"Most gracious sir," asked John von Kospoth, with a meaning smile, "but if, unfortunately, flattery and fair words prove of no avail, what must we do then?"

"You answer that question for me, Wolfgang von Kreytz," said the Elector.

"Most gracious sir," exclaimed the young baron spiritedly, "if all entreaties and persuasions fail to move, I think it will be time to assert your Electoral dignity, and to have recourse to a little threatening. We should give the King of Poland to understand that you claim the succession in Prussia by virtue of your own good right; that your father, the Elector George William, undertook the government before the investiture, and that you will defend your duchy of Prussia with all the means at your command, and will never give it up."

"Very good," said a deep voice from behind the window curtain.

"Do you mean to speak so too, John von Kospoth?" asked the Elector.

"If flattery and persuasions bring forth no fruit," replied Kospoth, "it would be a satisfaction to me, too, to threaten."

"A poor satisfaction!" cried the Elector, "unless we could forthwith follow up our threat by action, and send out our regiments to declare war! No, sirs, if you try in vain to bribe with fair words, then we must resort to money! Money is also a weapon, and, if report speak truly, an effective one among the Polish lords, their King himself respecting it. In extremity, therefore, if you can not go forward at all, then have their Majesties, the King as well as Queen, notified, by means of some trusty person, that if we obtain the grant of the government on the spot, and have no difficulty with regard to investiture, we shall pay to both their Majesties, as a bonus, the sum of sixty thousand Polish florins, and afterward wait upon the great chancellor, vice chancellor, and lord high chancellor, salute these gentlemen from me, and promise each one of them ten thousand Polish florins. Take care, though, to stipulate for some time to be allowed us for the fulfillment of these promises, for where the money is to come from is as yet a riddle to ourselves. Such is my commission, gentlemen. Hasten to execute it."

"And now," exclaimed the Elector, when the two gentlemen had left the cabinet, "now, Colonel von Burgsdorf, you have received your first lesson, and have learned to wait a little. Come forward now; I have something to say to you."

"And I, sir," called out Burgsdorf, as he rushed forth from the bay window and threw himself on his knees before the Elector, "first of all, I have something to say to you. Your highness, above all things I must beg your pardon from the bottom of my heart, and confess to you the evil thoughts that led me to suppose that the Elector at twenty years of age did not understand government and was only a timid young gentleman. I see now that you are far wiser and more prudent than the old fool Burgsdorf, and that you have learned more in your twenty years than will ever penetrate my thick skull. You are a great statesman, your highness; on my knees I implore your pardon for having doubted you, and beseech you, reject me not, sir! Forget the nonsense I gave utterance to that time at Berlin, and take the old broadsword into your service. It desires nothing better than to be worn out in your service, to fly out of its scabbard at your bidding and slash away at the enemy."

"To slash away at the enemy!" repeated the Elector. "First of all, stand up, old colonel. There," he continued, smiling, holding out his hand to him, "I must help you a little, for your old limbs have grown stiff in my father's service. And now, just tell me, old broadsword, what you think of it. How will you attack the enemy for me now? Enemies enough we have, indeed, but too few soldiers, I should think, to cope with them. Or think you that we could soon set an army on foot? Would you go out to battle with your regiment of two thousand six hundred men, and win back for me my contested territories?"

"I beg your highness not to speak of my two thousand six hundred men. You know well that they have long since melted away, because there was no money wherewith to pay them."

"Well then," said the Elector, "I will gratify you by forgetting that splendid regiment, and by no longer reminding you of the things that were. But this I tell you, Burgsdorf, under my administration everything must correspond, and what is noted down on paper must really exist. And now we shall see if you are acquainted with our military affairs."

"Alas! most noble sir," sighed Burgsdorf, "would that I did not know, for it is a most sorrowful knowledge to an old soldier and in a most distressing condition is the Brandenburg military department."

"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed the Elector. "The knights no longer take horse, the citizens no longer care to defend their towns and gates, the States refuse to pay subsidies for the support of the army, and our coffers are exhausted. It is no wonder if there can be no talk of an army. How much infantry and cavalry have we in all, Burgsdorf?"

"Most gracious sir," sighed the colonel, "in the Mark and Prussia together we have not more than twenty companies of infantry, allowing a hundred and twenty-five men to each."

"That would make two thousand five hundred men," said the Elector—"a small nucleus for an army, truly; but something, nevertheless, provided that these men are attached to me, and owe fealty to none besides myself."

"But that is just our misfortune," said Burgsdorf; "these men have sworn allegiance not only to you, but to the Emperor's Majesty. They were enlisted in the Emperor's name, and carry the imperial banner."

"Ah!" cried the Elector, "I see you know how it is, Conrad von Burgsdorf, and understand the difficulties of the position in which we find ourselves. Yes, the regiments of the Elector of Brandenburg have given oath to the Emperor, and the Emperor's banners wave above our forts. All my officers serve the Emperor first! Tell me, Burgsdorf, are you yourself not in the Emperor's service? Have you not a regiment in the imperial army, although you are governor of Kuestrin, and therefore under my command?"

"That is so," replied Burgsdorf. "I could not refuse the imperial regiment because it was such a lucrative post, and the governorship paid me hardly anything. The emoluments for heading the imperial regiment were more in one year than I would have gained in twenty years from my Brandenburg post. Necessity drove me to it."[38]

"I know that very well," said the Elector, "and I repeat that the past shall be forgotten if you promise that in future you will be true and loyal to myself alone."

"Your highness!" shouted Burgsdorf, "I will be faithful to you and your government to the end of my life! I renounce empire and Emperor, and henceforth the Elector of Brandenburg is my sole lord and general! Allow me on the spot to give into your own hand my oath of office, and swear to you eternal fidelity!"

"Here is my hand," said the Elector solemnly. "Swear upon this hand hereafter to become the sword of Brandenburg, to serve me faithfully and zealously, and to have no other Sovereign than myself!"

"In God's name I swear that I will have no other Sovereign, and serve under no other Prince, than yourself alone, the Elector of Brandenburg!" cried Burgsdorf, laying both his hands in that of the Elector and pressing it fervently to his lips.

"And now, having sworn you into my service," said the Elector, in a majestic tone, "now I commission you to return home to Kuestrin and to administer the oath to all the officers and men there. But understand, to me alone, not to the Emperor."

"To you alone, not to the Emperor!" cried Burgsdorf, with animation.

"And I further order you to receive no imperial garrison into your fortress, for we have a right to exact this, since it is clearly stipulated in the peace of Prague that each Prince is at liberty to man his fortresses with his own people, which clause gives validity to this assertion of right."[39]

"Your Electoral Highness!" cried Burgsdorf, "that was spoken like a man! Begin the good work in earnest, and command the Stadtholder without delay to swear in the other governors of your remaining fortresses!"[40]

"You are of opinion, then, that this is very necessary, and that these gentlemen might refuse to swear allegiance to me alone?"

"Yes, sir, I am strongly of that opinion, and would venture to lay a wager that Colonel von Rochow at Spandow, and Goldacker and Kracht in Berlin, will not take oath to your Electoral Highness."

"Woe to them if they do it not!" cried the Elector, with flashing eyes. "I shall prove to them that they must bow in obedience to me, and that I recognize no other lord but myself within the limits of my own dominions. Now go back to the Mark, Burgsdorf, and do as I have bidden you. You may also, as would once have been so pleasant to you, go over right often to Berlin. Attend well to all that is going on, for it may be that I shall soon have occasion for you there. Be on your guard, therefore, colonel, and be pretty circumspect in word and deed. Ponder upon the advice given you by the little Electoral Prince once: 'Learn and wait.'"

"Sir, you give me another thrust!" cried Burgsdorf; "but it does me good, and I am glad of it. Yes, I shall learn and wait, for I see plainly the last night of the world has not come yet, and my dearest master will not always have to act so on the defensive as now; when the right time comes, he will strike and prove to all his enemies, even the mightiest of them, that he is more powerful than they. Mark now, mark my words; Schwarzenberg may look out!"

"But meanwhile let Burgsdorf look out! Farewell now, Burgsdorf, you have received my orders. Execute them."

"Now," cried the Elector, after the colonel had left the room—"now, my dear Leuchtmar, you know all my views and plans. But the most weighty, important, and difficult task I have reserved for you."

"I think I know what your highness means," said Leuchtmar, smiling. "Your precautionary measures have been taken in all directions; as early as yesterday your envoys departed laden with most submissive messages of respect for the Emperor. Only in one direction have you done nothing, and that remains for me. I am to go to Sweden, am I not?"

The Elector nodded and smiled. "It is as you say—you are to go to Sweden. A great danger threatens my country. The Swedes are on the frontiers, or rather within my territories, for they hold possession of Pomerania, which is mine. They are on the point of invading the Mark, Banner again threatens my poor, exhausted lands, and it is said that he has already issued orders for the demolishing of Berlin. Schwarzenberg for that very reason had the suburbs of Berlin and Cologne burned down, thus laying the city open to assault; from Saxony, also, the Swedish general Stallhansch advances upon Brandenburg, and all is in a fair way to encircle the Mark in the flames of war. But, as you know, I have no money and no soldiers, no power and no lands. I can not conduct a war! My single purpose must now be, in the first place, to withdraw my oppressed land and people from these flames of war into lasting repose and a peaceful security, and then to govern them well.[41] I shall send you to Sweden, therefore, Leuchtmar, to conclude for me a temporary armistice with the Swedes, and also to negotiate the conditions of a peace. I must have peace at any price, for on no terms can I carry on a war. Chancellor Oxenstiern is indeed a proud and overbearing man, who will probably make hard conditions, but we must accommodate ourselves to them, yield gracefully now, and defer our revenge for a later day. Only if he demands Pomerania as the price of peace, you may not yield; we will indeed be yielding, but not suffer ourselves to be humbled. We can grant much, but not allow ourselves to be imposed upon in everything. If Oxenstiern desires money and other material things, promise them, but land and towns you may not give."

"Not a single title to land or town, your highness!" cried Leuchtmar, "for you have said that you would substantiate your titles, and give kernels to the empty shells; therefore the Swede shall not crack a single one of your nuts."

"Not a single one," repeated the Elector, while he smilingly extended his hand to his friend. "And now, one thing more, Leuchtmar. Do you remember the plan about which my great-uncle Gustavus Adolphus spoke to my mother, when he was here on a visit?"

"Yes, indeed," returned Leuchtmar promptly, "I remember it, and think it were time now to carry it into execution. There is one means of uniting Sweden and Brandenburg in the bonds of peace, without reducing Brandenburg to humiliation. Only follow the plan of the great Gustavus Adolphus; you know he destined his daughter Christina for your wife."

"Yes," said the Elector, and a sudden pallor overspread his cheeks—"yes, he meant his daughter to be my wife. Go, Leuchtmar, and woo her, but quite secretly and quietly. As I have already told you, my heart is dead, young Frederick William no longer desires anything for himself, but the young Elector a great deal still, and it is the Elector who offers his hand to Queen Christina for the good of his country. I believe the little, young Queen interests herself somewhat in her cousin Frederick William, at least so my aunt, the widowed Queen, assured me. I shall intrust to you a letter for the young Queen, which you must try to slip into her own hand without Oxenstiern knowing anything about it. Go now, dear Leuchtmar, and prepare all things for your journey. Meanwhile I shall write the letter."

"In one hour, your highness, I shall be ready," said Leuchtmar, withdrawing with a low bow.

The Elector thoughtfully followed him with his eyes. "In one hour he will be ready," he said, "and he goes away to woo for me a woman's heart. Oh, Love and Faith, must you, too, bow to the great laws which govern the world? Must you, too, be laid as sacrifices upon the altar of country? Hush, poor heart and murmur not! Sink down into the sea of forgetfulness, ye days of the past! A new era dawns upon me. I stand before the gates of a great future, and I write above these gates, 'I will be a mighty and distinguished ruler!' That is my future."



IV.—CONFIRMED IN POWER.

With triumphant expression of countenance Count Adam von Schwarzenberg walked to and fro in his cabinet. The Chamberlain Werner von Schulenburg had just left him, and the glad tidings which he had brought from the young Elector had banished all doubts, all cares from the Stadtholder's heart.

"I did him injustice," he said cheerfully to himself. "Frederick William was not my enemy, not my opponent! He was only the son of his father, and he will now also walk in his father's ways. I therefore remain what I am, remain Stadtholder, the lord of the Mark! And," he continued, more softly, "I would have put this amiable Prince out of the way! Who knows whether it would have been for my advantage if he had died and my son stepped into his place! My son is of my blood—that is to say, he is ambitious and thirsts after power and distinction. He would not have left the government in my hands, if he could have wrested it from me, and perhaps I would not have remained Stadtholder in the Mark had it been in his power to displace me!"

The count had thrown himself into a fauteuil, and supported his head on his hand. The triumphant expression had long since faded from his features, which were mow grave and lined by care.

"It pleases me not," he murmured, after a long pause—"no, it pleases me not at all that my son associates so constantly with Goldacker, Kracht, and Rochow at Spandow. They are disorderly fellows, who recognize no law or restraint, and find their sole pleasure in tumult and strife. It would seem fine to them if they could embroil father and son, for they would surely fish in the troubled waters, and draw out some advantage for themselves, which is ever their only concern. They exert an evil influence over my son, I know that, and it would be infinitely better for him to go away from here and—Ha! a good thought! I shall immediately carry it out."

He started up and grasped the large gold bell, which had been recently presented to him by the Emperor. The clear, sonorous tones called a smile to the count's lips.

"Yes, yes," he said, "the old Elector is dead, and I ring the new times in; yet the new era is but a repetition of the old, and the end remains ever the same, although the means by which we attain it differ. I used to whistle, now I ring, but the object remains identically the same—to summon serviceable spirits to my side.

"They do not come, though," he continued after a long pause, in which he had awaited in vain the appearance of a lackey. "No, these, my serviceable spirits come not; they incline not to the new order of things, and prefer clinging to the old."

He took the little golden whistle, lying on the table beside the bell, and gave a loud, shrill call with it. Immediately the door opened and a lackey appeared.

"Why have you kept me waiting?" asked the count imperiously. "Did you not hear the bell?"

"Yes, your excellency," replied the lackey, with reverential mien, "I heard ringing. It was the beadle, giving notice that two women were to be put in the pillory on the fish market for committing twenty thefts between them!"

"Stupid fool! It was I who rang!" cried the count. "Did I not yesterday notify you through the majordomo that I should no longer call you with a whistle, but with a bell?"

"It is true, your excellency, and I beg your pardon for forgetting it," replied the lackey humbly.

"Mark it for all time to come," commanded the count. "Go now and tell my son, Count John Adolphus, that I wish to speak with him, and request him to come to me."

The lackey bowed obsequiously and left the apartment. He paused behind the closed door, and with defiant, angry countenance, shook his clinched fist.

"You will no longer call us by a whistle," he muttered wrathfully, "and yet you whistle for your parrot and your dogs. But that is quite too good for your servants and lackeys, and they must now listen for that sheep bell. Tinkle and ring for us, will you, as if you were the beadle and we good-for-nothing folks to be put in the pillory? Ah me! every day the rich and high become more haughty, and the poor and lowly must every day put up with more! We had hoped, indeed, that other times would come, and that the young Elector would shove that old tyrant of a Stadtholder aside, and oust him from his dignities and offices. But Count Adam von Schwarzenberg retains his place, and the only change for us is that he rings for us instead of whistling as of old. We must just submit, and when he rings obey his orders as if he whistled."

With a deep sigh and melancholy air the lackey now walked off to execute his lord's commands, and summon Count John Adolphus to his father. This young gentleman made haste to obey the call.

"My son," cried the Stadtholder, himself opening his cabinet door, "I recognized your step and came to meet you."

"You have something very urgent to say to me then, since you have so anxiously expected me?" asked John Adolphus, pressing his father's hand to his lips.

"Yes, much that is urgent," replied the Stadtholder. "The young Elector's envoy has arrived, and brought me a first missive from him."

"Good news?" asked his son hurriedly.

"Yes, good news. The Elector confirms me in all my offices and dignities. I remain Stadtholder in the Mark, Director of the War Department—in short, what I am, whence follows as a matter of course that the Elector Frederick remains what his father was—my obedient servant. My son, the power has not fallen from my hand, and your heritage remains."

"I assure you, my gracious father, I have but little desire to enter upon this heritage of mine," cried young Count Adolphus, shrugging his shoulders. "May I long remain what I am now, the son of the Stadtholder in the Mark, the coadjutor of the Grand Master of the Order of St. John."

"I thank you, Adolphus, for this kind and friendly wish," said Count Adam, giving his hand to his son. "It proves to me that you love your old father, and that delights me. Truly, man is a wonderful creature, not being able to live for himself alone, but always longing for some sympathetic heart on which to lean. I have at last made the discovery that I have a heart."

"And I," said Count Adolphus, laughing—"I have just discovered that I no longer have a heart."

"Or rather, you are sick at heart, are you not?" inquired his father quickly. "My son, you have avoided me of late—you have turned from me, you no longer confide in me."

"I have nothing to confide, most revered sir," replied Count Adolphus, smiling. "I lead a merry, harmless life, and care for nothing."

"For nothing?" repeated the count. "Not even for the Princess Charlotte Louise?"

Count Adolphus slightly shuddered, and his cheeks paled a little, but he carelessly shook his head, and continued to smile.

"My son," continued his father, "I ask you to-day, as I did two years ago, on what terms are you with the Princess Charlotte Louise? During all this time you have invariably eluded my efforts to converse on the subject. I indulged you, for I know my prudent, cautious son, and waited for him to give me his confidence voluntarily. Hitherto, however, I have but waited in vain, so that I am compelled to take the initiative, and sue for your confidence. Give it to me, Adolphus, tell me whether you love the Princess Charlotte Louise."

"Wherefore?" asked Count Adolphus. "How would it profit you?"

"Me? Not at all, but perhaps it may profit you to tell me the truth. The lofty hopes we once indulged in have come to naught, destiny has not willed their fruition. We have been disappointed in our hope of seeing George William's daughter become his heiress, and exalt her husband into an Elector of Brandenburg. Frederick William is Elector, he has entered upon his father's estates to their full extent. But the Princess Charlotte Louise is still unmarried, and has remained so because she loves you and is waiting for you."

"She has made me wait," cried the young count, with a sudden outburst of passion. "She kept me standing and waiting two hours before a locked door, and never, while I live, never, shall I forget the shame, the torture, and degradation of those two hours of vain expectation. Oh, father, see what power you have over me! I swore then that no human being should ever hear of the insult put upon me by that haughty Prince's daughter, and yet I am confessing it to you now. Pity me not, say nothing, nothing at all, for each word but aggravates my pain and makes my heart swell with indignation and grief. Oh, I loved her, trusted her, I dreamed of a proud and brilliant future, which I should owe to her! And she played her part in such masterly style, her countenance wearing a look of such innocence and candor! O father! I loved her, and I, the experienced man of the world, allowed myself to be deceived by that young girl, who knew nothing of the world, and was yet such an accomplished hypocrite! Think not that I was a mere idle coxcomb, arrogantly basing his expectations upon his wishes. No, she deceived me, she disappointed me! You should have seen her at that fete which you gave to the Electoral Prince. How tenderly she leaned upon my arm, as we walked through the greenhouse, with what glowing cheeks, with what a blissful smile did she listen to my protestations of love, with what amiable bashfulness did she respond to them! She even anticipated my boldest hopes and desires, and when I ventured to ask for a rendezvous, not only consented to it, but gave me a proof that she would have granted it without waiting for me to seek one. There, in the greenhouse, she pressed a little note into my hand, which stated clearly and distinctly that she appointed ten o'clock of the following evening for a rendezvous with me at the castle. And yet all was falsehood and deceit—all only invented for the purpose of punishing the presumptuous fool who had dared to lift his eyes to the proud Princess! Oh, how she laughed perhaps, and mocked me with her sister, mother, and brother, while I stood below before the locked door and waited, finally being obliged to slink away, burying my rage and despair in my heart! I fancy her spying from a neighboring window, watching me, and enjoying my confusion as I stood there knocking at a bolted door, having at last to go off silent and bowed down. It makes me furious to think of this, and yet continually the idea haunts me, leaving me no rest, until the remembrance of these two dreadful hours becomes absolute torture. O father! why have you wrenched this secret from my heart?—why have you persuaded me to tell you, what I have not even revealed to my father confessor?"

"I am glad, my son, that I have succeeded in opening this secret," said the count quietly. "I say opening, for like a festering sore it has rankled in your bosom, and believe me, Adolphus, since it has been opened, you will experience relief and your heart will heal. It has befallen many another man to be caught in the snares of a coquette, and to have a few costly illusions dispelled. But consider, my son, each illusion lost is an experience gained, and experience is cheaply bought with the dreams of the heart. Experience, you know, brings knowledge of the world, and knowledge of the world forms the diplomatist and statesman. You are already, my son, no despicable statesman, and you will some day play a great game, even though you are not the Electoral Princess's husband. For the rest I can give you one comforting assurance, and relieve your mind of an oppressive consciousness. In order to do this I have allowed you to vent your rage, and listened with attentive ear to your passionate complaints. My consolation is this: you have never loved the Princess Charlotte Louise—that is to say, never loved her with your heart, but only with your vanity and ambition. It was very flattering to you to be loved by a Princess, and ambition whispered to you that through your wife you might become reigning Elector, if the Electoral Prince were only put out of the way by fate or some other obliging hand. There was surely some prospect of this, and you know how exultingly we both looked forward to such a future. But we made shipwreck of those plans, and now it is too late to build them anew. However, let us not mourn over the past, but forget it. This hour has witnessed your last lament over your dead past. Its knell has been rung, let us both now doom it to oblivion. I have retained one thing in my memory, however, and that is the note which the incautious Princess gave you that evening in the greenhouse. Do you still possess it?"

"Yes, I still possess it, and as often as I look at it my heart is like to burst with indignation and wrath!"

"On the contrary, Adolphus, you ought to rejoice whenever you look at it, for you can turn this little note into a formidable weapon against the Electoral house. With this note you can some day force the young Elector to make you my successor, confirm you in the rank of Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, or even, if you still wish it, make you the husband of his sister Charlotte Louise. Ah! my son, a note in which the Elector's sister invites you to a rendezvous by night is worth more to you, indeed, than if you could go out against your enemy with an army, for an army might be vanquished, but in this billet-doux of the Princess each stroke of her hand becomes a soldier fighting with invincible armor."

"You are right, most gracious father," said Count Adolphus, with a sinister expression of face. "The day may come when I shall march out these soldiers against the faithless Princess and her whole house! I hate her, I hate them all, and my whole heart longs for revenge, and—"

"Your excellency," said a chamberlain, approaching hastily—"your excellency, a courier from Koenigsberg has just arrived, and is the bearer of this dispatch from the Elector."

The Stadtholder took the proffered packet, and by a hurried sign dismissed the chamberlain.

"A courier from Koenigsberg," he said, with a slight shaking of the head, as he examined the great sealed envelope which he held in his hand. "A writing from the Electoral Government Office, when Schulenburg was just with me this very day, the bearer of verbal communications! I do not understand it!"

"The best plan would be, most revered father, to open the letter!" cried Count Adolphus briskly. "You will then see what news it contains."

The Stadtholder made no answer, but tore off the cover and drew forth the inner paper. Slowly he unfolded this, and read.

His son had involuntarily advanced a few steps nearer, and watched his father's countenance with the impatience of suspense. He saw him turn pale, his brow darken, and his lips become firmly compressed.

"The letter contains bad news?" he said breathlessly.

"Not merely bad but astonishing news," replied the count, with forced composure. "The Elector here makes several requirements of me, and not directly, but through his private secretary Goetz."

"What presumption!" exclaimed his son passionately.

"How can that little Elector dare to forward a writ of chancery to you, the mighty and influential Stadtholder in the Mark, instead of addressing his desires and requests to you privately in his own handwriting?"

"It shows at all events a little negligence and want of formality," replied his father thoughtfully, "although the Elector may certainly plead as his excuse the many claims upon his time. For the same reason he only gave Schulenburg verbal messages for me."

"And may I ask what the Elector demands of your grace? Or is this an indiscretion on my part?"

"No, my son, you shall learn it. In the first place, the Elector requires me to send unopened to him at Koenigsberg all letters arriving here addressed to him, and not to open and answer them in his name as hitherto. The Elector further desires me to conclude no act of government without having previously called together the privy council. In the third place, the Elector directs me forthwith to require of all the governors and officers of the forts an oath of allegiance to himself. He lastly asks, if I can make it convenient to come to Prussia, that we may confer together, and that he may have the benefit of my aid and advice."

"And what answer will your grace return to these demands?"

"As regards the first requirement, I shall reply that the Elector's will is law, and that all writings shall be henceforth forwarded to him unopened. As to the second demand, I shall represent that it is now simply impossible to gratify, since only a single member of the old privy council is yet alive. As to binding the officers and commandants by oath to their duty," continued the count slowly, "I shall but require a token of their disposition to fulfill existing engagements. And lastly, as the Elector wishes it, I can hardly refuse him my advice; so that I will go to him in Prussia."

"No," cried Count Adolphus impatiently, "no, father, you shall not. You shall not accept this artfully contrived invitation. You dare not go to Prussia. My God, sir, are your usually keen and penetrating eyes so blinded that they can not see what is so very palpable? Do you really not perceive that the Elector only wants to entice you away, in order to get you in his power, in order noiselessly and quietly to put you out of the way? Ostensibly you are to go to Koenigsberg to advise the young, inexperienced Elector. That is the pretext, the sand which they would scatter in the eyes of yourself, your friends, the Emperor, yea, all Germany, so that no one can see what is going on, or by any possibility guess what will happen. You may set out for Koenigsberg, but you will never get there; you will meet with an accident on the way—either your carriage will be overset and you fatally injured, or robbers fall upon you in the woods and murder you. However it may be, only as a dead man will you arrive at Koenigsberg, and the Elector will have nothing further to do than to decree your magnificent obsequies!"

"Ah, my son!" cried the Stadtholder, smiling, "you go too far. Never will the Elector resort to such expedients. He is too pious and good a Christian for that!"

"Father, are not you, too, a good, pious Christian, and yet—Believe me, the Elector has forgotten nothing. He remembers the man found under his bed once, with a murderous weapon in his hand and much gold in his pocket. He remembers the sickness which so suddenly seized him two years ago at the banquet which you had prepared for him. Then you invited him, now he invites you, and if sickness seizes you, you will probably not have the good fortune to recover as he did."

"That is true; my God! he may be right," muttered the count, turning pale. "It may be that they suspect me; they may have told him I meant to poison him at that banquet. I have proofs of it which make it seem probable, and that woman—Hush, hush! nothing of that—that has no place here! But I believe myself that you are right, and will therefore ignore the Elector's invitation."

"God be praised, father, that you have taken this resolution!" cried the young count joyfully. "Now at last the crisis is upon us—open enmity and a rupture, regardless of consequences! Waver and hesitate no more. The Elector would ruin you; you must ruin him. Nay, look not so amazed and shocked, father! I have long foreseen this moment, and have prepared everything for meeting the emergency with dignity. As soon as the first news of the Elector George William's death reached here, I gathered about me my friends and yours, and held a long consultation with them, which satisfied me of their fidelity and devotion. Oh, most gracious sir, you have indeed no reason to bewail your lot, for you have many and reliable friends, who are ready for your sake to confront the most imminent dangers, to undertake what is most difficult and hazardous! All of our friends were convinced with me that the Electoral Prince is your implacable enemy, and that he only watches for an opportunity to accomplish your ruin. In spite of his few years, however, he is much too wise and cautious a man to attempt to act against you with open, swift determination. He knows the Emperor loves you, and that he would regard each act of enmity against you as directed against himself. Therefore he would quietly remove and undo you. Here, in the midst of your faithful friends, surrounded by soldiers and officers who have taken an oath of fidelity to you and the Emperor, in the midst of your adherents and retainers, the Elector would not dare to arrest and accuse you. He begins much more prudently, much more circumspectly! In the first place, you are to swear the governors and officers into the Elector's service. That is to say, in other words, they are no longer to recognize the Emperor as lord paramount or you as the Elector's representative, but their oath is to bind them to the Elector alone, and only on his will are they to be dependent. After having accomplished all this, you are to proceed to Prussia, where no one defends you, where your friends can not rally around you, where you will vanish, uncared for and unwept. No, my lord and father, you must not go to Prussia, or if you do, not until you have assembled around you your loyal subjects, when, at the head of your regiments, you go forth to meet the Elector as his powerful and determined foe, not as his servant."

"What do you say, my son?" asked the Stadtholder, shocked.

"I say, father, that your friends and I have been secretly active, that we have prepared to defend you in case the Elector threatens you. Throughout the whole Mark your friends are ready to make open opposition to the Elector, and firmly determined to protect you and their own rights and privileges sword in hand. Only carry out Frederick William's order, summon the commandants of the forts here to Berlin, and demand of them their oath of allegiance to the Elector. This they will refuse. All, with the exception of Burgsdorf of Kuestrin and Trotha of Peitz, will declare that they have already given in their oath to the Emperor, and can not conscientiously take any other. The colonels of the regiments will say the same, especially Goldacker, the boldest, bravest of them all. They will keep faith with the Emperor, and therefore the Elector of Brandenburg is not their commander in chief. You, who administered the imperial oath, they will obey in the Emperor's name, they will follow whithersoever you lead."

"But whither can I lead them?" asked the Stadtholder.

"To battle against the little Elector of Brandenburg, who would revolt against his lord the Emperor; to battle against the heretical vassal of the Emperor, who threatens the German Empire and the Church, who would break loose from Emperor and empire, who threatens all creeds, making every effort to strengthen and aggrandize the reformed party. Oh, believe me, not merely good Catholics, but the Evangelical and Lutheran sects, will obey this call, and burn with enmity and wrath against the rash little Elector. We have spread our net, and its meshes are entangling him, even there in Prussia, where he thinks himself quite safe and secure. True friends and trusty messengers have been sent by Goldacker and myself to Prussia, to concert measures there with your adherents, and to rouse them to strong, energetic action. Sebastian von Waldow, superintendent of the palace and captain of Ruppin, assembles your friends together in perfect secrecy, and I daily expect from him exact accounts as to the success of his operations. In Koenigsberg itself we now have a powerful and efficient friend, who co-operates with us and is like-minded with ourselves. It is the ambassador whom the Emperor has sent to condole with the Elector. He is my best, most confidential friend, Count von Martinitz. He is acquainted with all my plans, he is the confidant of all my hopes and views, and will second them with all his might. This ambitious, heretical little Elector shall not rise, shall not arrive at power and distinction! That is not only the view the Emperor takes of it, but all German princes. The Elector of Brandenburg is a source of terror and embarrassment to them all. He threatens Saxony, he threatens Brunswick and Hesse; of all he claims land and property now in their possession. He has no friends, adherents, nor allies, this little Elector Frederick William. Holland will not side with him, because it will not relinquish Julich and Cleves, Sweden contends with him for Pomerania, and Poland about the investiture. He has only enemies and accusers! If, then, we attack him, he is lost! No hand will be lifted in his defense, no arm outstretched to save him. The Emperor will grant us his support and countenance, and all German princes will secretly rejoice that so dangerous a rival has been happily removed. O father! you see I have not abandoned hope of becoming some day Elector of Brandenburg! Only, I shall not be indebted for it to the Princess Charlotte Louise, but to you. I shall inherit the dignity as my father's son! And this shall be my revenge upon the faithless, treacherous Princess! I will ruin her and her whole house; I will put my father in her brother's place; I will one day enter as master the palace before whose closed portals they once insolently kept me two hours waiting. I swore that night to be revenged for that insult, and now the moment has come. Father, the fruit of revenge is ripe, and you must pluck it!"

"Yes, that I will," cried the Stadtholder, with animation. "Oh, my son, a great, immeasurable joy fills my soul at this hour; and, first of all, let me beg your pardon for having entertained a horrible suspicion with regard to you which has lately forced itself upon me. I mistrusted you, seeing your activity, your strange confidential transactions with the commandants and officers; I felt that you were on the eve of some great undertaking, and suspected that in you I had a rival, and that you wished to supplant me! Forgive me, my son, forgive me in consideration of the misery my suspicions caused me!"

"I have nothing to forgive, father," said Count Adolphus coldly. "It is so natural for those incapable of love to suppose that others are only moved by selfish ends! You, father, love nothing on earth but your own ambition and fame, and so fancied that it was the same with me, and that ambition could make the son a traitor to his own father!"

"My Adolphus!" cried the Stadtholder, "I have already told you, and repeat again, that I feel I have a heart. I felt it in the pain which I experienced when I doubted you; I feel it now in the rapture which thrills me in beholding you act so boldly and courageously in behalf of your father. Give me your hand, Adolphus, and—if you do not disdain such a thing—embrace me, and kiss your old father."

He held out his arms, and his son threw himself on his breast and imprinted a long, fervent kiss upon his lips. Long did Count Schwarzenberg clasp him to his heart, then took the young man's head between both his hands and looked at him with loving, tender glances. Finally, with a singular expression of embarrassment, he bent down and kissed his eyes.

"My son," he said softly and quickly, "I love you. Yours are the first eyes that I have ever kissed, and this kiss of your father's unpolluted lips should be to you a life-long blessing. And now to work, now for action, and bold adventurous deeds! Oh, of late how weak and worn out I have felt myself to be, and longed to withdraw into solitude and retirement, to rest from all labor! I believed it was old age creeping upon me, and by its abominable touch unnerving my arm and crippling my activity. But now I feel that it was only secret grief about you which thus enfeebled me and robbed my arm of vigor. Now I am quite well again and strong; now I will dare everything that you have so prudently and wisely planned. Yes, yes, once more I am Schwarzenberg, the Stadtholder in the Mark, and I shall not allow myself to be imposed upon; I shall do battle with this little Frederick William, who ventures to defy and threaten me. He opposes the Emperor, he would be an independent Sovereign, while he is only the Emperor's vassal. For this he shall be punished. It will not be our fault if this hurls him from his little throne, and how could we be blamed, should the Emperor bestow the margraviate of Brandenburg upon Prince Schwarzenberg, as he did the margraviate of Jaegerndorf upon Prince Lobkowitz? To work, my son, to work! Oh, now again my eyes see clearly—now again my head conceives fixed and energetic thoughts. My son, we two combined will surely be equal to the execution of our exalted schemes. We two combined will ruin the Elector."

"And put you in his place," cried the young count.

"I must go before, that you may be my successor, and that our house stand firm and strong, and not be inferior to that of Lobkowitz or Fuerstenberg. Already it is clearly defined in my mind what we shall have to do. In the first place, we must render the Elector odious to all parties, making it evident to each that he is a dangerous foe to all, who would enrich himself at his neighbors' expense, and would arrive at honor and power by weakening and degrading others. We have only to say to the Emperor that he is his opponent, and seeks to release his officers from the oath they have taken. Ferdinand is passionate and jealous of his prerogatives, and will crush his rebellious vassal. To the Lutherans and their favorers we will have it whispered by our friends that the Elector, as a rigid Calvinist, threatens their faith, and proposes to restrict the privileges of their country churches and to deprive of their offices all those who will not confess the Calvinistic creed. The Lutherans are a hard-headed and fanatical sect. He who menaces their faith is their arch-enemy, and they will be ready to fight against him with fire and sword. The soldiers, you know, are always ready to follow him who pays them best, and as regards their officers, thanks to you, my son, we are sure of them. Let us now adopt a fixed plan for hastening the crisis."

"I am only waiting for the return of the messenger whom I sent to Sebastian von Waldow. He will bring us reliable information as to the progress of organization among your adherents in Prussia, for Waldow has gone himself to Koenigsberg to hold a consultation with Count Martinitz, and to concert with our loyal friends a fixed plan of operations."

"We shall be obliged to go very slowly and cautiously to work," said Count Adam thoughtfully. "We must first secure ourselves on all sides, and be sure of the result before we venture to assume the offensive. The most important thing now is to assure ourselves of the Emperor's favor and approval. You, my son, must repair forthwith to Regensburg, where the Emperor is at present. You will inform him that I have obtained orders from the Elector to release the troops from their oath to the Emperor, and to swear them into the Elector's service alone. You will say to his Majesty that I have declined to yield to this order, and in the oath administered to the officers have made their allegiance to the Elector quite secondary to their obligations to himself. You will further notify the Emperor that the soldiers' pay has been in arrears for a month, because all our coffers are empty. Therefore ask, in my name, if it would not perhaps be advisable, if we come to extremities, to take the Brandenburg troops into the Emperor's pay, to give them rations in the Emperor's name, and renew their oath to his Imperial Majesty. To effect this, we have only to stimulate a little the discontent of the troops. They are already tolerably desperate because they have not received their wages. If the Elector does not speedily pay off the troops, the desperation will reach its height, and a revolt break forth spontaneously."

"Thence it follows, most gracious sir, that they will become as wax to be molded at your will."

"You are right, my son; we must manage to retain authority over friend and foe. The troops here are a wild, lawless horde, knowing little of discipline and order, and bearing much closer resemblance to a robber band than a princely army. We must aim at having disciplined troops at hand, such as are accustomed to obedience, and to this end must introduce imperial troops into the Mark. Nothing further is necessary for this than to begin hostilities against the Swedes with renewed activity, drawing them down upon Berlin. It will then seem quite natural, considering the weakness of the forces here, to invite the aid of the Emperor and his troops in defending Berlin and protecting ourselves against the Swedes, but in truth to help us in this great movement against the seditious Elector, who would revolt against Emperor and empire.

"I commission you, my son, to unravel this whole scheme to the Emperor, and to petition him for his countenance. For, without the imperial approbation and without an assurance of success, we dare not proceed further in this dangerous undertaking. We must have some security, too, that the Emperor's Majesty will proportionately reward us if we gain the Mark for him, and rid him of that mutinous, heretical Elector."

"I shall above all things seek to come to an understanding with Father Silvio, and impress upon the Emperor's pious, zealous father confessor the extent of glory and blessing to be acquired in behalf of the Church and holy faith by wresting the Mark out of the hands of a heretic, and bestowing it upon a believing, true Catholic, such as the Stadtholder in the Mark. The father has the Emperor's ear, and, I believe, is favorably disposed toward me. I shall use every means for enlisting his favor, and it would be well to have some funds at my disposal for this purpose. Father Silvio, noble and pious though he be, loves money, and is not inaccessible to jewels and valuable gifts. He has in his apartments at Vienna costly collections of precious stones and rare gold and silver plate, and it affords him high gratification to add a few valuable pieces to them."

"We will take care of that," said Count Adam, smiling. "Choose out of our casket of gems a few things worthy the pious father's acceptance, and for money you can draw upon the bankers Fugger of Nuremberg. I recently deposited with them considerable sums, in case of emergency. They are safer there than here in this starved-out Mark, among the desperadoes of Berlin and Cologne, who have no affection for me, and perhaps some day may take it into their heads to demand relief from me for their poverty and want, and plunder me to enrich themselves. Among such a gaunt, hungry populace we must be prepared for everything, and it is wise to be insured against mishaps. In these present evil days, however, nothing but money can raise an army, and only he who has money can aspire to being a general."

"The little Elector of Brandenburg has no money!" cried Count Adolphus, "for which God be praised! He, therefore, can be no general. His troops and his land belong to us, and, like the Margrave of Jaegerndorf and the Elector of the Palatinate, the deposed Elector of Brandenburg may soon be a wanderer in foreign lands, exposing his humiliation to the whole German Empire. Nowhere will he find compassion, nowhere sympathy, for he is a dangerous foe to all, and all will profit by his fall. Dear, honored father, let me depart this very hour for Regensburg, in order to obtain the Emperor's approval of our weighty plans, and to return to you the earlier with plenipotentiary powers."

"You are right, Adolphus, haste makes speed, and we must strike while the iron is hot. Set off, my son, this very hour if you choose. It will not be necessary for me to write to the Emperor by you. You know perfectly how to interpret my thoughts, and your spoken word is better than my written one. God speed you, then, my son, I shall expect daily dispatches from you, acquainting me with the progress of your negotiations."

"I shall write, father, and make use of the ciphers agreed upon between us. You have preserved the key, have you not?"

"I have preserved it in my head," replied the count, pointing to his forehead. "Important secrets should never be committed to paper, and I say with Charles V, 'If one carries a great secret in his head, he should burn his very nightcap, that it may not betray him.' Truly may it be said of us two that we carry an important secret in our heads. Instead of a nightcap I have burned the cipher key, that it may not one day betray us!"

"But the great secret will one day surprise the world," cried Count Adolphus joyfully; "its trumpet peals will one day startle the whole of Germany. From the palace balcony here in Berlin shall its triumphant flourishes ring forth. The people in the streets will hear them in astonishment, and to me they will sound as the rejoicing songs of the heavenly hosts, and enraptured I shall look up to my father, standing there majestic in the pomp of his princely power. If I may then fall at your feet, all the ambitious dreams and aspirations of my heart will be fulfilled, and all within me will rejoice and shout, 'Health and blessings upon Prince Schwarzenberg, Margrave of Brandenburg!' Farewell now, dear father! I hurry away, the earlier to return to you!"



V.—THE CATASTROPHE.

Their plans matured, and every day approached nearer to completion, while with firm hand Count Adam Schwarzenberg held the reins which guided the great machinery of insurrection. He had sent Colonel Goldacker with his regiment to Mecklenburg to draw out the Swedes, and to provoke them to advance upon the Mark. The Swedes took up the gauntlet thrown down to them, and, while they were opposed to Goldacker in Mecklenburg, other Swedish regiments marched from Lausitz against Berlin. This was exactly what the Stadtholder wished, and once more the devoted Mark saw the flames of war burst forth, in order that Schwarzenberg might have an excuse for summoning Saxon troops to his aid.

To-day these troops had reached Berlin, and the Stadtholder wished to celebrate their arrival by a sumptuous fete in his palace. To this entertainment he had bidden Colonel Goldacker from Mecklenburg; the commandants of Spandow and Berlin, with their officers, were also invited, and already, in the early morning, they were preparing the table in the great hall for the magnificent collation to be served at noon.

Meanwhile lamentation and mourning reigned in the cities of Berlin and Cologne, while life went so merrily in the Schwarzenberg palace. The wild hordes of soldiers made the streets unsafe even in the daytime. Drunken they roved through the city, with the greatest tumult and uproar; they broke into the houses of peaceful citizens to plunder and rob, and wherever anything was refused them, they committed the most wanton acts, laughing and singing over the tortures they inflicted. In vain had the burghers applied to the officers of these ungovernable outlaws and besought them to restrain the soldiery from outrages, to confine them to their quarters, and to punish them for their thefts and robberies. The officers declared that there was no means of enforcing so rigid a discipline, and that in times of war some allowance should be made for soldiers who with their own bodies protected the burghers from their foes.

But the poor, tormented burghers did not want war; they wanted peace! Peace at any price. The States, too, who held their session in Berlin, wanted peace, and to this end had sent out a deputation from their midst to the Elector at Koenigsberg to implore him to pity their distress and to command the Stadtholder in the Mark to abstain from hostilities against the Swedes.

The same suit the citizens desired to present to the Stadtholder, and to-day, while preparations were in progress for a military entertainment in the Schwarzenberg palace, a solemn deputation of the magistracy and citizenship repaired to the same spot to lay before the Stadtholder their wishes and entreaties. Count Schwarzenberg kept them waiting a long while in his antechamber, and when he finally made his appearance his countenance was proud and haughty, and his eyes shot angry glances upon the poor representatives of the burghers, who stood with deprecating humility before him.

"What would you have of me, sirs?" he cried, in a rough voice. "What have you to say to me?"

"Most gracious sir," replied the burgomaster of Berlin, "we come to entreat the aid and assistance of your excellency in behalf of our afflicted cities. We are exhausted, hungry, plundered, driven to despair. We can no longer bear the frightful burden of war. Have compassion upon our affliction; make peace with the Swede, that he may not advance upon Berlin, that we may not be forced to appeal to foreigners for our defense."

"Make peace!" cried the burghers, stretching out their hands imploringly toward the Stadtholder, their eyes filled with tears. "O sir! we have borne sorrow and wretchedness for so many long, bitter years! Our hearts are crushed and desperate! Our souls are faint! Make peace, that we may see some end to our trials! We have no nourishment, no money, not even a shelter for our heads. The Swedes plundered us; the Imperialists took from us what the Swedes left; and now our own soldiers drive us out of our bare and empty dwellings, make sport of our calamities, mock the burghers, insult our wives and daughters, and quarter themselves in our houses, while we wander homeless about the streets, not even being able to procure shelter in our churches because the cavalry have taken possession of these with their horses, and converted the temples of God into filthy barracks! Make peace, Sir Stadtholder, make peace!"

"I have not power to do so," replied Count Schwarzenberg haughtily, "neither the power nor the will! The Swede is the enemy of our country, and we must resist him with all the means at our command. Cease your howling and shrieking, for it will be but in vain. War is upon us, and we can not as cowards retreat before it. Shame upon you for your pusillanimity and cowardice, since your men are still capable of bearing arms!"

"Sir, our men have no more strength for fighting. Our hands are too weak to hold a weapon."

"Oh, you will be forced to handle them!" cried Schwarzenberg, laughing scornfully. "When your houses are on fire, and you see your wives and children dragged off by soldiers, then these cowards will be turned into valiant warriors, who can at least defend their lives and the honor of their families! I tell you, though, it will come to that. Extremity is before you, and calls for terrible resolutions."[42]

The burghers broke into loud lamentations, a few threw themselves on their knees, others wept and wailed, while the lords of the magistracy approached nearer to the count in order to make confidential representations of the utter hopelessness and despondency of the two unhappy cities of Berlin and Cologne.

Schwarzenberg, however, turned away from these representations with stern composure. "I have not peace but war in hand," he said. "Why do you apply to me now when you think, nevertheless, that you can receive no good save from the Elector himself, who is your guardian angel, while I am the destroying one. Wait and see what news the deputation of the States will bring you from Koenigsberg. You besought the States in your time of trouble to appeal to the Elector himself. Well, be patient and await their return. However, I can tell you beforehand that they will bring you a refusal, for the Elector wishes war, and has given me orders to that effect. He has confirmed me in all my offices and dignities. He has most condescendingly assured me of his unlimited confidence, and empowered me to act according to my own unbiased judgment, and to guide the reins of government as I shall choose. I hold them tight, and shall not he turned out of my way by your whining and complaining. War is upon us, and should I have to lay Berlin in ashes to avoid giving a shelter and asylum to the Swedes, it shall be done, rather than conclude peace with them, yield to their degrading conditions, and give up Pomerania to them! I therefore advise you to be on good terms with the soldiers, to receive them kindly into your houses, to entertain them well—"

"Sir," interrupted the first burgomaster, with a bitter cry of distress—"sir, we have nothing with which we could entertain them, we—"

"Silence!" called out the Stadtholder, in a thundering voice—"silence! I have heard you out, and it is my turn now to speak, and yours to listen silently. Go and take your measures accordingly, and act as becomes obedient subjects."

He turned upon his heel and with proud bearing re-entered his cabinet, while the burghers sorrowfully slunk away, to spread throughout all Berlin the dreadful news that all their entreaties had been in vain, and that the war was to be prolonged.

"Yes, the war is to be prolonged," repeated Count Schwarzenberg, when he again found himself alone in his cabinet. "We approach the denouement, and if I could only get decisive tidings from my son, I would hurry on a crisis and begin open war. He keeps me waiting for such tidings a very long while," continued the count, dropping into the armchair in front of his writing table. "He has only written once to me from Regensburg, and then he could only inform me that he had commenced operations, and—Ah!" he interrupted himself, as his glance fell upon his table, "there are papers and dispatches, which must have come in my absence. Perhaps there is among them a letter from my son."

He hastily snatched up the letters and examined one after another. No, there was no letter from his son, only official documents from the Elector's cabinet.

He opened the first of these, and a shudder ran through his whole frame as he read. In this paper the Elector commanded the Stadtholder in the Mark to send back to him the blank charters, intrusted to him by the Elector George William on his departure for Koenigsberg; he must, moreover, render a distinct and exact account of the manner in which he had disposed of the charters no longer in existence. He, Schwarzenberg, the mighty Stadtholder in the Mark, the Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, the Director of the War Department—he, to be called to account as a servant by his master! He was expected to answer for what he had done in the plenitude of his power, and—worse than that—he must suffer that power to be limited! He would do nothing of the sort; he would not give up the blank charters not yet appropriated and send them back to the Elector!

That was to curtail the privileges of his high position, to dethrone him, and, after having been an absolute master, to make him a dependent servant! These blank charters had been the princely prerogative of the Stadtholder, the scepter with which he ruled! These papers, on which nothing was written, but at the lower corner of which stood the Elector's sign manual—these papers had made him absolute monarch of the Mark. In free plenitude of power, with unfettered will, had he filled up the vacant sheets, bestowing by their means honors and benefits, inflicting punishments, imposing taxes, and the Elector's signature had legalized his decrees, and imparted the force of law to his will.[43]

And these blank charters, before which his enemies trembled, which had struck his partisans and friends as a precious attribute of his power—these blank charters he was now called upon to resign!

"I shall not do it," he exclaimed, in a loud, determined voice—"no, I shall not do it! I shall not be such a fool as to lessen my own power. No; the blank charters are mine, I shall know how to hold them fast!"

He threw the rescript aside and seized another letter. Again from the Elector's cabinet—again a command from him to the Stadtholder in the Mark!

He broke open the seal, unfolded the paper with trembling hands, and again shuddered as he read; and a momentary pallor overspread his cheeks. This writing contained the Elector's orders to suspend hostilities, and to refrain from any attack upon the Swedes and the places occupied by them, and most rigidly to confine himself to the defensive until an abiding peace could be concluded with Sweden.[44]

"You assail me, little Elector!" he said, with smothered, threatening voice. "You bring out your reserves against me, and would cause the proud edifice of my power to crumble away stone by stone! You fear lest if the great Colossus falls at once it might crush you, and therefore you would destroy it piecemeal, a little at a time! You shall not succeed, though, little Elector; the Colossus will rear its head on high, and you alone will fall!"

At this moment loud, angry and excited voices made themselves heard from the antechamber, and a lackey tore open the door.

"Your excellency, the Commandants von Rochow, von Kracht, and Colonel von Goldacker request an audience."

But the three gentlemen did not wait for the granting of this audience. With unseemly haste they rushed into the cabinet, unceremoniously thrust out the lackey, and closed the door behind him.

"Most gracious sir, do you know it?" screamed Rochow, the commandant of Spandow.

"Do you know, your excellency, what things are going on?" growled Kracht, the commandant of Berlin.

"Have you learned what bold steps the Elector is taking?" thundered Colonel Goldacker, shaking his fist in a most menacing way.

"I know nothing, gentlemen, have heard nothing! Speak, tell me what has happened!"

"It has happened that the Elector has sent commissioners to all our fortresses!" cried Herr von Rochow. "Two hours ago such a cursed fellow came to me at Spandow, and when he had delivered me his message I left the fool standing there without any answer, threw myself on my horse, and galloped off to confer with your excellency."

"And such a confounded popinjay has been with me, too!" growled Herr von Kracht. "He also imparted to me his Electoral message—command, the fellow called it. I did just like Commandant von Rochow, left him standing while I hurried off to your excellency."

"An Electoral mandate reached me also!" cried Colonel Goldacker, laughing. "I simply showed the jackanapes the door, laughed him to scorn, and am come to get my orders from your excellency!"

"But, gentlemen, with all this I know nothing and can not find out what has happened. Sir Commandant von Rochow, inform me. What is the matter?"

"The matter is, your excellency," said Herr von Rochow, gnashing his teeth, "that a commissioner from the Elector has come to me with his master's orders, to require an oath of allegiance to the Elector from myself and the whole garrison."

"A like order has the Elector's deputy handed to me!" cried the commandant of Berlin; "the fellow wanted to swear me and my men into the Elector's service."

"I, too, must give such an oath to the commissioner!" screamed Goldacker, "and my troops as well. What do you say to that, Sir Stadtholder in the Mark?"

Just now, however, the Stadtholder said nothing. He turned pale and tottered backward, until his hand rested upon a chair into which he sank. His head swam, a sudden dizziness seized him, and he was obliged to put his hand over his eyes, for everything was turning and whirling in a circle around him. In the vehemence of their own excitement the three gentlemen hardly observed this, and the count, with the energy of his strong will, speedily recovered his composure and presence of mind.

"Your excellency!" cried Commandant von Kracht, "do you not agree with us? Do you not find the Elector intolerably assuming?"

"I was silent because I was reflecting, gentlemen," said the count, drawing a deep breath. "This appearance of the commissioner empowered to administer to you your oaths of office is a challenge, thrown down to me by the Elector, for I am Director of the War Department, and to me alone should that duty have been committed of again binding the troops in the Mark to him by oath. He insults me, and thereby insults the Emperor, for you all know that the Emperor is your commander in chief, and that you dare never break the oath to the Emperor, which I took from you after the conclusion of the peace of Prague. You swore to do your duty for Emperor and Elector, and for this reason, on the recent accession of the present Elector, I only required the colonels to give me their hands in token of their obligations already assumed, for an oath is an oath, and you can not swear to serve one to-day and another to-morrow."

"We can not and will not, either," shouted Colonel Goldacker furiously. "I have given my word to the Emperor. I remain true to the Emperor, and the Emperor will protect us against the insolence of the little Elector."

"Yes, the Emperor will protect us," cried Colonel von Rochow. "I shall take no new oath, for I have sworn to the Emperor, and not until the Emperor has released me from the oath, and I have made a new agreement with the Elector, can I swear to him. Until that time the oath which I have taken to the Emperor remains binding." [45]

"I, too, have sworn to serve the Emperor, and shall abide by my oath," said the commandant of Berlin, as if weighing each word. "No one has a right to command here but the Emperor and the Stadtholder in the Mark, whom the Elector himself appointed. What that vagabond of a commissioner says is nothing to the purpose—it signifies nothing to us."

"No, it signifies nothing to us," repeated the other gentlemen. "From you alone, Sir Stadtholder, can we receive orders, for you are Director of the Council of War, the representative of the Emperor and Elector. To you alone we belong. Give us your orders; we are here to receive them!"

"Gentlemen," said the Stadtholder, pointing with his finger to a sealed packet, lying on the writing table before him—"gentlemen, you interrupted me by your entrance in the perusal of important dispatches, which had just arrived for me from the Elector's cabinet. See, there lies an unopened writing with the Electoral seal. Allow me to read it, for it contains the Elector's commands, which may harmonize with those of his accredited commissioner, or at least enter into particulars with regard to them."

The three officers bowed and reverentially retreated a few steps; but their eyes rested with intense interest upon the count, who now broke the seal and unfolded the paper. A deep silence followed. The piercing glances of the three warriors rested on the count's countenance, which maintained steadfastly its grave, serious expression. But now a scornful laugh burst from him, 'and for a moment an expression of wild joy illuminated his features. He rose, and with the paper in his hand approached the soldiers. "Gentlemen," he said quietly, "I have a piece of news to communicate to you, which I fear will incommode you and your men a little, and is not calculated to heighten the love of the military for their chief. The Elector commands me, until further notice, to put the troops upon summer allowance, and the payment now in arrears is regarded as coming under the same regulation. I beg you will inform your troops of this."

"That is shameful! That is contemptible! That will put the soldiers in a perfect fury!" screamed the three officers together.

"I do not mean to tell my men!" exclaimed Herr von Rochow—"no, I shall not tell them, for the fellows would be frantic, and in their desperation might commit shameful acts!"

"I shall tell my men on the spot!" grumbled Herr von Kracht. "I shall tell them on purpose to make them desperate, to make them rave! As far as I am concerned, they are welcome to vent their spleen upon all Berlin, upon the whole region round about. Let them go around, plundering and laying the country under contribution; they are justified in doing so, for the fellows can not subsist in winter on summer allowance, and therefore must rob and plunder."

"I shall tell my soldiers directly, too," shouted Herr von Goldacker. "Not but that it will give rise to a pretty tale of murder, a devilish scandal. There will result a military out-break, and the burghers of Berlin and Cologne may look to themselves; but the Elector has so willed it—the Elector excites us as well as our subordinates to open insurrection. Let him work his will now; it will only convince him that we are not to be ruled by scraps of paper and decrees scribbled by feather-headed clerks, and that he is not the irresistible lord, to whose piping we dance. The little Elector shall be made to know that the Emperor alone is our supreme officer, to him we have sworn fealty, and to him we cling despite the Elector and all his deputies. I am going on the spot to give my commissioner his dismissal—to tell him that I shall not swear, and then to carry to my soldiers the news of their having been put upon summer allowance!"

"I will go with you," cried Herr von Kracht. "I will also put my commissioner out of the door, and convey the glad tidings to the garrison of Berlin."

"And I," said Herr von Rochow, "will forthwith dispatch a courier to Spandow, to tell my lieutenant that he must send the commissioner out of the fort, and tell the garrison that they are put on summer allowance. It will stir up a fine hub-bub, I am sure of that."

"I, too, believe that the end will not be perfect peace," said the Stadtholder, smiling. "Let the Elector learn that governing is not such an easy matter as he supposes, but that a man may know a good deal, and yet be an unskillful ruler. Go then, gentlemen, issue your orders, but forget not that in an hour our entertainment begins, and that we must not allow our feast to be disturbed by such little follies of the new regime."

"No, we will not allow ourselves to be disturbed!" cried Herr von Rochow. "In one hour expect us here again, and you shall see, most gracious sir, that we have brought with us our cheerfulness, our fine appetites, and our thirst."

"Yes, yes, your excellency, guard well your keys and bottles; we shall take the field against them."

"Do so, gentlemen," said the count. "But go now, to return the sooner."

He nodded kindly to the officers and followed them with his eyes until the door closed behind them. Then the composure of his features, the smile on his lip, vanished, and his whole being seemed to express agitation and bitterness of wrath.

"He will insist upon war," he said fiercely. "He smiles upon and strokes me with one hand, while with the other he stabs me, inflicting wound upon wound. Yes, yes, stone by stone he would crumble to dust the tower of my strength, and thinks to crush me to atoms, supposing that I will voluntarily bend to avoid being bent by him. Oh, you are mistaken, little Elector; I am not afraid of you, I shall not bend before you! The Emperor alone I serve, to him alone I am subject. But to me the Emperor is a gracious master. He will ruin you and exalt me; he will protect me against your arrogance. To me belongs the future, presumptuous young Prince! who would rule here, where I have held undisputed sway for twenty years. To me alone belongs the Mark, and I shall hold it for my lord and Emperor! The crisis has come, and finds me prepared and resolute. The troops will revolt, and then shall I step out among them, appease them in the Emperor's name, with lavish hand scatter money among them, and again bind them by oath to the Emperor! Oh, my heart leaps for joy, for the hour of action has come. Only one thing I lack. I would just like to have certain news from my son, to be sure that the Emperor approves of my plan, that he will lift me up where the Elector would cast me down. But this, too, will come, this wish will also be gratified. For I am a son of good fortune, and all goes in accordance with my wishes! Away then with all sad and gloomy thoughts! I would present a cheerful countenance to my guests—I would appear before them in the full splendor of my glory!"

He repaired to his dressing room, where his valets arrayed him in the magnificent habit of a Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, and upon his breast shone the cross of the order set with sparkling brilliants. Having completed his toilet, he went to the great mirror and, casting a cursory glance therein, said to himself with some satisfaction that his person was still stately and distinguished, well suited to a reigning prince and fitted for wearing a crown! This thought lighted up his countenance with joyful pride, and with high head he returned to his cabinet. Chamberlain von Lehndorf entered, to inform his most noble master that the guests were already assembled in the great reception room, and longingly awaited his appearance. The chamberlain handed the count his ermine-tipped velvet cap, with its long white ostrich plumes, and then flew before to open for him the doors leading to the small antechamber, where were assembled all the officers of the count's household, waiting to follow their master into the hall.

Lehndorf stood at the door of the antechamber, and the Stadtholder smiled upon him as he passed.

"No letters and dispatches from my son at Regensburg, Lehndorf?"

"None, most gracious sir."

"If a courier comes, let me know of it without delay," continued the count, moving forward. "Anything else new, Lehndorf?"

"Nothing new, your excellency."

"What noise was that just now in the antechamber, while the commandants were in my cabinet?"

"Most gracious sir, an insolent soldier—one of those Saxons who marched in yesterday—forced himself into the antechamber, and with real importunity begged to speak to your excellency."

"Why did you not bid him wait until the gentlemen had, gone, and then announce him?"

"He would not consent to wait by any means, and with brazen face demanded to see your excellency on the spot. The fellow was drunk, it was plain to see, and in his intoxication: kept crying out that he must talk with your excellency about an important secret; if you would not admit him directly, he would go to Prussia and tell your secret to the Elector, which would bring your honor to the scaffold. It was positively ridiculous to hear the fellow talk, and the lackeys, instead of getting angry, laughed outright at him, which only enraged him the more; he worked his arms and legs like a jumping jack and made faces like a nut-cracker. However, when he again presumed to abuse your grace, our people made short work of the drunken knave, and thrust him out of doors."

"Well, I hope his airing will do him good," said the count, smiling, "and that he came to his senses on the street."

"It seems not, though," replied Chamberlain von Lehndorf, making a signal to the halberdiers stationed on both sides of the doors of the grand reception hall that they should open the door—"no, it seems that the airing did the drunken soldier no good. For, only think, gracious sir, just now, as I passed through the front entry to get to your apartments, there the man stood, and as soon as he saw me he sprang at me, seized my arm, and whispered: 'Chamberlain von Lehndorf, I must speak to the Stadtholder. Only tell him my name, and I know that he will receive me.'"

"And did he tell you his name, Lehndorf?" asked the count, as he walked forward.

"Yes indeed, noble sir," laughed the chamberlain; "with monstrously important air he whispered his name in my ear, as if he had been the Pope in disguise or the Emperor himself. I laughed outright, and left him standing."

The count now stood close before the wide-open doors which led into the grand reception hall. The halberdiers struck upon the ground with their gold-headed staves; in the spacious, magnificently decorated hall appeared a dense throng of army officers in their glittering uniforms and civil dignitaries in their ceremonial garbs of office. Six pages, in richly embroidered velvet suits, stood on both sides of the door, while in the raised gilded balcony opposite the musicians arose and began to pour forth a thundering peal of welcome as soon as they caught sight of the Stadtholder.

Count Schwarzenberg, however, took no notice of this; he stood upon the threshold of the door, and his smiling face was still turned upon his chamberlain.

"What name did the fellow give?" asked he carelessly.

"Oh, a very fine name, gracious sir. He had the same name as the blessed archangel—Gabriel!"

"Gabriel?" echoed the count hastily and at the top of his voice, for the musicians played so loud that a man could hardly hear his own voice, even though he shouted. "Only Gabriel, nothing further?"

"Yes, most gracious sir," screamed the chamberlain, "he did call a second name; but I confess I did not pay much attention to it. I believe, though, it was Nietzel. Yes, yes, I am quite sure he said Gabriel Nietzel!"

He shouted this out very loud, not observing, as he pronounced his last words, that the music had ceased; the name Gabriel Nietzel, therefore, rang like a loud call through the vast apartment, and the brilliant, courtly assemblage laughed, although they understood not the connection between the loud call and the hushing of the music. Chamberlain von Lehndorf laughed too, and turned smiling to the count to apologize for his involuntary transgression.

But Count Schwarzenberg did not laugh; he looked pale, and with trembling lips addressed his chamberlain: "Lehndorf, hurry out and conduct the soldier to my antechamber. Tell him I will come to him directly. Do not let the man get out of your sight, watch him closely. In five minutes, as soon as I have welcomed my guests, I will come to the antechamber and speak to the fellow myself. Go!"

The chamberlain flew off to obey this behest, and the Stadtholder entered the hall. Behind him were ranged the twelve pages in their glittering clothes, then followed the officers of the household in splendid uniforms. Again the trumpets of the musicians sent forth their animating peals, and, ranged around the hall in a wide circle, the staff officers, high dignitaries, lords of the supreme court and of the magistracy, all with the insignia of their rank, bowed reverentially before the almighty lord, who now made his progress through the hall amid the clashing of trombones and trumpets. He passed along the brilliant rows of guests with quick, hurried step, but while his lips wore a smile, he thought to himself, "When this abominable ceremony is over and I have completed the circuit, I shall absent myself; I shall see if it is the veritable Gabriel Nietzel, the—"

Just at this moment Chamberlain von Lehndorf approached him, and bent close to his ear. "Most gracious sir!" he cried amid the clash of trumpets—"most gracious sir, the man is no longer there. He has gone and can no longer be seen in the street!"

The Stadtholder gave a slight nod of the head, and proceeded to bid his guests welcome.



VI.—REVENGE.

Sumptuous was the feast, choice were the viands, and costly the fragrant wines. The guests of the Stadtholder in the Mark were full of rapture, full of admiration, and their lips were lavish in praises of the noble count, while their eyes shone brighter from partaking of the generous wine. The lackeys flew up and down the hall, waiting upon the guests, the pages stood behind the count's chair, and offered his excellency food and drink in vessels of gold. At first they sat at table with grave and dignified demeanor, but gradually the delicious viands enlivened their hearts, the glowing wine loosened their tongues, and now they laughed and talked merrily and gave themselves entirely up to the pleasures of the table. Louder swelled the hum of mingled voices. Peals of laughter rang through the banquet hall, until in their turn they were drowned by bursts of dashing music, whose inspiring strains blended with the animated tones of the human voice. Count Adam Schwarzenberg, who sat at the upper end of the table under a canopy of purple velvet, heard all this, and yet it seemed to him like a dream, and as if all this bustle, laughing, and merrymaking came to him from the distant past. He heard the confusion of voices, the clangor of the music, but it sounded hollow in his ear, and above all rang fearfully distinct the name which Lehndorf had pronounced—Gabriel Nietzel! His guests sang and laughed, but he heard only that one name—Gabriel Nietzel!

Round about the long table he saw only glad faces, beaming eyes, and flushed cheeks, but he saw them vanish and other faces arise before his inner eye, faces of the past! There sat the Elector George William, with his easy, good-natured countenance. He nodded smilingly at him, and his glance, full of affection, rested upon him, the favorite. Yes, he had loved him dearly, that good Elector! Out of the little, insignificant Count Schwarzenberg he had made a mighty lord, had exalted him into a Stadtholder, into the most powerful subject in his realm! And how had he requited him?

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" He heard the maddening words ringing clearly and distinctly above the din of music, song, and laughter—"Gabriel Nietzel!"

There he stood in page's dress, across there, behind the chair of the young Electoral Prince, whose pale, noble features had just begun to quiver convulsively—there he stood and cast a look of intelligence at him, Count Schwarzenberg.

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!"

Ever thus rang the echo through the hall, and however varied the medley of sounds, to him all was embodied in that name. For long months he had caused search to be made for him, but nobody had been able to bring him any tidings of Gabriel Nietzel's whereabouts. So, gradually, he had forgotten him, and his anxiety about him had died away. Why must this dreaded name make itself heard again to-day, just to-day, when he was inaugurating the bright days of his future with this splendid feast? Why must that hateful name mingle with the rejoicings of his merry guests?

He would think of it no more, no more allow himself to be haunted by phantoms of the past! Away with memories, away with that unhappy name! Vehemently, indignantly he shook his lofty head, as if these memories were only troublesome insects to be driven away by the mere wrinkling of his brow. He even called a smile to his lips, and with a proud effort at self-control arose from his armchair and lifted the golden beaker on high, in his right hand.

If he spoke himself, he would no longer hear that perpetual ringing and singing within his breast—"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!"

He lifted the golden beaker yet higher and bowed right and left to his guests, who had risen to their feet and looked at him full of expectancy.

"To the health of the Emperor Ferdinand, our most gracious Sovereign and lord!"

The musicians struck their most triumphant melody; with loud huzzas and shouts the guests repeated, "To the health of our most gracious lord and Emperor!"

"Gabriel Nietzel! Gabriel Nietzel!" Still it rang in Schwarzenberg's ears, and he sank back in his armchair and felt a sense of helpless despondency creep over his heart.

The guests followed his example and resumed their seats. A momentary silence ensued. All at once Chamberlain von Lehndorf rose from his place, took his glass with him, and went along the table to the Counselor of the Exchequer von Lastrow, who was carrying on an earnest conversation in an undertone with the burgomaster of Berlin. The chamberlain's face was flushed with wine, his eyes sparkled, and his gait was so wavering and unsteady that even the goblet in his hand swung to and fro.