by L. Mühlbach
CHAPTER XXVIII.
QUEEN LOUISA.
While Frederick William repaired with Alexander to the headquarters ofthe army, the queen and her faithful attendants remained at Memel. Thereshe received the news of the battle of Friedland, and bewailed themisfortunes and disgrace of Prussia. The king was not with her, tocomfort her; he was still at the mill of Puktupoehnen, where, after thedisastrous battle, he and the Emperor Alexander had retired. Alexanderhad left for Tilsit. The king had refused to accompany him, preferringto remain at his humble lodgings, far from the proud conqueror. WhileAlexander was the perpetual companion of Napoleon, a daily guest at histable, without returning this hospitality, indulging with him infantastic dreams about the future political system of the world,Frederick William pursued his lonely path gravely and silently, onlylooking for means to relieve as much as possible the sufferings hissubjects were undergoing, and, by remonstrances and arguments, trying toprotect his monarchy from utter destruction.
Never did Frederick William stoop to flatter his enemy--never did he bowto him in hypocritical submission. He could not help treating him as theconqueror of his states, but he refused to degrade himself by baseservility. His first interview with Napoleon was short, and not verypleasant. Frederick William tried to prove to his adversary that it washe who had brought about the war by invading the territory of Anspach,and thereby compelling Prussia to declare war. Napoleon listened to thischarge, shrugged his shoulders, and merely replied that the cabinet ofBerlin, often warned to beware of the intrigues of England, hadcommitted the fault of not listening to his friendly counsel, and thatto this cause alone were to be ascribed the disasters of Prussia. Sincethen, Frederick William, like Alexander, was a daily guest at Napoleon'stable, but he sat there in silence, sad, and absorbed in hisreflections, taking but little part in the conversation, and, when hedid so, assuming a cold, formal manner, while Alexander and Napoleonchatted unreservedly and pleasantly.
The king had also been constantly at the side of the two emperors intheir long rides, and at the reviews, but always as an ominous shadow inthe light of their new friendship--always as the mournful and warningspirit of memories which Alexander would have forgotten, because nowthey were a reproach and an accusation against him. And FrederickWilliam took no pains to palliate this reproach, or to disguise hissadness with a veil of politeness. Abrupt in his whole bearing, he didnot condescend for a moment to play the part of courtier. Accompanyingthe emperors, the king was by no means ready to comply with their whims;if they wished to ride at a full gallop, he moved only at a quick trot,and politeness compelled them to remain with him. When they returnedfrom their excursions, Napoleon and Alexander vaulted quickly from theirhorses, and walked hand-in-hand toward the door, but Frederick Williamalighted slowly, and thus obliged Napoleon, whose guest he was, to waitfor him. The king frequently made his crowned companions stand,regardless of the rain; and it happened more than once that theemperors, while waiting for him, were thoroughly drenched. When he wasconferring with Napoleon as to the future frontiers of his states,Frederick William did not assume a suppliant tone, but spoke with thebearing of an incensed and insulted sovereign, whom his adversary wasrobbing of his rights, and who scarcely succeeded in restraining hisindignation.
And the king had sufficient reasons to be sad and irritable. He saw thatthe storm which had so long cast its bolts upon Prussia, would utterlydestroy her. Napoleon was about to revenge himself for the unpleasanthours she had latterly caused him. He was willing, indeed, as he hadpledged himself to Alexander, to leave Frederick William his crown, buthe did not intend to restore him his states. He needed Prussia for thenew kingdom of Westphalia, and for rewarding his friends and allies. Theking was to retain nothing but a small part of the province of Prussia,and Koenigsberg was to be his capital.
Frederick William, stricken by this new and terrible humiliationmenacing him, looked anxiously around for assistance. He felt lonely,deserted, and betrayed; he felt as though there was no comfort, no hopefor him. His soul turned with unutterable yearning toward the queen;she was the pillar against which he desired to lean, that he might notsink to the ground; she was his energy, his strength, his determination,and when she was at his side, he felt strong enough to brave anycalamity. His love longed for her, and political considerations soonrequired her presence.
"Beseech the queen to come hither," said Alexander to him; "she alone isable now to do something for Prussia. Her beauty, her eloquence, heramiability, and her understanding, will be more likely to obtainconcessions from Napoleon than any thing else. It will touch hismagnanimity that the noble queen, whom he has so often reviled,condescends to come to him to implore his mercy. This high-mindedresolution will make a deep impression upon his generosity, and he willgrant twenty times more than I am able to obtain by my daily and mosturgent solicitations."
The king still hesitated. Owing to his sense of honor and hisconscientiousness, he shrank from doing what his heart so intenselydesired; and, before making up his mind, he wished to hear the views ofhis friends, General von Koeckeritz and Field-Marshal Kalkreuth, who werecarrying on the peace negotiations with Talleyrand. Both of them sharedthe opinion of the Emperor Alexander; both of them exclaimed: "The queenis our last hope! She alone is able to make an impression upon theinexorable conqueror, and Napoleon possibly may not refuse her what hedeclined granting to your majesty and to us. It is necessary for thewelfare of Prussia that her majesty should come hither."
The king delayed no longer. He wrote to the queen, and requested her tocome to his headquarters at Puktupoehnen. He told her it was her sacredduty to make a last effort for the preservation of Prussia--that everything would be lost if She failed to move Napoleon by her supplicationsand remonstrances. A courier hastened immediately with the letter toMemel. When Louisa read it, a pallor overspread her features. Uttering acry of excruciating anguish, she dropped the paper into her lap, andburied her face in her hands.
Madame von Berg, who had heard the loud sobs of the queen in theadjoining room, hastened to console or weep with her. Louisa did nothear her come; she was still absorbed in grief; only incoherentlamentations fell from her lips, and her tears fell on the letter lyingin her lap. Madame von Berg knelt, and implored her with the eloquenceof devotedness and affection to let her share her queen's grief--to tellher what new calamity had occurred.
Louisa looked with sorrowful eyes at the friend kneeling before her."You ask me what calamity has befallen me! Read and know!" she said,handing the letter to her lady of honor, and, at the same time, raisingher from her knees.
While Madame von Berg was reading, the queen rose; and with her headthrown back, and her eyes turned upward, she commenced slowly pacing theroom. "Well?" she asked, when Madame von Berg, with a deep sigh, hadlaid the letter on the table. "Did you read it? And do you comprehend mygrief now?"
"I do, your majesty," she said, mournfully.
"Caroline," exclaimed the queen, in an outburst of despair, "I am to bowto this man, who has insulted me so infamously! I am to step like abeggar before him who has slandered my honor before the whole world, whohas crushed my heart, and wounded my soul in such a manner that it cannever, never recover! I tell you, he will be the cause of my death! Onthe day when I read those calumnies which he contrived to have printedabout me--on that day I felt a pang in my heart as if a dagger had beenplunged into it! Ah, would I could die this hour, before sinking intothis new humiliation! Ah, my soul is willing to bow to the great, thebeautiful, the sublime--but not to him--not to that proud man who istrampling mankind in the dust; who has rendered King Frederick Williamso wretched, robbing him of his states and of his majesty, slanderinghis queen, and oppressing his people. Caroline, think of it! I am tomeet politely him who has robbed my children of their inheritance, andcaused me so many sleepless nights, so many tears, so many pangs! With asmile I am to conceal my anguish; and, under a magnificent costume, mywounded heart! As it behooves every lady, though no queen, I am not towait for him to come to me, but I
am to go to him! I am to force myvisit on him--I am to court his favor! Ah, it is too much--too cruel!"
Raising her arms impetuously to heaven, she exclaimed in the energy ofher grief, "Wilt Thou have no mercy upon me, my God? Ah, let me die! Letme die, to escape this new disgrace menacing me! I am a poor, tormentedwoman! I ask nothing of Thee but death! Wilt Thou refuse me this onlywish?" She sank on her knees, her arms and eyes still raised towardheaven, as if she expected that her prayer would be granted. She slowlydropped her arms, and hung her head with a groan. Madame von Berg, intears and with folded hands, was praying in a low voice.
A long pause ensued. The queen rose from her knees; her face was calmand her tears had gone! but around her eyes a quiver was still seen,and at times a sigh escaped her breast. "It is over now," she said in alow voice, "the struggle is over! Pardon my impassioned grief, Caroline;my poor heart sometimes refuses to submit to the bridle of affliction.But I must be docile and patient, and learn to obey without a murmur."
There was something so touching in the tone and manner in which thequeen uttered these words, in the glance with which she gave her hand toher friend, that Madame von Berg was unable to conceal her tears. Shetook Louisa's hand and pressed it to her lips.
"Do not weep, Caroline," said the queen. "I have paid my tribute tohuman nature; I have wept, but now I will be strong and do my duty.Stand by me, and console me by your calmness and fortitude. I must setout in an hour; let us reflect, therefore, what preparations ought to bemade."
"Then you will really go, your majesty?" asked Madame von Berg, sadly.
"Majesty!" ejaculated the queen, almost indignantly. "Is this reverenceintended to deride me? Where is my majesty?"
"In your sovereign eyes, Louisa," said Madame von Berg--"in your greatand noble heart, which masters its grief and submits to duty. It beamsgloriously around your head, which, though it may bow to your adversary,will never be humbled by him. But, consider, are you not about to imposeupon yourself, in your generous devotedness, a sacrifice which isgreater, it may be, than the reward? Napoleon is not a magnanimous man;he lacks true chivalry, and he would delight, perhaps, to scorn theaugust lady who humbles herself so painfully, and who thereby affordshim a triumph. There is a voice in my heart, warning me against thisplan; it is repugnant to my womanly feelings that my noble queen issuddenly to descend into the petty affairs of politics. I am afraid yourbeauty, your understanding, your grace, are to be abused to fascinateyour enemy, and to wrest from him by persuasion what is the sacred rightand property of your king and of your children, and what I believecannot be wrested from the conqueror through intercession, but by theking and his ally, the Emperor Alexander, by means of negotiations, or,if they should fail, by force and conquest."
"Hush, hush, Caroline," exclaimed the queen anxiously. "Do not repeat tome my own thoughts; do not give expression to my doubts and fears! Ithink and feel like you. But I must go nevertheless; I must do what myking and husband asks me to do. He wrote me that it is my sacred dutyto control my feelings, and come to him--that every thing is lost if Ido not succeed in influencing Napoleon by my remonstrances. It shall notbe said that I neglected my duty, and refused to yield, when the welfareof my children and of my husband was at stake. It is a trial imposedupon me now, and I am accustomed to make sacrifices. God may reward mychildren for the sufferings I am now undergoing, the tears of theirmother may remove adversity from them when I am no more. Oh, my childrenand my husband, if you are only happy, I shall never regret havingsuffered and wept! And who knows," she added, "whether God may not havemercy upon me, and whether, by the humiliation I am about to make, I maynot really promote the welfare of my king, my children, and my belovedpeople? Oh, Caroline, I feel a joyful foreboding that it will be so! Itwill touch the proud conqueror to see a lady, a wife, a mother, who wasonce a queen, and is now but a sad, afflicted woman, appear before himand humbly ask him to have mercy on her children and her country. Eventhough he should feel no generosity, he will feign it, and, in hisambition to be admired by the world, he will grant me what he would haverefused under other circumstances. The hearts of men rest in the handsof God. He will move this man's heart!"
Scarcely touching the floor with her feet, Louisa glided across the roomto the piano. She slowly touched the keys, and with upturned glances sheindicated her thoughts, singing in a joyful voice the hymn commencingwith the words:
In all thy ways--in grief, in fear, O troubled heart I rely On that all-faithful, ceaseless care Of Him who rules the sky.[33]
[Footnote 33:
Befiehl Du Deine Wege Und was Dein Herze Kraenkt, Der allertreu'sten Pflege Dess, der den Himmel lenkt.
PAUL GERHARD.
