THE JOURNAL
Marianne had first heard of her Aunt Erna's journal in Berlin.
It had been on the night when Ludwig Brandt had come in with the news
that the French had made the French Consul, Napoleon, Emperor.
When he had told his news the children with glowing faces informed him
that their Carl had been kissed that very day by the Queen.
Ludwig, who was always serious, called the little fellow to his knee.
Marianne never forgot how solemn it all was.
"Listen, my little Carl," he said, and waited until the laughter had all
died from the chubby dimpled face, "a great and noble woman has kissed
you. All your life think of it as a kiss of baptism. The call of war
will come to you as to all Germans. Let the kiss of the Queen make of
you a brave, a true, a patriotic soldier!"
How Ludwig's voice had rung through the room and how Pauline had gazed
in admiration! And then Ludwig had taken little Carl on his knee and
told him a nice little story of Queen Louisa, of when she had gone with
her husband on his Huldigung, the journey German sovereigns take to
receive the oaths of allegiance in their provinces and cities.
In the village of Stargard, in Pomerania, Ludwig related, the good
people who had arranged the welcome had dressed little girls in white
that they might strew flowers before the new young Queen, and the quick
eye of the Queen noticed that, as there were nineteen, one must walk
alone.
She turned to the grown people.
"Where is the twentieth?" she demanded, and her face grew crimson with
anger when she heard their answer.
"Majesty," they said, "the child was so ugly that we sent her home."
"Poor child!" cried the Queen, "poor child! Send for her, and at once!"
she commanded.
And when the poor little thing appeared, her plain, pale face all wet
with tears, Queen Louisa held out her arms as she would to one of her
own Royal children.
"Come, Liebchen," she said, "come at once to me. Tell me your trouble,
every bit of it."
And then she petted her and praised her and drove away all the little
thing's shame and tearfulness and told her stories of the Crown Prince,
and the little girl forgot all about her ugliness and the people's
cruelty. But to the grown people Queen Louisa was very stern, as she
could be when it was necessary.
"Was my coming," and she looked at them until they blushed, "to be made
a cause of sad memories to a dear little girl only because of her
ugliness?"
"Our Queen is an angel," said Madame von Stork as Ludwig ended.
Then Marianne told stories, also, of things she had heard of the Queen
at Frau Rat Goethe's.
"Bettina Brentano," she began, "is a friend of the mother of our
Goethe!"
"My goodness, Marianne!" cried Franz, who was home in those days, "don't
pronounce that name as if it were sacred!"
But Marianne paid no heed to him.
"Frau Rat," she continued, with a toss of her head, "loves our Queen
with all her heart. She has known her since she was as old as Carl.
Once, when she and her sister, the Princess Frederika, were little
girls, they came to Frankfort to the coronation of the Emperor Leopold."
Then, while Carl crowded to her knee and even her father stopped his
reading to listen, Marianne told how, one day, the two princesses came
to visit Frau Rat with their Swiss governess, Fraeulein de Gelieu, and of
how in Frau Rat's garden was a pump which at once attracted the
princesses.
Little Louisa, who loved the old lady, and was not a bit afraid of her
in spite of the great turban she wore, whispered in her ear how much she
would enjoy pumping like a common child.
The mother of Goethe nodded. She had no taste for prim etiquette and saw
no real reason why the little princesses should not enjoy themselves.
"Come, dear Fraeulein de Gelieu," said she to the governess. "Come into
my saal. I will show you my beautiful snuffbox with the picture of my
famous son upon it."
Then, leading the lady, she softly locked the door and Louisa and
Frederika, running to the pump, clung to the handle, and pumped and
pumped until the water ran in streams and splashed their stockings and
elastic strap slippers, and made them for once enjoy themselves quite as
if they had not been princesses.
When time for good-byes came the two happy little girls threw loving
arms around the neck of this kind Frau Rat and grateful little lips
whispered thanks for her kindness, telling her that never, never, never
would they forget their joy in being permitted to play like other
children. "Never, dear Frau Rat, never!" they cried.
Nor did Louisa, at any rate.
"Frau Rat," concluded Marianne, "showed me one day the most beautiful
gold ornaments she had only a few months before received as a present
from our Queen, who really loves her."
A second time Louisa visited Frankfort-on-Main. It was two years later
when, Leopold being dead, Francis, the last Emperor of the Holy Roman
Empire, came to receive the crown which, in 1806, just before the battle
of Jena, he resigned forever.
At that time the Princess and her brother Carl came to supper with Frau
Rat Goethe.
There was omelette, very light and delicious, and famous bacon salad, a
dish much loved in that day throughout Germany.
"Oh, how fine!" cried Carl and the princess, and when they stopped
eating there was not even so much as a half leaf left on either plate!
All her life Frau Rat loved to tell about this, and Marianne related how
she joked when she told the story.
"And, mother," said Marianne, "Frau Rat told me that our Queen, though
she was then a princess, made her own satin shoes for the coronation."
Madam von Stork beamed approval.
She opened her lips to impress the importance of sewing upon Marianne,
but the young girl was too quick for her.
"Frau Rat, father, says that our Queen reads both Goethe and Schiller
always."
Before Madame von Stork could answer, the maid appeared with wine and
cake, and, when all were settled, Marianne had told more stories about
Goethe's mother and what a fine old lady she was, but so amusing in her
great turban, with its red, white and blue feathers, or great decoration
of sunflowers, with her hair all arranged and plaited with ribbons, her
face rouged, her embroidered kid gloves, her rings, and her famous
speech:
"I am the mother of Goethe!"
When Marianne told all this she altered her voice and put on what her
brothers called her "Goethe manner," and, turning to Herr Brandt, she
exclaimed:
"Oh, Uncle Ludwig, the Frau Rat showed me her son's playthings and the
dresses he wore as a child. Oh, think of my touching, my handling what
his noble hands have rested upon! Oh, how it thrilled, how it
over-powered me!"
The boys burst into a roar, but her father with a glance quieted them.
"And what is Frau Rat like, Marianne?" he asked.
Delighted to talk on her favorite topic, Marianne told how, when the
Frau Rat announced, "I am the mother of Goethe," her voice rang out like
a trumpet.
Ludwig pushed back his glass.
"The trumpet we should hear," he said, "is the voice of her son singing
songs of patriotism. Never mind, Mariechen," for Marianne was beginning
to cry out, "your idol is not entirely perfect. Now, when at last we
have a literature in Germany, why will not our poets rouse our people?
The imitation of France is on us like a curse. All must be French. We
must speak French, we must read French, we must despise all things
German. I tell you, Richard, it is now the calm before the storm. Over
Prussia is gathering a cloud and the day will come when the sun shall
shine no more for us."
He arose and paced up and down the floor.
"Oh, Ludwig," cried Madame von Stork, "come, come, sit down and enjoy
your doughnuts."
But Ludwig Brandt was not to be soothed with cake.
"Good-night, Clara," he said suddenly, and bending, kissed Madame von
Stork's hand.
With an "Auf wiedersehen," he departed.
"My goodness," cried Madame von Stork, "but Ludwig is uncomfortable.
Here we were enjoying a quiet, happy evening, and in he comes and upsets
everything. See, Marianne, see, there he has spilt wine on the
tablecloth. It is the English in him which makes him so solemn. Perhaps
if dear Erna had lived she might have made him gayer. And speaking of
Erna, Marianne, you are old enough to read your dear aunt's journal. It
is really a history of our dear Queen the child kept to please Ludwig.
To-morrow, when you visit your grandmother, you must ask her to lend it
to you."
It was this same journal which Marianne brought forth in the sitting
room.
Before she could begin reading Elsa and Ilse crowded to her side.
"Sister," they said, "tell Bettina what happened when you took us to
grandmother's and she gave you the book, won't you?"
Marianne laughed.
"We had cherry compote for supper," she said, "and we all had some, and
Otto whispered to Wolf that he could keep more stones in his mouth than
Wolf could, and all the others heard and in whispers they all dared each
other, and they kept on eating and eating until their cheeks were quite
puffy."
Bettina laughed gaily.
"And there was company," put in Elsa.
"And grandmother asked Otto a question," said Ilse.
"And then----" Carl shouted.
"Otto couldn't keep his in----"
"And Wolf laughed----"
"And, oh, Bettina, it was awful! Stones shot everywhere out of
everybody's mouth and oh, grandmother!" She held up her hands.
Bettina thought this very funny and they all laughed and would have made
a great noise had not Marianne put the tiny key in the brass lock of the
red book.
"Come, now, be quiet," she said, "and I will begin the journal of our
Aunt Erna."