"Ah, you believe still in the genius of Germany?" asked the baroness,

mournfully. "You see all the horrors, the shame, the degradation that

Germany, and especially Prussia, have to suffer! The calamities of our

country, then, my friend, have transformed you into a believer, and made

of the rationalist a mystic, believing in miracles? You know I was

hitherto pious, and a faithful believer, but now I begin to doubt. Now I

ask myself anxiously whether there really is a God in heaven, who

directs and ordains every thing, and yet permits us to be thus trampled

in the dust."

"Our duty is, perhaps, to strengthen ourselves by misfortunes," said

the physician. "Germany was sleeping so profoundly that she could only

be aroused by calamity, and become fully alive to her degrading

position. But, believe me, she is opening her eyes, and seeking for

those who can help her. She cannot forget Baron von Stein; but must feel

that she stands in need of him."

"May you be a true prophet!" said the baroness, sighing, "and that your

words--but hark!" she interrupted herself, "some one is violently

ringing the door-bell! He must be a stranger, for none of the citizens

would announce a visit in so noisy a manner. The inhabitants manifest

sympathy for us; many come every morning to inquire about my husband.

Without solicitation our neighbors have spread a layer of straw in front

of the house, and along the street, that no noise may disturb the

beloved sufferer, and--"

Just then the door opened, and a footman stated that a stranger desired

to see the baroness concerning a matter of great importance.

"Me?" she asked, wonderingly.

"He asked first for Baron von Stein," replied the footman, "and when I

told him that my master was very ill, he seemed alarmed. But he bade me

announce his visit to the baroness, and tell her that he had made a long

journey, and was the bearer of important news."

"Admit him, baroness," said the physician; "he brings, perhaps, news

that may be good for our patient. As for me, permit me to withdraw."

"No, my dear doctor, you must stay," she said. "You are an intimate

friend of my husband and of my family, and this person cannot have any

thing to say to me that you may not hear. Besides, your advice and

assistance may be necessary; and if the news should be important for my

husband, you ought not to be absent."

"Well, if you wish me to stay, I will," said the physician; "who knows

whether my hopes may not be presently realized?"

"Admit the stranger," said the baroness; and he entered a few minutes

afterward.

"High-Chamberlain von Schladen!" she exclaimed, meeting him.

"You recognize me, then, madame?" asked M. von Schladen. "The memories

of past times have not altogether vanished in this house, and one may

hope--" At this moment his eyes met the physician, and he paused.

"Doctor von Waldau," said the baroness, "a faithful friend of my

husband, and at present his indefatigable physician. He is one of us,

and you may speak freely in his presence, Mr. Chamberlain."

"Permit me, then, to apply to you directly, and to ask you whether Baron

von Stein is so ill that I cannot see him about grave and important

business?"

"The baron is very ill," said the physician, "but there is no immediate

danger; and, as the fever has left him to-day, he will be able to

converse about serious matters--that is to say, if they are not of a

very sad and disheartening character."

"Grief for Prussia's misfortunes is my husband's disease," said the

baroness; "consider well, therefore, if what you intend telling him will

aggravate it, or bring him relief. If a change for the better has taken

place--if you bring him the news that that disgraceful treaty of Tilsit

has been repudiated, and that the war will continue, it will be a

salutary medicine, and, in spite of the warlike character of your news,

you will appear as an angel of peace at his bedside. But if you come

only to confirm the disastrous tidings that have prostrated him, it may

cause his death."

"I do not bring any warlike tidings," said M. von Schladen, sadly; "I do

not bring intelligence that the treaty of Tilsit has been repudiated!

Hence, I cannot, as you say, appear as an angel of peace. Nevertheless,

I do not come croaking of our disasters. I come in the name of, and

commissioned by Prussia, to remind Baron von Stein of the words he

uttered to the queen when he took leave of her. You, sir, being his

physician, are alone able to decide whether I may see him, and lay my

communication before him. For this reason I must tell you more

explicitly why I have come. You permit me to do so, I suppose,

baroness?"

"Oh, speak! my heart is yearning for your words!" exclaimed the

baroness.

"I come to see Baron von Stein, not merely because I long to speak to

the man for whom I entertain so much love and respect," said M. von

Schladen, "but I come in the name of the king and queen. I bring him

letters from Minister von Hardenberg, from the Princess Louisa von

Radziwill, and from General Blücher, and verbal communications from the

queen. I have travelled without taking a moment's rest in order to

deliver my letters as soon as possible, and to inform the baron of the

wishes of their majesties. And now that I have arrived at my

destination, I find the man sick in bed who is the only hope of Prussia.

You will, perhaps, even shut his door against me, and all the greetings

of love, the solicitations and supplications which I bring, will not

reach him! It would be a heavy misfortune for Prussia and for the

deeply-afflicted king, who is looking hopefully toward Baron von Stein!"

"He is looking hopefully toward my husband," exclaimed the baroness,

reproachfully, "and yet it was he who insulted the baron in so grievous

a manner!"

"But the king repents of it, and desires to indemnify him for it," said

M. von Schladen. "I come to request Baron von Stein to return to

Prussia, and to become once more the king's minister and adviser."

"Oh," exclaimed the physician, joyfully, "you see now that I am a true

prophet. The genius of Germany has found a remedy to cure our noble

sufferer."

"You permit me, then, to speak to him?" asked M. von Schiaden.

"I request you to do so," replied the physician. "I demand that you go

to him immediately, and speak to him freely and unreservedly. His mind

is in need of a vigorous shock to become again conscious of its own

strength; when it has regained this consciousness, the body will rise

from its prostration."

"Doctor, I am somewhat afraid," said the baroness, anxiously. "He was of

late so nervous and irritable, you know, that the most trifling

occurrence caused him to tremble and covered his brow with perspiration.

I am afraid these stirring communications may make too powerful an

impression upon him."

"Never mind," exclaimed the physician; "let them make a powerful

impression upon him--let them even cause him to faint--I do not fear the

consequences in the least; on the contrary, I desire them, for the shock

of his nervous system will be salutary, and bring about a crisis that

will lead to his recovery."

"But, doctor, excuse me, you know he had a raging fever all night, and

is exhausted. What good will it do to communicate the news to him? He

cannot obey the king's call, and, at best, weeks must pass before

recovering sufficiently to attend to state matters."

"Ah, Baron von Stein accomplishes in days what others perform only in

weeks," exclaimed the physician, smiling. "He is one of those men whose

mind has complete control of his body. In his case, if you cure the one

you cure the other."

"But I doubt whether my husband will accept these offers of the king,"

said the baroness, hesitatingly; "he has been insulted too grossly."

"But he is a patriot in the best sense of the word," said M. von

Schladen; "he will forget personal insult when the welfare of the people

is at stake."

"And even though he should not accept," said the physician, "he receives

at least a gratifying satisfaction in the king's offer, and that will

assuredly be a balm for his wounds. I shall now go to him once more. If

he is entirely free from fever, I will let you come in, and you may tell

him every thing."

"But you will not go away," said the baroness; "you will stay here, so

as to be at hand in case any thing should happen."

"I shall remain in this room," said the physician, "and you may call me

if necessary. Now let me see first how our patient is, and whether I may

announce M. von Schladen's visit." He hastened back into the sick-room

without waiting for a reply; the baroness sank down on a chair, and,

folding her trembling hands, prayed fervently. High-Chamberlain von

Schladen looked at the door by which the physician had disappeared, and

his face expressed suspense and impatience.

At length the door opened again, and the physician appeared on the

threshold. "High-Chamberlain von Schladen," he said aloud, "come in;

Baron von Stein awaits you."

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE PATRIOT

High-chamberlain von Schladen entered the sick-room on tiptoe, preceded

by the Baroness von Stein, who, hastening to her husband, looked at him

anxiously. In fact, the baron looked very ill. His cheeks were hollow

and deadly pale; his eyes lay deep in their sockets, and were flashing

with that peculiar light emanating from the fever; his thin lips were

parched, and he constantly tried to moisten them with his tongue, while

his breathing was very painful.

M. von Schladen looked in profound emotion at the patient, and a feeling

of melancholy was apparent. He was obliged to acknowledge that the

baroness was right, and that this wasted form was not able to rise to

obey the king's call; he believed that he had come in vain, and would be

compelled to leave without having accomplished any thing, and this

conviction was accompanied with a sigh. The sick man heard it, and a

faint smile passed over his features. "You find me very ill then, M. von

Schladen?" he asked in a tremulous voice. "I suppose I am but the shadow

of the healthy, vigorous man who took leave of you at Königsberg a few

months since? You see, I am still unable to give up my sympathies for

Prussia; indeed, I am like her in every respect. Prussia is also but a

shadow of what she was a short time ago; she is undergoing her

death-struggle, and will succumb unless a strong arm soon lift her up."

"But this strong arm will come," said M. von Schladen.

"You believe so?" asked Stein. "Would you were right! But all I hear is

disheartening. We live in a period of degradation and servitude, when we

can do nothing better than seek a refuge in the grave, the only place

where we may find liberty. You see that I am already on the brink. But I

will not now speak of myself, but of you. What brought you hither? To

what lucky accident am I indebted for your visit? My physician has told

me you had casually stopped in this town, and being informed of my

illness had desired to see me. What is your destination?"

"I am returning to Memel, to the King and Queen of Prussia," said M. von

Schladen.

"Ah, you are a faithful servant, and I envy you," said Baron von Stein,

"for your services are gratefully accepted; you are not treated with

contumely, and your zeal is not regarded as malice and self-will. You

may assist your country with your head, your arm, and your heart. You

are not doomed to step aside, and idly dream away your days instead of

seeking relief in useful activity. Oh, I repeat again, I envy you!"

While he was speaking, his pale cheeks had assumed some color, and his

voice, which, at first, had been faint, grew louder. But now, exhausted

by the effort, and by his profound emotion, he sank back on the pillow

and closed his eyes.

His wife bent over him, and wiped off the perspiration which covered his

brow in large drops. In the open door leading into the adjoining room,

appeared the kind face of the physician, who looked scrutinizingly at

the patient. He then nodded in a satisfied manner, and whispered to the

high-chamberlain: "Go on! go on! Tell him every thing. He can bear it."

Baron von Stein opened his eyes again and glanced at M. von Schladen.

"You did not yet tell me whence you came, my dear friend?" he said. "Was

your journey a mere pleasure-trip, or were graver purposes connected

with it?"

"It was no pleasure-trip, for what German cares nowadays for such

things?" said M. von Schladen. "My purpose, in undertaking this journey,

was not only a grave, but a sacred one. I undertook it for the welfare

of our country, and I come to solicit your advice. I know you loved

Prussia once; you will not, although you are no longer in her service,

withhold your sympathy from her, when you can be useful, you will

joyfully render her aid, will you not?"

"Yes, indeed I will," exclaimed Baron von Stein; "my thoughts were with

you all the time; my grief arises from your affliction and the

misfortunes of Prussia; every new blow inflicted upon her fell on me,

and her ruin prostrated me. Tell me, in what way can I aid you?"

"Your excellency, by assisting me in finding the man whom I am seeking;

on whom the eyes of all good Prussians are fixed, and who is alone able

to save the country, to reëstablish its prosperity at home, and to

obtain for it respect and authority abroad. The man whom the queen calls

her friend, and of whom she expects help--to whom the king offers his

hand, and whom he begs (understand me well, begs) to sustain him with

his strong arm and his powerful mind, and, for the sake of Prussia, not

to remember the wrongs he suffered in by-gone days--your excellency, I

am seeking this high-minded man, who forgets insults, and yet does not

close his ears against the cry of his country; whom adversity does not

deter, and whom the burden to be laid on his shoulders does not cause to

tremble; who forgets his own interests in order to have the satisfaction

of saving a state to which, from his youth, he has devoted his

strength--the man in whom all patriots confide, whom Hardenberg, when

Napoleon's despotic will compelled him to resign his office, pointed out

to the king as the only one by whom Prussia might still be redeemed.

Your excellency, can you tell me where I may find this man?"

While M. von Schladen was speaking, Stein slowly raised his head to

listen. His countenance had undergone a marvellous change; his features

had regained their wonted expression, and his eyes beamed with energy.

"Your excellency," asked Schladen again, "can you tell me where I may

find this man for whom all Prussia is calling?"

"You have not yet told me his name," whispered Baron von Stein. "To find

him it is necessary to know his name."

"His name is on this letter which the Princess von Radziwill requested

me to deliver to him," said Schladen, taking one from his

memorandum-book, and handing it to the patient.

Baron von Stein quickly took it, and, on looking at the superscription,

he muttered, "My name! my name is on the letter!"

"And it is your name that is now on all Prussian lips--that the queen is

calling from afar--that the king--"

"Ah," interrupted Baron von Stein, "the king has insulted me too deeply;

I should almost dishonor myself if I forget it!"

"You will shed the most radiant honor on your name by forgiving it,"

exclaimed M. de Schladen. "The king has commissioned me to tell you that

he hopes in you alone. He will intrust to you the department of the

interior and of finance; he assures you of his most implicit confidence;

he promises never to allude again to what has passed between him and

you. Here, your excellency, is a communication from Minister von

Hardenberg, which will confirm all I have said."

He laid another letter on the table. Baron von Stein took it and looked

at the address with a faint smile. "It is Hardenberg's handwriting," he

said; "he is a genuine courtier, and takes it always for granted that

the king's will is a sacred law for every one. He calls me already

'Prussian Minister of Finance.' And the queen?" he then asked, raising

his eyes to M. von Schladen. "What does she say? Does she believe, too,

that I can forget, forgive, and return?"

"The queen believes it, because she wishes it, your excellency. 'Stein

is my last consolation,' she said to me when I took leave of her. 'Being

a man of magnanimity and the keenest sagacity, he may be able to

discover ways and means of saving the country that are as yet concealed

from us. Tell him that, when he comes, the sun will rise again for me;

tell him to remember the sacred vow I received from him to stand

faithfully by us, and to come when Prussia stands in need of him, and

calls him to her assistance. Tell him that his queen prays Heaven to

restore to her country the man who is a defence against wrong and

injustice, and one of the noblest sons of Germany.'"

Baron von Stein cast down his eyes; his lips were trembling; and tears

rolled slowly down his cheeks.

"Your excellency," said M. von Schladen, urgently, "will you not read

the letters? That from the Princess Louisa von Radziwill will give you a

more graphic description of the present situation of the court than I am

able to do; the one from Minister von Hardenberg will tell you what to

do, and how important and necessary it is that you should come as

speedily as possible. In Hardenberg's letter you will also find a brief

note from General Blücher, who joins in these solicitations. I have been

permitted to read these letters, that, if they were lost on the way, I

should, nevertheless, be able to communicate their contents to you. Will

you not read them?"

"Yes," said Baron von Stein, breathing more freely, "I will read them.

They are the first doves that, after the long deluge of affliction, come

to me with an olive-branch of peace. I will see what the letters

contain." He hastily opened that from the Princess Louisa and commenced

reading it. But the paper soon dropped from his hand; a death-like

pallor overspread his cheeks, and, almost fainting, he fell back on the

pillow. "Alas," he murmured mournfully, "I forget that I am a poor, sick

man! I cannot read; the letters swim before my eyes!" But this faintness

lasted only a moment; Stein then raised his head again, and turned his

eyes with a tender expression toward his wife, who was sitting at his

bedside, and watching all his movements with anxious suspense. "Dear

Wilhelmina," he said, "you have been my secretary during the last few

weeks, and have rendered evil tidings less disagreeable to me; will you

not read these cheering letters to me?"

The baroness bent over him, and, in place of a reply, kissed his

forehead. She then read as follows:

"Your friend Hardenberg and the newspapers will have informed you of the

melancholy end of all our hopes. Cowardice and weakness, perhaps more

than the luck of our enemies, have subjugated us, and Hardenberg's

resignation, which he tendered voluntarily, in order to be useful to us

even by this sacrifice, and to preserve the king from the humiliation of

dismissing him, causes us to feel our yoke painfully. I promised to

write to you about the king. He deserves our sympathy at this moment;

his courage and firmness have not been shaken by our last disasters; he

was ready to make any sacrifice, because he thought it better to fall

nobly than to live dishonorably. He clung with sincere attachment to

your friend Hardenberg, and just at this moment when all are deserting

him, when he has neither power nor will, he loses this well-tried

friend, who, actuated by his love of the country, and affection for his

master, left him with a grief that deeply moved my heart. At this moment

the eyes of us all are turning toward you, my dear Stein. From you we

hope for consolation, and for forgetfulness of the wrongs which have

removed you from us, and which you will be too generous to remember at a

time when he who insulted you only deserves your sympathy and

assistance. Can you withstand our solicitations? Can you see this

country deserted, and refuse to it the co-operation of those talents

that alone are able to raise us from our prostration? Hardenberg sees no

other hope for his master than in you, and if you are not restored to

us--if you do not yield to the wishes of those yearning for you, what is

to become of our future?

"I admit that to call upon you to share our fortune is to deem you

capable of the greatest disinterestedness; for nothing has ever been

done by you to deserve the conduct formerly manifested toward you; but

your soul is too generous to remember those insults, and I know you too

well not to be sure that you will unhesitatingly come to the assistance

of this unfortunate prince, who for five months possesses just claims to

sympathy. Even at this juncture he maintains his dignity; he has gained

friends and zealous adherents, and appears to me never more estimable

than since these disasters, in which I have seen him assert a courage

and resignation of which I should never have deemed him capable. It

grieved me to see Hardenberg depart; he himself is very sad, and I am

sure that only the hope of restoring you to the service of his master

sustains him. Do not refuse to comply with our request, my dear Stein,

and be not as cruel as that destiny which is taking from us all the

distinguished characters that were able to reconcile us with life and

mankind. I look for your reply with impatience; may it be favorable to

us! It needs no assurance of mine to make you believe in the

affectionate and constant attachment which I have always felt for you.

"LOUISA."

Stein listened to the letter with eyes half closed. A faint blush had

gradually suffused his cheeks, and a smile was playing on his lips. "And

what do you think of this letter, Wilhelmina?" he then asked. "What does

your heart reply to this call?"

"I am fearful for you, my beloved friend," said the baroness,

mournfully. "My heart shrinks from this career into which you will

reenter, and in which you will be exposed again to ingratitude, and the

persecutions of your enemies."

"Not to ingratitude," said M. von Schladen. "All Prussia will be

grateful to you, and the king will be the first to thank and reward you

with his friendship for having complied with his invitation. Your

excellency, will you not read the letter from Minister von Hardenberg?

It will tell you in the most convincing manner how firmly you may rely

on the king and on his gratitude, and how necessary it is that you

should repair to him as soon as possible."

"No, no, I will not hear any more," exclaimed Stein, in a loud voice.

"It shall not be said that the flattering words of a friend induced me

to do what is my duty. Call the doctor; I must see the doctor!"

"The doctor is here," said Dr. von Waldau, entering the room. "When

patients are able to shout in such stentorian tones, they must indeed

stand in need of assistance."

"Doctor," exclaimed Stein, "come here; feel my pulse, look me full in

the face, and tell me, upon your honor, when I shall be able to set

out."

The physician took the proffered hand and laid his finger on the pulse.

A pause ensued; all looked in breathless suspense on his face. The

doctor smilingly nodded. "It has turned out as I predicted," he

exclaimed. "The 'genius of Germany' has come to our assistance, and

saved her bravest and noblest champion. The pulse is regular and strong,

as it has not been for weeks. The crisis for which I hoped so long has

taken place. Baron von Stein, in two weeks you will be well enough to

set out."

"In two weeks!" exclaimed the baron, in a contemptuous tone of voice.

"You did not hear, then, that Prussia stands in need of me; that the

king calls me, and that Hardenberg tells me it is of the highest

importance I should immediately enter upon the duties of my office? No,

I shall not depart in two weeks, nor in two days, but immediately!" He

raised himself in his bed, and imperiously stretching out his arms, he

exclaimed, "My clothes! I will rise! I have no more time to be sick!

Give me my clothes!"

"But my beloved friend," exclaimed the baroness, in dismay, "this is

impossible; just consider that the fever has exhausted your strength,

that--"

"Hush, do not contradict him," whispered the physician. "The

contradiction would irritate him, and might easily bring about a fresh

attack of fever."

"My clothes! my clothes!" exclaimed Baron von Stein, louder and more

imperiously than before, and he cast angry glances on his wife.

The physician himself hastened to the clothes-press, and, taking the

silken dressing-gown from it, carried it to the patient. "Here is your

dressing-gown," he said; "let me be your _valet de chambre_." Baron von

Stein thanked him with a smile, and lifted up his arms that the garment

might be wrapped around him.

"And here are your slippers," said the baroness; "let me put them on

your feet."

"And permit me to support you when you rise," said M. von Schladen,

approaching the bed. "Oh, lean on me only for a moment; afterward the

whole of Prussia will lean on you."

Baron von Stein made no reply. He put on the dressing-gown and the

slippers, and then raised himself, assisted by M. von Schladen. But his

face was pallid, and large drops of perspiration gathered on his

forehead. He left his couch, and stood free and erect. "I am well

again!" he exclaimed. "Prussia calls me! I am not allowed to be ill;

I--" His voice died away in a faint groan; his head bent down, and his

form sank to the floor. M. von Schiaden and the baroness caught him in

their arms, and placed him again on his bed.

"Doctor," exclaimed the baroness, in a menacing tone, "if he die, you

are his murderer; you have killed him!"

"No," said the physician, quietly, "I have saved him. This swoon is the

last struggle of death with triumphant life. When Baron von Stein awakes

he will be no longer seriously ill, but convalescent. When he is

conscious again, the crisis is over. See, he begins to stir! Ah, his

brave mind will not suffer his body to rest, and will assuredly awaken

it."

The baron very soon opened his eyes, and looked with a perfectly calm

and conscious expression, first at his wife, then at the physician and

the king's messenger. "M. von Schladen," he said, "will you read to me

Hardenberg's letter? Wilhelmina, lay your arm around me and support my

head a little. Waldau is right; I will not be able to set out to-day. I

am still very weak."

"But you will be able to set out in ten days," exclaimed the physician.

"You see I yield to you. I ask no longer for two weeks, but only for ten

days."

Baron von Stein gave him his hand with a grateful glance. "And now,

High-Chamberlain von Schladen, I request you to read once more

Hardenberg's communication." M. von Schladen looked inquiringly at the

physician, who nodded his consent.

"Read, read," said the baron, entreatingly, supporting his head against

his wife's shoulder. M. von Schladen opened the letter, and laid General

Blücher's note, enclosed in it, on the table and commenced reading.

The letter urgently requested Baron von Stein to accept the two

departments of finance and of the interior, which the king wished to

intrust to him because the welfare of Prussia required it. Besides,

Hardenberg asked Stein to repair immediately to the king, because it was

of the highest importance that the ears of Frederick William should not

be besieged again by hostile insinuations. He gave him cautious hints as

to the manner in which he would have to win the confidence of Frederick

William, and assured him that he would retain it, provided he never

pretended to rule over the king. He called upon him in the name of

Prussia and Germany not to decline the difficult task, but to fulfil the

hopes which patriots were reposing in him. He advised him to impose such

conditions as he might deem prudent before accepting the offer, and to

address a letter to his majesty in regard to them.

A pause ensued. Stein had listened to the words of his friends in

silence. All looked at him anxiously. His face was calm, and when he

slowly opened his eyes, they indicated entire composure.

"High-chamberlain von Schladen," asked Stein, "you have made the long

journey from Memel to this place for no other purpose than to deliver to

me these letters and the order of the king?"

"It was the only object of my journey," said M. von Schladen. "I

travelled by way of Copenhagen and Hamburg, in order to avoid French

spies."

"And when do you intend setting out again?" asked the baron.

"Your excellency, as soon as I have obtained a reply."

"Ah," exclaimed Stein, with a gentle smile; "you want to prevent me,

then, from writing immediately, that I may retain you for some time as a

welcome guest?"

"No, your excellency, let me entreat you to give me at once your reply

to the solicitations with which the king and the queen--all

Prussia--nay, all Germany turn to you, and implore you to lend to the

fatherland your strong arm."

"Alas, my hand is so feeble that it can scarcely hold a pen!" said Baron

von Stein, sighing. "Wilhelmina, you are always my kind and obliging

friend--will you now also lend me your hand, and be my secretary?"

The baroness cast a mournful and loving look on him. "I read in your

eyes," she said, sadly, "that you have made up your mind, and that, even

though I implore you to desist for my sake and that of our children, it

would be in vain. We shall lose you again; your house and my heart will

be lonely, and only my thoughts will travel with you! But it hardly

becomes me to dissuade you from your purpose. In these days of general

distress it does not behoove German patriots to confine themselves to

the happiness of their own firesides, and to shut their ears against the

cries of the fatherland. Your heart, I know, belongs to me. Your mind

and your abilities belong to the world. Go, then, my beloved husband,

and do your duty; I will fulfil mine." She kissed the baron's forehead,

and then stepped to the table at the window. "Your secretary is ready,"

she said, taking the pen; "tell me what to write."

Baron von Stein raised himself, and dictated in a firm voice as follows:

"TO THE KING'S MAJESTY:--Your gracious orders and the offer of the

department of the interior, have been communicated to me by a letter

from Minister von Hardenberg, _de dato_ Memel, July 10, which I received

on the 9th of August. I accept the office unconditionally, and leave it

to your royal majesty to arrange with what persons, or in what relations

to my colleagues, I am to discharge my duties. At this moment of my

country's distress it would be wrong to consult my own personal

grievances, particularly as your majesty manifests so exalted a

constancy in adversity.

"I should have set out immediately, but a violent tertian fever is

confining me to my bed; as soon as my health is better, which I trust

will be the case in ten days or two weeks, I shall hasten to your

majesty. Your obedient servant,

"STEIN."

Baron von Stein kept his word. Two weeks afterward, although still

suffering and feeble, he entered his travelling-coach to repair to

Memel, and to hold again in his powerful hands the reins of the Prussian

government.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

JOHANNES VON MÜLLER.

The French authorities had informed the municipality of Berlin that

peace had been concluded at Tilsit, between the Emperor of the French

and the King of Prussia. They ordered that the inhabitants of Berlin, in

view of this important event, should manifest their gratification in a

public manner. German singers were to perform a _Te Deum_ at the

cathedral in honor of this treaty, and at night the people were to show,

by a general illumination, that they rejoiced at the restoration of

peace. The rulers of the city had issued orders to this effect, and the

citizens were obliged to obey, although deeply affected by the

humiliating terms of the treaty, which the _Berlin Telegraph_ had

communicated in a jubilant editorial. The capital of Prussia had to

celebrate the disgrace of the country by a festive illumination. But the

public officials could not compel the people to give their hearts to

such outward rejoicings, or even to manifest their approval by their

presence. At the cathedral, the organist with his choristers sang the

ordered _Te Deum_ to the accompaniment of kettle-drums, but the church

was empty. Only the French officers and a few hired renegades witnessed

the solemnity.

At night, all Berlin was in a blaze of colored flame, but the streets

were deserted. No glad populace were thronging them--no cheering or

merry laughter was to be heard; only here and there, troops of French

soldiers were loitering and singing loudly; or a crowd of idlers, such

as are to be found wherever their curiosity can be gratified, and who,

devoid of honor and character, are the same in all cities. The better

classes remained at home, and disdained to cast even a fugitive glance

on the dazzling scene. Nowhere had more lights been kindled than were

ordered by the French authorities. At one house, however, on Behren

Street, a more brilliant illumination was to be seen; variegated lamps

were there artistically grouped around two busts that stood in strange

harmony, side by side, and excited the astonishment of all passers-by.

They were the busts of Frederick the Great and Napoleon, on whose

foreheads beamed the same radiant light. At this house lived Johannes

von Müller, the historian of Switzerland, who had caused this exhibition

to be made, and who surveyed his work with smiling face. "It is all

right," he said to himself, "it is a beautiful spectacle--those splendid

heads; and it does my heart good that I have succeeded in this annoyance

to my opponents. They shall see that I am not afraid of their attacks,

and that I am quietly pursuing my career, in spite of their slanders.

They call me a renegade, because I did not escape with the rest; they

call me a friend of the French, because I delivered a French address at

the Academy on the birthday of Frederick the Great, and their vulgar

minds were displeased because in that speech I dared to compare Napoleon

with Frederick. It is also distasteful to them that I have renounced the

title of secret councillor of war, and call myself, briefly and simply,

Johannes Müller. As if a title were not a superfluous addition to

Johannes Müller, whom Germany loved before he had a title, and whom she

will love when he has one no longer. Yes, my enemies envy my glory, they

call me a friend of the French simply because I do not abuse them in

their absence, and in their presence keep quiet and assume a stupid

indifference. I keep my hands free; I write openly; I am no hidden

reviler of the French, but a public worshipper of all that is sublime.

For this reason I have placed here, side by side, the busts of the two

greatest men to whom the last century has given birth. And now, great

heroes! shine upon me in the radiance which a man whom the people have

honored with the name of the German Tacitus, has kindled for you! Shed

your lustre on the city, and tell the Germans that Johannes von Müller

does homage to genius, regardless of nationality or birth! Watch over

the study of the historian, and while he works guard him from the

spirits of evil!" He waved his hands to the busts, and was about to sit

down to his books and papers, when his old servant entered to inform him

that a gentleman wished to see the councillor of war immediately.

"Michael Fuchs," exclaimed Müller, "how often have I told you not to

address me by that absurd title, which, I hope, I shall soon cast off as

the ripe chestnut its capsule. Councillor of War! For my part, I never

counselled any one to commence this senseless war, and now that there is

peace, I scarcely regard myself as a Prussian functionary; and yet you

continue repeating that ridiculous title!"

"Well, well," said the old servant, smiling, "when we received that

title four years ago, we were overjoyed and felt very proud. It is

true, times have changed, and I believe that Clarke, the French general,

with whom we dined again to-day, does not like the title much. We may,

therefore, cast it aside. But, sir, while we are quarrelling here, the

gentleman outside is waiting to be admitted."

"You are right, Michael Fuchs," said Johannes von Müller, in a gentle

tone, as if he desired to pacify him; "let the stranger come in."

Old Michael nodded pleasantly to his master. Opening the door and

stepping out, he said aloud: "Come in, sir! I have announced you, and M.

von Müller awaits you."

"He is a very good, faithful old fellow!" murmured Johannes von Müller,

meeting the visitor who was entering the room.

"Oh, M. von Nostitz," exclaimed Müller, joyously, "you here in Berlin! I

thought you were on your estates."

"I was not on my estates, but at Memel with our king," said M. von

Nostitz, gravely. "Honored with some commissions by his majesty, I have

arrived here, and as one of them concerns you, Mr. Councillor, I have

hastened to call upon you."

"The king, then, has received my letter at last and grants my

resignation?" asked Müller, quickly.

"The king has received your letter," replied M. von Nostitz.

"And my resignation? You come to notify me that it has been accepted?"

exclaimed Müller, impatiently.

"Then you are really in earnest about your request?" asked M. von

Nostitz, almost sternly. "I must tell you that none of us would believe

it, and that I have come to entreat you in the name of the king and the

queen--in the name of all your friends, who, faithful to their duty,

followed the royal couple, to change your mind and remain with us. The

queen, especially, refuses to believe that Johannes von Müller, the

great historian, who, but a few months ago, spoke and wrote for Prussia

with so ardent an enthusiasm, now intends to leave us voluntarily and to

escape in faithless egotism from the calamities that have overwhelmed us

all. I am to beg you in the name of the queen to remain with us. Her

majesty cannot and will not believe that you are in earnest about this

resolution to resign your office and leave the country. She has

commissioned me to beg you not to treat the state at this critical

juncture in so ignominious a manner as to despair of it, and assures you

that your salary will always be punctually paid. She admonishes you

through me to think of your numerous friends here, of the favorable

disposition of the Prussian government toward you, of the agreeable life

you are leading in Berlin, and, finally, of the work on Frederick the

Great, which you have just commenced, and to remain in the Prussian

service."

"The kindness and solicitude manifested by her majesty cannot but

profoundly touch my heart," exclaimed Müller, in a tremulous voice, "and

I wish from the bottom of my heart, which is truly loyal and devoted to

the royal house of Prussia, that I were allowed to comply with these

gracious words. Her majesty and all my friends know the high opinion and

sanguine hopes which I entertain with regard to Prussia, and that I feel

convinced Providence has intrusted to this state the championship of

truth, liberty, and justice in Germany."

"The queen is right also in saying that I am leading quite an agreeable

life here; and that Berlin, if it should become a great centre of

education for the north, would be a highly interesting place. It is very

true, too, that I have warm friends here; that I am living at a fine

villa; that I have no indispensable duties to perform every day, and

that my salary has hitherto been promptly paid. But I confess I feel

attracted toward my dear friends in Southern Germany and Switzerland. I

am longing for peace and quiet, to finish my history of the land of

Tell, but here I do not see any prospect of it. I am afraid, on the

contrary, that the ferment and commotion of affairs will last a good

while yet. I have been assured that important reforms and reductions in

the financial administration of the country are in contemplation, and

that men of high rank, who have served the state for half a century, and

are by no means wealthy, will suffer; how, then, could I hope that these

reforms would leave me untouched, when I have been but three years in

the Prussian service?"

"That is to say, you are afraid of losing your salary, notwithstanding

the queen's assurances?" asked M. von Nostitz.

"That is to say, I am unfortunately not rich enough to be contented with

less; I have nothing but my salary, and have to pay my debts with it.

When Prussia lost two-thirds of her revenues, I offered to give up my

position here, which yields me an income of three thousand dollars. I

believe that was honorable, and will cast no reproach on my character

and sentiments."

"That is to say, sir, you tendered your resignation because the King of

Würtemberg offered you a professorship at the University of Tübingen."

"But I should never have accepted it had I not deemed it incumbent upon

me not to receive any money at the hands of Prussia at a time when her

exchequer is hardly able to pay the salary of a superfluous savant. Take

into consideration that, when I accept this offer, which would first

necessitate my removal from the Prussian service, I cannot assuredly be

charged with having done so from motives of avarice. Other reasons impel

me to leave a pleasant position in the finest city of Germany, and move

to a small university town, where I shall have only half the salary I am

receiving here. I shall live in a remote corner of the world, but be

enabled to lead a calm, undisturbed life, and finish the works I have

commenced."

"All my remonstrances, the wishes of the queen, the exhortations of your

friends, are in vain, then?" asked M. von Nostitz.

"I requested his majesty the King of Prussia in an autograph letter to

accept my resignation," said Müller, evasively; "I want, above all, a

categorical reply whether I must remain or go."

"You may go, sir," exclaimed Nostitz, almost contemptuously. Taking a

paper from his memorandum-book, he added, "here, sir, is your

dismission. I was ordered to deliver it into your hands only when my

solicitations and the representations made in the name of the queen

should make no impression upon you. You are free; the king dismisses you

from the service; Prussia has nothing further to do with you. Seek your

fortune elsewhere; your glory you will leave here. Farewell!" Saluting

him haughtily, and without giving him time to reply, M. von Nostitz

turned and left the room.

Johannes von Müller gazed after him with a long, mournful look. "Another

man who will charge me before my friends and before the world with

treachery, perfidy, and meanness!" he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, stupidity and empty words! They want to accuse me of treachery

because it suits them best, and because they refuse to comprehend that a

poor savant ought at least to be protected from want in order to be able

to live for science. A reduction of salaries and pensions is impending;

I owe it to myself and to the works I have commenced, to provide against

this misfortune, and to seek a place where I can labor without being

disturbed, and, thank God! I have found it. Now I may go to Tübingen,

for I am free!" He took the paper from the table, and hastily breaking

the seal read the contents. "Yes," he repeated, "I am free! I can go.

All hail Tübingen! so near the Alps, so near the grand old forest! In

thy tranquillity I will return to my early enthusiasm as to the bride of

my youth! My history of Switzerland will at last be completed and

bequeathed to posterity! Already methinks I breathe the pure air of the

mountains; and sunny Italy, while I cannot return to her, invites me to

thee, quiet Tübingen!"

Johannes von Müller did not perceive that, while he was speaking to

himself, the door behind him had softly opened, and a gentleman, wrapped

in a cloak, his face shaded by a broad-brimmed hat, had entered the room

and overheard the last words. The savant, staring at the muscular form

of this stranger, drew back in surprise. "What does this mean?" he

muttered. "Where is Michael Fuchs?"

"Michael Fuchs is outside, and considers it very natural that an old

friend should desire to surprise his master rather than be solemnly

announced," said the stranger, approaching and taking off his hat.

"Frederick von Gentz!" exclaimed Müller, in a joyful voice, yet not

altogether free from fear. "My friend, you dare to come hither, and yet

you must know that the emperor of the French is highly exasperated at

you; that he believes you to be the author of all sorts of seditious

pamphlets, and that it would be very agreeable to him to have you

arrested and confined."

"Yes, it is true," said Gentz, in his careless, merry way, "Napoleon

Bonaparte does me the honor of being afraid of me and my pen, and would

like to render me harmless, as he did poor Palm. Once I was in imminent

danger of falling into the hands of his police, and I escaped in

disguise, but only after a great deal of trouble."

"And yet you dare to come to the seat of the French administration in

Germany?" exclaimed Müller. "Oh, my friend, your danger nearly deprives

me of the delight I feel in seeing you again, and I have to mingle my

loving salutations with warnings and presentiments!"

"You are right; I was rather bold in entering the cobweb of the French

spiders," said Gentz. "Still, it is not so dangerous as you believe, and

you may be perfectly at ease so far as I am concerned. I am here with a

charming lady friend, the Princess Bagration. I figured on her passport

as her private secretary, and have a regular Russian one of my own,

purporting to be issued to M. de Gentzowitch. Besides, no one suspects

me here; we have just arrived, and will leave Berlin to-morrow before

daybreak to return to Dresden. We are now at peace with France, and the

authorities here will hardly dare to lay hands on a subject of the

Emperor of Russia, the friend and admirer of the Emperor of the French.

You see, therefore, you need not be afraid about me, and I may safely

chat with you for an hour here in your study."

"Then, my dear friend, let me welcome you," exclaimed Müller; "let us

enjoy this hour, and renew the pledge of friendship." Müller welcomed

Gentz with great cordiality, but the latter did not share the ardor of

his friend.

"You have remained faithful to our reminiscences?" Gentz asked, as

Müller led him to the sofa, and sat by his side. "You have not forgotten

the past, and your heart still retains its old friendship?" While

uttering these words, he fixed his dark eyes on the face of Johannes von

Müller, who seemed not to be able to bear his steadfast gaze, and became

embarrassed.

"Oh, my friend!" he exclaimed, "how can you ask whether I remember other

days? My heart frequently feels exalted at the idea of friendship, which

so few can appreciate at its true value. What attachment was that of

Jonathan, himself a victorious warrior, for Jesse's noble son! How great

Jonathan was, who knew that the throne of Israel would pass from his

house to David! I was always affected by David's exclamation at

Jonathan's death. I thought of it just now. And Scipio had a

disinterested friendship for Lælius, although he was aware that envious

men desired to rob him of the glory of having conquered Carthage, and

ascribed every thing to the skilful plans of Lælius. Just as if, when I

narrate the heroic deeds of our ancestors, some one should say, 'The

best passages were written by his friend!' What Scipio felt was once

illustrated, at a private dinner, by Ferdinand of Brunswick, the hero of

Crefeld and Minden. He also had a friend, and to him were attributed the

successes of the prince. Ferdinand himself smilingly said to me,

'Between real friends it is a matter of indifference to whom the credit

is given.' Oh, the spirits of David, Jonathan, and Scipio, must have

rejoiced at these words as heartily as I did. So, my dear Gentz, you ask

me whether I have forgotten our friendship?"

"Words, words!" exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. "Instead of deeds, you

have nothing but words. I will speak to you plainly, and with the

sincerity of a true German. That is what I have come for."

"Like a true German?" repeated Müller. "Are there still any true

Germans? Are they not by this time extinct, leaving behind only slaves

and renegades? This is not the age for true Germans, and if any really

exist, they ought to hide themselves and be silent."

"And you can say that--you who once called so enthusiastically for

deeds?" exclaimed Gentz, indignantly. "Listen to me, Johannes von

Müller! I tell you once more, it is for your sake that I have come. I

wanted to appear before you either as your guilty conscience or as your

friend, as your judge or as your ally. I refused to believe in all that

was told me about you. I would trust only my own ears, my own eyes.

Johannes von Müller, I have come to ask you: Do you still remember the

oath we took in so solemn a manner at Frankfort?"

"I do," said Johannes von Müller, timidly. "Carried away by the

enthusiasm of our hopes, we covenanted for the welfare of Germany, and

especially for her deliverance from foreign tyranny."

"We swore to unite in active love for Germany, and in active hatred

against France," exclaimed Gentz, solemnly. "I have fulfilled my oath; I

have toiled incessantly for the deliverance of Germany. The persecutions

I have suffered at the hands of the French, and Napoleon's wrath, speak

for me! I have well improved my time. But what have you done? Where are

the friends enlisted for our covenant? Where are the allies gathered

around you to assist against France? The time for action is coming, and

we must be ready to fight the battle and expel the tyrant. Johannes von

Müller, where are the troops you have enlisted--the men you have gained

over to our cause?"

"I have enlisted no troops--prepared no battles, and concentrated no

corps," said Müller, sighing. "On the battle-field of Jena lie buried

not only our soldiers, but our hopes. The disaster is boundless; name,

rights, existence--all gone! A new order of things is at hand. The great

period of many monarchies, since the downfall of the Roman empire, is

closed. No other path to prosperity and glory remains to us than that of

the arts of peace; we cannot succeed by war."

"It is true, then," exclaimed Gentz, mournfully, "that you are a traitor

and a renegade, and have not been slandered! You have not only lost your

faith, but the consciousness of your perfidy! Oh, I refused to believe

it; I thought it was impossible. I did have confidence in you. It was

well known to me that you had long since lost your courage and

inclination to struggle for our cause. I was also aware that, even

before the commencement of the war between Prussia and France, your

irresolution and timidity had increased. I was not greatly surprised,

therefore, that you remained at Berlin when all faithful men left the

capital, or, as some assert, you returned hither agreeably to an

invitation from the French. After this, I was no longer astonished at

seeing you repudiate your principles, your glory, your friends, the

cause of Germany, every thing great and good that you had advocated for

years, and truckle in the most cowardly manner to the conqueror, carry

on disgraceful secret negotiations with him, and issue equivocal

declarations and confessions; but that you should betray all that ought

to be dear to you--that you should publicly renounce your principles--of

such treachery I never deemed you capable!"

"And where did I commit any such treachery?" asked Müller,

reproachfully; "where did I secretly or publicly renounce all that had

hitherto been dear to me? Tell me, accuse me! I will justify myself!

This will show you how ardently I love you, for I will accept you as a

judge of my actions, and allow you to acquit me or to find me guilty."

"Be it so!" exclaimed Gentz. "I do not stand before you as an

individual; but as the voice of Germany--of posterity, that will judge

and condemn you if you are unable to justify yourself. Listen to the

charges, and reply to them! Why did you remain in Berlin when the court

fled; when all those who were loyal to the king and his cause left the

capital, because they refused to bow their heads to the French yoke?"

"I remained because I did not see any reason for fleeing. I am no

prominent politician; politics, on the contrary, are only a matter of

secondary importance to me. My principal sphere is science, and every

thing connected with it. Now I was better able to serve it here than

elsewhere. I had my books here, and a large number was on the way to me;

accordingly, I had to wait for them; besides I had commenced studying

the royal archives of Berlin to obtain material for my history of

Frederick II. These are the reasons why I remained, and I confess to you

that I had no cause to repent of it. No one injured me, or asked any

thing dishonorable of me; no one insisted on my doing any thing

incompatible with my duty and loyalty; on the contrary, all treated me

politely. They seemed to regard me as one of the ancients, living only

in and for posterity. Never before was the dignity of historical science

honored in a more delicate manner than by the treatment I received at

the hands of the French. Thus, amid the crash of falling thrones, I have

quietly continued at my history of Switzerland, written articles for

several reviews, and made extracts from many of the ancient classics,

from the whole _Muratorian Thesaurus_, and from other printed and

manuscript volumes. This, my friend, is a brief sketch of the quiet and

retired life I have led since the disastrous day of Jena."

"You forgot to mention several essential points in your sketch," said

Gentz, sternly. "You did not allude to your friendly intercourse with

Napoleon's prætorians; you forgot even to refer to the remarkable visit

you paid to the Emperor of the French. How could you, who so recently in

public addresses had called upon every one to rise against the

usurper--how could you dare to enter the lion's lair without fearing

lest he strike you dead by a single blow? Napoleon Bonaparte might

invite me twenty times in the most flattering manner, I should still

take care to refuse, for I feel convinced that I should never return.

The bullets that struck Palm's breast would be remoulded for me. How did

it come that you did not feel any such apprehensions? How could you hope

that the French would forgive your former Prussian patriotism, unless

you had made concessions to them--unless you had proved recreant to the

cause to which you had hitherto adhered?"

"I made no concessions. They were unnecessary; no one asked me to make

them," said Johannes von Müller, gently. "I remained in Berlin, because

I was unable to flee with my whole library, and because I was no more

bribed by France than by England, or any other power."

"Ah, I understand you; you will now turn the table, and accuse me

instead of justifying yourself. It is a very common thing nowadays to

tell marvellous stories about the large sums with which England has

bribed me to speak and write against the usurper, who tramples upon our

freedom and nationality. You can scarcely open a newspaper without

finding in it, side by side with eulogies of the great German historian,

and of the gratifying manner in which 'Napoleon, the hero, whose

eagle-eye discerns every thing, knew how to appreciate his merits,'

systematic attacks against me, and allusions to the rumor that I had

been bribed by England."

"I did not intend accusing you," said Müller. "I am only justifying

myself; first, as to my remaining here, and, secondly, as to the visit I

paid to the Emperor Napoleon. He sent for me, and, rest assured, I did

nothing whatever to bring about this invitation. Ought I to have

refused? He did not say a word about the king, the queen, myself, my

wishes or plans. Dear friend, will you permit me to relate to you the

particulars of my interview with Napoleon? Will you listen to me

quietly, so as to judge for yourself whether that visit, which has been

censured so severely, was really so great a crime, so terrible a

perfidy against Germany, as my enemies have seen fit to pretend?"

"Speak! I told you already that I come to accuse you in the name of

Germany and of posterity, and to listen to your justification."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE CALL.

Johannes von Müller shook his head, and as he spoke his voice grew

louder and his face kindled with enthusiasm. "M. Alexander von Humboldt

had made me acquainted with the French minister of state, M. Maret, who

frequently invited me, with Humboldt and some other _savants_, to dine

with him, and seemed to like my conversation. One morning he called to

inform me that the Emperor Napoleon desired to receive me at seven

o'clock in the evening. At the hour appointed I rode to Maret, and was

introduced to Napoleon, who was seated by himself on a sofa; several

persons, unknown to me, stood in a remote corner of the room. The

emperor commenced by referring to the history of Switzerland, and told

me I ought to finish it, because the more recent period of the history

of that country was by no means devoid of interest. From Swiss history

we passed to the history and constitution of ancient Greece, to the

theory of constitutions, to the striking difference of those of the

Asiatic nations, and the causes of this difference, to be found in the

climate and in polygamy, to the widely different characters of the Arabs

(whom the emperor extolled very highly), and the Tartars, which led us

to the invasions always threatening civilization from that side, and the

necessity of raising a bulwark against them. We then spoke of the real

value of European culture, and stated that there never had been greater

freedom, security of property, humanity, and better times in general,

than since the fifteenth century; further, that there was a mysterious

concatenation in all terrestrial events, that every thing was directed

by the inscrutable dispensations of an invisible hand, and that the

emperor himself had become great by the very actions of his enemies. We

referred to the great confederation of nations, an idea that had already

been entertained by Henry IV.; to the sources and necessity of religion;

we said that man was, perhaps, not able to bear the whole dazzling

truth, and required to be kept in bounds; but that, nevertheless, it was

possible to bring about a happy order of things if the numerous wars

ceased that had been produced by constitutions too intricate, such as

that of Germany, and by the intolerable burdens imposed on nations by

large standing armies. A great many other things were said, and, in

fact, almost all countries and nations were alluded to. The emperor

spoke at first in his ordinary tone, but in a lower voice as the

conversation became more interesting, so that I had to bend down, and no

one else could have understood what he said. I myself shall never repeat

several statements he made on this occasion. I contradicted him

repeatedly, and he entered into a discussion with me.

"If I am to speak impartially, I must say that Napoleon's knowledge, the

correctness of his observations, his understanding, the grandeur of his

views, filled me with admiration, while the amiable manner in which he

spoke to me could not but enlist my affection. A few marshals and the

Prince de Benevento in the mean time entered the room, but he did not

interrupt himself. After I had conversed with him about an hour and a

half, he ordered the concert to commence, and I do not know whether it

was a mere accident or whether he did so to oblige me, but he asked the

musicians to play Swiss airs, and among them the _Ranz des Vaches_. He

then bowed to me kindly, and left the room. I must confess I was

fascinated. Since my conference with Frederick II., twenty-four years

ago, I never had a more interesting interview, at least none with a

prince; if my memory does not deceive me, the emperor's conversation was

even more solid and comprehensive than that of Frederick, who did not

conceal his admiration for the views of Voltaire. For the rest,

Napoleon's tone is firm and vigorous, but there is as winning an

expression about his mouth as there was about that of Frederick. It was

one of the most remarkable days of my life. Napoleon conquered me, too,

by his genius and unaffected kindness. This, my friend," said Müller,

"is a faithful account of what occurred during my visit to him, and how

I was charmed by his genius."

"Woe to you that he succeeded!" exclaimed Gentz--"that he confused your

understanding and infatuated your judgment. Are you, then, really in

earnest about this admiration and fulsome praise of a man whom you

abhorred formerly--to whom at Frankfort you vowed everlasting

hatred--whom, in your wrath, you called the scourge that was torturing

us, that we might be aroused from our stupor? Do you now seriously

praise him as the great genius to whom we ought to do homage and bow as

humble worshippers?"

"Yes, I say that Providence has intrusted to him the most sublime

mission," exclaimed Müller. "I feel convinced that God has given him the

empire of the world. Never before has this been more apparent than in

the late war, in which he obtained victories with which only those of

Arbela and Zama can be compared. Inasmuch as the old and rusty order of

things was doomed to disappear, it was fortunate that these victories

were vouchsafed to Napoleon and to a nation that is distinguished for

its culture, and appreciates the toils of learned men far more readily

than other nations. Just as little as Cicero, Livy, and Horace,

concealed from the great Cæsar, or from Augustus, that they had formerly

been opposed to him, have I concealed that I had belonged to a different

party, or rather entertained different views, which, the issues being

decided, I willingly give up, ready, if not to coöperate in, at least to

become the impartial historian of the reorganization of the world. Now,

it is an inexpressibly edifying occupation to raise our eyes from the

ruins of Europe to the whole connection of history--to seek for the

causes of events, and boldly to remove a little the veil that covers the

probable future. These ideas seem to me so grand and gratifying that

they fill my soul, absorbing all my reflections. Thus I try to prepare

as well as I can for what is to come. History teaches me that, when the

time for a great change arrives, resistance against it is utterly

useless. True wisdom consists in a correct perception of the signs of

the times, and true virtue is not transformed into vice when this or

that phase passes away. The ruler of the world will certainly never

overlook him who demonstrates his manhood, and whose skill and courage

entitle him to human respect."

"Yes," exclaimed Gentz, laughing scornfully, "you are indeed a true man!

When the country was overwhelmed with calamities--when your friends,

whom your clarion-notes once led to the charge--when the royal couple

that had overwhelmed you with manifestations of kindness and esteem, and

all the loyal and faithful fled, you acted like a true man! You only

thought of yourself and your personal interests, and forgot what you

once swore to me, and in reference to which I stand before you at this

hour. Johannes von Müller, I renounce you forevermore! Germany will

accept no further services at your hands, even though you should desire

to espouse her cause again, for no one reposes confidence in the

faithless. Posterity will honor Johannes von Müller, the historian; but

they will despise Johannes von Müller, the man. I know you now

thoroughly. Your whole character is a strange error nature committed in

uniting intellect of extraordinary strength with one of the feeblest

souls. The many sublime thoughts, the ingenious and often profound

combinations which for many years have characterized your pen, were

apparently intended only for others; you yourself derive no benefit from

them. You are, and will ever be, the plaything of every accidental and

momentary impression. Always ready to acknowledge and embrace whatever

came near you, you were never able to feel either enduring hatred or

attachment. Your life is a mere capitulation. If the Evil One himself

should appear on earth in visible form, I could show him the way by

which he could league with you within twenty-four hours. The true source

of your inconsistency is the fact that, separated from all good and true

men, and surrounded by knaves and fools, you see and hear nothing but

what is ignoble and false. If you could have made up your mind to leave

Berlin, you would probably have been saved. Your real guilt consists in

your staying here; the remainder of your faults were only consequences

of it. Whether this judgment is more lenient or rigorous, more

mortifying or honorable, than that which you may expect at the hands of

the public, I will not decide. As for myself, it is conclusive."

"But it is not for me," exclaimed Müller, with grave dignity. "I forgive

you the insults you have thrown into my face; and, instead of turning

away from you in silence, and in the consciousness of right, I will

address you a last word of justification; for you know full well that I

have loved you, and my heart renounces reluctantly its dream of

friendship. You have preferred serious charges against me; you have

threatened me with the judgment of posterity; but posterity will have

better ideas of justice than you, whose eyes are blinded by partisan

feelings and political hatred. It is true, I have said on every page of

my works that men ought not to shrink from sacrificing their lives for

their country, for truth, and justice; but I am unconscious of having

done any thing to the contrary, nor have I ever been exposed to such an

alternative. Never have I changed my principles. What I desired when I

entered into the covenant with you at Frankfort, was to bring about a

firm alliance between Austria and Prussia, and thereby to transform

Germany into a strong power, interposing the two great empires. For that

purpose I have striven, acted, spoken, and written. My utterances were

not listened to, and the year 1805 destroyed all my hopes. The times

changed, but my principles did not, based as they are on the great truth

of all possible liberty, dignity, and happiness for the nations,

according to their different circumstances and peculiarities. Never,

however, did I permit personal considerations to influence me; I wrote

for Prussia in the good cause of the princes' league, and against

Prussia in the bad one of the separate peace. It is true, I was not

quiet with regard to the blunders committed: I did not encourage the mad

expectations of the war-party, and was opposed to misleading the public

by false rumors and inflammatory appeals. I desired the truth, and

proclaimed it; but the so-called German patriots think I ought to have

kept silence. When the Jews were warned with tearful eyes to submit to

the conqueror, into whose hands Providence had delivered Asia for a

certain time, they deemed it patriotic to persecute the prophet, but

Jerusalem was burned. Why did he not keep silence? Because God commanded

him to speak. That is the servility, the faithlessness, and treachery

with which I am now reproached. Hypocrites! Every crime has its motive.

Did I intend to increase my glory? Certainly not. It was self-interest,

then? Yes!--to give up the beautiful city of Berlin, the title of

councillor of war, and a salary of three thousand dollars, doubtless to

go to Paris and receive a large pension from the French government! No!

but to accept a professorship of two thousand florins in the little town

of Tübingen, and to have the honor to work hard to pay my debts! That is

the brilliant position which is asserted to have induced me to sacrifice

my nation, my liberty, and my honor. I am tired of sacrificing myself,

of toiling incessantly, and of being exposed to danger, in an ungrateful

age and for a degenerate nation, cowardly in deed, slanderous in word,

and senseless in hope. A supreme intelligence is ruling over us; one era

is past; another is approaching, and of what character it will be,

depends on our own reformation! It was Providence that sent Napoleon as

the instrument of the transition."

"I acquiesce in the dispensation of God, who, during the latter

centuries, has so ordered events as to prevent mankind from receding

from the degree of civilization they had attained. The people must take

heart, concentrate their moral and mental strength, and devote

themselves to the culture of the peaceful and the good. That is my last

confession. If you understand me, and it satisfies you, give me your

hand, and we are reconciled; if you wish to continue to misrepresent me

and condemn my course, farewell! for, in that case, our paths diverge

forever."

"Let us, then, pursue different paths!" exclaimed Gentz, contemptuously,

taking his hat and preparing to leave. "I go, but not without painful

emotion. Let your heart, in memory of the past, tell you whether I have

judged correctly. I feel what it is to lose you! As a friend of

patriotism, I pass an inexorable sentence on you; as a man, as your

former friend, I feel nothing but compassion--to hate you is beyond my

power. If God fulfil our wishes, and crown my efforts and those of my

companions, then there will be but one punishment for you, and it will

be terrible. Law and order will return, the robber and the usurper be

humbled, and Germany, flourishing under the rule of wise sovereigns,

will again be free; but you will have to stand aloof, and never be

permitted to join in the sacred hymns of our patriots! Farewell!" He

turned and hastily left the room.

Johannes von Müller gazed after him mournfully. "I have lost another

friend! Ah, I wish I could escape into the grave from all this

turmoil--these painful misunderstandings and broken friendships."

Standing silent, he placed his hand over his tearful eyes. "No," he

said; "I will not despair! The hand of Providence is everywhere; it will

support and protect me. I have lost a friend; very well, I will return

to my immortal friends--to the ancients! They never cease to instruct

and strengthen me by their exalted sentiments." He stepped to his desk,

and, sitting down, seized one of the large open volumes. "Come and

console me, Juvenal," he exclaimed, enthusiastically. "You are to me

rather a new friend, whom I have learned but lately to understand

thoroughly. O Juvenal! let the fire burning in your works warm my heart,

and invigorate me by your words, which are among the priceless treasures

of mankind!" He bent over the book and commenced reading. His face,

which, at first, had been melancholy, soon assumed a serene and almost

good-humored expression, and, forgetful of the present, he became

entirely absorbed in reading the Roman author.

All was silent in his room. The busts of Napoleon and Frederick looked

down on the illuminated but deserted street, as if they were guarding

the great historian from any evil thoughts or cowardly despondency that

perchance might disturb his thoughts. Suddenly a horseman galloped up,

and a carriage approached the house. Two gentlemen alighted and entered.

Johannes von Müller saw and heard nothing. He read and copied such

passages from old Juvenal as pleased him best.

Some one rapped violently at the door, and a deep voice called out in

French, "May I enter?"

"General Clarke!" exclaimed Johannes von Müller, almost in dismay,

starting up and rushing toward the door; but, before he reached it, the

French governor of Berlin, General Clarke, appeared, followed by a young

orderly, whose dusty uniform told that he had just left the highway and

the saddle.

"M. Johannes von Müller," exclaimed Clarke, cordially nodding, and

offering his hand to the _savant_. "See what I bring you!"

"Well," asked Müller, in surprise, "what does your excellency bring?"

"I bring you a courier whom the minister of state, M. Maret, by order of

the emperor has sent you, and who has been hunting for you all over

Germany. At Frankfort he was informed you were already at Tübingen, and

on arriving there he learned that you had not yet left Berlin, although

you had been expected for six months."

"I could not go," said Müller; "I had not yet received my dismissal; it

arrived only to-day."

"It is well it came to-day," exclaimed Clarke; "it has arrived just in

time. My friend," he added, turning to the courier, "this is M. von

Müller; deliver the letter into his hands."

The courier produced a large letter to which an official seal was

attached. "When can you let me have the reply?" he asked. "I have been

instructed to return to Paris without delay."

"The reply?" said Müller. "But I do not yet know the question?"

"My learned friend," exclaimed Clarke, laughing, "this game of questions

and answers with Napoleon resembles a thunderstorm; almost as soon as

the flash is seen, the thunder is heard. There must be no hesitation--no

delay. It is the emperor that asks. Permit the courier, in the mean

time, to retire into the anteroom. On crossing it, I noticed a sofa. You

will permit him to take a little rest until your reply is ready. I have

also commissioned your servant to fetch a glass of wine and some food.

You must take into consideration that the poor fellow has been on

horseback, day and night, and has but just left the saddle."

"Go, sir," exclaimed Müller, in an impressive voice, "take a little rest

and some food. I am sorry that I have caused you so much trouble."

"And now, sir," said Clarke, when the courier had left the room, "read

the letter from Minister Maret."

Johannes von Müller broke the seal and opened the paper with a trembling

hand. While he was reading, a blush suffused his face, and an

exclamation of joyful surprise burst from his lips. "This letter

contains extraordinary news! I am to go to Paris! I am to receive an

important office that I have never solicited!"

"Yes, sir, you are to go to Paris, and, as speedily as possible," said

Clarke, smiling. "I also received a letter from the minister by this

courier, and his excellency requests me to have you set out without

delay. It is the emperor's order, sir, and must be complied with. His

majesty himself has appointed you to the exalted position which you are

to fill at the court of his brother, the King of Westphalia. Jerome's

kingdom sprang from the soil of Germany in a night; hence it is right

that you should be his minister of public instruction. That is the

office to be intrusted to you, sir. The emperor has so ordered it. He

promised his brother a minister of the German nation."

"I, a poor book-worm, who have had more intercourse with the dead than

the living--I am to become a minister! That will not do. I lack the

necessary ability and experience."

"Nonsense, sir!" exclaimed Clarke; "when the emperor bestows an office

on a man, he gives him the understanding required for it. Hesitation is

injurious, because it only postpones your departure. Please notice that

you have not been asked whether you wish to accept or not, but that the

emperor orders your presence, and that quickly. I shall lend you my own

travelling-coach, and send my secretary with you. You will travel by way

of Mentz and Strasburg, and in five days you must be at Fontainebleau,

where the emperor is awaiting you to give you further instructions.

Well, when do you intend to set out?"

"When shall I set out? I feel as one dreaming, or as if all this were

the play of my imagination."

"You will have to admit, however, that it is at least brilliant. It is

worth while, I should think, to make a journey to Paris to receive the

appointment of cabinet-minister. I ask you again: When will you set out?

Remember, it is the emperor that calls you."

"Oh, then he has not forgotten me, the great man!" exclaimed Müller.

"After so many victories, he still remembers that interview in which I

learned to admire him. I must not be ungrateful for so gratifying a

remembrance. Only sublime and salutary ideas spring from the head of

Jove; hence, I submit in every respect to his will, and shall go to him

to receive his orders and comply with his wishes."

"Well said!" exclaimed Clarke. "You will set out to-morrow morning. I

shall prepare every thing that is necessary. But, remember, the courier

is waiting for your reply. Quick, my friend! write an answer to the

minister. But few words are required. Just say to him: 'Your excellency,

I come!' That will be sufficient."

Johannes von Müller, almost intoxicated with delight, hastened to his

desk, and wrote a few lines. "I have written what you told me," he said,

smiling, and handing the paper to the general. "I have written: 'Your

excellency, I come!'"

"Now fold it up and direct it," said Clarke.

Müller did so, and gave the sealed letter to Clarke: "Well, general,

here is the letter--I deliver it into your hands, and with it my

future."

"Mr. Minister, permit me to congratulate you," said Clarke, smiling,

and, going to the door, he gave the letter to the courier.

"Minister!" said Johannes von Müller, with a joyful air, "I am to be a

minister!" But suddenly his face became gloomy. "Alas!" he murmured,

"now my country will call me a traitor indeed, and Gentz will seem to be

right in denouncing me as an apostate, and accusing me of having

tendered my resignation to obtain a more lucrative office. Well, no

matter," he exclaimed, after a pause, "let them denounce and slander me!

My conscience acquits me, and I may be permitted, after all, to be

useful to Germany in my new position. May God in His mercy guide me!"

CHAPTER XXXV.

FINANCIAL CALAMITIES.

"Heaven be praised that you are again restored to us!" exclaimed the

queen, smiling gratefully, and offering her hand to Minister von Stein.

"Oh, believe me, such a sunbeam is welcome to us in these dreary days of

Memel."

"It is true," said Stein, sighing. "Your majesty has passed disastrous

days, and I am glad that I am able again to assist my adored queen in

her troubles."

She shook her head mournfully. "I do not believe in the possibility of

any alleviation or change. We have suffered great misfortunes, and

greater may befall us. Since the days of Jena and Auerstadt our sorrows

have increased. We are constantly experiencing some new humiliation;

even the treaty of Tilsit is not the climax of our calamities. They come

as an avalanche, and sometimes I wish to be buried beneath them."

"Then the last ray of hope for Prussia would disappear," said Stein.

"If your majesty desert us, we are irretrievably lost, for your life,

your courage, and your spirit, are the support of your husband. Without

Louisa, Prussia and her king would perish."

"Oh, it is true he loves me," cheerfully exclaimed the queen. "The king

treats me more affectionately than ever. And that is great happiness

after a wedded life of fourteen years! I will be grateful to him as long

as I live, and to Prussia for loving me. But, alas! I have no other

thanks for them than my devotion and my prayers!"

"You have still your courage and a strong hope in the future of your

country. You must animate the desponding and strengthen the weak. Let

that be your majesty's great and holy duty."

"You are right, I must not despair," responded the queen, "and I thank

you for having admonished me. Oh, it is sometimes very difficult to bear

such disasters, and I feel that my health is giving way more and more.

And tell me where am I to look for consolation? The storm is upon us,

and where shall we find a refuge? How shall we escape the thunderbolt?"

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

"Future!" exclaimed Louisa. "There is no future without independence,

and where is that to be found to-day? All are slaves and bow in the most

abject humility to a master who, in his turn, is but the slave of his

own boundless ambition and arrogance, and, alas! there is no man living

who would dare to set bounds to them! Do you know how disdainfully our

envoy, M. von Knobelsdorf, was treated? He was utterly unable to prefer

his remonstrances and prayers that Prussia might be protected from

further extortion, and that the French armies might be withdrawn.

Napoleon received him but once, and then, as it were, accidentally. The

Prince of Baden and Cambacères were in the room, and our ambassador was

no more noticed than a crumb of bread. The emperor's attendants treated

him in the same manner, and Minister Champagny remarked to Knobelsdorf

that they would see how Prussia behaved. He hoped we would comply as

much as possible with the emperor's wishes, for such a course would

alone be likely to give us relief, and that we ought to blame no one but

ourselves. Are you aware of this, and are you still hopeful and speak of

a happy future?"

"Yes, I am aware of all this, and it is precisely for this reason I

speak as I do," said Stein. "We must work to dispel the dangers to which

your majesty referred; we must erect lightning-rods to attract the

dangerous fire. If your majesty had a less vigorous soul, I should

conceal from you the calamities still threatening Prussia,

notwithstanding the treaty of Tilsit; but Queen Louisa is the genius of

Prussia, and I apply to her for assistance!"

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

"Yes," said Stein, sadly--"bad tidings! We have received the last

propositions or rather decrees of Napoleon. He imposes on Prussia

contributions amounting to one hundred and fifty millions, one-third to

be paid immediately in cash; bills will be accepted for fifty millions,

and estates are to be ceded to France for the last fifty millions. The

five fortresses of Graudenz, Kolberg, Stettin, Küstrin, and Glogau are

demanded as security for the payment. Forty thousand French soldiers are

to garrison the fortresses, ten thousand of whom will be cavalry,

uniformed, armed, and fed by Prussia, which is to furnish twelve

millions for this purpose. The estates of the king in the districts of

Magdeburg and Brandenburg, between the Elbe and the Oder, and in

Pomerania, are to be ceded and disposed of in what manner the emperor

may deem prudent. As the forty thousand men will be unable to find

sufficient room in the five fortresses, certain districts of Prussia

will have to be assigned them."

"And what remains then to the king?" exclaimed Louisa, with flaming

eyes. "What remains to us?"

"This must not be," said Stein. "We must leave nothing undone--we must

strain every nerve to prevent it. The disasters of Prussia compel us to

shrink from nothing to avert this last and terrible blow, or the country

will be hopelessly ruined. Oh, I cannot describe to you the distress,

the misery, the disgrace I witnessed in the cities through which I

passed on my journey. Your majesty knows that I was at Berlin; I saw

that Daru and Clarke behaved in the most reckless and scornful manner,

refusing with sneers to listen to any remonstrances. They seemed to be

bent on oppressing and impoverishing the country, and drinking the last

drop of its heart's blood! I beheld everywhere the same heart-rending

spectacle that I witnessed at the capital. Every city and fortress has

its systematic tormentor in some governor or commander, distinguished

for arrogance and cruelty. The distress is unutterable, and yet the

people hope for speedy deliverance. The eyes of all are turning with

tears, it is true, but with love and hope, to Memel, the heart of the

Prussian monarchy. All the hopes of your subjects are centred in the

king and the queen; to you they look for alleviation."

"Alas!" exclaimed the queen, bursting into tears, "is there, then, any

way by which we can help them? Oh, name it! What can the king--what can

I do to procure relief for Prussia?"

"The greatest burden at this moment is the presence of the French

troops, and the oppressive conduct of the public officials, who are

openly disregarding all the laws and institutions of the country, and

trampling under foot the most solemn rights. We must make every possible

effort to rid Prussia of these men. To accomplish this, we must, in the

first place, try to find means to pay the first third of the

contribution; and next, to induce Napoleon to grant us better terms for

the payment of the remainder. We must endeavor to induce him to consent

to a gradual liquidation (which would be more in accordance with our

ability), and without insisting on retaining the fortresses as security,

and oppressing us with an army of forty thousand men. In this way our

exhausted treasury would not be required to pay the additional twelve

millions for equipping the French soldiers, and the country would be

preserved from the tyranny of a hostile occupation."

"But you may depend on it, there is no way to soften that heart of

Napoleon," said the queen, sighing. "He is certainly a victorious

warrior, but he is not great in the highest sense--he is not good, for

he knows neither compassion nor love. He has marked out his path in

lines of blood, and he pursues it over the slain of the battle-field and

the ruins of once prosperous and happy nations. Napoleon has no pity,

and our complaints would but gratify his pride."

"And yet we must try to dispose him to comply with our wishes," said

Stein. "The king has resolved upon writing to-day to the Emperor

Alexander, and imploring him to instruct Count Tolstoy, his ambassador

in Paris, to remonstrate with Napoleon, and convince him of the cruelty

and injustice of his demands. Oh, the king is ready, with an energy

deserving the highest admiration, to do every thing to lessen the

burdens under which his subjects are groaning. He himself has drawn up a

financial plan to procure the first twelve millions, which we shall

offer to pay immediately. He is ready to order reductions in the budget

of the army, the opera, the ballet, and the extraordinary pensions. He

himself sets an example of self-denial and economy. He will reduce

further his household, and retain only the most indispensable servants.

Notwithstanding my protestations, he insists on refusing to accept the

civil list due him."

"Oh," exclaimed the queen, "who can call me unhappy when I am the wife

of the noblest of men? But I will also take part in these sacrifices,

and I hope the king has also refused to accept the money paid me by the

state treasury."

"No, your majesty. That should not be curtailed; I would never advise

it, and the king would not consent."

"But I insist," replied the queen, firmly. "My king and husband must

forgive me if I choose for once to have a will of my own. If the king is

ready to suffer privations, then it is my right and duty to share them."

"But your majesty ought to think of your children, who would also

suffer. Pray take into consideration that the royal family would be

reduced to a very small income, and that the most rigid economy could

not preserve you from embarrassments. A portion of the royal estates is

to be mortgaged or sold for the purpose of defraying part of the French

contribution; considering the universal distress, it is very probable

that the income to be derived from the other estates will not be paid at

all, or very tardily. The king, moreover, gave up very considerable

resources by sending the large gold dinner-set to the mint to be

converted into coin, which he did not use for himself or his household,

but paid into the state treasury. If your majesty, like the king,

refuses to accept money from the treasury, pecuniary difficulties will

arise, which will be the more painful to you, as your children will

suffer, deprived of the comforts to which they have been accustomed."

"That will produce a salutary effect," said the queen, quickly.

"Circumstances educate men, and it will certainly be good for my

children to be familiar with something more than the sunniest side of

life. If they had grown up in opulence, they would ever consider it as a

matter of course; but that there may be a change, they learn now from

the gravity of their father, and the tears of their mother. It is

especially good for the crown prince to become acquainted with

adversity--when, as I hope, happier times come, he will better

appreciate his prosperity. Let them share our adverse fortune! I know

how to protect them from real want. I have still some means left, and

the Lord will not forsake us. Do not call this stubbornness or

presumption. You know we have not refrained from every exertion to

lessen our calamities. I have even gone so far as to beg the Duke de

Rovigo, who is now governor of East Prussia, to intercede with the

emperor concerning the contributions, and to have restored to us our

estates, because they were our only possessions. Do you know the reply

the duke made? He told me that all solicitations would be in vain, and

even the intercession of Russia would be of no avail in regard to this

matter. He added that there remained to us one way of procuring money,

and he advised us to sell our plate and jewels."

"The impudent villain!" exclaimed Stein, indignantly. "How could he go

so far as to use such language toward your majesty!"

"It is true," said the queen, gently, "it pained me grievously, and

brought tears. Not that my heart cares for worldly splendor, but there

is something inexpressibly offensive in the scorn with which those men,

and particularly the Duke de Rovigo, imitate the example of their

master. But, after all, that sagacious duke was right, perhaps, for

useless jewels may be converted into money. I admit," added the queen,

with a smile, "that I had never thought of it; it would never have

occurred to me that we might get money by selling our personal property.

In fact, I ought to be grateful to M. Savary for his advice."

"Your majesty," said Stein, deeply affected, "you must not think of

selling your jewels. Better times will come. Even in these days of

adversity there will be occasions when you must show yourself to your

people at public festivities and demonstrations; they like to see their

queen adorned in a regal and becoming manner."

"My most becoming ornament will be simplicity, and the tears of

gratitude with which I shall receive those who wish to honor me."

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

"The only inheritance of our children which we are not allowed to part

with is our honor," said the queen, firmly. "We would not sell it for

all the empires of the world. That must remain to us. As for the rest,

we must learn to do without it."

"But it will greatly pain the king should your majesty sell your jewels.

It will be another humiliation."

"Oh, I can conceal it from him," exclaimed the queen. "I shall sell

those superfluous articles secretly. There will be no festivities here,

and hence it will be unnecessary for me to appear in royal attire.

Two-thirds of the money realized will pay the pensions of the king's old

servants; for I know the unsettled arrears cause my husband many a pang.

When these worthy men, who are to be deprived of the salaries which

they so richly deserve, send in their receipts, then let my husband find

out whence we have obtained the money; then, I hope, he will forgive my

having taken this step without his permission. You must assist me in

this matter, and take upon yourself the payment of the pensions and

salaries; will you promise me to do so?"

Baron von Stein endeavored to reply, but the words died on his lips; he

bowed over the hand the queen offered him, and tears fell on it as he

pressed it to his lips.

"Oh," said the queen, "was I not right in saying that I should never

lack ornaments? Are there any more precious than the sympathizing tears

of a high-minded man?"

"Pardon me," whispered Baron von Stein. "I wish I could transmute them

into diamonds, and lay them at the feet of my queen."

"And what," asked Louisa, "would they be worth compared with your noble

and faithful heart? We can do without jewelry, but not without your

services."

"Henceforth all my thought and energy shall be devoted to Prussia," said

the minister. "But your majesty must be so kind as to assist me. I must

implore you to unite with me to obtain from Napoleon less rigorous

terms, and the withdrawal of the French troops."

"Alas! what can I do? You see I am ready to do any thing to lessen the

sorrows of Prussia. Tell me, therefore, what I am to do."

"I have the honor to inform your majesty. I have drawn up a plan which

will enable Prussia to pay this burdensome debt in the course of three

years. It is true, we have to consent to large reductions, collect the

war-debt due from Russia, negotiate loans, impose on the subjects of

Prussia, besides the ordinary taxes, extraordinary contributions, and an

income-tax, and issue paper money. These onerous expedients will deliver

us at least from the present pressure by furnishing us the means of

paying the French contributions. It is only necessary to send my plan to

Paris--to deliver it safely into the hands of Napoleon, and induce him

to accept it."

"I hope you will not ask me to go to Paris for this purpose!" exclaimed

the queen, in dismay.

"No," answered Stein, "I have proposed to his majesty to intrust this

task to his brother, Prince William. The king has approved my

proposition, and sent for the prince to request him to undertake this

difficult and dangerous mission."

"He will joyfully consent to do so," exclaimed Louisa. "He loves his

king and his country, and will shrink from no sacrifice. Alas, he will

have to endure many a humiliation, and in vain; it will lead to

nothing."

"We must send powerful auxiliaries with him," said Stein, quickly. "And

now I shall state the request which I desire to make to your majesty.

You must support the prince, and help him in his difficult undertaking.

I beseech you, therefore, to give him an autograph letter to Napoleon;

condescend to entreat the emperor to be merciful and generous; depict to

him the distress of your country, the sufferings of your subjects, and

the privations of your family, and appeal to his magnanimity to desist

from his demands, and accept our plan of payment. Oh, your majesty, in

your enthusiasm and patriotic love, you are inspired with a power of

expression which even Napoleon will be unable to resist; and whatever he

would refuse to the prayers of the prince he will yield to those of

Queen Louisa!"

"Never!" she exclaimed. "Never can I subject myself to this humiliation!

Never can I stoop so low as to write to that man! Oh, you do not know

how pitilessly he insulted me; otherwise you would not dare to ask me.

Remember what I have already done, how low I have humbled myself, and

all for nothing. Can I forget those days of Tilsit, when I seemed to

live only for the purpose of heightening the conqueror's pride by my

woe-begone appearance--when I felt as if chained in a triumphal car, and

endeavored with a mournful smile to conceal my shame and misery, in

order to meet him politely whose heartless glances made my soul tremble?

How can I write to him whom I implored at Tilsit, but who carried his

cruelty so far as to make promises which he afterward renounced--who

designated as acts of gallantry the assurances he had given in reply to

the tears of my motherly heart? If I could save Prussia, and secure the

happiness of my husband and children, I would willingly suffer death,

but this renewed humiliation is beyond my strength."

The minister, folding his arms, looked with deep emotion at the excited

queen, as she rapidly walked up and down the apartment. Standing in

front of him, she said in a gentle, imploring voice: "I am sure you feel

that your request cannot possibly be granted."

"May I repeat to your majesty," said Stein, solemnly, "the words you

uttered just now with regard to Prince William?--'The prince will

joyfully consent to undertake the difficult mission. He loves his king

and his country, and will shrink from no sacrifice.'"

The queen burst into tears, and, turning away from Stein, again but

slowly paced the room, her head thrown back, her eyes turned upward with

a suppliant expression, and her lips quivering.

"She is undergoing a terrible struggle," said Stein to himself, "but she

will be victorious, for her heart is noble, and eternal love is in her

and with her." He was not mistaken. Gradually she grew calmer; her eyes

became more cheerful, and her features assumed a serene expression.

"Baron von Stein," she said, "I will do what you ask of me; I will

conquer myself. As you believe it prudent, I will write to the Emperor

Napoleon, and entreat him to spare Prussia. I desire you to draw up the

letter for me, so that it may be only necessary to copy it."

"I foresaw this, and complied with it in advance," said the minister,

taking out his memorandum-book, and presenting a sheet of paper. "Here,"

he said, "is a draught of the needed letter. If your majesty approve it,

I venture to request you to copy it speedily, for this business must not

be delayed, and if the prince accepts the propositions of the king, it

would be advisable and necessary for him to set out to-day."

The queen hastily glanced over the letter. "It is all right," she said;

"I approve all you have written. I wish to get through at once with this

painful matter, and I request you to wait until I have copied it. You

may take it with you, and lay it before the king."

She hastened to her desk, and wrote rapidly, but at times hesitating, as

though her pen refused the humiliating words. But at last she finished,

and having quickly read what she had written, she called Minister von

Stein to her side. "Here," she said, sighing, and handing the paper to

him, "take it, the sacrifice has been made. Will my people," she added,

weeping, "will my children be hereafter grateful to me for having

humbled myself for their sake? Will they ever think how painful must

have been these sacrifices? Will they remember and thank me for them in

happier days?"

"Your majesty," said Stein, enthusiastically, "never will they forget

such devotion to your country; and when our great-grandchildren talk of

these days of wretchedness, they will say: 'Prussia could be

humiliated, but she could never perish; for Louisa was her good genius,

praying, acting, and suffering for her.'"

"Well," whispered the queen, sadly, "my slumber in the grave will be

sweet." Starting suddenly, she laid her hand on her heart. "Oh," she

groaned, "how long before this troubled life of mine shall cease!--I

will tell you something, Baron von Stein. Death is not far from me, and

I feel that he comes nearer every day. There is no future for me on

earth. But God's will be done. I read the other day somewhere,

'Sufferings and afflictions are blessings when they are overcome.' Oh,

how true that is! I myself say, in the midst of my afflictions that they

are blessings! How much nearer I am to God!--how clear and true my ideas

of the immortality of the soul! Seen through these tears, the solemn

facts of the future come to me with resistless power. Adversity, if

rightly used, does instruct and bless. I do not complain therefore that

I have been called to weep." A low knocking at the door interrupted her,

and the footman announced the arrival of Prince William.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

PRINCE WILLIAM.

The queen met her husband's brother with a pleasant smile, and offered

him her hand. "I suppose, my brother, you come to bid me farewell?" she

asked.

"I come to get from my noble sister the letter that I am to deliver to

the Emperor Napoleon," said the prince, respectfully kissing the hand of

his sister-in-law.

Louisa turned her eyes toward the minister. "The king knew, then, that

you were to request me to write the letter?"

"Yes, but he forbade me to say that he deemed it necessary. It was to

depend on your majesty's unbiassed judgment whether it should be written

or not."

"You see, my sister," exclaimed the prince, "I had no doubt whatever as

to your decision."

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

"But will your majesty pardon me when I confess that I have not come

merely for the letter, and to take leave of you?" asked the prince. "I

heard from the king that Minister von Stein was with your majesty, and

as I am going to set out to-night, and my time accordingly is very

limited, I decided to have settled a little business affair with the

minister."

"It affords me pleasure," said the queen.

"And you, minister," asked the prince, bowing to the baron, "will you

grant me a brief audience to-day?"

"I shall immediately repair to the anteroom of your royal highness, and

wait until you return," said Stein, approaching the door.

"Oh, no! pray, stay here," exclaimed the queen. "I offer this room to

the prince as a _salle de conférences_, and shall retire into my

cabinet."

The prince followed the queen, who was about to withdraw, and conducted

her back to the sofa. "Pardon, my sister," he said, "I do not desire to

confer with the minister about secrets that your majesty cannot hear. I

only wish to ask a favor of his excellency, the minister of finance.

You, doubtless, need a great deal of money at the present time, while my

wife and I are spending much less than heretofore, because we are living

here in very humble style. We have made our calculations, and

ascertained that we are able to do with two-thirds of our income.

Accordingly, I request you to accede to my resolution that, until times

are better, I give up one-third, and beg you to pay this amount into the

state treasury."

"Ah, my brother," replied the queen, "you are worthy of being the

brother of the best of kings, for you vie with him in every virtue.

Prussia cannot be crushed so long as such princes stand by her side."

"And so long as she is protected by such a queen," said the prince,

kissing the offered hand of his sister-in-law. He then turned again to

the minister. "Your excellency," he said, "I am commissioned to reveal

the same resolution to you in the name of my brother. Prince Henry also

gives one-third of his income, and requests the minister of finance to

pay this amount into the state treasury. Is this verbal declaration

sufficient, or will it be necessary for us to repeat it in writing?"

"It will be necessary for your royal highness, as well as for Prince

Henry, to make a written declaration to this effect, and hand it to the

minister of state. It will then be deposited in the archives of the

royal house, and will one day be a splendid monument of your

patriotism."

"In that case, a declaration in writing being required, I request you to

be so kind as to accompany me to my house. We will settle the matter at

once, and invite Prince Henry to participate in the transaction. Can you

spare us fifteen minutes, and will you accept a seat in my carriage?"

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

"Then I beg my sister to dismiss us," said the prince, approaching the

queen. "I have many things yet to attend to, so that every minute is

precious, and, above all, I have to inform my wife of my speedy

departure. Let me beg you, my sister, to be a faithful friend of

Marianne in my absence; take my beloved wife under your protection, and,

when she is afflicted, permit her to be near you."

"We shall weep together, my brother," said the queen, deeply moved. "All

of us will miss you, and it will seem as though life had become drearier

when you are absent. But, considering your generous resolution, it does

not behoove me to complain of our fate. Joyfully, as you have done, we

shall submit to it. I entertain the firm belief that there are better

days for Prussia. Go, my brother, and assist in hastening them by word

and deed. God will protect you, and the love of your wife, and of your

brothers and sisters, will accompany you! Farewell!" She waved her hand,

and turned away to conceal her tears.

The prince withdrew in silence, followed by the minister. The queen

heard the door close after him, and, raising her arms toward heaven,

exclaimed in a fervent tone: "My God, protect Prussia! Oh, bless our

country and our people!" She stood thus praying, with uplifted arms.

After a pause, she murmured, "Now it is time to attend to my business

with the jeweller. The king is in his cabinet, and never comes at this

hour." Having rung the bell, she ordered the footman to request the

court-jeweller to call at once on the queen. Going to her dressing-room,

she took from the table a large leathern box containing all her jewelry.

She succeeded with difficulty in carrying the heavy box into the

reception-room, but she thought, smilingly: "The heavier it is, the

better." Opening the caskets, the brilliant ornaments gladdened her more

than they had ever done. The table was covered with them, and she

contemplated their beauty and value "Ah!" she exclaimed, "I did not

know that I was so rich. These precious stones will certainly bring

money enough to pay all arrears, and there will be something over for my

children."

At this moment the door of the anteroom opened, and the footman

announced Mr. Marcus, the court-jeweller. The queen ordered him to be

admitted, adding, that no one else was to be announced while he was

present. She then locked the opposite door leading into the small

corridor, and thence to the rooms of the king. In the mean time the

jeweller had entered; he remained respectfully at the door, and waited

for the queen to accost him.

"Mr. Marcus," said Louisa, gracefully acknowledging his bow, "I sent for

you to confer about my jewelry. I should like to make some changes in

it; and then, as we cannot tell whither these stormy times may drive us

or our property, I wish to make an invoice of these articles, and

ascertain their cash value. Please step to the table, and be kind enough

to tell me how much all this is worth."

Mr. Marcus approached and carefully examined the magnificent array

before him. "These are real treasures, your majesty," he said,

admiringly; "several pieces among them are exceedingly rich."

"Yes," exclaimed the queen, "I suppose one could get a great deal of

money for them?"

"Your majesty," said Mr. Marcus, shrugging his shoulders, "it needs much

money--in fact, an enormous fortune, to buy them. Part of their value

consists in their artistic setting."

"Ah, I understand; you mean to say that, if they were to be sold now,

one would not get as much as was paid for them."

"Not half as much, your majesty! The intrinsic value is very different

from the cost, which depends much on the setting."

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

"Your majesty, to do so correctly, it would be necessary for me to

examine every piece."

"Do so, Mr. Marcus. I will take my memorandum-book and enter each one,

affixing the price. Afterward we can ascertain the whole amount."

The jeweller looked in surprise at the queen; she apparently did not

notice it, but pointed with the lead-pencil, which she had in her hand,

at one of the caskets. "There is my large diamond necklace; what do you

think that is worth, sir?"

The jeweller took up the necklace, twinkling as a cluster of stars.

"These diamonds are magnificent," he said; "they are only a little

yellow, and here and there is a slight defect. I think, however, that

the stones, without the setting, are worth five thousand dollars."

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

and diamonds."

"These Turkish rubies belong to that very rare kind to be met with only

in royal treasuries," said the jeweller. "They are antique, and look

like sparkling blood. Their value is immense, your majesty; only a

connoisseur would be able to appreciate them, and it is difficult to

appraise them but by the standard value of other Turkish rubies. A

jeweller might, however, receive twice as much as I name--four thousand

dollars, according to the ordinary standard."

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

"Here," he said, "is a complete set of the most beautiful round pearls:

a diadem, a necklace, earrings, and bracelets," taking up a large case

which had not been opened, and raising its lid.

"No," said the queen, blushing, "we will not appraise these pearls. I

have inherited them from my lamented mother, and they are therefore of

priceless value to me." She extended her hand and laid the casket on the

table at her side. "Now tell me the value of the other articles; take

that necklace of Indian emeralds--"

Half an hour afterward the list was completed. "Thirty thousand

dollars," said the queen; "that, then, is the full value of my jewelry?"

"Yes, your majesty, but its cost must have been several hundred thousand

dollars. I have stated only the imperishable value of the stones; it is

impossible to appraise the setting."

"Well, just now I care only for the cash equivalent," said the queen,

quickly. "And now, sir, listen to me. When I was requested to procure

you the appointment of jeweller to the court, I made inquiries

concerning your character, and heard nothing but the most flattering

opinions. You are known as an honorable man in whom all may repose

confidence. I will prove to you the high value I attach to public

opinion, and I rely on you to keep secret what I am about to tell you."

"I swear by all that is sacred that what your majesty is gracious enough

to reveal shall remain buried in my heart as a precious gem in the

depths of the sea."

"I believe you," said the queen. "I want to sell all these diamonds,

emeralds, and rubies--every thing, except my pearls."

"Sell them!" exclaimed Mr. Marcus, starting back and turning pale. "Oh,

no, pardon me, your majesty, I have misunderstood you. My hearing is a

little impaired. I beg pardon for my mistake, and request your majesty

to be kind enough to repeat your orders."

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

sell them."

"Has it come to this," said the jeweller, sighing, "that our noble and

beautiful queen is unwilling to wear again her accustomed ornaments; and

that she considers it no longer worth while to be seen by her poor,

unhappy people in the splendor of a queen?" Sobs choked his voice, and,

unable to repress his tears, he turned away and covered his face with

his hands.

"It has come to that, sir, that the queen will also take part in the

privations of her country; that she will have no other diamonds than the

grateful tears of her loyal people, and that she believes herself

sufficiently adorned when at the side of her husband, and surrounded by

her children. I thank you for your sympathy, for they prove your honest

disposition toward me. But believe me, I need no pity. If every good man

has peace in his own heart, he will have cause to rejoice. And now, sir,

let us talk calmly about this matter."

"I am ready to receive the orders of your majesty," said Mr. Marcus,

making an effort to regain his composure, "and entreat my august queen

to forgive me that my feelings overcame me in her presence. But now I

must examine the jewels more carefully than before. Believing that they

were merely to be invoiced without reference to their sale, I stated

only their lowest value. I am sure better prices might be obtained for

them, and, besides, it remains for me to ascertain the value of the gold

setting by weighing it."

"Oh, no," said the queen, smiling. "Let us not enter into such minute

details. Besides, the purchaser ought to have something for his trouble,

and for the risk of being unable to sell again. We will, therefore, let

your first appraisement stand as it is. The question is, whether you

know of any one who is willing to pay so large a sum in cash."

The jeweller reflected a moment. "Well," he said, "I know an opportunity

to dispose of them immediately. If your majesty permits me to do so, I

will purchase them myself. The Emperor Alexander of Russia, during his

late sojourn at this place, gave me a large order in reference to a

wedding-gift for the betrothed of the Grand-duke Constantine. I have

received bills of exchange, drawn on the wealthiest banking-houses of

St. Petersburg, and the emperor has authorized me to send in at once

precious stones to the amount of fifty thousand dollars. I am able to

pay you half the appraised value to-day, and for the other half I will

give you bills, drawn on St. Petersburg bankers, payable in two weeks.

But I repeat to your majesty that I have appraised the stones at a very

low rate, and that I shall make large profits, and realize at least four

thousand dollars. Your majesty ought to permit me to add the value of

the setting."