"That is to say, she is not positively ill, but her whole life is that

of a martyr. Her heart is broken; she suffers mentally, while she is not

altogether free from physical pain. But she never complains, and, alas!

the physicians know of no remedy. There is but one for our smiling,

suffering queen, and that is the deliverance of her country!"

"Germany must and shall be delivered," exclaimed Schill,

enthusiastically. "Something must be done! We must arouse the sleepers;

we must compel them to act!"

"You are right! The nation must wake and rise. That is the opinion of

all patriots, as well as of the queen. And we are looking with trusting

hearts toward you; we hope that you will give this impetus to our

countrymen. It is out of the question to hesitate longer; we must act.

Austria is in the field; her people are exultingly marching to vanquish

the tyrant, who, with his proud armies, has again penetrated into

Germany. The report that the Archduke Charles has gained a victory is as

though it were the first herald announcing to us safety and restoration.

Hope fills every heart. As soon as Schill unfurls his banner and calls

upon his brethren to commence the holy struggle for the liberation of

the fatherland, patriotic men from all the states of Prussia and North

Germany will rally around him; the enthusiasm of the people will rush

like a torrent carrying away the king and his ministers in spite of

themselves; their hesitations, fears, and cowardice, will be overwhelmed

by the public determination. The hope of the queen is in Schill's heroic

example; it is the hope of Gneisenau, Blücher, and Scharnhorst; it is

the hope of all!"

"And it shall be fulfilled," exclaimed Schill. "Brutus does not sleep.

He is awake, and ready for action. I swear it by this precious gift of

my queen!" He drew the memorandum-book from his bosom. Solemnly laying

his hand on it, and raising his eyes toward heaven, he said: "I swear

that I will draw my sword now for the fight of liberty--that I will not

sheath it until this sacred cause has been carried to a glorious

conclusion, unless forbidden by death longer to serve my queen and

country!" He pressed the book against his lips, and then opening it read

again Louisa's words. As he turned over the leaves, a scrap of paper

fell upon the floor. Picking it up, he saw that it contained a single

line written in the same small handwriting: "Der König schwankt; Schill,

ziehen sie mit Gott!"[46] "Yes, Heaven is on our side, to fight for

Germany and her noble queen!" exclaimed Schill. "I will depart

to-morrow!"

[Footnote 46: "The king hesitates; Schill, march with God!"]

CHAPTER XLVII.

SCHILL TAKES THE FIELD.

The following afternoon (March 28, 1809) Major Ferdinand von Schill

proceeded with his regiment through the streets of Berlin to the Halle

gate. The people saluted him everywhere with loud cheers and waving of

hats.

Schill thanked them more gravely than he had hitherto done, and marched

his soldiers out of the gate. No one was surprised at this; all supposed

that he only intended to-day, as he had often done, to drill his troops

and to encamp near the city. His adjutants, Bärsch and Lützow, were,

however, aware of his plans, and had secretly made preparations to carry

them into effect.

The regiment took the road to Potsdam. Major von Schill and his two

adjutants rode at its head, and patriotic songs from the soldiers

resounded along their march. About half-way between Berlin and Potsdam,

near the village of Steglitz, the major stopped his horse, and, with a

wave of his sword, ordered the regiment to halt; then to move from the

road into the adjoining field, and form in square. The command was

obeyed in a few minutes; and Major von Schill, resting in the centre on

his chestnut charger, surveyed his men with evident pleasure.

All eyes were turned toward him--all hearts were beating with affection

for that man of indomitable courage towering above them. Addressing

them, his sonorous voice rang over the welkin as the first notes of a

trumpet summoning to the field of blood.

"Soldiers," he said, "comrades! the moment has come to fight the enemy,

against whom all our souls are filled with hatred--the despoiler of

thrones, who has plunged our fatherland into such distress; who has

trampled under foot all the rights of man; to whom no treaty, no peace

is sacred, and who is only waiting for an opportunity utterly to destroy

the constitution of our country. The perfidious oppressor thus treated

Spain, after she had made numerous sacrifices to him in order to

preserve peace. He intends to degrade Prussia in the same manner, and

not to rest until he has dethroned our beloved king and prostrated the

illustrious dynasty of the Hohenzollerns. But never shall he succeed in

carrying out so nefarious a plan! Austria, Germany, every patriotic

heart is rising against him, and we Prussians cannot remain behind. It

is a sacred obligation to fight for the fatherland, for our beloved

king, for the queen whom we all worship, a precious token from whom I am

now holding in my hand, and for whom we are ready at any hour to die!"

While uttering these words, Schill waved the embroidered

memorandum-book, which flashed in the sunbeams as a trophy and pledge of

victory.

Shouts burst from the soldiers. "Hurrah!" they cried, "long live the

king and the queen! long live Major von Schill!"

"Boys," exclaimed Schill, "will you follow me, and fight for Germany and

our king?"

"Yes, we will, we will!" shouted the hussars, drawing their sabres and

waving them over their heads.

"Will you swear to stand by your commander to the last extremity?"

"We swear to stand by you to the last!" was the enthusiastic answer,

while the soldiers looked exultantly at each other, and exchanged

congratulations at the opening of the campaign. But no one had thought

of future dangers or the necessities of a soldier's life. They had

nothing but their uniforms; leaving in Berlin all their money and

clothing, and, unaware of this sudden movement, they had not even taken

leave of their parents, wives, and children. Every thing was forgotten

in their partiotism, so soon and unexpectedly tested--in their glowing

desire to save their country, and gain a name on the field of honor.

The march was continued to Potsdam. There they rested over night, and

the servants of the officers joined them in the morning, bringing from

the governor of Berlin passports for Schill. The brave little regiment

soon after left for an assault on the fortress of Wittenberg. It was not

taken, but the commander of Wittenberg concluded an armistice with

Schill, and permitted him and his soldiers, with their drums beating, to

march under the cannon of the fortress, and to pass the bridge built at

that place over the Elbe.

On the 2nd of May the regiment reached Dessau. The duke had fled, but the

inhabitants received the Prussian hussars in the most ardent manner, and

hailed Schill as the hero who would free the people from the yoke under

which they were groaning.

The expedition was no longer a secret. The joyful news spread: "Schill

has taken the field against Napoleon; he has called the Germans to arms,

and they will rally around his banner!" He himself believed in success,

firmly convinced that it was only necessary for him to issue a

proclamation, and the people would rise _en masse_. He resolved to do so

from his headquarters at Dessau. No sooner had he reached that city than

he hurriedly prepared his call "To the Germans!" The ink was not yet

dry, when he took the paper, and, accompanied by his adjutants, went to

the house of M. Hormuth, printer to the court, and asked to see him. The

printer soon made his appearance, and anxiously asked Schill his

business.

"You will please print this proclamation, sir," said Schill, handing him

the paper; "it must be ready in an hour."

"Major," said Hormuth, glancing despairingly at the scarcely legible

handwriting, "I cannot print it, for I am unable to read it."

"Oh, I will read it to you," exclaimed Schill, and he commenced:

"To THE GERMANS!--Brethren, groaning under the yoke of a foreign nation!

the moment has arrived when you are able to break your chains, and to

regain the constitution under which you have lived in happiness and

prosperity for centuries, until the boundless ambition of a conqueror

brought incalculable calamities upon our country. Rise! Be men! Follow

me, and we shall again be what we were! Ring the tocsin! Let this signal

fan the flame of patriotism in your hearts, and be the death-knell of

your oppressors! Take up arms! Scythes and pikes may take the place of

muskets. They will soon be replaced by English weapons already arrived.

Wielded by strong arms, even the peaceful scythe becomes fatal. Let

every one arm himself, and share the glory of the liberators of the

fatherland, fighting not only for himself but for the safety and

happiness of future generations! He who is cowardly enough to disobey

this call, will be consigned to contempt and infamy. No noble German

girl will ever bestow her hand upon such a traitor. Courage! God is with

us and our just cause. Let the old men pray for us! The armies of

Austria are advancing victoriously, notwithstanding the boasts of the

French; the brave Tyrolese have already broken their chains; the

courageous Hessians have risen, and I am hastening to you at the head of

well-tried and skilful soldiers. The just cause will soon conquer, and

the ancient glory of our country will be restored. To arms! to arms!

SCHILL."

"Now, sir," said Schill, "I suppose you will be able to read my

handwriting and to print it?"

"Now that I know the contents," said M. Hormuth, shaking his head, "I

know also that he who prints this proclamation endangers his life, and

that he may lose it just as soon as Palm. Sir, I have a wife and

children; I am happy with my family; hence life is dear to me, and I

should not like to lose it like poor Palm. He did much less than you ask

me to do. He only circulated a pamphlet hostile to the French, but I am

to print a proclamation calling upon all Germans to rise in arms against

the Emperor of the French. Major, I risk my life by complying with your

order."

"What!" exclaimed Schill, angrily; "you are a German, and refuse to

serve the holy cause of your country? You refuse to print this

proclamation?"

"No, I will print it," said M. Hormuth, slowly; "I will print it, but

only on one condition."

"Well, and that condition is--"

"That you, major, be kind enough to hold a pistol to my breast and

threaten to shoot me, in case I refuse. You must do so in the presence

of my compositors, and give me a written certificate that I yielded only

to violence."

"M. Hormuth, you are a very prudent man, and it will afford me great

pleasure to fulfil your wishes," said Schill, smilingly, drawing his

pistol and aiming at the printer.

"Pray, major, do not cock it, for the pistol might go off," said

Hormuth, anxiously. "Now be kind enough to hold it to my breast, and

shout in a loud and menacing voice that you will shoot me like a dog if

I refuse to print this paper. Distribute also some insulting

epithets--call me a coward, a renegade, any thing you can think of, and

as loud and threatening as you can."

"Very well, I will do all that," said Schill, laughing, and his

adjutants, as well as M. Hormuth himself, joined in the sport.

"Now, let us go to work," said Schill.

"Will you print this proclamation, you miserable coward? Why, you have

not pluck enough to be a German! I ask you, for the last time, will you

print the proclamation?"

"Sir, have mercy upon me!" wailed M. Hormuth, in a terrified tone. "I

cannot print it. It is impossible, sir; impossible!"

"You villain, I will kill you on the spot if you dare resist me," cried

Schill. "I--"

"My compositors will be here presently," said M. Hormuth. "Please go on

in the same strain."

"I will shoot you like a dog if you do not obey!"

"Help! help! oh, major, have mercy!"

The doors opened, and there appeared at one door the compositors and

pressmen; at the other, Madame Hormuth with her children.

"Will you print my proclamation, you infamous scoundrel?" shouted

Schill. "Say no, and I will put a bullet through your cowardly heart!"

"Sir, I cannot; I--"

"Husband, I beseech you!" cried Madame Hormuth, rushing toward him.

"Husband, consider what you are doing; think of your children, think of

me, and comply with the wishes of the major."

"No! I will die rather than print so seditious a paper!"

"Very well, then, you shall die," said Schill. "You refuse to print, and

I will assuredly shoot you."

"M. Hormuth, you may as well yield," said the compositors.

"It is prudent to submit to necessity. Besides, we are somewhat

interested, for your death would throw us out of work."

"I will yield," said M. Hormuth, sighing. "Take away your pistol, major.

I will print your proclamation; but be so good as to certify that I

consent only on account of your threats and violence. My workmen will

sign the certificate as witnesses, will you not?"

"Yes, certainly, we will cheerfully witness what is true."

"Very well," said M. Hormuth. "Now quick, boys; go to work! Here is the

manuscript. Let four compositors take it. Divide the copy into four

parts; the composition must be done in fifteen minutes, and the printing

in two hours. How many copies do you want, major?"

"Ten thousand."

"Very well, ten thousand copies to be done in two hours. We must

remember my life is at stake; for I suppose you will shoot me, major, if

we should disappoint you?"

"You may be sure of that. Now give me the pen and ink that I may draw up

that certificate for you."

The ten thousand printed copies arrived exactly two hours afterward at

the headquarters of Major von Schill, and M. Hormuth, who refused to

take any payment for them, received in return a certificate that he had

been forcibly compelled to print them.

The brave regiment left Dessau on the following day, still in the joyful

hope that the German people would rise, and that a host of warriors

would respond to the call for the deliverance of the fatherland. But

alas! this hope was not to be fulfilled. The population of the cities

and villages received Schill's hussars and their heroic chieftain in

the most gratifying manner. His proclamation was read everywhere with

unbounded pleasure, but no one dared to follow him; no scythes or pikes

were to be seen in the array of this little band of patriots. There was

but one glad day for Schill; that was on the 12th of May, when

Lieutenant von Quistorp, from Berlin, joined him with a hundred and

sixty men, who had left their colors and came with him to reënforce

"brave Schill, the liberator of Germany."

But Quistorp brought at the same time bad news. The report of a victory

of the Austrians had proved unfounded. The Archduke Charles had obtained

no advantages; on the contrary, after a succession of desperate

engagements, he was beaten on the 23rd of April at Ratisbon, and escaped

with the remnant of his army into the Böhmerwald. The Emperor Napoleon

had advanced with his victorious forces in the direct road to Vienna.

"If Napoleon takes Vienna," said Schill to himself, "then we shall all

perish! But we will still hope and trust; the fortune of war may turn

yet. The Emperor of Austria is still in Vienna, and the citizens have

sworn to be buried under the ruins of their city rather than open its

gates again to the enemy. Let us hope, therefore, and fight." Turning to

Quistorp, he continued: "Every thing may yet turn out well. My

proclamation may find an echo in the hearts of my Prussian comrades, and

they may unite with us. To-day, you, Lieutenant von Quistorp, have

arrived with one hundred and sixty men; to-morrow another friend may

join us with several thousand. Before long we shall have a considerable

army, and this will inspire those still hesitating, and make the timid

bold. The larger our force, the firmer will be the confidence of the

king, and finally he will freely and openly order all the regiments to

join us and commence the struggle."

"Do not hope in the king, major," said Lieutenant von Quistorp, sadly.

"The failure of Dörnberg's rising, the defeat of the Archduke Charles,

and the new victories of Napoleon, have made him more resolute than

ever; he is afraid of Napoleon's anger and vengeance, and, more

indisposed than ever to incur them, he has publicly and solemnly

repudiated your bold movement."

"What has the king done?" exclaimed Schill, turning pale; "what do you

know?"

"I know that the king has also issued a proclamation, in which he says

that he cannot find words sufficiently forcible to express his

disapproval of your illegal and criminal conduct; he calls upon the

army not to be seduced by your example, and orders you, and all with

you, to be tried by a court-martial."

"That is impossible!" cried Schill, in great excitement; "the king

cannot forsake me in so shameful a manner! You have been misinformed,

Quistorp; certain persons have tried to deter you from joining me by

false reports."

"No," said Quistorp, "you are mistaken. I was already on the march to

Arneburg, when, a few miles from here, a courier, under instructions

from General Chassot, overtook me. In order to warn me, the general sent

me the proclamation of the king, and ordered me to face about

immediately and return to my regiment. He added that this was the last

order he would issue, for he, as well as General Lestocq, governor of

Berlin, had been called, by order of the king, to Königsberg, where both

of them were to be tried by a military commission. Here are the papers,

major."

Schill glanced over them, and, while reading, his hands trembled. "This

is a terrible blow," he said, sighing. "The king proscribes me, and

brands me as a traitor and deserter. It is all in vain! Germany is

asleep, and our voice will not awaken her; Germany lies in the dust

before the French tyrant, and the King of Prussia will punish as

traitors those who act courageously! Oh, my country, thou art lost, for

thy own princes betray thee!"

He sank despairingly on a chair, and hid his face with his hands. In

this attitude he remained, groaning piteously, a prey to his anguish.

The adjutants entered the room, but Schill did not notice them. Absorbed

in his reflections and forebodings, his mind, as it were, had passed

from the contemplation of the present, and beheld nothing but the awful

future.

The three young officers, Lützow, Quistorp, and Bärsch, well known for

their intrepidity, stood sad and dejected before their brave major.

Suddenly rising from his chair, he said: "I thank you, Lieutenant von

Quistorp, for having joined me with your faithful men. Germany will see

at least that there are still brave men who do not forsake their

country, and if we sacrifice our lives for her, she will at least

engrave our names on the tablets of her martyrs. We cannot retrace our

steps, my friends; we must advance, though death stare us in the face.

This very night we leave Arneburg, and continue our march. We may still

succeed in what Dörnberg and Charles have been unable to accomplish. We

shall appeal again to the patriotism of the Germans. Perhaps their

hearts will practically respond--they may hear our voice and follow us.

But if fortune have decided against us, if we succumb without delivering

our country, very well! 'An end with terror is better than terror

without end!' Before us is honor, and at the worst, a glorious death;

behind us, contumely and disgrace. Therefore, forward!"

CHAPTER XLVIII.

SCHILL'S DEATH.

Schill was sitting, sad and deserted, at his lonely quarters in Rostock,

where, after many adventures, he arrived on the 20th of May. He had

succeeded in nothing; fortune had not once been favorable to him. He had

intended to turn toward Magdeburg, in hope that its garrison of

Westphalian troops would joyously open the gates of the fortress, and

declare against King Jerome, who had been forced upon them. But, at a

distance of a German mile from the city the columns of the enemy had met

him, and an engagement had taken place at Dodendorf. It was in vain that

Schill had sent a flag of truce to his German brethren to request them

to join him, imploring them not to betray the fatherland for the sake of

a French king.

The Westphalians shot the bearer of the flag of truce, and a murderous

fire was their only reply. Now began the desperate struggle of brethren

against brethren--of Germans against Germans!

Schill was victorious in this battle. He mortally wounded the French

commander of the Westphalians, Colonel Vautier; his hussars fought like

lions and dispersed the enemy; a hundred and sixty prisoners, several

stands of colors, and a large number of small-arms, were the trophies of

this brilliant affair. But he was unable to derive any benefit from the

Dodendorf victory; fearing lest a larger corps should leave Magdeburg

and attack him, he retreated, overwhelmed with grief, for he at last

understood that the German soldiers were deaf to his appeals, and that

the Westphalians, faithful to their French king, refused to desert him.

Nor had Schill's second victory, the occupation of Dönritz, been

advantageous to him. Moreover, dissensions had arisen among the

officers themselves; the regiment, so enthusiastic at first, commenced

gradually to lose faith in his ability to succeed in his bold

enterprise; the officers insisted on being consulted as to future

operations. They refused to yield obedience, and demanded that he should

listen to their advice and remonstrances. But resistance rendered him

only more determined, and in his obstinacy he frequently rejected

prudent counsel, that he might accomplish his own plans. His mind was

confused by disappointment, and at length by despair. He was, in fact,

unequal to the dangers surrounding him.

Schill was sitting, sad and deserted, at his lonely quarters in Rostock,

absorbed in discouraging thoughts, and sighing at the frustration of his

hopes. In his hand he held the memorandum-book the queen had presented

to him, and read again and again the words she had written: "To brave

Major von Schill." Suddenly the door behind him opened, and Lieutenant

von Lützow, with his uniform covered with dust, entered the room.

Schill slowly turned his head. "Well, Lützow, have you returned?" he

asked. "Were you at Doberan? Did you see the duke?"

"Yes, I was at Doberan."

"And what news do you bring? Bad news, of course! Did you see the Duke

of Mecklenburg?"

"No, the duke had given orders to admit neither you nor any of your

delegates. He says he will have nothing to do with insurgents and

rebels."

"Of course," exclaimed Schill, laughing scornfully, "he is a German

prince, and, therefore, cannot adhere to the cause of Germany, but must

side with France! Oh, I ought to have known it before. Well, it is all

right. What other news do you bring, Lützow?"

"Here, major, is a paper issued by King Jerome of Westphalia. His

majesty does you the honor to call you in this proclamation a chief of

robbers, a pirate, and a deserter, and commands the military and civil

authorities to hunt you down. He also offers a reward of ten thousand

francs to him who will bring you dead or alive to Cassel."

"Is that so?" exclaimed Schill, laughing. "Well, M. Jerome attaches a

tolerably high value to my head. I am sorry that I am unable to return

the compliment. I shall reply this very day to Jerome's proclamation by

issuing one to the Germans, and by promising a reward of five dollars

for his delivery, living or dead.--What else, lieutenant?"

"The Emperor Napoleon has also issued an edict against Schill and his

men. He says in this document: 'A certain Schill, a sort of highway

robber, who committed crime upon crime during the last campaign in

Prussia, and was rewarded with a captaincy, has deserted with his whole

regiment from Berlin, marched to Wittenberg, and surrounded that place.

General Lestocq, governor of Berlin, has declared Schill a deserter, and

the King of Prussia has given orders to arrest him wherever he can be

found, and to put the insurgent on trial before a court-martial.'"

"Yes," murmured Schill, musingly, "the German patriot has become an

insurgent, and is to be punished for what he attempted in the salvation

of his country. It was quite unnecessary for the emperor to abuse and

revile him who boldly opposed his tyranny; the King of Prussia and the

governor of Berlin had already done so. And what else does Napoleon

say?"

"He orders a corps of observation to be formed on the Elbe, to be

commanded by the marshal, Duke of Valmy, and to be sixty thousand

strong."

"Sixty thousand men!" exclaimed Schill. "Ah! it seems M. Napoleon has a

pretty good opinion of 'that deserter Schill,' inasmuch as he considers

him dangerous enough to oppose to him an army of sixty thousand men.

Thank you, M. Bonaparte, thank you for this acknowledgment. It is a

delightful balm to the tortured heart of the poor Prussian deserter; it

restores his courage. Let us advance undauntedly--we may conquer yet.

The Germans may awake and rally round the standard of liberty!"

"Alas, Schill, I am afraid your hopes are in vain," said Lützow, sadly.

"I am not yet done with my bad news."

"Not yet?" asked Schill, mournfully. "Proceed!"

"Vienna has fallen!"

"Vienna fallen!" cried Schill, in dismay. "Is that really true?"

"It is. The Emperor Francis and his family have fled to Hungary, and the

Emperor of the French has again made his triumphant entry."

"And the Viennese did not even try to defend their city?"

"They did try, but soon laid down their arms and submitted quietly to

the conqueror. Napoleon has established his headquarters at Schönbrunn,

and issued a proclamation to the Austrians. He calls upon them to be

faithful and obedient to him, and disbands the militia of Vienna. A

general amnesty is granted to those who surrender their arms."

"A general amnesty," exclaimed Schill, "for the crime they committed in

complying with the request of their sovereign to take up arms and defend

their country! And what is to be done with those who do not surrender?"

"The houses of both officers and privates of the militia who do not

return home within a specified time, are to be burned down, their

property confiscated, and themselves tried and punished as rebels."

"Oh," exclaimed Schill, raising his hands, "is there still justice in

heaven, or is it also asleep! Is there no ear for our wails, no

compassion for our disgrace? What is natural, grows unnatural; honor

becomes dishonor; patriotism, rebellion--and Heaven seems to permit it!"

"Yes," said Lützow, with a melancholy smile. "What Ovid said of Cato now

becomes true of you: 'The victorious cause pleases the gods, but the

vanquished one pleases you!'"

"Yes," murmured Schill, "the vanquished cause pleased Cato! and it shall

also please Schill as long as he breathes. It shall please him though

his king call him a deserter, and a court-martial pass sentence of death

upon him. 'The people of Nuremberg hang none but those they have in

custody,' is a proverb often repeated, and I think the people of

Königsberg will not shoot a man they cannot catch! I would rather be

trampled to death by the horses of the enemy, than pierced by the

bullets of my German brethren. The matter is settled, Lützow; let us

continue the struggle."

"Continue the struggle?" asked Lützow. "I beseech you, take my advice

and do not follow the dictates of courage alone; listen also to those of

prudence. It will be utterly useless, Schill; we should husband our

strength for better times. We are threatened either by military force,

or the rigor of the law. Prussia has drawn up a corps on her frontier to

repulse us, if need be, should we come armed; and, if unarmed, she would

have us tried by a court-martial. Napoleon's corps of observation is

stationed on the boundaries of Saxony and Westphalia, and even the King

of Denmark has ordered General von Ewald to march against us."

"The stag has been surrounded, but not yet captured," exclaimed Schill.

"There is still a place where he may escape. The King of Sweden has not

yet a corps in the field against us, and Stralsund is occupied only by a

garrison of scarcely three hundred men, commanded by General Candras.

Let us march thither and surprise the fortress. When Stralsund is ours,

we are on the sea-shore, and in communication with the British; we have

ships in the harbor, on which, if every thing else should fail, we could

find an asylum, and hasten to England."

"But suppose we should not take Stralsund?" asked Lützow. "How could we

escape? I beseech you, listen to reason, consider our hopeless

situation; save yourself--save the poor soldiers who have reposed

confidence and hope in you! Let us embark for England. There are

well-nigh thirty ships in the harbor of Warnemünde; if they refuse to

take us on board, we can compel them."

"No," exclaimed Schill, vehemently. "We shall do just as I said--march

to Stralsund and take the fortress. But Lieutenant Bärsch is to seize

twenty of the ships at Warnemünde and embark on them our baggage, the

sick, and the military chest, and convey them to the island of Rügen. We

start to-morrow and take Stralsund. That is my plan, and it must be

accomplished!"

And Schill's plan was accomplished. He marched his hussars to Stralsund,

and for a moment fortune smiled on him. The French commander, General

Candras, preferred to meet the enemy in the open field instead of

awaiting him behind the half-decayed fortifications. He marched against

Schill with the whole garrison and a battery of light artillery; but the

Prussian hussars, with a shout attacked the enemy, and dispersed them,

took six hundred prisoners, and made their triumphant entry into

Stralsund.

"And here let us conquer or die," said Schill to his officers, who were

standing around him. "Friends, brethren! the day of success is at hand,

and Stralsund is the first taken. Let us remain here; throw up

intrenchments against the enemy, and wait for the succor which England

has so often promised."

"Let us not wait for this succor," said one of the officers; "let us

meet it."

"Every hour of delay increases the danger," exclaimed another. "If we do

not now embrace the opportunity--if we do not start without delay, and

meet the English squadron in the open sea, or hasten to the Swedish

shore, we must inevitably perish."

"It would be foolhardiness to remain here for the enemy's superior force

to attack us," said a third. "To struggle against such odds is folly,

and prudent men submit to the decrees of fortune, instead of resisting

them in a spirit of childish petulance."

"Let us husband our resources for a future day," said a fourth. "It will

come when Germany, which is repudiating us now, will stand in need of

our assistance, and call us to her side. Let us preserve ourselves for

more favorable prospects, and a greater probability of success."

Schill looked angrily on his officers. "Is there no one who will raise

his voice against these opinions?" he asked. "Is there no one who will

reply to the timid and desponding, in the name of honor, courage, and

patriotism?"

All were silent; a murmur of indignation was the only reply. "Well,

then," exclaimed Schill, ardently, "I will myself speak against you all;

I will tell you that it is cowardly to flee from danger, and to think of

defeat instead of victory; that it is perfidious to desert our country

when in danger, to save one's own miserable life. Accursed be he who

thinks of flight and of forsaking the great cause which we are serving!

We must hold Stralsund to the last man. We must make it a German

Saragossa, and lie dead beneath the ruins of the city rather than

surrender. Let us repair the fortifications, throw up new earthworks,

and await the enemy behind the intrenchments. This is my resolution; I

will not suffer contradiction, but treat as rebels and mutineers those

who dare to act contrary to my orders! The soldiers obey me, and I am

their commander. But such of the officers as do not wish to participate

longer in the struggle; who, instead of remaining true to their duty,

prefer to save their lives by flight, are at liberty to do so. I will

not prevent them from making their escape; they may embark on one of the

ships in the harbor, and flee whither they desire. Let them remember,

however, that they will leave their dishonor here, and will not

participate in the glory which posterity may grant as the only

conquerors' crown to poor Schill and his faithful men. Let such as

desire to flee step forth and receive their discharge." A long pause

ensued. No one advanced.

"We agreed to serve under the leadership of Major von Schill," at last

said the oldest officer, in a grave, solemn voice; "we have sworn to

fight under him against the enemies of our country, to remain with him

to the last, and to obey his orders. We shall fulfil our oath, and not

faithlessly desert the banner which we have hitherto followed. Let Major

von Schill consider, however, that he is responsible for the lives of

all those who have united their destiny with his own, and that his

conscience, God, and posterity, will judge him, if instead of preserving

them he should lead them to an inglorious death or captivity. If Major

von Schill is unwilling to listen to prudence--if he refuses to embark

and escape with us, we will all remain, and, with him, await our fate.

Speak, then, major, will you go with us or remain?"

"I will remain," exclaimed Schill, energetically. "I will await the

enemy; I will conquer or die on German soil. Oh, friends, comrades, do

not speak to me of flight or submission; Schill does not flee, Schill

does not submit! I have tried to arouse my country; I have stretched out

my hand toward my countrymen, and said to them, 'I will assist you in

shaking the sleep from your half-closed eyes. Rise! and I will lead you

in the path of liberty and honor. My arm is strong, and my sword is

sharp; unite with me, and let us expel the tyrant!' But Germany did not

listen to my appeal; she is still sleeping too soundly, and God did not

decree that I should accomplish my task. Perhaps Providence may intend

that you and I shall strengthen the cause of liberty by shedding our

blood--our death will awaken the sleepers, that they may avenge us. The

Germans entertain great admiration for the dead. It is only toward the

living that they are cold and reserved. Brethren, let us die for liberty

if we cannot live for it. Let us remain united in life and death!"

"Yes, united in life and death!" exclaimed all the officers, and they

thronged around Schill to shake hands with him, and to assure him of

their fidelity.

Four days of repose and peace followed.--Schill profited by them to

repair the decayed intrenchments and fortifications, and made all

necessary preparations for an obstinate defence against the approaching

enemy.

On the 31st of May, early in the morning, while the major was reviewing

his troops in the market-place, wild shouts were heard in the streets.

They drew nearer and nearer. Soldiers were rushing toward Schill, and

behind them, at some distance, others in red uniforms became visible.

A flash of joy kindled the patriot's face. "The English," he exclaimed,

in a loud voice, "see their red coats! The English have landed, and are

coming to our assistance!"

"The English are coming!" echoed the exultant soldiers.

"No, no," gasped one of the guards, who had just reached the

market-place, "the Dutch are coming--it is the enemy! They surprised us

at the Knieper gate, dispersed our infantry, and penetrated into the

city. See! their assaulting columns are already advancing! Let every one

escape as he can!"

"It is the enemy!" exclaimed Schill, vaulting on his horse.

"Come, brethren, let us meet them. The cavalry will remain here as our

reserve. The other troops will follow me to the Triebseer gate!" And he

galloped into the narrow street leading to the gate, followed by his

men. He was a picture of heroism as he rode at the head of his band,

with his hair streaming in the wind, and his countenance beaming with

courage. Turning with a smile to Lieutenant Alvensleben, who was riding

at his side, "Oh," he said, "it seems to me as though a heavy load had

been removed from my breast, and I could breathe freely again. The

decisive struggle is at hand, and burdensome life will be resigned with

joy. I shall die, my friend, die. Hurrah! forward! liberty is beckoning

to me, glorious liberty!"

He spurred his horse and galloped more rapidly, Alvensleben remaining at

his side.

"Friend," exclaimed Schill, further on, "when I am no more, defend me

against my enemies, and greet my friends! Take my last oath of fealty to

the queen, and my last love-greeting to Germany, when she is free.

Hurrah! there comes the enemy! Let us sing an inspiring song!" And he

sang in a loud voice:

"Tod du süsser, für das Vaterland!

Süsser als der Brautgruss, als das Lallen

Auf dem Mutterschooss des ersten Kindes,

Sei mir willkommen!"

"_Willkommen_!" he cried again, and galloped more rapidly past the Dutch

soldiers, who were just emerging from a side-street and cut him off from

Alvensleben and his other followers. The enemy, commanded by the Dutch

General Carteret, was also approaching from the opposite street. The

patriot galloped into the midst of the staff--his sabre flashed, and the

general fell from his horse as if struck by lightning. Schill turned

when he was unable to penetrate through this body of men obstructing the

street. But another battalion had already formed behind him and cut him

hopelessly off from assistance. His own men tried to reach him. Shouts,

oaths, cries of defiance and fury, with the groans of the dying, rent

the air.

Schill saw that he was lost, that he was no longer able to save himself,

his faithful men, or his fatherland! There was no escape for him. Death

was howling around him on all sides, panting for its prey. Suddenly the

column of the enemy opened; he saw the gap, and spurred his horse with a

desperate effort, making him leap into the midst of the enemy. The Dutch

soldiers fell back in dismay, and Schill galloped by them into Fähr

Street. Forward, as on the wings of a tempest, he hastened to the

assistance of his men. A bullet hissed past him--another shot was fired.

He wavered in the saddle; the bullet had struck him! A detachment of

Dutch soldiers were just coming up the street. The man heading them saw

the pale Prussian officer, who was scarcely able to retain his seat.

"It is Schill! it is Schill!" he cried out, rushing forward.

"Hurrah, it is Schill!" shouted the others, aiming their muskets at him.

Three shots were fired. The brave Prussian still kept the saddle, but

his hand dropped the bridle, and the horse stood still. The Dutch

chasseurs surrounded and cut him. He lay helpless on the ground--that

herculean man. He was still alive; his eyes, that had so beamed with

courage, cast their last glance toward heaven, and his lips, that smiled

so sweetly, murmured, "_Tod du süsser für das Vaterland_!" A powerful

sabre-stroke at last ended his life. His enemies despoiled his body,

tearing off his decorations, and robbing him of a small crown of pearls

and the memorandum-book, both gifts of the queen whom he loved so well,

and for whom he fought so bravely. They seized the corpse and dragged it

along the street in order to present it to their general. His hands were

besmeared with mire; his uniform torn by the brutal grasp of the

conquerors, and his gory head trailed along the pavement. He was at last

deposited in the vestibule of the city hall, where the meat-merchants of

Stralsund trade on market days.

A butcher's bench was the catafalque of unfortunate Ferdinand von

Schill, the martyr of German liberty! There he lay, a horrible

spectacle, with broken limbs, a face deformed by bruises and

sabre-gashes, and his eyes glaring to heaven as if in accusation of the

ignominy of his death and the brutality of his enemies.

CHAPTER XLIX.

THE PARADE AT SCHÖNBRUNN.

Napoleon's great victory at Wagram had put an end to the war with

Austria, and destroyed only too speedily the hopes which the battle of

Aspern or Esslingen had awakened in the hearts of the Germans.

The Archduke Charles had gained at Aspern half a victory; and the fact

that the Austrians had not been beaten--that Napoleon had been compelled

to fall back with his army and to take refuge on the island of Lobau,

was regarded as a victory, which was announced in the most boastful

manner. But if it was a victory, the Austrians did not know how to

profit by it. Instead of uniting their forces and attacking Lobau, where

the French army was encamped, huddled together, and exhausted by the

long and murderous struggle--where the French grenadiers were weeping

over the death of their brave leader, Marshal Lannes, Duke of

Montebello--where the wounded and defeated were cursing for the first

time the emperor's insatiable thirst for conquest--instead of

surrounding the French army, or opening a cannonade upon them, the

Archduke Charles fell farther back from the right bank of the Danube,

and allowed his exhausted troops to rest and recover from the fatigue of

the terrible battle that had lasted two days. While the Austrians were

dressing their wounds, the French profited by the delay, and built new

bridges, procured barges, left the island that might have been a

graveyard for them, and reorganized their shattered forces.

On the 6th of July, Napoleon took revenge at Wagram for the two days of

Aspern, and wrested again from the Archduke Charles the laurels won at

the latter place. Germany was in ecstasies after the battle of Aspern,

but she bowed her head mournfully after that of Wagram.

Napoleon was again the master of Germany; and Austria, like the rest of

the country, had to bow humbly to his imperious will. The "first soldier

of Aspern," brave Prince John of Lichtenstein, was sent to Napoleon's

headquarters at Znaim to request an armistice and the opening of peace

negotiations. Napoleon, whose armies were exhausted, whose attention,

besides, was absorbed by the war in Spain, and who had found out at his

late battles what resistance was now beginning to be made in Germany,

granted the request, consented to a cessation of hostilities, and that

the envoys of France and Austria should agree upon terms of peace.

These negotiations had already been carried on for months, and no

conclusion had yet been arrived at. Vienna was still a French city, and

the Viennese had to submit to the rule of a new governor, and to the

galling yoke imposed on them by a foreign police, who kept a close

surveillance over every action--nay, every expression and look. They had

to bow to stern necessity, and to celebrate Napoleon's birthday, the

15th of August, by festivities and an illumination, as though it were

the birthday of their own sovereign.

Napoleon was still residing at Schönbrunn, at the palace which Maria

Theresa had built, and where she had signed the marriage-contract of her

daughter Marie Antoinette with the Dauphin of France. Marie Antoinette

had been guillotined, and the heir of the Revolution and of the French

crown was dwelling at her mother's palace.

Every morning the French Emperor reviewed his guards in the large

palace-yard, and thousands of the inhabitants of Vienna hastened

regularly to Schönbrunn in order to see him and witness the parade.

These morning reviews had become a favorite public amusement, and, when

listening to the music of the French bands, and beholding the emperor

(in his gray coat, with his broad brow covered with the three-cornered

hat) gallop down the ranks of his troops, followed by the brilliant

staff of his marshals and generals, amid shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_"

the kind-hearted citizen sometimes forgot that it was their enemy who

was displaying his power, and rejoicing in his ambition; instead of

cursing, they admired him and his veterans, whose scars were the signs

of many a victory.

Napoleon was but too well aware of the influence which these parades

were exerting on the minds of the people; he knew the fascination which

his person produced not only on his soldiers, but the public generally,

and he wished to profit by it, in order to conquer the civilians after

conquering their army. Every one, therefore, had free access, and the

subtle invader had always a kind glance and an affable smile with which

to win their hearts.

On the 13th of October, as usual, a parade was to be held; and the road

leading to Vienna was early covered with carriages, horsemen, and

pedestrians, hastening to Schönbrunn. Among those hurrying along the

high-road was a man of whom no one took any notice, with whom no one was

conversing, and who, while all around were laughing, and speaking of the

parade, was pursuing his way in grave silence. His youthful countenance

was sad and pale; long, light hair was waving round his oval face. His

eyes seemed on fire, and his thin, half-parted lips were quivering as

though he were a prey to intense emotion. He was wrapped in a large

black cloak reaching nearly to his feet; a small black velvet cap

covered his head. This strange figure looked like an apparition in the

midst of the chatting crowd, the elegant carriages, and dashing

horsemen. All were too busily engaged with themselves, with the review,

which was to be particularly brilliant, and with the emperor, who was

not only to be present, but to command the troops.

A few persons referred also to the hopes entertained of a speedy

conclusion of peace, and regretted that they had not yet been fulfilled,

while others conversed stealthily about the victories of the Tyrolese,

and of noble and brave Andrew Hofer, who, with his faithful

mountaineers, still dared to resist the French conqueror. The young man

listened gravely and silently to all this conversation.

It was yet early when he reached the palace; for the Viennese were

anxious to get good places, and to be as near the emperor as possible,

and therefore they had set out several hours before the parade was to

commence.

The young man glanced with an evident air of disappointment over the

large, unoccupied space which lay before him, and on which as yet not a

man of the imperial guard was to be seen. "Will there be no parade

to-day?" he asked a corpulent citizen of Vienna, who was standing at his

side.

"Certainly, sir, there will be one," said the citizen, with a

self-important air. "But it is very early yet, and an hour may elapse

before the emperor makes his appearance."

"An hour yet!" exclaimed the young stranger, indignantly. "I was told I

had to be here early in order to witness the spectacle."

"You were correctly informed, sir. For if you want to see any thing, it

is necessary to be here at this hour to secure a good place. Besides,

the time you will have to wait will not be very tedious. The various

regiments that are to participate in the parade will soon make their

appearance; then, come the imperial guards, who form in line, and,

finally, the emperor with his marshals. Oh, you ought to hear the

shouts, the music of the band, and the roll of the drums when he

appears! You will certainly hear the noise, provided it does not make

you deaf."

"I think it will not," said the young man, with a mournful smile. "But

tell me, shall we be able to see the emperor very near? From which door

will he make his appearance, and where does he generally take his

position?"

"He comes generally from the large portal yonder; it is there that he

mounts on horseback; he then rides down the front of the soldiers, and

halts a short time just there, where we are standing. Those who desire

to say any thing to him, or to deliver petitions, had better do so on

this very spot. But come, let us go a little farther into the

palace-yard, that we may see better."

"Very well, lead the way. I will follow," said the young man.

"Come, then, sir." And the kind-hearted citizen of Vienna elbowed

himself through the crowd.

The young conspirator followed him a few steps, and then halted. Instead

of advancing farther he slipped back to his former place.

"No," he muttered to himself, "I must not stand close to, or converse

with any one. I must be alone and an utter stranger, so as to cast

suspicion on no one else, and not to endanger the lives of innocent

persons. The glory of the deed will belong to me alone, if it should

succeed; let the penalty be inflicted on me alone, if it should fail."

He withdrew farther from the citizen who had spoken to him so

courteously, and when he had entirely lost sight of him, he approached

the palace cautiously and from the opposite side. "The blow must be

struck at once," he muttered. "Every delay will involve me in fresh

dangers, and my fate might be the same as that of the two brethren who

drew the black balls last year. I drew the lot this time, and must

accomplish what they were unable to perform."

The youthful stranger raised his eyes toward heaven, and a solemn

earnestness beamed from his countenance. "Yes, I swear it by the memory

of Anna, and the tears she will soon shed for me, that I will not, like

those two brethren, shrink from striking the blow. I drew the lot, and

the president must repair the fault committed by them. I must destroy

the tyrant! Heaven, hear my oath and let my plan succeed!" He elbowed

himself quickly through the crowd, and approached closer to the entrance

of the palace. Once, in the midst of the surging mass, his cloak was

accidentally displaced, and something like a dagger-blade flashed from

under it; but hastily arranging his cloak he glanced around with an air

of uneasiness. No one paid any attention to him, for all eyes were fixed

on the imperial guard marching into line with a proud step, conscious

that they were the favorites of the greatest general of the age, and the

terror of the battle-field.

CHAPTER L.

NAPOLEON AT SCHÖNBRUNN.

While the regiments were forming in the palace-yard below, and the

spectators were thronging about them, Napoleon was still in his cabinet.

But he was not alone. Some of his adjutants and marshals were with him,

and stood, like the emperor, in front of a table covered with strange

articles. There lay a leg encased in a magnificent boot, a hand covered

with a white glove, an arm clad in the sleeve of a uniform, by the side

of which was a foot cut off close above the ankle, and encased in a neat

shoe.

Napoleon contemplated these things with grave glances, and then turned

his eyes toward a small man who was standing in humble attire and

attitude, and who was no other than the celebrated mechanician and

inventor of the metronome, Leonard Mälzl. "You are a genius indeed!"

said the emperor, with an air of genuine admiration; "people did not say

too much in calling you the most skilful member of your profession. You

really suppose that it is possible to walk with such a leg?" And the

emperor pointed at that lying on the table.

"Sire, I do not only suppose it, I know it," said M. Mälzl, gravely; "a

man may use these limbs and feet as easily and naturally as though he

were born with them. Please be so kind, your majesty, as to look at

this." M. Mälzl took the article and placed it in front of a chair.

"Your majesty sees that it is a foot with about half a leg. It is

fastened with these two suspenders, that are thrown over the shoulders,

and a man may then walk with it."

"Yes, walk, but he would not be able to sit down."

"Yes, he would, sire; you touch this spring, and--your majesty sees, the

knee bends and the upper part drops on the chair."

"So it does!" exclaimed Napoleon, joyously, but suddenly his brow became

dark and his eyes gloomy. "Alas," he said, thoughtfully, "were Lannes

still alive, I might have at least offered him a substitute for the

limbs he lost." He stared at the ingenious work, and stroking his face

quickly said, "You assert, also, sir, that a man may use that hand, and

hold any thing with it?" asked Napoleon, lifting up the neatly-gloved

hand.

"Sire, it is just as good as one new-grown. The human will controls

every limb and moves these artificial fingers just as well as the

natural ones. Will your majesty be so kind as to order me to take

something from the table with this hand which you see now stretched

out?"

The emperor drew a ring, adorned with a large diamond, from his finger,

and laid it on the table. "Let the machine pick up this ring," he said.

Mälzl took the hand, and, touching the spring fixed at the wrist, the

fingers bent immediately and seized the ring. Napoleon looked humorously

at his astonished marshals and generals. "Now, gentlemen," he said, "we

need no longer be afraid of bullets, for if we lose the hands and feet

that God has given us, we can replace them by those made by Mr. Mälzl."

"Sire," said Mr. Mälzl, smiling, "will you convince yourself that my

artificial hand cannot merely pick up, but also retain an object? Will

your majesty try to take the ring from it?"

Napoleon seized the ring, but the fingers held it with irresistible

tenacity. "Indeed, these are very sensible fingers," exclaimed Napoleon;

"they do not give up what they once get hold of."

"Yes, sire, they will. I touch this spring, and the fingers open again."

"No, no," exclaimed the emperor, "let them keep this time what they

have, and wear the ring as a memento. I will allow them only to deliver

it to their maker, who knows not only how to use his own hands so

skilfully, but also to manufacture serviceable ones for others. No

thanks, sir! we are greatly indebted to you, and not you to us, and it

certainly behooves me to thank you in the name of the brave soldiers

whose lost limbs you replace so ingeniously. When the precious day of

peace will come, people will be able to do without your invention, but I

am afraid we shall not live to see that day. We are, I fear, always

exposed to the horrors of war. Hence, your invention is a blessing that

cannot be appreciated too highly, for, thanks to you, there will be

fewer cripples and unsightly wooden legs. I shall issue orders to select

five of the bravest and most deserving invalids from every regiment of

my army, and you will restore to them their lost arms, legs and hands,

at my expense. Indeed, sir, you imitate the Creator, and the wonder

would be complete if you knew also how to replace lost heads."

"Sire, I do know that, too," said Mälzl, smiling.

"Yes, a head of wax or painted wood!"

"No, sire, a head that moves, opens, and closes its eyes, and--thinks."

"A head that thinks?" exclaimed Napoleon, laughing. "Ah, that is a

pretty strong assertion, which you could hardly prove."

"Pardon me, your majesty, I engage to furnish the proof."

"How so?"

"If your majesty will acknowledge that one must think in order to play a

game of chess, then the artificial man in my possession is able to

think."

"Where have you that man with the thinking head?"

"Sire, I have caused my assistants to set it up in the adjoining room.

But I must observe that this man was not made by myself; it is the

master-piece of the late Mr. Kempeler, a well-known mechanician, of

whose son I bought my slave."

"Ah," said Napoleon, laughing, "do you not know that the trade in human

chattels is now prohibited in our civilized states? But let us see your

slave.--Come, gentlemen," added Napoleon, turning toward his marshals

and adjutants, "let us look at the work of this modern Prometheus." He

walked toward the door, but, before leaving the cabinet, he turned to

the chamberlain. "When the Duke de Cadore comes bring me word

immediately." He then stepped into the adjoining room and the marshals

and Mr. Mälzl followed him.

In the middle of the room, at a small table, on which was a chess-board,

sat a neatly-dressed male figure, looking like a boy fourteen years old.

"That, then, is the celebrated chess-player," remarked Napoleon,

advancing quickly. "The face is made of wax, but who will warrant that

there is not a human countenance concealed under it, and that this

prepossessing and well-proportioned form does not really consist of

flesh and blood?"

"Sire, this will convince your majesty that such is not the case," said

Mälzl, touching a spring on the neck of the automaton, and taking the

head from the trunk.

"You are right," exclaimed Napoleon, laughing, "I am fully convinced. It

is true men are walking about without heads, but they are not so honest

as to reveal the fact so openly as your automaton does."

"Sire, will your majesty grant the favor of playing a game of chess with

him?" asked Mälzl, fastening on again the head of the automaton.

"What! the thing will dare to play a game of chess with me?"

"With your majesty's permission."

"And alone?"

"Yes, sire; your majesty will permit me, however, to take position

behind the chair?"

"Certainly. I see the chessmen are already on the board; let us

commence." The emperor sat down opposite the automaton, and saluted it

with a pleasant nod.

"Well, comrade, let us commence," said Napoleon.

The automaton made a graceful bow, and beckoned to the emperor with its

uplifted right hand, as though he wished him to commence.

"Well, I shall commence," said Napoleon, advancing a pawn.

The automaton took the pawn in front of the king and advanced it two

squares. The emperor made another move, and so did his opponent. Looking

smilingly at the figure, Napoleon played his black bishop as a knight,

occupying the oblique white square. The automaton, shaking its head, put

the bishop on the square it ought to occupy.

"Ah, it does not like cheating," exclaimed Napoleon, laughing; "it is a

very earnest and conscientious player." And the emperor made another

move. The automaton continued the game. Another attempt was made to

cheat by moving the castle in an oblique direction. His adversary took

the castle with an impetuous gesture and placed it aside like a pawn it

had won.

"It very properly punishes me," said the emperor. "We must play

seriously."

The game proceeded. It became more and more intricate; the chances were

soon in favor of the automaton, and the emperor was in danger of losing

the game. Forgetting who was his antagonist, he remembered only that he

was about to lose a game, and became serious. He played hastily, and for

the third time tried to cheat by moving a knight contrary to the rules.

The automaton shook its head vehemently, and upset the whole

chess-board.

"Ah, it refuses to continue the game," exclaimed Napoleon; "it despises

my swindling, and forgets that it is itself a swindle. You may be

thankful, M. Mälzl, that we are no longer in the middle ages; formerly

they would have burned you at the stake as a sorcerer, attempting to do

what God alone is able to do."

"Sire, permit me to repeat that this machine was not made by myself, but

by Kempeler. But I hope your majesty will permit me to show you my own

automaton, and allow it to indulge in a little music before you."

"Where is it?"

"Here," said Mälzl, opening the closed curtains of one of the windows,

and pointing at the handsome figure visible behind them.

"Ah, a postilion!" exclaimed Napoleon, "and it will blow us a tune on

the bugle?"

"Sire, it begs leave to play the _Marseillaise_ to your majesty," said

Mälzl, moving the figure on rollers into the middle of the room.

"Let it commence," said Napoleon.

The postilion raised its arm, seized the bugle hanging on a silken

string around its neck, put it to its mouth and commenced blowing.

At this moment the door of the cabinet opened; the chamberlain entered

and approached the emperor. "Sire," he said, the "Duke de Cadore has

just arrived and begs to be admitted."

"Conduct him immediately into my cabinet," replied Napoleon, rising

hastily. He then beckoned the mechanician to his side. "Let your

postilion still play to the marshals. As to your chess-player, I must

buy it of you. You may apply to Grand-Marshal Duroc for the money. In

order to punish the automaton for nearly beating me at the game, I will

buy it, and it is henceforth to be my slave."[47]

[Footnote 47: This chess-player, which Napoleon bought of Mälzl,

remained at the Villa Bonaparte, near Milan, until 1812, when it was

removed to Paris, where it is at the present time.]

"Sire, that is no punishment, but a reward, for which I beg leave to

thank you in the name of my chess-player."

"You have invented a most acceptable substitute for such of my invalids

as have lost arms or legs," said the emperor; "now you must invent

something else for me, and come to the assistance of the wounded on the

battle-field. Make me the model of an ambulance into which the disabled

can be placed safely and comfortably, and which is arranged in such a

manner that it may be taken asunder and transported on horseback with

the train of the army. You are an inventive genius, and I shall expect

you with your model in the course of a week. Now let your postilion blow

again. Good-by!" He waved his hand kindly to the mechanician, and then

hastened back into his cabinet. The Duke de Cadore was there already,

and saluted the emperor with a low bow.

"Well, Champagny," exclaimed Napoleon, quickly, "do you not yet bring us

peace?"

"No, sire, the ambassadors of Austria refuse peremptorily to accept the

terms proposed to them."

"Ah," exclaimed the emperor, menacingly, "those Austrians believe they

can bid me defiance. They have not yet been humbled enough, although I

have defeated their army, foiled the plans of their commander-in-chief,

expelled their emperor from his capital, and am residing at his palace.

They wish for further humiliations, and they shall have them. If they do

not change their mind very speedily, I shall send for the Grand-duke of

Würzburg and adorn his head with the imperial crown of Austria."

"Sire, that would be replacing one puppet by another, but not removing

the men pulling the wires; and they are all animated by the same spirit.

Prince Lichtenstein and Count Bubna are no less inflexible than was

Count Metternich. It is true they have already yielded in some points,

and declared to-day that the Emperor Francis had authorized them to

accept some of the conditions proposed."

"Which?" asked Napoleon, hastily.

"The emperor is ready to cede to France Dalmatia and Croatia, the

territories demanded by your majesty."

"Well!" exclaimed Napoleon, "we obtain thereby the chief point. I shall

extend the territory of France to the Save, and become the immediate

neighbor of Turkey. Let the Emperor of Russia try then to carry his

plans against Constantinople into effect: France will know how to

protect her neighbor, and her troops will always be ready to defend the

Porte. When I have extended my frontiers into the interior of Dalmatia

and Croatia, Russia's influence in the Orient is paralyzed, and France

will be all-powerful in Constantinople. What is it that Austria refuses

after granting our principal demands?"

"Sire, she consents further to cede to Bavaria part of Upper Austria,

namely: Salzburg, Berchtesgaden, and part of the district of the Inn and

Hausruck, but she refuses to give up one-half of Upper Austria, which we

claimed; she refuses further to cede to Saxony such large territories in

Bohemia, and to Russia in Galicia, as was demanded by your majesty."

"We may yield a little as to these points," said Napoleon. "It is always

better to make exorbitant demands, because it is easier then to abate,

and appear accommodating. I do not attach, moreover, any great value to

the enlargement of Bavaria, Saxony, and Russia. Only the aggrandizement

of France by the extension of our frontiers to the boundaries of Turkey

was to be the object of our ambition. Having attained this, we will

yield as to the cession of other territories, and be satisfied with

less, provided that Austria accept unreservedly and fully the two other

conditions I refer to."

"Your majesty refers to the reduction of the Austrian army, and the war

contribution of one hundred millions of francs, which we have demanded."

"Which we have demanded, and which must be paid, unless they wish me to

resume hostilities," said Napoleon, menacingly.

"Sire, these are the two points as to which Austria shows the greatest

reluctance," said Champagny, shrugging his shoulders. "She contends that

a reduction of her army, brought about by the imperious demands of

France, is incompatible with the honor and dignity of her emperor; and

further, that she is unable to pay a war contribution of one hundred

millions of francs."

"She dares then to reject my demands!" exclaimed Napoleon, with a gloomy

air. "She will compel me to recommence the war for the sake of a few

miserable millions of francs!"

"Sire, Austria makes counter-propositions, and hopes that an

understanding will be arrived at. She promises to reduce her army

considerably in the course of six months, to disband the militia, and to

place the regiments on a peace footing. She further offers one-half of

the sum which we have demanded, namely, fifty millions."

"And she believes that I will be satisfied with that?" said Napoleon.

"She attempts to beat me down as though I were a British shopkeeper! She

dares to offer me one-half, and talks to me about the honor and dignity

of her emperor! As if it did not depend on me to trample under foot his

honor and dignity, and to cast the imperial crown of Austria into the

waves of the Danube, or to place it on my own head, just as I prefer!"

"Sire, I believe the Emperor Francis is fully aware of the danger

menacing him, and he is conscious, too, that his dynasty is at stake in

these negotiations. I do not believe, therefore, that hostilities will

break out again, owing to his reluctance to submit to these two

conditions."

"I shall not yield," said Napoleon, "although it seems to me disgraceful

to commence another war for the sake of fifty millions, and when I know

that my own army is in need of repose. I--" The emperor interrupted

himself, and listened to the clock, which struck twelve. "Indeed, it is

already twelve o'clock! My guard must have been waiting for me in the

palace-yard for some time." He stepped to the window and looked down.

"My splendid guard has already formed in line," he said, "and there is a

vast crowd of spectators from Vienna to see the parade."

"To see your majesty," corrected Champagny, approaching the window at a

sign made by Napoleon.

"Just look at that crowd!" said the emperor, smiling. "There are at

least three thousand men who have come hither to see me and my soldiers,

and they do not belong exclusively to the lower classes, as is proved by

the large number of carriages, the numerous elegant horsemen, and by the

windows yonder." He pointed at the windows of the opposite wing of the

palace; and when the minister turned his eyes, he beheld a large number

of ladies, whose toilet seemed to indicate that they belonged to the

higher classes of society.

"See!" said the emperor, "that beautiful lady in the ermine dress; it is

the Princess von Fürstenberg, and the lady at her side is the wife of

Field-Marshal von Bellegarde. They requested Bausset to lend them one of

his windows, that they might witness the parade. The ladies at their

side are all members of the highest aristocracy, and the citizens and

the populace generally are in the yard below. You see, these good people

regard us no longer as enemies; they love and esteem us, and perhaps it

would be wisest and best for me to claim the crown of Austria in order

to put an end to all further quarrels. The Austrians, it seems to me,

would be content with it. Well, we shall see further about it! I will

not make the ladies, the populace, and, above all, my soldiers, wait

longer. You may remain here in my cabinet. There is a note on the table

which I want you to finish. I shall return soon."

The emperor took his hat, and, opening the door leading into the

adjoining room, he called out: "Gentlemen of the staff--to the parade!"

CHAPTER LI.

FREDERICK STAPS.

The bands played, and shouts of "_Vive l'Empereur_!" burst from the

troops. Napoleon had emerged from the palace door, and the welcome was

as a sunbeam brightening his cold and emotionless face. He slowly

descended the steps of the outside staircase, with his eyes on the

soldiers, and he did not notice the young man who stood below,

presenting to him a petition with his left hand, while he concealed his

right under his cloak.

"Sire," said the young man, loudly and urgently, "sire, here is a

petition, and I request your majesty to listen to me for a moment. I--"

Napoleon passed on the other side without having heard these words. The

youth, holding the petition still in his hand, was about to follow him,

but Marshal Bessières, who walked behind, kept him back. "If you present

a petition to the emperor," he said, "wait here until the parade is

over, when he will return this way." The marshal proceeded, but the

young man took no notice of his order, and mingled boldly with the

emperor's suite.

General Rapp at length laid his hand on the youth's shoulder, and said:

"Sir, you must withdraw. This is no place for you."

"I have to present a petition to the emperor which cannot be delayed,"

said the young man, in a gentle voice, "pray permit me to give it to him

at once."

"I tell you it is out of place here," exclaimed the general, vehemently.

Beckoning to one of the second lieutenants, he said: "Conduct this man

away from here."

"Come, sir," said the lieutenant; "stand back, soldiers; let this man

pass." In spite of himself, he was soon hurried to the rear.

"I must attain my object--I must fulfil my oath," he muttered to

himself. "Napoleon must die to-day, and Frederick Staps shall be his

executioner. Forward!" He elbowed himself through the crowd that had

assembled behind the soldiers, and, standing on tiptoe, tried to descry

the emperor and his marshals while walking into the semicircle formed by

the troops.

No one noticed that, seeing a passage in the ranks of the soldiers,

Staps advanced, cautiously and quickly as a snake, until he was again

inside the semicircle. "Fate is favorable to me," he muttered, "and the

moment is at hand when I will deliver Germany!" He approached the

emperor, who was just coming down the front from the other side. "Sire,"

he exclaimed, stretching out his paper toward Napoleon, "take my

petition, and listen to me a few minutes."

The emperor looked for a moment on the pale countenance of the young

man. "I do not understand you," he said; "apply to General Rapp."

Staps apparently had not heard Napoleon's words; he approached still

closer, and put his right hand under his cloak. "Sire, listen to me," he

exclaimed, "I--" A strong hand grasped his arm and pushed him back.

"Did you not hear that you are to apply to General Rapp?" asked Marshal

Bessières. "Why did you come the second time to a place where you do not

belong? Leave immediately, or you will be arrested!"

"I am going," muttered Staps, and turned to pass through the ranks of

the soldiers.

At this moment a dark suspicion arose in the mind of Bessières, for

which he was unable to give any good reasons, but which alarmed him. He

beckoned to two soldiers, and, pointing at Staps, who was pressing his

way outside, he said, "Arrest that man, and bring him hither!" His order

was obeyed in a moment, and the soldiers, holding Staps by the arms,

dragged him to the marshal, whom the Duke de Rovigo and General Rapp had

now joined.

"Why did you have me arrested, general?" asked Staps, in a firm, calm

voice.

"Because I distrust you," replied Bessières. "Take off your cloak!"

Staps hesitated. "Take off your cloak!" repeated Bessières; and, not

obeying, the soldiers violently tore the cloak from his shoulders, and,

as they did so, something flashed.

It was the blade of a large knife, in a belt with which he had fastened

his black velvet coat.

"He is saved and I am lost!" muttered Staps to himself, and dropped his

head on his breast.

"What is the meaning of this knife?" asked General Rapp. "What did you

want to do with it?"

Staps slowly raised his head and lifted up his arm to point at the

emperor, who was standing but a few steps from them.

"I intended to punish him," he said, solemnly.

"An assassin! an assassin!" cried the marshals, in dismay, thronging

around him.

The emperor, perhaps, had heard these cries, for he approached.

"What is going on here?" he asked, as his eyes turned to the pale face

of the young man.

"Sire," said Bessières, with an air of horror, "you see here a criminal

who was about to assassinate you! Here is the knife with which he

intended to perpetrate the deed."

Not a feature of the emperor's countenance changed; not a muscle

quivered or betrayed any inward emotion. "Hush," he said, in a low,

imperious voice. "Take the man into the palace! I will examine him after

the parade is over. Let Savary and Rapp accompany him.--Come, marshals!"

While Savary and Rapp, with the soldiers who surrounded Staps, hastened

into the palace, Napoleon, escorted by his marshals, walked slowly down

the front. He did not finish the parade a minute earlier than usual.

Ascending the staircase, he stood on the landing, and received again the

salutations of the military. He then stepped into the lower hall of the

palace. But there he accelerated his steps, and, hurrying through the

anterooms, entered the apartment contiguous to his cabinet.

An hour had passed since he had admired, in this room, M. Mälzl's

chess-player and postilion, and now he looked wonderingly at the young

man who had tried to assassinate him. "He is really but a child, and

looks very innocent," exclaimed the emperor, shrugging his shoulders; "I

do not believe that he is an assassin."

"Sire, here is the knife that was found on his person," said Savary,

handing it to the emperor.

"That is, indeed, a strong proof of his intention," replied Napoleon.

"But who tells you that this knife was designed for me? I will myself

speak to the man. Rapp, are you sufficiently familiar with the German

language to be my interpreter?"

"Yes, sire, I speak German."

"Come, then," said the emperor, quickly approaching Staps, whose hands

had been tied behind him.

"Whence do you come, and what is your name?"

"I come from Naumburg, and my name is Frederick Staps," was the calm

reply.

"What is your father?"

"He is a clergyman."

"A clergyman! and he has taught his son so little religion! For I am

told you intended to assassinate me. Is that true?"

"It was the last means that I had resolved upon to save my unfortunate

native land," replied Staps, in a gentle voice. "But before doing so, I

was determined to try another."

"What?"

"To implore you, in the name of my country, humanity, and your own

future, to give peace to the world," responded Staps, enthusiastically.

"I hoped that Heaven would impart strength to my words, so that they

would be able to move your heart; that your eyes would see the fountains

of blood your accursed hand has opened on the peaceful plains of

Germany; that the armies of the dead lying in our fields might satisfy

your desire for war. Sire, have mercy on Germany and on yourself! There

are thousands of unburied corpses accusing Napoleon as their murderer!

Our cities and villages are filled with weeping mothers, and widows, and

children, arraigning you as the destroyer of their sons, husbands, and

fathers. Sire, have mercy on your own conscience, and restore peace to

the world!"

"He is assuredly insane," murmured Napoleon to himself. At this moment

he cast his eyes on a miniature, fastened to a string, and lying on the

table.

"What locket is that?" he asked.

"Sire," replied Rapp, "we took it from the assassin; he wore it on his

neck."

Napoleon examined it. It contained the portrait of a beautiful woman.

"Whose portrait is it?"

"Sire," said Staps, in a solemn voice, "it is the portrait of my

betrothed--my dearly beloved Anna."

"What!" exclaimed the emperor. "You have a sweet-heart--you have a

mother and a father---you are in the flower of your life--and yet you

intended to commit so horrible a crime! For you will not deny that

murder is a crime."

"Murder in ordinary cases is one of the greatest crimes," said Staps, in

his calm, gentle voice. "But to take your life--to rid the world of

Napoleon--is no murder and no crime; it is an act of justice--nay, it is

a sacred duty! If I had killed you, no one would have called me an

assassin; my attempt is criminal because it did not succeed. That is

what one of our own great poets says concerning certain actions:

'Conceived and unsuccessful--there's the crime!

Accomplished, it becomes a deed immortal.

And what succeeds will surely be forgiven,

For God's own verdict lies in the result!"'[48]

[Footnote 48:

"Gedacht bloss und missglückt--ist's nur ein Frevel,

Vollbracht, ist's ein unsterblich Unternehmen.

Und was nur glückt, das wird dann auch verziehen,

Denn jeder Ausgang--ist ein Gottes-Urtheil!"

SCHILLER.

]

"And God, then, has decided against you," said Napoleon, quickly.

"No, God delays only the execution of the blow, and perhaps I am not the

right instrument. He will choose another, and my successors will know

better how to find your heart. Believe me, the Germans know how to do

their duty; and to rid Germany of her tyrant, and restore peace to her

people, is their duty."

"You have read a good deal, I suppose?" asked the emperor. "And it seems

books have excited your imagination. What were your favorite works?"

"Sire, historical works," said Staps, calmly. "I derived from them the

courage required for my deed."

"You know something of Brutus, then?" asked Napoleon, with a

compassionate smile.

"There were two Brutuses. The last Brutus killed the tyrant, and died

for liberty. Mankind have not ceased admiring him, as France has not

ceased admiring the Maid of Orleans. She delivered her country from its

enemies, but she was captured, and perished. I intended to do what that

heroic maid did--save my native land from oppression, but God decreed

that her destiny, and not her deed, should be mine."

"Does your father know of your folly?"

"Neither he nor my betrothed, nor any one else, knew of my purpose. I

came hither alone, and alone I intended to accomplish it. Not until I

had succeeded was its revelation to be made. And the news would have

come to those I love as a pledge of peace--that the deluge of blood was

over, and Germany saved!"

"Your father and your betrothed will now receive bad tidings of you. Are

you not afraid of grieving them?"

"Both of them will weep for me--so will many other Germans, and their

tears will water the flowers upon my grave."

"You believe, then, that I shall have you executed?"

"I should consider it but natural for you."

"But it may please me to pardon you. Tell me, in that case, what you

would do?"

"Accomplish my purpose," replied Staps, calmly. "I have sworn to kill

you. I must fulfil my oath or die!"

"Ah, you have either a morbid mind or a morbid body!" exclaimed

Napoleon, vehemently.

"No, I have neither one nor the other," replied Staps, composedly; "my

mind is healthy, and so is my body."

"Send for Corvisart," ordered the emperor, turning to his suite. "But

let no one dare tell him what is transpiring here."

An adjutant hastened out, and Napoleon turned again to Staps. "Are you a

freemason or one of the Illuminati?"

"Neither."

"Did you ever hear of Moreau and Pichegru?"

"I did."

"And what do you think of these men, who tried to take my life?"

"I think that they were afraid of death."

"Did you know Schill and Dörnberg?"

Staps hesitated a moment, and replied: "I knew Schill. I saw him on the

day after the battle of Jena, and we swore to devote our thoughts, our

energies, and our lives, to the German fatherland, and never to grow

weary in our struggle against the tyrant. There were three of us who

took this oath. The first was Count Pückler, who shot himself; the

second was shot, Ferdinand von Schill; the third will also be shot,

Frederick Staps!"

"He is insane," repeated Napoleon, shuddering involuntarily at the

tranquillity of the prisoner.

The door opened, and the emperor's physician, M. de Corvisart, entered.

"Corvisart, come hither," the emperor said, vehemently. "Examine this

young man, and tell me what is the matter with him." The marshals and

generals stepped aside, and the physician approached the prisoner, whose

hands had been untied a moment previously. "Examine his pulse,

Corvisart; examine him carefully and tell me whether he has a fever, or

is insane."

Staps quietly stretched out his hand; Corvisart took it and laid his

fingers on the pulse. Silence reigned in the room. The marshals and

generals in full uniform surrounded the group; in the midst stood the

emperor, whose face was sadder to-day than usual; at his side was Staps,

with his gentle countenance and radiant look turned toward heaven, his

right hand resting in that of the physician, who marked every pulsation

with profound attention.

It was a scene worthy an artist's pencil. All were looking at the

physician and waited breathlessly for his decision.

"Sire," said Corvisart, after a long pause, "this young man is in

perfectly good health; his pulse is regular; there is nothing indicative

of insanity in his eyes; his complexion is good, and in fact there is

nothing in his appearance to denote the slightest indisposition."

"Ah," exclaimed Staps, with a triumphant smile, "you see that I was

right. I am neither insane nor ill."

Napoleon stamped with anger, as his eyes flashed fire. "He is insane,

Corvisart!" he exclaimed; "examine him again."

Corvisart, did so, and in a short time said: "Sire, I cannot but repeat

my previous statement; I do not find a trace of fever or insanity. His

pulse is perfectly regular."

"Well, then," said Napoleon, frowning, "this healthy person just tried

to assassinate me!"

"Assassinate you!" ejaculated Corvisart in dismay. "Unfortunate young

man, what could induce you to attempt such a crime?"

"The misfortunes and sufferings of my country," replied Staps. "I

desired to deliver it from the tyrant who has been bringing misery,

disgrace, and degradation on Germany for the last ten years. My attempt

was vain, but some one else will succeed in what I have failed to

accomplish. I have no actual accomplices, but the heart of every German

is my accomplice, and the knife which dropped from my hand to-day will

fall into another's. All Germany is in conspiracy. You may kill me, but

thousands are ready to do what I failed to accomplish."

The emperor indeed listened to such words, but with a dark and angry

countenance. He beckoned the Duke de Rovigo to his side.

"Savary," he said, "take this boy away, and subject him to a close

examination. Try to discover his accomplices. If he name them, I will

pardon him."

"Sire, you have the right to execute me, but I do not give you the right

to despise me," exclaimed Staps.

"Take him away!" repeated the emperor, "and report to me what he says."

Saluting the marshals with a wave of his hand, and, casting a last

glance on Staps, he walked by and opened the door of the cabinet, where

Minister Champagny was awaiting his return.

"Champagny," said the emperor, wearily sitting down on an easy-chair,

"did you not tell me the Prince von Lichtenstein had informed you that

frequent propositions to assassinate me had been made to him?"

"Yes, sire," replied Champagny, "and the prince told me he had

invariably rejected them with horror."

"Nevertheless, an attempt has been made. A young man, scarcely twenty

years old, with the face of a sick girl, came hither to-day to stab me

with a kitchen-knife, as he would a goose or a calf."

"Merciful Heaven, that is terrible!" exclaimed Champagny, turning pale.

"The life of your majesty was really endangered, then?"

"If the knife which an assassin aims at your breast endangers your life,

mine was endangered," said the emperor, with a gloomy smile. "It seems

my marshals were somewhat distrustful, and did not believe so

confidently in the love and admiration of the spectators as I did, and

that saved my life."

"It is, perhaps, only a false suspicion, sire; the knife, it may be, was

not intended for your majesty."

"Oh, it was! I personally examined the young man. He confesses his

purpose; he boasts of it, and says if I pardoned him he would attempt

the same thing."

"Horrible!" exclaimed Champagny.

"Yes, horrible!" repeated the emperor, musingly, "the more so as he

assures me with the utmost tranquillity that every German shares his

hatred of me; that the whole land is but a hotbed of conspiracy, and

that thousands of hands are already armed to pierce my heart. And this

young man is in perfect health, bodily and mentally, according to

Corvisart, who twice examined him; his pulse is regular, and not in the

least feverish. Ah, these Germans have gall in their veins instead of

blood! They are fanatics, and of such we ought to beware." He dropped

his head on his breast. After some time he turned toward the minister,

who was sitting opposite him in respectful silence. "Champagny," he

said, hastily, "we must make peace. I am bent on putting an end to the

war, and on leaving the country. Return to Vienna, and send immediately

for the Austrian plenipotentiaries. You have already agreed as to the

chief points; it is the war contribution alone that still prevents both

sides from coming to a definite understanding. You ask for fifty

millions more than the Austrians offer to pay; well, compromise with

them; induce the ambassadors to assent to the payment of seventy-five

millions, and make peace. I am satisfied with the stipulations of the

last draft of the treaty; add to it whatever you may deem prudent. I

rely altogether on you; but, at all events, make peace! Hasten to

Vienna. Good-by."

The Duke de Cadore left the emperor's cabinet. Napoleon was still

moodily sitting in his easy-chair, when he murmured: "Ah, these Germans!

They cannot be trusted! They are dangerous fanatics, capable of

perpetrating the foulest and most cowardly crime, and of sanctifying it

on the altar of duty."

CHAPTER LII

AN EXECUTION.

Napoleon had passed a sleepless night. The image of this pale youth,

with his determined patriotism, who frankly confessed that his object

had been assassination, and regretted that the attempt was unsuccessful,

stood as a grim sentinel by the emperor's couch, forbidding sleep to his

eyes or peace to his mind.

It was scarcely dawn when he rose, sad and weary, and called his _valet

de chambre_ to dress him. His lips scarcely touching the cup of

chocolate presented to him, he pushed it impatiently aside. Contrary to

his usual manner with the servants, he left his bedroom without a

pleasant glance or a kind word, and repaired to his cabinet. The

candelabras on the mantel-piece were lit, for it was still dark; and a

bright fire was burning, but the room was not yet warm.

"Germany is a cold, disagreeable country," exclaimed Napoleon,

shuddering, and warming his feet at the fire. "We are only in the early

part of October, but it is already like mid-winter. The sun himself

seems to put on the sheep-skin which every German pulls over his ears.

In truth, it is a wretched country; I wish I could turn my back on it

to-morrow, and bid adieu to these wild dreamers. When so slow and

cold-blooded a nation gets excited, it resembles a bull in the arena,

whose fury is kindled by a red handkerchief. Such is Germany at this

time, and I must step out of the way if I do not wish to be pierced or

trampled to death. That would be inglorious!"

A low rapping at the door was heard. The emperor started. "Come in!" he

shouted, in an imperious voice.

The door opened immediately, and Constant appeared. "Pardon me, sire,

but it is so early that none of the chamberlains are yet in the

anteroom."

"Well, what is it?" asked Napoleon, impatiently. "Quick, what is the

matter?"

"Sire, the Duke de Cadore has just arrived from Vienna and desires to be

admitted."

"Show him in immediately," ordered the emperor, who, in his impatience,

hurried to the door to receive the minister.

Champagny entered, carrying under his arm a large portfolio.

"Well, Champagny, what brings you hither at so early an hour? What has

occurred? What did you do last night?"

"Sire," said Champagny, composedly, "I have made peace."

"What? Peace!" exclaimed Napoleon, and his countenance brightened, as if

the morning had suddenly cast on him its earliest golden beams. "Peace!

And the treaty has already been signed?"

"Yes, sire, and I bring it to your majesty."

"Signed! But how did you do that?"

"Sire, as soon as I reached Vienna last night, I sent for the Prince von

Lichtenstein and Count Bubna, and locked myself with them in my room. We

had a long and exciting discussion; but I saw that the plenipotentiaries

had received fresh instructions from their emperor, and that he had

ordered them to make peace. I extorted million by million from them; at

one o'clock in the morning I had already made them consent to the

payment of seventy-five millions, the sum demanded by your majesty; but

I saw that I could go farther, and I did. At two o'clock I succeeded in

a war contribution of eighty-five millions, and with that I was

satisfied."

"What!" exclaimed the emperor, gayly; "you have obtained eighty-five

millions when I told you I would be content with seventy-five millions!

That was well done, Champagny, and I am highly pleased with your

conduct. Give me the treaty. I wish to read it."

Champagny handed the emperor the papers, and he read them attentively.

"Very well," he said, when he had finished, and with a smile--"we have

accomplished, indeed, a very favorable peace. Austria has concluded four

treaties with me within the last twelve years, but I must confess that

this is the most advantageous to us--more so than the treaties of Campo

Formio, Luneville, and Presburg. Austria loses two thousand square

leagues, with three millions and a half of inhabitants, and pays us a

war contribution of eighty-five millions of francs. I think France may

be thankful, for, from this campaign, we bring her territory, money, and

glory. We have done with Austria; and the insurgents of the Tyrol,

headed by their peasant-prince, Andrew Hofer, will likewise have to

submit. Their own emperor will command the insurgents to lay down their

arms. But I will make an example, and show the world how such people

ought to be chastised. Andrew Hofer must be delivered to me; he must be

punished as a demagogue! Come, Champagny, let us lose no time. I will

sign the treaty. It is very good. I am content with it." He stepped to

his desk and hastily affixed his signature. He then cast the pen aside,

and his features assumed an expression of proud scorn. "Henceforth

Austria is nothing but a vassal of France, and I can annihilate her

whenever I please. Her frontiers are open and unprotected on all sides;

she is weakened within and without, and hemmed in everywhere by French

territories. She dares no longer breathe freely, or raise her arm

against us. If, however, she should, we shall crush her, and reconstruct

the throne of Charlemagne on the ruins of Austria. His crown belongs to

me already; I have it at Aix-la-Chapelle, and I do not see what should

prevent me from placing it on my brow in Vienna."

"Sire," said Champagny, smilingly, "it would, perhaps, be more desirable

for your majesty to allow the throne of the Hapsburgs to exist, and to

render Austria harmless, not by destroying her, but by attaching the

imperial family to your majesty by intimate and sacred ties. A

vanquished enemy is always dangerous; but an ally, even though weak,

will strengthen your own power, and Austria is able to give to the

throne of your majesty the last and only jewel that, to the infinite

regret of your subjects, it still lacks."

"Ah!" exclaimed the emperor. "You do not mean to say that Austria,

bleeding from a thousand wounds that I have inflicted upon her, could

make up her mind to put an end to her hatred by concluding an alliance

of love with me?"

"Sire," said Champagny, "I do not believe that your majesty is hated by

all the members of the imperial family of the Hapsburgs."

"What do you mean?" asked Napoleon, casting a quick glance on the

smiling countenance of the minister.

"I suppose your majesty still remembers that, during the bombardment of

Vienna last May, a flag of truce was sent with the request that no more

bombshells be fired at the palace, because one of the archduchesses had

remained there, having been prevented by sickness from leaving the

capital with the imperial family?"

"I remember the incident," said Napoleon. "A few shells had already

struck the palace, and I gave orders that it should be spared. One of

the little daughters of the emperor, the Archduchess Maria Louisa, then

a mere child, had been left there with her nurse."

"Sire, this child is seventeen years old, and, as everybody assures me,

she is very beautiful, with light hair, blue eyes, and charming figure.

She was deeply moved at the generosity manifested by your majesty; she

is filled with admiration for the hero to whom indeed the whole world is

doing homage, and before whose power the mightiest princes pass away;

she is possessed of sufficient energy and courage to give utterance to

her sentiments, even in presence of her father the emperor."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Napoleon, joyfully. "But who told you so,

Champagny?"

"Sire, the Prince von Lichtenstein, during our confidential interview

yesterday; and he added that the Emperor Francis, notwithstanding the

short time that has elapsed since the conclusion of the recent bloody

war, and the many fresh humiliations he has had to undergo, seemed

himself to be an admirer of your majesty, for he listened to the eulogy

of the archduchess with smiling tranquillity."

"That is strange," said Napoleon, slowly pacing the room; "but the

Austrian marriages were always pernicious to France."

"Sire, it was, however, an Austrian princess, Queen Anne, who gave to

France one of her greatest kings, Louis XIV."

"That is true," said Napoleon; "and I should be happy if my son

resembled the great Louis."

"Sire, he will resemble his great father," said Champagny.

"A son--an heir to my throne," said the emperor, passionately--"a

legitimate inheritor of my glory, and a descendant of an ancient and

imperial house, who would dare doubt the purity of his blood, and his

right to reign? His throne I would have established; and he would

confirm by the highest title the fourth dynasty of France. Champagny, I

must have such a son, and--poor Josephine!"

He paced the apartment with rapid steps, and, halting in front of his

minister, he said: "I shall set out to-morrow; this air is oppressive. I

can hardly breathe it; and besides I have no longer any business here.

You will remain for the purpose of exchanging the treaties of peace.

Immediately after the arrival of the Austrian plenipotentiary, bringing

the copy of the treaty signed by the Emperor Francis, you will attend to

the exchange of the ratifications, and inform me that it has been

carried into effect. I shall go from here to Munich, and reach

Fontainebleau in the course of a week. You may tell the Prince von

Lichtenstein, in the same confidential manner in which he spoke to you

of the archduchess, that I am now firmly determined to separate from

the Empress Josephine; that a divorce from her had been irrevocably

resolved upon, and that it would be publicly proclaimed in the course of

the present year. That is all that you will tell him for the present.

Champagny, I am determined to make this sacrifice for the sake of

France, however painful it may be to my heart. The welfare of my country

and the stability of my throne render it incumbent. After the divorce

has taken place, I shall demand a final and categorical reply from

Russia, and if Alexander is unable to give it--if his mother still

refuse to place her daughter on the most powerful throne in the

world--well, then, I shall break off the negotiations, and remember that

the Archduchess Maria Louisa has some respect and sympathy for me. For

the present we may be content with Austria, and I think the treaty of

Vienna is a work of which we may well be proud. The genius of France

will give it a glorious place on the tablets of history!"

Two days afterward the emperor's travelling-carriage was in front of the

palace gate of Schönbrunn. Every thing was in readiness for his

departure, and he was about to leave his cabinet. He only wished to see

Grand-Marshal Duroc, who had just arrived from Vienna.

The door opened, and Duroc entered. Napoleon quickly met him. "Well,

Duroc," he asked, "did you see him? Did he name his companions in this

crime?"

"Sire, I have, and conversed with him," said Duroc, gravely. "He refuses

to confess any thing, and talks like a madman."

"What does he say?" exclaimed Napoleon. "Conceal nothing from me. This

young man interests me. I desire to know all."

"Sire, he affirms that your majesty is his only accomplice; the misery

brought by you on Germany, he contends, instigated him to attempt the

deed, and you ought to blame none but yourself."

"He does not repent, then? He does not ask for mercy?"

"He regrets only that he did not succeed, and he asks merely the favor

of being permitted to keep the portrait of his Anna, which he

contemplates continually; and he implores her in touching words to

forgive him the grief he has brought upon her."

"What a strange mixture of ferocity and gentleness!" said the emperor,

thoughtfully. "Has he been closely watched during these two days?"

"Two gendarmes were locked up with him all the time, and they speak with

astonishment of the unruffled tranquillity of the young man. For the

most part he paces the cell with slow steps; at times he kneels down and

prays in silence. Not a word of despair has escaped his lips, not a tear

dropped from his eyes. Yesterday, when his dinner was brought, he took

the knife and looked at it musingly. One of the gendarmes intended to

take it from him, but Staps handed it at once, and said, smilingly,

'Fear nothing, I will not hurt myself with it; I will not waste my

blood; it is reserved for the altar of my country, and must be shed by

my enemies.'"

"Did he take any food?" asked the emperor.

"No, sire, he has not eaten or drunk any thing these two days. He says

he has done with life, and will have strength enough left to meet his

death with a firm step."

"He knows, then, that he is to be shot?"

"Yes, sire, he knows that the court-martial passed sentence of death

upon him last night."

"But I hope you told him, Duroc, that I had sent you to him, and that I

wished to pardon him, as soon as he repents of his deeds, implores my

forgiveness, and takes an oath to give up his evil designs? Did you tell

him all that, Duroc?"

"I did, sire."

"And what did he reply? Tell me every thing!"

"Sire, he replied, that if he could repent of the deed, he would not

have attempted it; that if he accepted pardon, all Germany would curse

him, while he now descends into the grave, accompanied by the blessings

and tears of his country; in fine, that his death will arouse the

Germans, and urge them to renewed efforts for liberty."

The emperor made no reply. His whole frame shuddered, and if Corvisart

had felt his pulse then, he would not have said that it was quite

regular. The large drops of perspiration on the emperor's brow might

have alarmed the physician.

"I am sure he is insane," said Napoleon, after a pause. "I want him to

be looked upon as a lunatic. I hope that the whole affair will remain a

secret, and that the world will hear nothing of it; but if it should be

talked about, we must insist that the man was insane."

Duroc bowed in silence.

"When is Staps to be shot?" asked the emperor, after a pause.

"Sire, this morning, at seven o'clock."

Napoleon glanced at the clock. "It is half-past six," he said; "I will

set out. Well, the Viennese will not hear the report of the muskets, for

the cannon that is to announce to them the conclusion of peace will

render inaudible the volley at the execution. Come, Duroc! I am tired of

this fantastic Germany! Let us return to France!"

Quickly crossing the room and approaching the door, he stood on the

threshold and glanced again at the clock. "It is a quarter to seven," he

said; "in fifteen minutes there will be one lunatic less in Germany!" A

few minutes afterward a carriage rolled down the avenue of the palace of

Schönbrunn. The emperor had departed.