by L. Mühlbach
SCENES AND PORTRAITS
Years passed--famous and glorious years for Russia. Peace withinher borders, and splendid victories gained over foreign enemies,particularly over the Prussians. In songs of jubilee the people praisedand blessed their empress, whose wisdom had brought all to such aglorious conclusion, and had made her country great, triumphant, andhappy.
The good Elizabeth! What had she to do with the victories of hersoldiers, with the happiness of her realm? She knew nothing of it, andif peace prevailed throughout the Russian empire, it was absolutelyunknown in the imperial palace, where there was eternal war, anever-ending feud! There the young Catharine contended with her husband,whom she hated and abhorred; with Elizabeth, who saw in her a dangerousrival. But it was an unequal struggle in which these two women wereengaged, for Elizabeth had on her side the power and dominion, whileCatharine had only her youth, her beauty, and her tears!
Elizabeth hated Catharine because she dared to remain young andhandsome, while she, the empress, saw that she was growing old, and hercharms were withering; and Catharine hated Elizabeth because the latterdenied her a right which the empress daily claimed for herself--theright to choose a lover, and to love him as long as he pleased her.She hated Elizabeth because the latter surrounded her with spiesand watchers, and required of her a strict virtue, a never-violatedmatrimonial fidelity--fidelity to the husband who so far derided andinsulted his wife as to demand that she should receive into her circleand treat with respect and kindness his own mistress, the CountessWoronzow--fidelity to this husband, who had never shown her any thingbut contempt and neglect, and who had no other way of entertaining herthan teaching her to march in military fashion, and stand as a sentinelat his door!
Wounded in her inmost being and her feminine honor, tired of the eternalpin-prickings with which Elizabeth tormented her, Catharine retreatedinto her most retired apartment, there in quiet to reflect upon herdishonorable greatness, and yearningly to dream of a splendid future."For the future," said she, with sparkling eyes to her confidante,Princess Daschkow, "the future is mine, they cannot deprive me of it.For that I labor and think and study. Ah, when _my_ future shall havebecome the present, then will I encircle my brows with a splendidimperial diadem, and astonish you with all my greatness andmagnificence."
"But you forget your husband!" smilingly interposed Princess Daschkow."He will a little obscure the splendor of your imperial crown, as hewill always be the first in the realm. He is the all-powerful emperor,and you will be powerless, although an empress!"
Catharine proudly tossed her head, and her eyes flashed.
"I shall one day remember all the mortifications he has inflicted uponme," said she, "and an hour will come when I shall have a reckoning withhim, and full retribution! Ah, talk not to me of my husband--Russianemperors have never been immortal, and why should he be so?"
"Catharine!" exclaimed the Princess Daschkow, turning pale, "you cannotthink--"
"I think," interposed Catharine, with an unnatural smile, "I think theRussian emperors are not immortal, and that this good Empress Elizabethis very fortunate in having no emperor who presumes to stand over herand have a will more potent than her own!"
"Ah, Elizabeth has no will at all!" laughingly responded the princess.
"But I shall have a will!" said Catharine, proudly.
The Princess Daschkow had spoken the truth. Elizabeth had no longerany will; she let Bestuscheff govern, and was herself ruled by AlexisRazumovsky, the field-marshal, her husband. She did whatever these tworequired, willingly yielding to them in all cases demanding no personaleffort on her part. On this point only had she a will of her own, whichshe carried through with an iron hand.
"I have not become empress that I might labor, but that I might amusemyself," said she. "I have not set the crown upon my head for thepurpose of governing, but for the purpose of enjoying life. Spare me,therefore, the labor of signing your documents. I will sign nothingmore, for my hand is not accustomed to holding the pen, and the inksoils my fingers, which is unworthy of an empress!"
"It is only one signature that I implore of you to-day," saidBestuscheff, handing her a letter. "Have the great kindness to make anexception of this one single case, by signing this letter to King LouisXV. of France."
"What have I to write to this King of France?" fretfully askedElizabeth. "Why should I do it? It is a long time since he has sentme any new dresses, although he might well know that nothing is moreimportant for an empress than a splendid and varied wardrobe! Why, then,should I write to this King of France?"
"You majesty, it is here question of a simple act of courtesy," saidBestuscheff, pressingly; "an act the omission of which may be attendedwith the most disagreeable consequences, perhaps indeed involve us in awar. Think of the peace of your realm, the welfare of your people, andsign this letter!"
"But what does it contain that is so important?" asked the empress,with astonishment. "I now remember that for a year past you have beenimportuning me about this!"
"Yes, your majesty, I have been for the last three years daily imploringof you this signature, and you have refused it to me; and yet the letteris so necessary! It is against all propriety not to send it! For it isa letter of congratulation to the King of France, who in an autographletter announced to you the birth of his grandson. Reflect, yourmajesty, that he wrote you with his own hand, and for three years youhave refused to give yourself the small trouble to sign the answer Ihave prepared. This prince, for whose birth you are to congratulate theking, is now old enough to express his own thanks for the sympathy youmanifest for him."
Elizabeth laughed. "Well," said she, "I shall finally be obliged tocomply with your wishes, that you may leave me in peace. For threeyears I have patiently borne your importunities for this signature. Mypatience is now at an end, and I will sign the letter, that I may befreed from your solicitations. Give me, therefore, that intolerable pen,but first pour out a glass of Malvoisie, and hold it ready, that I maystrengthen myself with it after the labor is accomplished."
Elizabeth, sighing, took the pen and slowly and anxiously subscribed hername to this three-years-delayed letter of congratulation to the King ofFrance.
"So," said she, throwing down her pen after the completion of hertask--"so, but you must not for a long time again trouble me with anysuch work, and to-day I have well earned the right to a very pleasantevening. Nothing more of business--no, no, not a word more of it! I willnot have these delightful hours embittered by your absurdities! Awaywith you, Bestuscheff, and let my field-marshal, Count Razumovsky, becalled!"
And when Alexis came, Elizabeth smilingly said to him: "Alexis, the airis to-day so fine and fresh that we will take a ride. Quick, quick! Andknow you where?"
Razumovsky nodded. "To the villa!" said he, with a smile.
"Yes, to the villa!" cried Elizabeth, "to see my daughter at the villa!"
She therefore now had a daughter, and this daughter had not died likeher two sons. She lived, she throve in the freshness of childhood, andElizabeth loved her with idolatrous tenderness!
But precisely on account of this tenderness did she carefully concealthe existence of this daughter, keeping her far from the world, ignorantof her high birth, unsuspicious of her mother's greatness!
The fatal words of the Countess Lapuschkin still resounded in the earsof the empress: "Give this Elizabeth a daughter, and let that daughterexperience what I now suffer!"
Such had been the prayer of the bleeding countess, flayed by theexecutioners of the empress, and the words were continually echoing inElizabeth's heart.
Ah, she was indeed a lofty empress; she had the power to banishthousands to Siberia, and was yet so powerless that she could not banishthose words from her mind which Eleonore Lapuschkin had planted there.
Eleonore was therefore avenged! And while the countess bore the tormentsof her banishment with smiling fortitude, Elizabeth trembled on herthrone at the words of her banished rival--words that seemed to hang,like the sword of Damocl
es, over the head of her daughter!
Perhaps it was precisely for the reason that she so much feared for herdaughter, that she loved her so very warmly. It was a passionate, anadoring tenderness that she felt for the child, and nevertheless shehad the courage to keep her at a distance from herself, to see her butseldom, that no one might suspect the secret of her birth.
Eleonore's words had brought reflection to Elizabeth. She comprehendedthat her legitimate daughter would certainly be threatened with greatdangers after her death; she had shudderingly thought of poor Ivan inSchlusselburg, and she said to herself: "As I have held him imprisonedas a pretender, so may it happen to my daughter, one day, when I amno more! Ivan had but a doubtful right to my throne, but Natalie isindisputably the grand-daughter of Peter the Great--the blood of thegreat Russian czar flows in her veins, and therefore Peter will fearNatalie as I feared Ivan; therefore will he imprison and torment her asI have imprisoned and tormented Ivan!"
By this affectionate anxiety was Elizabeth induced to make a secretof the existence of her daughter, which was imparted to but a fewconfidential friends.
The little Natalie was raised in a solitary country-house not far fromthe city, and her few servants and people were forbidden under painof death to admit any stranger into this constantly-closed andalways-watched house. No one was to enter it without a written order ofthe empress, and but few such written orders were given.
Elizabeth, then, as it were to recompense herself for the trouble ofsigning the letter to the King of France, resolved to visit her daughterto-day with her husband.
"Rasczinsky may precede and announce us," said she. "We will take ourdinner there, and he may say to our major-domo that we are going toPeterhoff. Then no one will be surprised that we make a short halt at mylittle villa in passing, or, rather, they will know nothing of it. CallRasczinsky!"
Count Rasczinsky was one of the few who were acquainted with the secret,and might accompany the empress in these visits. Elizabeth had unlimitedconfidence in him; she knew him to be a silent nobleman, and sheestimated him the more highly from the fact that he seemed much attachedto the charming, beautiful, and delicate child, her daughter. Sheremarked that he appeared to love her as a brother, that he constantlyand fondly watched over her, and that he was never better pleased thanwhen, as a child, he could jest and play with her.
"Rasczinsky, we are about to ride out to the villa on a visit toNatalie!" she said, when the count entered.
The count's eyes beamed with pleasure. "And I may be permitted toaccompany your majesty?" he hastily asked.
The empress smiled. "How impetuous you are!" said she. "Would not onethink you were a dying lover, a sighing shepherd, and it was a questionof seeking your tender shepherdess, instead of announcing to a child ofeleven years the speedy arrival of her mother?"
"Your majesty," said Count Rasczinsky, laughing, "I am not in love, butI adore this child as my good angel. I can never do or think any thingbad in Natalie's presence. She is so pure and innocent that one castsdown his eyes with shame before her, and when she glances at me withher large, deep, and yet so childish eyes, I could directly fall upon myknees and confess to her all my sins!"
"You would not have many to confess," said Elizabeth, "for your sins arefew. You are the pride of my court, and, as I am told, a true patternof all knightly virtues. Remain so, and who knows, my fair young count,what the future may bring you? Love my Natalie now only as an angel ofinnocence; let her grow up as such, and then--"
"And then?" asked the count, as the empress stopped.
"Then we shall see!" smilingly responded Elizabeth. "But now hastenforward to announce us."
"Your majesty forgets that, to enable one to penetrate into thisenchanted castle, your written command is required!"
"Ah, that is true!" said Elizabeth, stepping to her writing-table. Thistime she was not too indolent to write; no representations nor prayerswere needed. It concerned the seeing of her daughter--how, then, couldshe have thought writing painful or troublesome?
With the same pen with which, a short time before, she had sounwillingly signed the congratulatory letter, she now wrote upon a sheetof paper, provided with her seal these words:
"The Count Rasczinsky may be admitted.
"ELIZABETH."
