THE WHITE LADY.
Great commotion reigned at the palace of Baireuth. Servants hurried
through the brilliantly-decorated rooms, spreading out here and
there an additional carpet, placing everywhere vases filled with
fragrant flowers, or dusting the finely-polished furniture. It was a
great and important day for Baireuth. All felt it, and excitement
and curiosity drove the inhabitants into the streets. No one cared
to stay at home, or be absent at that historic hour which was to
shed upon Baireuth a ray of her ancient glory.
The man at whose feet the world was prostrate, to whom kings and
princes were bowing, before whom empires trembled and thrones passed
away, who had only to stretch out his hand to establish new
dynasties, and whom the world admired while it hated--Napoleon--was
to arrive at Baireuth. The quartermasters had arrived already early
in the morning, and ordered in the name of the emperor that the
rooms at the palace should be put in readiness, because he intended
to reach Baireuth in the afternoon of the 14th of May, and stop
overnight.
The whole population seemed to be in the streets. The windows of the
houses along the route of the emperor were open, crowded with the
most distinguished ladies of the city; they were dressed in their
most beautiful toilets, and held in their hands bouquets, with which
they intended to salute Napoleon. But the greatest commotion, as we
have remarked, reigned at the new palace, for the emperor had given
express orders that apartments should be prepared for him there, and
not at the old palace of the Margraves of Brandenburg. Count
Munster, intendant of the palaces, had, of course, complied with
these orders, and four brilliant rooms were ready for the reception
of Napoleon. All the arrangements were completed, and the intendant,
followed by the castellan, walked for the last time through the
imperial rooms to satisfy himself that every thing was in good
order.
"No, nothing has been left undone," said the count, when he stepped
into the bedchamber destined for the emperor. "Every thing is as
comfortable as it is splendid; the arrangement reflects a great deal
of credit upon you, my dear Schluter, and will, doubtless, procure
you a liberal reward from the emperor, who is said to be very
munificent."
"I do not wish to accept any presents at the tyrant's hands,"
growled the castellan, with a gloomy face; "I do not want to stain
my hands with the plunder which he brings from foreign lands, and
which is accompanied with a curse rather than a blessing."
"You are a fool, my dear Schluter," exclaimed the count, laughing.
"You see at least that curses do not incommode the emperor, for his
power and authority are constantly on the increase. He is now going
to Dresden, to see at his feet all the princes of Germany; and he
will then hasten northward, to gain new victories and humiliate the
only man in the world who still dares to defy him, the Emperor
Alexander of Russia."
"I know some one else who will not bow to him, and whom he will not
humiliate," said the castellan, contemptuously shrugging his
shoulders.
"Well, and who is that?" asked Count Munster, quickly.
"It is the White Lady!" exclaimed the castellan, solemnly and
loudly.
Count Munster shuddered and glanced around in evident terror, "For
Heaven's sake, hush!" he said, hastily. "Pray forget these foolish
hallucinations, and, above all, do not venture to talk about them at
the present time."
The castellan shook his head slowly. "You ought not to talk of
hallucinations, count," he said, solemnly. "The White Lady is awake
and walking, and she knows that the enemy of her house, the house of
Brandenburg, will spend the coming night at this palace. I repeat it
to your excellency, she is walking, and her eyes are filled with
wrath, and there is a curse on her lips against the enemy of the
Hohenzollerns. I would not be surprised if she should shout to-night
into the ears of the tyrant, and, by her words, awaken him from his
slumber."
"Gracious Heaven, Schluter, do not talk so audaciously!" exclaimed
the count, anxiously. "If one of the attendants of the emperor
overhear your words, you would perish. Napoleon is said to be
somewhat superstitious; he, who otherwise is afraid of nothing in
the world, is said to be easily terrified by ghosts, and to believe
in all sorts of omens and prophecies. He has already heard of the
White Lady of Baireuth, and therefore given express orders that
apartments should be prepared for him at the new palace, and not at
the old one, and rooms selected in which she was not in the habit of
walking. [Footnote: Historical.--Vide Minutoli, "The White Lady," p.
17.] I hope that you have punctually carried out this order, and
that these rooms are exempt from the visits of the apparition?"
"Who has the power to give orders to spirits, and command them, 'So
far and no farther?'" asked the castellan, almost scornfully. "She
goes whither she desires, and the doors closed against her she opens
by a breath. The walls disappear before her, and where you expect
her least of all, there you suddenly meet her tall, majestic form in
the white dress, her head covered with a black veil, under which her
large angry eyes are flashing."
"Hush, Schluter!" exclaimed the count, anxiously, "I know the
portrait of the White Lady, which hangs in the cabinet adjoining the
audience-hall, and it is, therefore, unnecessary for you to describe
her appearance to me."
"Your excellency knows that we have two portraits of the White
Lady," said the castellan, laconically.
"Yes, the one with the white dress is at the hermitage; the other,
representing her in a dark dress, is here at the palace. Thank
Heaven! there is but one portrait of her here, and I hope it is in
the other wing of the building."
"That is to say, I saw the portrait there this afternoon, but who
knows whether it is still there?"
"How so? Who knows?" asked the count impatiently. "What do you
mean?"
"I mean, count, that it is in fact no portrait, but only the bed in
which the White Lady sleeps until it pleases her to walk, and that,
while she is walking, it will certainly not be found at its place.
Did I not report to your excellency six months since that the
portrait had again broken the nail and fallen? It was an entirely
new nail, count, so firm and strong, that half a regiment of French
soldiers might have been hung upon it at the same time; I had had
the nail made by the blacksmith, and the mason fixed it. I myself
hung up the portrait, and it seemed as firm as though it had grown
in the wall. But that very night a noise like a thunder-clap rolling
over my head awakened me, and when I opened my eyes, the White Lady
stood at my bedside; her right hand raised menacingly, her black
veil thrown back, she stared at me with a face flashing with anger.
I uttered a cry, and shut my eyes. When I opened them again, she had
disappeared. In the morning I went into the hall to look after the
portrait. It was gone. Where the nail had been fixed nothing but a
blood-red stain was to be seen; the nail itself, broken into small
pieces, lay on the floor. The portrait had walked to the small
cabinet adjoining the hall, and was quietly leaning there against
the wall as though nothing had happened."
"And I told you to let it stand there, and not try again to hang it
up. The large painting is too heavy."
"If the large painting wanted to hang on the wall it would allow the
smallest nail to hold it," said Schluter, shaking his head. "But the
White Lady wishes to stand on her own feet, and no human power is
able to prevent her."
"Schluter, I repeat to you, you are a dreamer," exclaimed the count,
impatiently. "Let us speak no more of the apparition. It makes one
feel quite curious. Tell me now whether you have really removed the
portrait far enough that it cannot be seen by the emperor?"
"When I was an hour ago at the cabinet adjoining the audience-hall,
the portrait was still there. But who knows what may have happened
since then?"
"Well, it is a fixed idea of yours," said the count, shrugging his
shoulders. "I do not wish to hear any more of it. These rooms are
finely arranged, and I have no fault to find with them. Now lock the
entrance-door, and let us go out through the Gallery of Palms, by
which the emperor will have to enter."
"Pray, your excellency, lead the way; I shall lock the door and
immediately follow you," said the castellan, walking hastily through
the opened rooms.
Count Munster slowly walked on, thoughtfully looking down, and
shuddering inwardly at the immovable superstition of the castellan,
whom his reason vainly endeavored to deride.
"And still it is folly, nothing but folly," he muttered to himself,
while opening the high hall-door, and stepping into the anteroom, to
which, on account of its length and narrowness, and the fresco
paintings of tropical plants on the walls, the name of the "Gallery
of Palms" had been given.
All was silent in this gallery; the setting sun shed its beams
through the windows, covered with dark curtains, and drew trembling
shining lines across the high room. The footsteps of the count
resounded so loudly that he himself was frightened, and glanced
anxiously around. Suddenly he started in dismay, and quickly
advanced several steps. He had seen something moving at the lower
end of the gallery, and it seemed to him as though he had heard
approaching footsteps. Yes, he was not mistaken; now he saw it quite
distinctly! A lady approached. The sun illuminated her tall form,
and shed a golden light over the white dress falling down in ample
folds over her feet. She approached with slow steps, quite
regardless of the count, who at first looked at her in surprise, and
then turned with an angry face toward the castellan, who just then
entered.
"You did not comply, then, with my orders, Schluter?" exclaimed the
count, vehemently. "I told you expressly to keep the rooms shut
until the emperor's arrival, and not to admit any one. How could you
dare disobey my instructions?"
"But, your excellency, I did obey them," answered Schluter. "Not a
human being besides the footmen has been permitted to enter here,
and even those I drove out two hours ago, and shut the doors."
"If that be true, how does it happen that there is a lady here in
the gallery," asked Count Minister, stretching out his arm toward
the lower end of the apartment.
"A lady?" asked Schluter, greatly amazed. "Where is she, your
excellency?"
The count fixed his eyes searchingly on the large arched window, in
the bright light of which he had distinctly seen the lady. She was
gone--the gallery was empty. "You forgot to shut the lower door, and
while I turned and scolded you, the lady escaped!" he exclaimed. He
hastily rushed forward, and tried to open the door leading into the
corridor: but this was locked. The count vainly shook the lock.
"That is strange," he muttered, dropping his hand. "I know I saw her
distinctly; it is impossible that I could have been mistaken. Where
can she be? What has become of her? Where has she concealed
herself?"
"What becomes of the last sigh of a dying person, your excellency,"
asked Schluter, solemnly. "Where does the soul conceal itself after
escaping from the body?"
"Ah, nonsense!" ejaculated Count Munster. "It could not have been a
spectre. Why, it is not a spectre's hour, and, besides, I certainly
saw the lady plainly; it was a decidedly earthly figure. Her face
was pale and grave, but there was nothing spectral about it. She
wore a black veil thrown back from her face; the upper part of her
body was covered with--"
"A dark pelisse trimmed with fur," interrupted Schluter, composedly.
"Below this dark pelisse protruded a white silk dress, falling to
the ground in full folds."
"Yes, yes, that was the costume," exclaimed the count. "But how do
you know it without having seen her?"
"It is the costume of the White Lady, your excellency," said
Schluter, "and it was she who just walked through the gallery. Pray,
count, go with me to the other wing of the palace and look at her
portrait; your excellency will then be convinced that I tell the
truth."
"No, no, I do not wish to see it," replied Count Munster, whose
cheeks turned pale, and who felt his heart frozen with terror.
"Unlock the door, Schluter! The air here is sultry and very
oppressive! Quick! quick! open the door!" The castellan obeyed, and
the count rushed out into the corridor, where he opened a window and
inhaled the fresh air in eager draughts.
At this moment shouts were heard at a distance, and at the same time
the count's footman rushed breathlessly down the corridor. "Your
excellency, the emperor is coming. He has already passed through the
gate, and the people are loudly cheering him. I have run as fast as
I could, in order to inform your excellency."
"I am coming," said the count, advancing rapidly. But, having
proceeded a few steps, he turned again and beckoned the castellan to
his side. "Schluter," he whispered to him, "if you love your life,
do not say a word about what has just happened here. It must remain
a secret."
"A secret!" muttered Schluter to himself, gazing after the count,
who hurried away. "The White Lady will manage the affair in such a
manner that he at least will hear of the secret, and the
bloodthirsty tyrant will not sleep well in the palace of the
Margraves of Brandenburg." He violently closed the door and stepped
out into the large staircase-hall, the doors of which opened upon
the street. Uttering incoherent words of indignation in an
undertone, the castellan pushed open one of the windows and looked
gloomily down on the street. An immense crowd were in front of the
palace; all eyes were turned to the side from which the emperor was
to approach. Breathless with curiosity, the people waited for the
arrival of the hero who had conquered nearly all the world.
"How those fools are gaping!" growled Schluter. "Idle and lazy as
usual; they like to complain and lament, but they never think of
doing anything. If only each one would take up a single stone from
the pavement and throw it as a greeting at the tyrant's iron head,
all this distress and wretchedness would be at an end. But no one
thinks of that, and I should not wonder if those fellows, instead of
cursing him, should enthusiastically cheer him."
The shouts drew nearer at this moment, as the crowd rushed from the
lower part of the street, their acclamations growing constantly more
deafening. French lancers galloped up to keep the people back, and
several carriages, preceded by a plain calash, came in view. A
negro, dressed in a richly-embroidered livery, sat on the box by the
side of the coachman; two plainly-dressed gentlemen occupied the
inside of the carriage.
"That is he!" growled Schluter. "The Evil One brings him hither--he
is his best friend. Yes, that is he, and he looks pale, grave, and
incensed, as though he would like to wither by a single glance the
whole miserable rabble staring at him."
"That is he!" shouted the people. "Long live Napoleon! Long live the
emperor!"
Napoleon gazed coldly arid impassively upon the crowd, whose cheers
came to him as a sound to which he had long been accustomed, and
which was by no means agreeable. It was not worth while for him to
smile on these inhabitants of a small city; a cold, quick nod was a
sufficient acknowledgment. "Long live Napoleon!" shouted the crowd
again, when the emperor, having left the carriage, now turned again
in front of the palace-gate, and gazed long and indifferently upon
the spectators.
The castellan closed his window. "Ah!" he said, "he dares to enter
this palace. The White Lady will bid him welcome, and know how to
hasten the flight of this arrogant tyrant. Napoleon is coming! Do
you hear that, White Lady? Napoleon is coming!" He burst into
laughter, and, opening the door of the corridor, took a position at
the one leading into the Gallery of Palms.
Footsteps resounded on the staircase, and various persons appeared.
Generals, adjutants, and lackeys hurried in and formed on both
sides, as it were, in line of battle. The emperor then entered the
lower end of the corridor; Count Munster walked by his side in the
most respectful and submissive manner. All bowed their heads
reverentially, but the emperor took no notice of them, and slowly
passed the saluting officers and servants.
"I hope you have punctually fulfilled my orders, count?" he asked,
in his sonorous voice. "This is the new palace, is it not?"
"It is, sire. And this man will testify that no one has set foot
into the imperial rooms," said Count Munster, pointing with a smile
to the castellan, who, holding his bunch of keys in his uplifted
arm, stood at the entrance of the Gallery of Palms.
"Who is it?" asked Napoleon, whose eagle eye was fixed upon
Schluter.
"Sire, it is the castellan of this palace, a faithful, reliable man,
who has been on service here for more than thirty years. He has
guarded and locked the rooms, and they open now only to your
majesty's orders."
"Open," ordered the emperor, with a quick wave of his hand. The
castellan obeyed, and Napoleon entered. Count Munster followed, and
the attendants crowded in after them. Advancing quickly into the
middle of the gallery, the emperor stood directly in front of the
arched window in which Count Munster had before seen the strange
apparition.
"The White Lady, then, never appears in this wing of the palace?"
asked Napoleon, abruptly.
"No, sire--never," said Count Munster, solemnly. "On the whole,
sire, no one here believes in the absurd old story, and I am sure no
one knows of the White Lady otherwise than from hearsay."
The emperor nodded, and passed on. "Let us soon have supper; you
will be my guest," he said, turning on the threshold to Count
Munster and dismissing the gentlemen of his suite.
The door closed. He was now a guest at the palace of the ancestors
of the royal family of Prussia, the Margraves of Brandenburg.