war is badly conducted. What did I and young Anhalt, who is far
superior to his father in gallantry, and in spite of his youth in
military science too, what did we insist upon in the council of war at
Rokizan; that we should fall with our whole force upon an enemy wearied
out with painful marching. Even Hohenlohe, who is usually very
reluctant to embrace a bold project, shared our opinion--there could
not be a doubt, we must have gained a victory--then up gets Prince
Anhalt and proved to the king in a long speech--but, I cannot bear to
think of it, how my splendid plan of operations was frustrated, how
instead of fighting they allowed themselves to become involved in a
disgraceful treaty, how we, I may say, fled to Unhoscht without
striking a blow, or if it sounds better, drew back in good order; for
the slight affair at Rakoniz, where, moreover, we lost von Dohna and
Graz, cannot be counted anything."
"But the rencounter at Rakoniz," observed Henry Schlick, "remained,
as I have heard, undecided. The Imperialists too lost both their
Field-Marshals Fugger and Aguaviva; and their General-in-chief Boucquoi
was so severely wounded as to have been since incapable of bearing a
campaign."
"Sir Count," replied Thurn moodily, "you do not know Boucquoi, he is a
worthy antagonist of the very bravest. If it comes to a battle, he will
be carried though in a dying state to the field. God grant, that we may
not shortly see him before the gates of Prague. At Unhoscht," resumed
Thurn, "my patience was exhausted, and when the king, at Anhalt's
urgent request went to Prague, I offered to accompany him. I am glad to
be here and--"
Thurn was interrupted, for the door of the antechamber opened, and
Gabriel, or Mannsfield's Major-General Otto Bitter entered.
"Ah, welcome friend," cried John Bubna, held out his hand to him and
led him up to the two others. "Do not be put out, Count Thurn, I answer
for my friend Bitter, go on with what you were saying."
"I am acquainted with the Major-General," said Thurn, while Bitter made
a low obeisance.--"My friend's friend is my friend too."--Then Thurn
himself with obliging civility presented the young men to one another,
"Count Henry Schlick, son of our supreme Judge and Director, the
Lord Joachim Andrew Schlick, Count of Passau and Ellbogen, a brave
captain--Sir Otto Bitter, Major-General in Mannsfield's army and his
right hand man."--
"The name of Schlick," said Otto Bitter politely, "has a genuine ring
about it, and you, Sir Captain, as I have been assured on all sides,
are worthy of bearing so celebrated a name."
Henry Schlick wished to respond to the General's courteous address, but
Matthias Thurn turned to him and asked what brought him to Prague.
"I make no secret of my mission," he answered, "I am come to Prague
under instructions from the Field-Marshal to demand the pay of our
troops, which is now nearly six months in arrear, and to remind them of
the promised reinforcements; I propose to stay here just long enough to
urge upon the king and his generals some decisive step which our
Mannsfield will support with all his might; but the king is too busy
with his festivities, and Field-Marshal Prince Anhalt, has, at least
for me, no time unoccupied."
"Hush!" said Bubna, "lupus in fabula, he comes just in...."
The conversation, though it had been carried on in an undertone,
was instantly dropped. The double doors of the antechamber were
thrown hastily and noisily open, and Prince Christian of Anhalt,
Commander-in-chief of the royal army and Stadtholder of Prague, stepped
haughtily with a proud look into the anteroom. All present, with the
exception of Thurn made a low bow. Anhalt recognised it with a careless
nod of the head, and prepared as usual to enter unannounced into the
royal apartment. Otto Bitter, however, advanced hastily and said:
"I am fortunate in meeting your Highness here. I am just arrived from
General-Field-Marshal the Count of Mannsfield...."
"You have come from Count Mannsfield?" repeated the Prince with a sharp
emphasis. "Why does not he make his applications immediately to the
commander-in-chief, as every commander of a corps d'armee should do.
What is the use of a mediator and go-between? Besides, time and place
are very badly chosen for your representations, this is the king's
anteroom, and I am on my way to an audience"--so saying, Anhalt,
without allowing the General time to reply, passed into the king's
audience-chamber. Bitter returned to the other lords; his features were
disfigured by rage, and the fiery sign burnt red upon his forehead. All
were unpleasantly affected by this behaviour.
"Such is the manner of princes," Henry Schlick tried to make a
conciliatory excuse; "he is imperious and hates opposition, do not be
so put out by it, Sir Major-General."
"No! to receive an officer of such high desert in such a way,"
exclaimed Bubna clashing his scabbard upon the floor; "and when he was
speaking of Mannsfield!..."
"These men of the Palatinate have always free access to the king,"
observed Thurn, and out of his eyes flashed, as it were, a consuming
lightning--"and as for us, they let us wait."
Andrew of Habernfeld, Frederick's favorite, in full gala-costume,
opened at the very moment the door of the king's apartment; he might
probably have heard this last observation of Thurn's, spoken in a loud
voice.
"Can audience be obtained of his Majesty," asked Thurn drawing himself
up proudly, "I mean, by us...."
"The king cannot be aware, that so many gentlemen of the highest
dignity wish to speak with him, or else he had surely before this
summoned you before him. I will immediately inform him of your
presence."
"Bubna, Schlick, and I, have been announced long since and been kept
waiting in vain up to this time," replied Thurn stiffly, "Major-General
Bitter is also apparently as desirous as we are of an interview with
the king.--Meantime it can do no harm if you once more remind him of
our presence."
Habernfeld looked very much disconcerted and instantly disappeared.
Shortly afterwards he returned breathless. "His Majesty," he announced,
"implores the noble lords to spare him all government-business at
present. The king celebrates today the anniversary of his arrival in
Prague, and invites the lords to betake themselves to the banquet in
the hall of Spain."
"A banquet?" replied Thurn almost sadly, and the veins on his noble
forehead swelled high; "I am sorry not to be able to accept the
gracious invitation, I am not in a humour for banqueting, my thoughts
would be ever occupied with the victorious irresistible advance of the
Imperialists, and my gloomy face would but mar the festal joy, give
this answer to the king, I pray you, do so, Herr von Habernfeld....
that he may graciously excuse my absence...." with these words Thurn
threw his cloak over his shoulder, and would have departed.
"Your Grace," cried Schlick, seizing Thurn by the arm, "on every
account, pause. He is our lord and king--our self-elected lord and
king, he will take it in very bad part."
"My young friend," whispered Thurn in Schlick's ear--"spare me the
hated sight of Anhalt carousing by the side of king, while our brave
army is offering itself a vain sacrifice. Meat and drink would become
poison and gall to me.--You know, I am not easily induced to change a
determination that I have once made, therefore, I pray you, Sir Count,
leave me."
"I will at least present your humble excuses to the king's Majesty,"
answered Schlick aloud; "I pray you, Herr von Habernfeld, forget, what
the Count may have said in a moment of excitement, he is a warm
patriot, a staunch Bohemian, but still the southern blood of Italy
flows in his veins."
Thurn went away, the three gentlemen followed Habernfeld to the
banqueting-hall. Twilight had in the meanwhile come on. The broad and
spacious room was illuminated, fairy-like, with a thousand waxen
torches. The rich sea of light broke into countless points of
brilliancy upon the lofty mirrors. A sumptuous circle of ladies and
gentlemen, mostly from the Palatinate and Germany, passed with merry
laughter through the gorgeously ornamented apartment. No one seemed to
think of the war--to judge from the attitude of those who were present
no one could have had a presentiment that in eight days all this
splendor would have disappeared.
At the upper end of the hall was a throne-like elevation, where King
Frederick and his spouse sat on two crimson and gold-embroidered chairs
of state. They were a wonderful pair. Frederick was then in his
twenty-fifth year. Fair waving locks, mild blue eyes, and soft
rosy cheeks, gave to his features, an air of weakness, almost
effeminacy--and yet the carefully arranged blond mustachio and whiskers
became him wonderfully. The costume of the period was especially
adapted to set off the advantages of his person in the best light. He
was entirely dressed in a suit of dark violet coloured velvet. The
close fitting doublet was richly embroidered with gold, the slashed
armlets lined with white were ornamented with point-lace. Over a white
lace collar hung a gold medallion attached by a red ribbon. The
trowsers, cut short at the knee, were there adorned with gold brocade
and point-lace. In his left hand he held a black cap with red and white
feathers.
Queen Elisabeth was somewhat smaller than Frederick. She was a perfect
beauty. Her face bore the stamp of her English origin. Abundant fair
golden hair, into which a diadem had been woven by a blue ribbon,
cheeks suffused with the most delicate pink, lovely soft blue eyes,
gave to the queen at first sight a remarkable resemblance to her
husband. She wore a dress of pale green satin. This, low bodied and
close fitting, brought out the wonderful fulness of her contour. The
string of pearls, that hung round her neck, seemed to flow without any
perceptible division into the snowy whiteness of her bosom.--Both,
Frederick and his consort, wore satin shoes with large silk bows, and
their feet rested upon a crimson cushion.--They gazed cheerfully and
good-naturedly at the varied throng. Musicians occupied the gallery and
at a sign from Habernfeld, on the entrance of the three officers,
struck up a clamorous flourish of trumpets, and then played lively
tunes.
The three officers in their simple uniform made a striking contrast to
the rest of the company. Henry Schlick as fine a courtier, as a brave
soldier, soon made himself at home among a group of ladies, but Bubna
and Bitter felt strange amid the loud hubbub of the assembled guests,
and stared silently and gloomily straight before them. Immediately on
their arrival Habernfeld had led all three of them up to the place
where the king was sitting and Schlick had excused the absence of Count
Thurn on the score of urgent business that could not be postponed.
General Bitter dared not venture on this occasion to announce the aim
of his mission to Prague, but was fully determined in the course of the
evening to submit his business to the king. An opportunity soon
offered. The king and queen rose from their seats in order to make a
tour of the room, and those who were present--for Frederick popular and
condescending was fond of saying a word to each--ranged themselves in
two long rows. The king, whom the Prince of Anhalt followed at a short
distance, began to move down the line of gentlemen, while the queen
turned to that of the ladies. Everyone to whom the king addressed an
observation made a low obeisance. He spoke to everybody, and had a
friendly or flattering word for each. Bitter and Bubna had remained
standing together and waited in respectful silence for Frederick's
address. As he approached General Bitter, Anhalt whispered something in
the king's ear.
"General Bitter, from Mannsfield's camp, is it not so?" asked
Frederick, while a shade of vexation flitted over his face--"I am
pleased to see you in Prague; but you have been some weeks here. I am
surprised that they can do so long without you in Mannsfield's
camp...."
Bubna bit his lips till the blood started; and Bitter answered
undismayed but calmly:
"Since your royal Majesty is so gracious as to enquire the grounds of
my long residence in Prague, I must most humbly take leave to mention
the affairs, that I have already once before had the honour of most
obediently laying before your royal Majesty...."
"No business, no business," said Frederick, so loud that the bystanders
could hear it, "I will for once in my life be joyous and not always
thinking of governing and commanding. For the rest," he continued with
excitement, "complaints are abroad; that Mannsfield places the district
round about Pilsen under contribution as if he were in an enemy's
country, and oppresses my own people: a stop must be put to this."
"If your Majesty will only listen to me for a moment," said Bitter
hastily. "Mannsfield's corps d'armee is made up mainly of foreigners;
bound by no oath to the crown of Bohemia they fight only so long as
they receive pay. The pay is six months in arrear, the famished
soldier, who has not a whole coat to his body, resembles rather a
ragged robber than a man-at-arms, and if Mannsfield were not the adored
hero of our camp, the whole corps would long ago have freed itself from
the bands of discipline.--We are also surrounded by enemies, for Pilsen
and the circumjacent districts are Imperialist in their sympathies, and
the storming of Pilsen cost us many a bloody battle and many a
skirmish.--The peasants, who should deliver corn and forage, and have
up to this time been vainly paid by assignments upon the money that was
to come from Prague, are difficult to deal with, and stand up in arms
against us in large masses. All the necessaries of life have to be
violently procured, sword in hand, out of a hostile and almost
exhausted circle.--Your Majesty in your high wisdom cannot really
expect that Mannsfield could obtain food for four thousand men
and one thousand five hundred horses empty handed. As soon as your
Majesty shall have graciously condescended to give orders to your
commander-in-chief and paymaster, to pay over to us the sum that is
due, there will be an end of all violence, and compensation will be
made to those who have been aggrieved. To lay this and one other
petition before your royal Majesty am I come to Prague, and as I have
not yet been so fortunate as to see the object of my visit crowned with
success, I was to my sorrow obliged to determine to remain absent for a
time from the army, though every officer, every commander, should stay
with his troops."
Anhalt grew pale with anger. Frederick was silent for a moment; the
frank unconstrained speech of Mannsfield's officer had surprised and
for a moment disturbed his composure.
"You speak very openly and unconstrainedly, Sir General,--I love
frankness in a soldier, but you should never transgress the bounds of
due respect. I will talk over and consider what you have said to me
with my commander-in-chief.--When you return to Mannsfield's camp, do
not report to the troops the manner in which you have addressed me--it
might injure respect."
Frederick pronounced these words with a sad smile in an undertone,
almost in a whisper inaudible to the rest.--He went no farther down the
line, the joy of the evening was troubled, the king and queen soon went
away, and Bubna and Bitter were the first to follow their example.
"Pest upon the Palatine," cried Bubna furiously, as both together rode
down the Spornergasse. "But you stood up stoutly, Bitter: answered word
for word and bravely urged your suit. That Frederick stood before thee
trembling like a school-boy! _He_ talk of oppression and forced
contributions, and leaves his own brave troops to perish of hunger!--I
cannot find fault with Thurn for having broken quite loose from this
luxurious court, and shall wait till he returns again to the helm.--God
be merciful to our poor country!"
Before Bubna's house the two Generals took leave of one another, and
Bitter alone, followed by his two mounted servants, galloped over the
bridge to the Altstadt. As he arrived at the Marienplatz, the clapper
of the clock in the tower struck twenty one, equivalent to nine o'clock
in the evening.--The owner of the house was waiting for him at the
great gate, an armourer, who in times past had served under him as
sergeant-major.
"It is already late," whispered Bitter to him, as he rode in, "open the
back-door directly, I must be quick."--Shortly thereupon Otto Bitter
stepped out of the back-door that led into the Plattnergasse; he wore
again the dress of a student and hurried quickly to the Jews-quarter.
The proprietor of the house, a man with a wooden leg, closed the door
carefully and grumbled as he went across the court: "My general is
brave, second to none as a warrior, but this passion is rather
despicable for a great lord, now if it were a count's daughter or a
lady of rank: but a Jewish wench! I cannot understand it."
Gabriel struck into the shortest way to his dwelling by the
Old-Synagogue, he found the gate of the Ghetto still open and passed
through the gate in the street called "golden" into it.--He had walked
a short distance sunk in deep thought, when suddenly some words struck
his ear: "I thank you, dear lady, I cannot accept your company, it is
here, I think, quite safe in the streets and I shall soon be at home."
The melodious ringing tone of this voice made an extraordinary
impression upon Gabriel. A violent terror for a moment thrilled through
him. The strong colossal man was obliged to lean against a wall in
order to save himself from falling, his breast heaved with mighty
respirations, it seemed as if he did not dare to look about him, as if
he was afraid that the form to which that voice belonged would melt
before his eyes into nothing. But at the next moment a woman passed
quickly by him, and the moon, gliding at that moment from behind a
cloud, threw its pale trembling light upon a face that was, as it
chanced, but half concealed by a floating veil. He could recognise the
features, his ear had not deceived him.--"Found," he cried almost aloud
after a pause of speechless rapture; "Gabriel! thou hast drained the
cup of sorrow to the dregs! But thy revenge will be sweet, will be
fearful!" ... then he followed, unobserved, with hasty step, the
woman's form. She stopped for the first time breathless at the Hahnpass
before an apparently quite uninhabited dilapidated three-storied house.
She opened the house-door with a key that she drew out of a pocket in
her dress, and shortly afterwards Gabriel saw a ray of light shooting
from a garret-window. Gabriel wiped the perspiration from his forehead,
rubbed his eyes, looked about him, laid his hands upon the cold walls
of the house in order to convince himself that it was no dream, that
filled him with lying phantoms, that this moment had really and truly
an actual existence. He might have stood there for some few minutes
when again the clear accents of a woman's voice pierced his ear.--"Why
do you stand dreaming there, Reb Gabriel?"
Gabriel awoke as from a heavy sleep; a group of women stood before him,
among them, his hostess Schoendel. "Why do you stand in the street like
this, what are you waiting for? Why have you been neither home nor to
service in the Old-Synagogue since mid-day?"
Gabriel recovered himself quickly; he found himself in the
neighbourhood of Jacob's house; he had frequently excused his staying
away so long from Schlome's house on the plea of his visits to the
lunatic; he, unsociable as he was, never conversed with anyone, and
Gabriel could feel sure that he would not be betrayed by him at any
rate.
"Cannot you see," he said, "I have just come from the poor lunatic, who
enlists my sympathies in the highest degree. One should visit those who
are afflicted with spiritual infirmities, as well as those who suffer
bodily ailment, and, perhaps, to do so is a more excellent work of
charity."
"We too return from doing a good action," replied Schoendel; "I belong
to the society of 'devout women.' We have been praying at the death-bed
of a departing sister, have closed the eyes of a poor forsaken old
woman.--It is sad to die solitary and forsaken."--Schoendel dried her
beautiful eyes, which were wet with emotion.
"We must make haste," said a woman, a neighbour of Schoendels', "or the
gate will be shut, we are the only people who live outside...."
"Reb Gabriel, if you are going home too, give us your company," said
Schoendel.
Gabriel walked silently and rapt in meditation by the side of the two
women, while they, full of the recollection of the sad duty which they
had just performed, did not attempt to resume the conversation.
Arrived at home Schoendel told her husband, how she had found Gabriel at
the door of the lunatic's house, with whom he had spent the afternoon
and evening.--Gabriel threw himself, as soon as he reached his room, in
a more than feverish state of excitement into a chair. The manifold
events of the day all disappeared before the extraordinary impression
that the discovery of that woman had made upon him.--He staid awake the
whole night, pacing the room backwards and forwards and only towards
morning could make up his mind to write the report which Ensign
Michalowitz was to carry back to Count Mannsfield.
IV.
In the garret of a usually uninhabited dilapidated three-storied house
in the Hahnpass a woman was sitting at a rickety table and embroidering
by the light of an oil-lamp a curtain for the holy tabernacle. It was
already late; a rude wind howled through the walls of the poor
dwelling, a corner house, far over-topping all the others. All was dark
in the vicinity, only the windows of the distant lecture-room which was
visited by a succession of students emitted a dull light. The woman,
though no longer in the first bloom of youth, presented a perfect
picture of the most faultless oriental beauty. She might have numbered
six or eight and twenty years. Her wonderfully well-formed face, pale
as a lily, but suffused from time to time with the softest roseate
flush, contrasted superbly with the shining black hair, the rich waving
curls of which issued from under a turban-like head-dress and fell in
waves on her snowy neck. Her eyes were brighter and blacker than coal,
her eyelids fringed with long silky lashes, and her half-opened fresh
lips disclosed two rows of pearly teeth.--She worked assiduously, only
interrupting herself now and then to go to the open door of a second
chamber and listen to the breathing of her sleeping mother--or when she
lent with an expression of the deepest motherly love over a cradle, in
which a baby, the perfect image of its mother was sleeping quietly.
"Blume, my child," now cried the mother from the adjacent room, "are
you still up? Go to bed, spare your eyes, I pray you do so.--When a
person has lived as I have done for more than fifteen years in
darkness, she learns for the first time to set a right value on
eyesight, take my advice, child, go to bed!"
"Only go thou to sleep, dear mother," answered Blume in a loud voice,
almost screaming, and leaving off her work for a few moments. "It is
not so late as you think, it wants two hours yet to midnight."
"If only your husband would return from his journey," sighed the
mother, "he would surely bring money with him, and you would no longer
consider it necessary to make a sacrifice of your sweet precious
sight.--Lord of the world! that a Rottenberg should be reduced to
travel over the country as a scribe in order to earn a livelihood, that
my daughter, my graceful Blume, must work at embroidery to save herself
from beggary, that grieves me--but Lord, Thou art just, and what Thou
doest, is well done, I do not murmur! I only make my supplication
before Thee out of the profoundest depths of my heart, not for myself,
not for myself, who am tottering on the verge of the grave, but for my
children--have mercy upon them!"
"Sleep, dear mother, sleep," cried Blume, and large tears fell like
pearls over her cheeks, "all will come right, believe me, God never
forsakes his own."
Blume shut the door. "Yes, if only my husband were at home again," said
she then, with a shiver; "sometimes I become so sad when I am alone
with my mother and child, alone, forsaken, in a strange and unknown
city! and my husband wanders over the country to earn bread; God
preserve him."