoons, pealing bells, children and young ladies strewing flowers! And our good people did not receive us in so festive a manner through compulsion, or in accordance with an old custom, but because their hearts impelled them; for they had already perceived that the young king, your noble father, would also be their benefactor; they loved and worshipped their king, and, in their kindness, transferred part of their love and veneration to myself. We had already passed through Stargard; the king had preceded me to Coeslin, and I was following him. At noon I arrived in a large village at no great distance from Coeslin. All the peasants and peasant-women came to meet me, dressed in their holiday attire, and the supervisor of the village, to whose hat a large bouquet had been fastened, stepped up to the carriage to deliver an address to me. It contained but a few artless words; the kind-hearted man begged me, in the name of the people, to do their village the honor to alight, and partake of some refreshment, for they desired to entertain the "mother of the country," that the inhabitants of the cities might not deem this an exclusive privilege. You may imagine that I allowed the gentleman to conduct me to the farm-house where the entertainment had been prepared. The cloth was laid on a round table in the small sitting-room, and a huge omelet lay in a large pewter dish. I laughed, and, to the great delight of the peasants looking through the open windows into the room, ate a large piece, while the girls outside sang with the voices of larks."

"And the omelet constituted the whole entertainment?" asked the crown prince, laughing.

"Oh, no, my little epicure; there was also a dessert: bread, and fresh butter wrapped in green leaves, and more fragrant than we ever have it."

"That is a good dessert," exclaimed the prince. "It seems to me the entertainment was not so bad, and—"

At this moment the door opened. High-Chamberlain von Schiaden entered and approached the king. "Pardon me, sire, for venturing to disturb you," he said. "A peasant and a peasant-woman have just arrived. They ask urgently and imploringly to see your majesty; and, on being told that you were at dinner, the woman insisted only the more to be at once admitted to her majesty, for she had brought her something necessary to a good dinner. I confess, the bearing of these persons is so simple and kind-hearted that I ventured to disturb you, even at the risk of being rebuked for it."

"Where do they come from?" asked the king, musingly.

"From the lowlands of the Vistula, near Culm, sire, and it seems to me they belong to the sect of the Mennonites, for they never take off their hats, and address everybody with 'thee.'—These patriotic persons have performed their journey on foot, and say that their eyes have known no slumber, and their feet no rest, since they left their village in order to see the king and queen."

"Oh, my husband," exclaimed the queen, "pray do not make them wait any longer. They come hither to manifest their love for us, and love must never be kept waiting in the anteroom."

"That is not my intention," said the king, smiling. "We will admit them at once. Come, Lousia, let us go to your sitting-room, and M. von Schladen will be so kind as to conduct them thither." He offered his arm to Louisa, she wrapped herself more closely in the Turkish shawl that covered her shoulders, and, taking leave of the two princes with a tender smile, repaired with the king to her own room.

A few minutes afterward the door opened, and M. von Schladen ushered in Abraham Nickel and his wife. The queen sat on a sofa; and the king, supporting his hand on the back of it, stood by her side. Both of them saluted the peasants, who approached slowly, and who, in their simple, neat costume, with their pleasant, healthy faces, which betrayed no embarrassment whatever, made a very agreeable impression. The woman carried on her arm a basket carefully covered with green leaves. The man held in his right hand a small gray bag, which seemed to be heavy. Both saluted the royal couple very reverentially—the woman making a deep courtesy, and the man bowing, without, however, taking off his broad-brimmed hat.

"I suppose thee to be the king, our good sovereign," said the peasant, fixing his fine lustrous eyes on the king's countenance.

"I am the king," said Frederick William, kindly.

"And I see by thy beautiful face," exclaimed the woman, pointing with her hand at Louisa, "thee is the queen, the dear mother of our country—Louisa, whom all love—for whom we are always praying, and whom we are teaching our children to love and pray for."

"I thank you, kind folks," exclaimed the queen, feelingly, "I thank you. Yes, pray for me, and above all, pray for Prussia; pray that she may be saved and protected, for when Prussia is happy I am."

"Prussia will be happy again, and the Lord will not forsake her!" exclaimed the woman. "All of us hope for it, and we wandered hither to bring to our beloved king and queen the greetings of their faithful subjects in the lowlands of Culm, and to tell their majesties that we are praying day and night that God may drive the French from the country, and render our king and queen again powerful. But with your leave we should like to give you a small proof of our regard in the presents we have brought."

The king nodded his consent, while the queen smiled and said: "What you give us with loving hearts we will accept with loving hearts."

"What I have brought is but little," said the woman. "But I have been told that our gracious queen likes to eat good fresh butter, and that the young princes and princesses are also fond of sandwiches; now," she added, removing the leaves from the basket, "this butter is clean and good; I churned it myself in my dairy, and as the article is so very scarce at present, I thought it would be acceptable, and the gracious queen would not spurn my humble gift. Thee looks so kind-hearted and good, dear queen, and I am glad to see thee face to face, and shall be doubly so if thee will be so kind as to accept my butter."

"I accept it joyfully," exclaimed the queen, taking the basket which the woman presented to her. "I thank you for your nice present, my dear woman, and I myself will put some of it to-day on the sandwiches of my sons, who shall eat them in honor of good Mde. Nickel."

"And now I should like to beg leave to present a small gift to the king," said the peasant. "I—"

"Ah, I guess what it is," exclaimed the king, merrily. "You bring me a fine cheese to be eaten with the fresh butter."

"No, most gracious king. Thy loyal Mennonite subjects in the province of Prussia have learned with the most profound grief how great the distress is which God has inflicted upon thee, thy house, and thy states. We have learned that the funds of thy military chest are entirely exhausted—that the French have put them into their pockets. All this affected us most painfully, and we thought thee might sometimes even be out of pocket-money. All the men, women, and children of our community, therefore, looked into their saving-Boxes, and contributed joyfully the mite that is to manifest the love we entertain for our king. And here is the money we have collected, good king, and I would urgently entreat thee in the name of our community graciously to accept the trifle offered thee by thy faithful Mennonite subjects, who will never cease to love and pray for thee."

"No," exclaimed the king, in a tremulous voice, his face quivering with profound emotion, "no, I am not poor so long as I have still subjects so good and loyal as you are!" And he offered his hand with a grateful look.

The queen had listened to these words with increasing emotion; her beautiful countenance was beaming with joy; her eyes were lifted to heaven, and her lips seemed to whisper a prayer of gratitude. When the king cordially shook hands with the Mennonite, the queen, overcome by her feelings, burst into tears—tears such as she had not shed for a long while. She took the costly Turkish shawl from her shoulders and threw it around the surprised woman.

"Keep it in memory of this interview," whispered the queen, in a voice choked by tears.

"Thee permits me, kind king, to give thee our little savings, and to place them on this table?" asked Abraham Nickel.

"I do," said the king. The peasant stepped to the table. After deliberately untying the string of the gray linen bag, he turned it upside down, and poured out the contents. The queen uttered an exclamation of surprise, and the king himself was unable to suppress his astonishment; for gold-piece after gold-piece rolled from the bag and fell ringing in a bright pile on the table. "Well, indeed," said the king, "my people of the Vistula have good things in their saving-boxes."

"There are three thousand louis-d'or, dear king," said Abraham Nickel. "Unfortunately, this is all, although we ardently desired to make you a better present."

"Three thousand louis-d'or are too much," replied the king, "and I cannot accept the sum as a mere gift. Accept my thanks, and rest assured that I shall ever gratefully remember your kindness. I will, however, accept it as a present now, but at a later day, when times are more prosperous, it must be considered as a loan, which I shall repay with interest. Accept a receipt, my friend, and tell the elders of your community to preserve it carefully, that I may redeem it."[38]

[Footnote 38: The king did not forget his promise. In 1816, when the fatherland had been delivered, he requested the authorities of Mariemverder to give him information about Abraham Nickel. It was ascertained that the poor man, owing to the calamities of war, had lost his whole property, his buildings having been burned down by the enemy. The king had them rebuilt in a much better style than before, gave him ample means to start again, and redeemed the due-bill he had given to the Mennonites.—Vide Hippel's work on Frederick William III., vol. iii, p. 391.]

"The king's will be done," said Nickel. "If times remain as they are now, thy receipt, dear king, shall be preserved in our community as a sacred token of thy love. But when affairs are better, then thee may do as thee pleases, and we will gladly permit our king to fill again the saving-boxes of his people."

"There will be better times for Prussia," said the king, solemnly, "for I hope in God and in my countrymen. I hope that we shall have strength to outlive these evil days, and to be worthy of the prosperity to come. Prussia is not lost; she cannot be, for her people and her king are united in lore and fealty, and that is the source of heroic deeds. God save Prussia!"

"God save Prussia!" exclaimed the queen, raising her tearful eyes and clasped hands.

"God save Prussia!" whispered the peasant and his wife, bowing their heads in silent prayer.



BOOK V.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

FRENCH ERFURT.

Erfurt had undergone a great transformation in the course of a single week. The quiet German fortress, and the gloomy streets and deserted public places, had become a gay capital. There were constantly seen crowds of French footmen in rich liveries, high-born gentlemen with their stars on their breasts, and gaping idlers looking wonderingly at the change. But what feverish activity and toil had been required to effect this! Paris—nay, all France, had to contribute their treasures. Long lines of wagons had conveyed to Erfurt costly furniture, covered with velvet and gilt ornaments, from the imperial garde-meubles of Paris, magnificent porcelain from Sevres, precious gobelins and silks from Lyons and Rouen, rare wines from Bordeaux, tropic fruits from Marseilles, and truffles from Perigord. Not only the castle, but also the prominent private residences, had been decorated in the most sumptuous style. An army of cooks and kitchen-boys had garrisoned the basements and kitchens filled with the delicacies brought from the principal cities of Europe.

France had adorned Erfurt as a bride ready to receive her lord, and the German princes had come as bridesmen. Nearly every German state had sent its sovereign or crown prince. There were the Kings of Saxony, Wuertemberg, Bavaria, and Westphalia; the Dukes of Hesse-Darmstadt, Baden, Weimar, Gotha, Oldenburg, Schwerin, and Strelitz, and more than twenty of the petty sovereigns in which Germany abounded. For the first time all seemed to be united, and to have one purpose. This was, to do homage to the Emperor Napoleon.

He intended to come to Erfurt to meet again the friend he had gained at Tilsit, the Emperor Alexander. Nearly eighteen months had passed since the first meeting of the two monarchs. Since that time the morning sky of their friendship had been overcast. The meeting at Erfurt was to renew their former relations. Both emperors felt that they could not do without each other, and they sought this meeting with equal eagerness. Alexander desired to continue his war against Sweden for the possession of Finland. Napoleon had not yet been able to bring the great struggle in Spain to a successful end, and had, therefore, to remain at peace with the only sovereign whose power and enmity he had still to fear. Besides, the two emperors loved each other; they had exchanged at Tilsit ardent vows. The world was aware of this, and could not but regard it as a matter of course that the imperial friends longed to meet again. The auspicious period was fixed for the 27th of September, 1808. The appointed hour had struck; the cannon and the pealing of bells announced the advent of Napoleon.—All the thoroughfares and public places were crowded. The people were hastening with wild impetuosity to the streets through which he was to pass; the members of the municipality, dressed in their official robes, proceeded to the gate where they were to welcome him; the windows of all the houses were open; and there appeared beautiful women, adorned with flowers and gems, awaiting his approach. The imperial guard formed in line to the soul-stirring notes of their band, and the Kings of Saxony and Wuertemberg, and the whole host of German princes, had assembled in the large hall of the government palace to salute the emperor.

A noise as of distant thunder seemed to shake the air; it drew nearer and nearer. It was the cheering of the people and the soldiers, for the emperor had now entered the city. The procession moved on, greeted by the bright eyes of the ladies, and the shouts of the multitude. Napoleon, wearily leaning back in the open barouche, drawn by six richly-caparisoned horses, thanked the people with an indifferent wave of his hand, and saluted the ladies with a scarcely perceptible nod. His countenance was immovable, and the public excitement was unable to betray him into the faintest sign of gratification. The noisy welcome seemed as stale to him as some old song which he had heard too often. As his carriage made but slow headway through the surging mass, the emperor started with a movement of impatience. "Forward!" he shouted in a loud voice, and the adjutants, riding on both sides, repeated to the outriders, "Forward! forward!" The carriage rolled on at a full gallop, regardless of the populace, followed by a cavalcade of marshals and generals, and the coaches of Champagny, Maret, and Talleyrand. Having arrived in front of the palace, the emperor quickly entered. At the landing of the staircase he was received by the German princes, headed by the King of Saxony. Napoleon embraced the old gentleman with an expression of genuine tenderness. "Sire," said the king, "you see you have made my heart young again—you have restored the elasticity of youth to my old body. I hastened hither with courier-horses in order to greet you first, and in the impatience of my heart I have been at the window for several hours to have the happiness of seeing your majesty."