"Their ends are a transference of the government, and when this is effected a revolt from Emperor and empire, and a league with the Swedes and all Protestant German princes against Emperor and empire."
"The transference of the government? That means an insurrection, a revolution. They would hurl me from my throne and ensconce my son there?"
"They hope that in your distress you will do, gracious sir, what your blessed father did."
"Abdicate!" cried the Elector angrily. "Abdicate in favor of my son?"
"In favor of the Electoral Prince, who has grown up in Holland to become a
promising Prince, a general of the future, a brilliant leader of the
Protestant Church, and of whom his followers say that he will be a second
Gustavus Adolphus!"
"A second plague—a second source of danger to myself!" screamed the Elector, striking with his clinched fist upon the arm of his chair. "It was not enough that my brother-in-law Gustavus Adolphus brought me into trouble and distress, and caused the Emperor's wrath to flame forth against me, so that I was really afraid that I would share the fate of my cousin the Margrave of Jägerndorf, whom the Emperor put under his ban, declaring that he had forfeited his margraviate, and giving it over as a feudal tenure to Prince Liechstenstein! I was only saved then from a like terrible fate by your intercession and fidelity! It was you who, by your address and eloquence, softened the Emperor's resentment against me, induced him to pardon me, and afterward brought about the peace of Prague, which reconciled the Emperor to me. Yet it was not enough to have gone through those times of anxiety and distress, they must be now renewed through my only son! In him am I to find a second Gustavus Adolphus, to plunge me into new perils and bring down upon me the Emperor's avenging wrath? But it shall not be—I solemnly swear, it shall not be! I will not involve my land in new dangers and calamities of war. I will not depart from my neutrality. I will have peace—peace with the Emperor, peace for my poor people, and for their unhappy Prince! But I shall not act as my father did, and prepare a pleasure for my son by resigning sovereignty and rule in my lifetime and becoming the servant and subject of my own son! Before me shall he bow—me shall he acknowledge to be his lord so long as I live, and never while I breathe shall I cease to lay to his charge these hours of pain and vexation. I am Elector and ruler, and he is nothing further than my son and subject, my successor when I die, but not my coregent while I live! Count Adam Schwarzenberg, I charge you to stand courageously at my side, to remain zealous in my service, and to direct your attention especially to unraveling all the arts and wiles, the plots and schemes of my son and his abettors; to give me always information on these points, to keep nothing in the background, and not to conceal anything from me merely to save me from vexation. Will you promise and swear so to manage and act, my Adam?"
"I swear and promise it, and in affirmation will my Prince allow me to give him my hand upon it?" asked Schwarzenberg, laying his own right hand in the outstretched one of the Elector. "You will find in me a true servant and guardian of your sacred person and your throne, and he who would supplant or harm you must first step over the corpse of Count Schwarzenberg! But now, most gracious sir, I beseech you not to be overpowered by your feelings of indignation, and to be amiable and condescending toward the home-coming Electoral Prince; for it is sometimes very necessary to wear a mask and assume an appearance of harmlessness and unconcern in order the better to fathom the designs of one's enemies, and to make them feel secure, that they may the more easily betray themselves."
"Yes, I will do so," said George William, sighing. "I will swallow down my rage, although it would be a relief to me to vent it a little, and to show my son that I know him and am not deceived by him. But what noise is that without, and who is knocking so violently at the door?"
This door was now impetuously torn open, and the Electress Sophy Elizabeth entered, with beaming eyes and features lighted up by joy, while on high she held an open letter in her hand.
"George!" she exclaimed—"George, our son is coming! Our dear Frederick
William is coming!"
"Well, I rather think he ought to have been here a half year ago," growled the Elector, "and we have been expecting him several months already."
"But he is here now, my husband, he is actually here now. Only see what a good, affectionate son he is! He has halted at the inn of the Spandow suburb, merely to forewarn us of his arrival. It was not enough for him that he had sent us a messenger with a verbal communication, no, he must send us a written salutation, and such kind, cordial words as he has written. There, read, my husband, just read!"
She handed the paper to the Elector, but he did not take it.
"Is the letter directed to me?" he asked.
"No, to me, to his mother he wrote, because he knew how happy it would make me, and how heartily I love him. Read, George!"
"I never read letters that are not directed to myself," said the Elector, turning away.
"Well, then, I will read it to you!" cried the Electress, who in the fullness of her joy heeded as little the ill humor of the Elector as she did the presence of Count Schwarzenberg, who upon her entrance had modestly withdrawn to one of the deep window recesses. "Yes, I will read it to you," she repeated, "for you must hear what our son writes."
And with a voice trembling from joy and agitation she read:
"My gracious, revered Mother: Before I enter my dear birthplace and return home to my beloved parents and sisters, I would announce my arrival to your highnesses, that you may not be alarmed by my unexpected coming, and that I may not come inopportunely to his grace, my father. I enjoy greatly getting home, and all the testimonials of love and sympathy which I have received ever since I set foot within my father's territories, and they will remain indelibly graven on my heart. I beg your grace to present my most submissive respects to my gracious father and Elector, and to speak a good word for me to him, that his grace may no longer cherish resentment against me on account of my long stay abroad, and that he may favorably incline toward and receive me, and be convinced that I am and shall ever remain the grateful and obedient son of my venerated parents.
"FREDERICK WILLIAM."
"Well" asked the Electress, "are not those affectionate, glorious words, and does not your fatherly heart rejoice in them? But just hear, hear, how they shout and hurrah! It is the good people of Berlin! They are coming to the palace to see our son!"
Again was the door through which the Electress had entered violently thrown open, and two young ladies entered. Their lovely and blooming faces beamed with happiness and their eyes glistened with joy.
"He comes! Our brother is coming!" they cried, rushing forward toward their parents. "Just come to the window, that we may see him, for he is riding around the corner into the pleasure garden"
"Are you all, then, wholly beside yourselves, and gone stark mad?" cried the Elector passionately, while he rose from his armchair and proudly drew himself up. "Who gives these two young ladies the privilege of entering my cabinet thus, unannounced and without ceremony? Just answer me one thing, Miss Charlotte Louise, did I permit you to come here?"
"No, dearest father," said the Princess timidly, casting down her large, dark eyes, "no, your grace has not indeed permitted us to do so, but we did not think of that in the joy of our hearts, and because from here is the best lookout upon the pleasure grounds, we—"
"We thought," interrupted the younger sister, who had hardly attained her fifteenth year—"we thought our dear papa, his Electoral Grace, would forgive us and look out with us to catch a sight of our beloved brother. And were we not right, dear papa, were we mistaken in thinking so, and will your grace not allow your little Sophie Hedwig to lead you to the great corner window, that with mamma you may have a view of dear Frederick William?"
The Princess had approached her father, and, tenderly and coaxingly stroking his cheeks with her little white hand, looked up at him with such a gentle, pleading glance in her blue eyes as George William had never hitherto been known to resist. But this time the eyes of his favorite had no power over the Elector's heart, and indignantly he repelled her encircling arms.
"Let me alone with your 'dear Frederick William,' you saucy piece!" cried he passionately. "You should at all events have waited until I had given you leave to appear here. If, in your childish giddiness, you knew no better, yet your sister Charlotte Louise, at the more mature age of twenty, ought to have arrived at years of discretion, and known what was proper."
"No one knows better what is becoming than the fair young Princess Charlotte Louise, most gracious sir," said Count Adam Schwarzenberg, issuing from the window recess and greeting the Princess with a reverential bow. "In the whole country the Electoral Princess is honored as a brilliant model of fine manners and noble demeanor, and every one feels himself blessed and honored who is permitted to approach her. And is not the young lady right even now, dear sir, in coming here with her young sister? It is surely proper and well for the united Electoral family to be seen by the nation as they look upon the dear son and brother, whose return gladdens their hearts?"
"Well, for aught I care, she may be right," muttered the Elector, "and I will grant my wife and daughters leave to look out of the corner window. But, meanwhile, where is the Electress?"
"Her grace is standing there before the corner window and gazing down so earnestly upon the square that I have not yet been so fortunate as to be allowed to pay my respects to her highness."
"For if the whole world had been assembled together she would have seen nothing but the Electoral Prince," called out the Elector, shrugging his shoulders. "Go to her, Adam, and present my compliments to her. Tell her that I resign my cabinet to her and my daughters, and will withdraw into my sleeping apartment until this uproar has subsided."
"Oh, do not do so, most honored father," cried the younger Princess. "Stay here, and look out of the window with us."
"Do so, your Electoral Highness," pleaded the count, softly and quickly.
"Grant the people the light of your countenance."
"Well, so be it, then," sighed George William. "Call the servants,
Charlotte Louise, that they may roll me to the window."
"As if I could not have the privilege of acting as servant to your highness, and as if my arm were not strong enough to guide your highness's chair. Permit me, gracious sir, to roll you to the window."
"And permit me to help your excellency," said Princess Charlotte Louise, smiling, while she seized one of the arms of the fauteuil.
"Now truly this is a very lofty equipage," cried George William, as the fauteuil rolled along through the spacious apartment. "The Stadtholder in the Mark and a Princess of the blood drawing my equipage."
"But what a man sits in it!" said Count Schwarzenberg. "A duke of Prussia, of Pomerania, of Cleves, an Elector of Brandenburg, and—"
"Hurrah, hurrah!" sounded up from below in a chorus of hundreds of voices.
"Hurrah! long live the Electoral Prince!"
"He comes! Oh, my son, my son!" cried the Electress. "He comes! George, our son—"
She had turned round and her eye met the count's gaze, who immediately bowed low and reverentially before her. The Electress only thanked him with a slight nod of her head, and herself sprang forward to push the fauteuil into the window niche. Then, with trembling hands, she opened both window shutters and beckoned her daughters to her side.
"He must see us all, all" she said. "With one glance he must take in father, mother, and sisters."
"And my most faithful and best-beloved servant, the Stadtholder in the Mark!" cried the Elector. "Come, Adam, place yourself close beside me, that the picture may be complete, and my son may see us all at once."
Boundless public rejoicings seemed to be in progress below; a loud, long-sustained, ever-renewed cheering rolled over the square like the roar of the sea.
"My son, my beloved son!" cried the Electress, leaning far out of the window and stretching out both arms toward the young man, who had just emerged from the shrubbery, on horseback and followed by a brilliant train.
"Brother, dear brother!" called out the two Princesses, leaning out of the other side of the window, and waving their handkerchiefs in token of welcome. Behind them sat the Elector in his great armchair, quite forgotten and quite hidden from view by his wife and daughters, not at all visible to either the people or his son.
"I shall remember this hour, oh! to be sure, I shall remember it," he said, with trembling lips; "my son shall atone to me for this hour of shame and mortification. I—"
The huzzaing and shouting below drowned his words; they came pouring in at the open window like the pealing tones of an organ, like the roar of the sea, like claps of thunder.
The Elector could no longer bear it. He looked up with glances of entreaty at the count, who, drawn up to his full height, stood proud and commanding at the side of his chair, his sharp eyes piercing down into the court over the ladies' heads.
"Ah, Adam," sighed George William, "you, too, have forgotten me, and are only looking upon him who is coming!"
But, however softly these words had been spoken, the count heard them, and tenderly he leaned over the Elector, and seized his hand to kiss it.
"I am looking at the newcomer," he whispered, "but I never forget you, and my heart can never be unmindful of the love and fidelity it owes you."
"Hurrah! Long live the Electoral Prince!" was borne up in tumultuous uproar from the pleasure garden. "Long live the Electoral Prince! Long live the Elector! Hurrah for the Elector George William!"
"They are calling for you, my husband, they call for you!" said the
Electress. "Will you not show yourself to our dear people?"
"I ought, indeed, to be thankful to the dear people," returned her husband. "The dear people have at least reminded the Electress that I still exist, although she had crowded me back and rendered me entirely invisible behind her. Yes, I will show myself to the people, as they still think of me in the midst of their merriment. Step back from the window, ladies, make room for your Elector and lord! And you, Count Schwarzenberg, come and give me your arm; I would lean upon you!"
The count willingly offered the Elector his arm. Powerfully drawn up by him, the Elector rose from his seat, and, leaning upon his favorite, stepped close up to the window. The shouts of joy were for a moment hushed; perhaps because the Electoral Prince had just ridden into the palace yard, perhaps because the ladies' retreat from the window was considered by the people a sign that the Elector was about to appear. And now, within the window frame, was seen the clumsy, broad figure of the Elector; now was seen his large head, sparsely covered with gray hairs, his pale, swollen face, prematurely old, with its melancholy blue eyes and thin, colorless lips, round which played not the slightest smile. In the handsome, powerful, and youthful Electoral Prince the people had just joyfully greeted Brandenburg's future, and now from the window of that gray, gloomy, wretched old palace looked out upon them the hopelessness of Brandenburg's present. Like gazing upon embodied care and joyless resignation it was, to behold the Elector's grave, forbidding aspect, and before it the joyous cry upon the people's lips was silenced. They stared up at the window in dumb horror, and only here and there sounded cries from compassionate or bribed mouths: "Long live the Elector! Long live George William!" And like a dying echo came back the answer on this side and on that, feebly and slowly: "Long live the Elector! Long live George William!"
But now the people caught sight of the tall, stately form, in gold embroidered velvet suit, with the star of brilliants glittering on its breast, which stood beside the Elector; now they recognized that haughty countenance with its glance of sovereign contempt, its smile of lofty condescension upon the thin, scornful lips, and a disturbance was perceptible among the multitudes, as when a sudden gust of wind agitates the waves of the sea and lashes them up into fury and rage. All at once there came thundering up to the window, shrieked, howled, and hissed by the crowd: "Down with the Catholics! Down with Schwarzenberg! Down with the Imperialist!"
A deep flush overspread the Elector's face. He hastily stepped back from the window, and looked almost timidly up at the count, whose countenance meanwhile had not for a moment lost its proud, smiling serenity. He seemed not to have heard the screams of the mob.
"They would vex me to death, therefore do they scream so!" cried the Elector; "they know my regard for Schwarzenberg, and therefore are they so set against him and insult him, in order to insult me through him!"
"My parents, my beloved parents!" cried a clear, rich voice, and a young man tore open the doors of the Electoral cabinet, revealing a tall, slender figure and a noble face, with sparkling eyes and smiling lips. The Electress uttered one scream of rapture, and hastened to meet her son with outstretched arms. He threw himself upon her breast, greeting her with phrases of fond endearment, and when he lifted himself from his mother's heart there were the two sisters to embrace their dear and only brother, to greet him with affectionate words of love, and to hold him long, long in their encircling arms. The Elector had again sunk back into his armchair. His "faithful servant," Count Schwarzenberg, had again rolled him back into the middle of the apartment and stationed himself immediately in the rear.
With unpropitious frowns had the Elector witnessed the first tender greeting exchanged between the Electress and her son. Now, when his sisters in their turn engrossed him and the mother stood looking on in transport, now the Elector turned round to Schwarzenberg, and an expression of deep bitterness spoke in every feature.
"My son seems not to know that I am yet in the world," he said, with quick, complaining tone of voice. "Had you not better remind him of it for decency's sake, Adam?"
But at this moment the Electoral Prince freed himself from his sisters' arms, perceived the Elector, and sprang forward to him with open arms to throw himself on his heart. But, when he got a nearer view of his father's dark countenance, he let his arms drop, bent his knee before the Elector, and grasped one hand to imprint upon it a reverential kiss.
"My dear father, my most gracious Sovereign and Elector!" cried he in tones full of tenderness, "I beg your pardon that my first word, my first salutation was not given to you. You see, I was always a foolish boy, whom my mother spoils, and who delights in being spoiled."
"I beg your pardon, my husband," said the Electress, approaching her husband; "I alone was to blame that our son did not come first to you, as was his duty, and pay his first respects to his father and Sovereign. I stopped him, and you must not impute as a fault to the son what was occasioned by a mother's tenderness."
The Elector made no reply, but looked down with moody resentment upon the
Electoral Prince, who still knelt before him.
"My much-loved, gracious father," cried the Prince, "I once more beg your pardon, and pray you kindly to forget if I have hitherto often given you ground for annoyance, and have not appeared here immediately on your first command. I see my error, and I promise, my dear, kind father, that I have returned home as a penitent, affectionate son, as an obedient subject, whose earnest endeavor shall be to deserve the forgiveness and good opinion of his lord and father, and to live wholly and solely in subjection to his will. Only bid me welcome, too, my most revered sir; bestow upon your son one word of welcome and fatherly love."
The Prince glanced so tenderly at his father, there lay so much feeling in his handsome, expressive countenance, that the Elector could not resist him, but, in spite of himself, felt his heart stirred by tenderness and emotion. He bowed down to him, a rare smile lit up his face, and he was just opening his lips to greet his son with words of friendliness and love, when the shrieking and shouting down in the pleasure garden, which had ceased for some time (probably because their exhausted throats required rest), burst forth again with redoubled violence.
"Away with the Catholics! Down with Schwarzenberg! Long live the Electoral
Prince. Down with Schwarzenberg!" came up with thundering impetuosity.
The friendly words died upon the Elector's lips, and the short sunshine of his smile vanished under a cloud of displeasure.
"It seems, sir," he said, "as if your arrival were a real jubilee for the low rabble, who have assembled down there in the pleasure grounds, and as if your arrival were to be the cause of much vexation to me. What seditious, scandalous words are those shouted by those wretches?"
"I do not know, I did not hear them," said the Electoral Prince quickly.
"My whole attention was concentrated upon y father's lips, waiting to hear one gracious word of welcome!"
"The mob saved me that trouble!" cried the Elector. They cut me off from speech with their 'Long live the electoral Prince!' What need is there for a further welcome from your old father?"
"I need it much," replied the Electoral Prince, with low, melancholy voice. "I need a kind, gracious word from my father, on returning home after so long an absence; and it would seem to me as if my whole future, my whole life were under a cloud if I lacked the blessing of your love, the sunshine of your favor."
"My son knows how to arrange his words prettily," said the Elector, shrugging his shoulders; "it is very observable that he has become quite a fine, elegant gentleman; who will find but little to his taste among us, and who will suit us just as little! But what are those people forever shouting?" said the Elector, interrupting himself, while he rose impulsively from his armchair, thus obliging the Prince to rise from his knees. "What infamous hubbub and howling is this, and what do you villains want of us?"
"Nothing further, most noble Elector," replied Count Schwarzenberg, to whom the Elector had turned with his query—"nothing further than that your honor drive me away, nothing further than that you dismiss the hated minister, whom they abhor, simply because he is a Catholic and not a Reformer, and because he is named Schwarzenberg and not Rochow or Quitzow, nor blessed with some country bumpkin's title."
"I will rout this pack of vagabonds!" cried the Elector. "Let them dare just once more to let such an opprobrious, insulting shout be heard!"
And, quite forgetting his weakness and his limb so painfully swollen with gout, the Elector went rapidly to the still open corner window, and, leaning far out of it, lifted up his hand, commanding quiet. The people took this inclination of the body, this movement of the hand, for a token of grace, for a kind salutation on the part of their Sovereign, perhaps even for a granting of their demand. They roared aloud with delight, waved aloft their hats and caps, their arms and handkerchiefs, and cried and whooped and hurrahed: "Long live the Elector! Long live George William! Long live the Electoral Prince!"
The Elector stepped back and shut the window so violently that the little panes of glass, framed in lead, fairly rattled.
"Frantic populace!" he growled, "they mix up a wretched salad of cheers and curses, mingle weeds with their herbs, and fancy that we will find this devilish compound pleasing to our palates! We shall remember them for it, and—"
"Most gracious sir!" cried Count Schwarzenberg, with radiant countenance, approaching the Elector—"most gracious sir, in this blessed hour of our beloved Electoral Prince's return, I have a favor to ask of your highness. His grace has just greeted me so amiably, so condescendingly, that he has caused my heart to overflow with joy, and I feel the strongest desire to give expression to this joy. The return of the Electoral Prince is just as propitious an event for me as, for the Electoral family, and for all your subjects it is a festive occasion which can not be sufficiently honored, and therefore I entreat your highness to permit me to celebrate it at my house also, and to gratify me by being present yourself at this fête, with all the other members of your exalted family."
The Elector looked upon his minister with an expression of joyful tenderness, and then turned his glance upon the Electoral Prince, who stood silent, and with lowered eyelids, beside his mother and sisters.
"Well, what say you to it, sir?" asked George William. "Do you accept the invitation to the feast?"
"I, Electoral Lord?" asked the Prince, astonished. "It is not for me to accept, or to say anything. I only await the decision of your highness, and now allow myself to remark that I shall ever feel honored by an invitation from the Stadtholder in the Mark, and that no one can have a higher appreciation of his services and a greater respect for his statesman-like experience and wisdom than myself."
"He knows how to speak, does he not, count?" asked the Elector, indicating his son by a quick nod of the head.
"Well, since it depends on my decision, I shall gladly extend to you my leave to celebrate the Electoral Prince's return by a little merrymaking, were it only that the good-for-nothing people of Berlin may see that we and our family are devoted to Count Schwarzenberg now as before, and that their pitiful howls have had no influence upon us and our determinations. Yes, we will come to your party, Adam, we accept your invitation cordially and affectionately."
"I thank my most gracious lord for this act of favor and condescension," cried the count, pressing the Elector's proffered hand to his lips. "Will your highness extend your favor by appointing the day on which so distinguished an honor is to befall my house?"
"Well, that you may not have time to make too great preparations, and put us to shame by the splendor of your fête, we will allow you but a short respite. To-day is Wednesday, the eighteenth of June, we therefore appoint Sunday, the twenty-second of June, for your festival."
"Be it then on Sunday, a sunny day truly for me and for my house," cried Count Schwarzenberg. "My son, too, will do himself the honor to participate in the joys of the fête, which your highness will do me the favor to give in my house, for he has returned from his journey, and will this very day petition for leave to present himself."
A fugitive glance from the count strayed across to the ladies, while he bowed low before them, but, however cursory this glance, it gave him full opportunity for perceiving Princess Charlotte Louise's deep blush, and the joyful flashing of her eyes.
"She loves him," he said softly to himself, "yes, she loves him, and my son will be Elector of Brandenburg."
"We shall be pleased to see again your son, Count John Adolphus," said George William kindly. "He is a very elegant and accomplished gentleman, besides being a very submissive and obedient son, in whom your father's heart may well rejoice. My son would do well to follow his example, and I shall be delighted for him to form a friendship with the count."
"I shall diligently strive to gain the friendship of the son as well as of the father," replied the Electoral Prince, smiling, "and it shall not be my fault, indeed, if I do not obtain it."
"Most honored sir, you can gain no more than you already possess," exclaimed Schwarzenberg, bowing low. "Will the Electress now permit me to address a question to her highness?"
"Ask your question quickly," cried the Electress, "that I may hear the request it is to introduce, for I am really curious to know what the rich and powerful Count Schwarzenberg can have to desire of the poor, uninfluential Electress."
"First, then, my question, most gracious lady: At what hour does your highness command my fête to begin?"
"Will you leave the decision to me, my husband?" asked the Electress, smiling.
The Elector nodded assent.
"As you have invited my daughters," said the Electress, "I presume that there will certainly be dancing, and evening hours suit best for that. Let the fête commence at six o'clock."
The Elector's brow darkened, for he did not at all relish gay, noisy evening parties, and a solemn dinner at the regular hour would have been far more welcome to him.
"Your grace has prescribed the hour for the opening of the ball," said Count Schwarzenberg reverentially. "But I now also entreat further that you name a dinner hour, for I hope your highness will favor me by dining with me on that day."
"Yes, that honor shall be shown you," cried the Elector cheerfully. "We shall come, surely we shall come. And I will myself appoint the hour for the mid-day meal. Let it be at two o'clock. Then we shall have some pleasant hours at table before the dancing comes off and the music puts our heads in a whirl."
"Two o'clock, then, most gracious sir."
"And now, Sir Count," cried the Electress, "now for your request. Say quickly what it is. What can you have to ask of me?"
"Most gracious Electress, I hardly venture to express it, and yet, by granting my request, you would do me a very great pleasure and honor. Some splendid silk stuffs have been sent me from France by my cousin, who is Austrian ambassador there. I had given him such a commission, as I thought of making a present to my aunt, the Countess Schwarzenberg at Vienna. My cousin bought these stuffs for me, and writes me, moreover, that they are the newest fabrics from the looms of Lyons, and that he has just sent three such dresses to the Empress and the two archduchesses at Vienna. Now, it did not seem to me becoming or appropriate that the Countess Schwarzenberg should wear robes such as the Empress and archduchesses wear, and I think gold and silver brocade suited to none but ladies of princely blood."
"And you would give them to us, Sir Count?" cried the young Princess
Sophie Hedwig, with heightened color in her cheeks and sparkling eyes.
The Electress and older Princess laughed aloud at this naïve and hasty question, and even the Elector laughed a little.
A slight blush suffused the Electoral Prince's face; he withdrew to the window and looked out. Count Schwarzenberg, however, looked smilingly upon the young Princess, whose girlish impatience had come so opportunely to his rescue.
"I would venture," he said, "most humbly to ask her highness's permission to lay the brocade stuffs at her feet."
"Mamma, do so," coaxed Sophie Hedwig; "take the pretty dress patterns from the good Stadtholder."
"Well, then, I shall do so," said the Electress. "I accept your present for myself and the young ladies, and I thank you."
She extended her hand to the count, which he kissed.
"And you will give orders, Electress, that the dresses be made up in time for Count Schwarzenberg's fête!" cried the Elector cheerfully. "You must at least honor him by displaying his present first at his own house."
"There are a few plates accompanying it," remarked Schwarzenberg—"a few plates on which are painted the newest styles of ladies' dresses now fashionable in Paris. The robes of the Empress and the archduchesses were made by them."
"So shall our dresses be too!" cried Sophie Hedwig, joyfully clapping her hands. "Shall they not, dearest mamma—shall not our dresses be made by the fashion plates?"
Just at this moment the Electoral Prince again emerged from the window recess, and approached his father.
"I beg your highness's gracious permission to withdraw," he said. "I should like to retire to my own apartments a little while, in order to lay aside my dusty traveling suit."
"Do so, my son," replied the Elector, with a friendly nod of the head. "Go to your rooms, which have been prepared for you a whole half year, and await your return. Dress yourself and rejoin us at dinner. For the rest, I bid you heartily welcome, and may your return be productive of good, not evil, to yourself and us all."
"God grant that I may merit my father's favor, and ever show myself worthy of it!" exclaimed the Electoral Prince, with deep seriousness. "I have now the honor of taking my leave!"
He bowed low before the Elector, and with a like salutation bade farewell to the Electress and the Princesses. After greeting the count with a smile and a wave of his hand, he hurried with light elastic step through the apartment to the door.
IV.—THE DONATION.
When the Electoral Prince left his father's cabinet he found without the officers and servants of the household arranged in solemn order. They received him with a thrice-repeated cheer that was loud enough to penetrate through the door into the Electoral apartment, and to reach the Elector's ears in a manner by no means pleasant.
Affectionately and smilingly Frederick William thanked them. He could call each one of them by name, and charmed them all by recalling little incidents of his earlier days in which they had borne a part.
"I hope we shall always remain good friends," he said, when he had reached the door of the long entrance hall, "and once more I thank you for your friendly greeting."
Old Jock, who stood next to the door, and who looked quite grand in his artfully patched livery of state—old Jock had already just opened his mouth for another thundering hurrah, when the Electoral Prince laid his hand gently upon his shoulder.
"Hush, Jock, hush! do not shout," he said, loud enough to be heard by everybody. "It is enough that I read my welcome in your eyes, and not necessary for your lips to pronounce the words aloud. Our much-loved and gracious father is sick and suffering, and we must not therefore allow his rest to be disturbed by loud noises. Be quiet and silent, therefore, and only believe me when I say that I know I am welcome to you all!"
He gave them one more friendly nod, and stepped out upon the long corridor, on the other side of which lay his own apartments. Quickly he went on, opened the door of the antechamber with a vigorous pressure of his hand, and entered. The trunks and other baggage lay in wild disorder, heaped up in the outer hall, and old Dietrich, with a few other servants and lackeys, was busied in untying parcels and unpacking. The Electoral Prince went hurriedly past, and entered his sleeping room. Here, too, he found all in confusion; the dust lay thick upon the unwieldy old furniture, whose cushions were covered with faded and even here and there ragged tapestry. From the walls, hung with discolored papering, a few old ancestral portraits looked gravely and gloomily down upon him, and their melancholy eyes seemed to ask him what he wanted here, and why he had come to awaken them from their repose, and disturb the dust which had been collecting for years. It seemed to the Prince as if he heard this inhospitable question quite clearly uttered by the lips of his ancestor Albert Achilles, before whose picture he was just passing, and whose large, glittering eyes seemed to look out in defiance. Frederick William stopped and looked at his forefather with a sad smile. "I have come much against my will, Elector Albert Achilles," he said. "I assure you, very much against my will, and if I did not think of the future, I would go away again and never come back. But for the sake of the future the present must be endured; therefore forgive me, my great, valiant ancestor, and believe me I will do you honor!"
He nodded to the picture and strode on, advancing into the next room, which was to be his study. Here everything was still exactly as he had left it almost four years ago. The old furniture stood unmoved in its familiar places; there was still the brown varnished writing table at which he had formerly applied himself to his studies, in company with his tutor Leuchtmar von Kalkhun; beside it stood the simple, rude book shelves, and on them, covered with dust and cobwebs, the old leather-bound volumes from which he had drunk in knowledge and wisdom. Before both windows hung, just as then, the dark red silken curtains, only that the sun had partially deprived them of their original coloring and interwoven sickly streaks of yellow. The old sofa, too, was yet in existence with its sleek brown leather covering, and by its side stood the two leather armchairs, with their high, straight backs and awkwardly turned feet. No one had taken the trouble to repair these inroads of dilapidation, and, long as they had been expecting the Electoral Prince, no preparations whatever had been made for his reception. Four years had passed over these chambers without leaving any further trace of their presence than dust and cobwebs, and faded stripes on cushion and curtain. Sighing, the Electoral Prince threw himself into one of the two armchairs. The old piece of furniture creaked under him, as if by this sound it would greet him and remind him of the past. He leaned his head against the back, whose leather cooled his temples as if a cold hand had been laid upon the brow of him who had just come home. Slowly his glance swept through the room, and it seemed to him as if he saw the four last years glide by like phantom shapes through the lonely, dreary, and dusty chamber. They looked at him with wan smiles and lusterless eyes, and hovered past shadowlike, leaving behind for him nothing but dust, nothing but a hardly cicatrized wound. Hardly cicatrized!
Sometimes it bled yet, this wound of his past. Sometimes he thought that there was no healing for it, that it would never close, and that its pain would never cease.
Just so thought he as the shadows of the four years floated by him through that gloomy, dusty room. Just so thought he, when the youngest of these phantoms paused beside him, threw back her gray veil of mist, and under it disclosed to him a beautiful, rosy female face, with flaming eyes, pouting lips, and lovely smile, when she raised her hand and beckoned to him, whispering: "Leave all behind and come to me! I am waiting for you! I love you! Oh, come to me!"
How sweetly enticing were these whispered sounds, how burning was the pain in the wound but barely healed! Again it began to bleed, again tears rose to his eyes. He was not ashamed of them, and yet, as he felt them flow burning down his cheeks, he stretched out his hands deprecatingly to the phantom with the rosy cheeks and fascinating smile, to the shadow of the last year, and murmured: "Away from me! Come not near me, to tempt my heart! I may not follow you—I may not, and I will not."
"And I will not!" he repeated quite aloud, and jumped up from his easychair, shaking his head defiantly and proudly, like a roused lion.
"What will you not?" asked a soft voice behind him, and when he turned round he saw at his back Baron von Leuchtmar, who had just entered, and whose mild, gentle glances rested upon him with tender expression.
"Leuchtmar!" cried the Prince, hastening to meet him with both hands outstretched. "God be praised, that you are here, that you come to me at this moment! Ah! would that you had not left me at Spandow, but had remained at my side!"
"No, my Prince! It was proper that the eyes of the people should have greeted you alone, and that the boy, whom they had seen go off at the side of his tutor, should now appear to them again as a bold and independent young man, who relies upon his own powers only, and has no longer any tutor at his side, but his own sense of duty and his conscience. But why so sad, Prince Frederick William? Your journey was verily a triumphal procession; like a Roman imperator you entered your father's city, and now do I find you here, solitary, with troubled countenance, with tears upon your cheeks?"
"With tears upon my cheeks?" repeated the Prince; "with imprecations, with wrath, and sorrow in my heart. Oh, friend, why were you not with me? You would have saved me perhaps from the bitterness of the last hour. You would have stood by me, would have encouraged me!"
"My God, what has happened then?"
"It has happened that I was received as if I were some criminal returning after a course of sin!" cried Frederick William, with indignant pain. "It has happened that they have treated me as if I were a rioter and inciter of rebellion, who had come hither with criminal designs, at the head of a mob, and as a captain of robbers, who had attacked his Sovereign in his stronghold. It has happened that they allowed me to sue for pardon upon my knees without lifting me up—that they have treated me like an abandoned villain, from whom they expected each hour to witness some new out-break."
"But consider, my Prince, that you had reason to expect that your reception would be ungracious, and that it was your father from whom these trials would come to you."
"No, not from my father, but from him—that evil spirit who, with his cold smile and mocking composure, stood at my father's side! He has poisoned my father's heart with jealousy and hate, he has filled it with mistrust toward his only son, and sowed discord, that he may himself reap a harvest from the hatred! And he was witness of my humiliation, and I saw how he looked down upon me with scornful superiority as I knelt before my father and pleaded in vain for one word of love from his lips! But he had withered this word upon his lips, and only for him were words of tenderness and veneration there! Only for him acknowledgments, confidence, and love! As he stood there with cold and haughty face at the side of my poor father, who, stooping and insignificant, cowered below him—oh, so far below him in his easychair—I felt it in every nerve of my heart, in every fiber of my brain, that he and he alone is ruling lord here, the commander and Sovereign; and that he who will not bow and cringe before him, will by him be hurled into the dust and trodden upon! They all bow before him—all! He is like a magician, who by the magnetic glances of his eyes subjects to his will all who approach him, and makes the stoutest hearts soft and pliant, so that like wax they allow themselves to be molded by his forming hands. Even my mother, who is his enemy, who has been battling against him for twenty years, even she is conquered by him, and he has become her master and forces her to his will. She knows not at all that she has fallen within the circle of his magic, yet is, like all the rest, a mere tool in his hands. But she feels it not, and fancies herself free, while she lies bound, and has no will of her own in his presence. I have seen it, I have felt it, and it has filled my heart with unutterable woe, with raging anger. She felt not at all the shame and humiliation under which I almost expired; she came not to my aid, for the magician was there, and in his presence my mother forgot her son so recently come back to her, and he was the center around which all turned, he was master of the situation, and before him all shrank into wretched nothingness. He charmed the hearts which had remained cold at my reception, charmed them with the prospect of a fête, which, as he said, he was to give in my honor, and they believed the mockery, and allowed themselves to be touched by that noble condescension, and felt not the cruel boasting with which he solemnizes the return of him who is a thorn in his flesh, a thorn which he is firmly determined to pluck out, and tread under foot! I came here humble, poor, and empty-handed, and he solemnizes my return by offering presents to my mother and my sisters! And they accept them, feel not at all the degradation, and will appear at the fête in clothes with which my enemy, my adversary, my murderer has presented them!"
"Prince, you go too far. Your hatred carries you away."
"No, I do not go too far!" cried the Prince, beside himself. His countenance was deadly pale, his eyes flashed, and his whole being seemed pervaded by the fire of wrath and hatred. "No, I do not go too far, and my hatred does not carry me away! He is the evil demon of my house—of my country! He is to blame for all the disasters of the last twenty years, for all the humiliation and shame by which my family has been visited. The Mark is to be ruined—that is his end, that is his aim; the Electoral house of Brandenburg must die out—that is his hope; and he will leave untried no means whereby this hope may become reality. He has already tried once to murder me,[22] and he will try it again. A dagger's point lurks in each glance that he fixes upon me, a drop of poison in each word that he directs to me. If I stood alone with him upon the summit of a tower, he would hurl me down, and then afterward follow my coffin with a thousand tears! And my father would lean upon him, and thank God that only his son had been snatched from him, not his friend, his favorite; and my mother would weep for me, and yet go about in mourning which he had presented to her, and she would esteem it a peculiar act of amiability if he should exert himself to divert her mind and raise her spirits. No voice would be raised against him, and no one would venture to accuse him, for my father himself would protect him, and the grace and favor of the Emperor would speak him clear of any suspicion. He is my master, my lord—that is what fills me with rage and indignation; and I will surely die of this if the count does not succeed in dispatching me first, and putting me out of the way."
"He will not venture to attempt that, for he knows public opinion would accuse and denounce him as the murderer."
"What cares he for public opinion, what asks he about it—he who has power to repress it, he who stands so secure that it can not touch him?"
"Nobody stands so high, Prince, that public opinion can not reach him and dash him into the depths below, for public opinion is the voice of the nation, and the voice of the nation is the voice of God! And believe me, Prince, this voice will one day accuse and sentence him."
"Yes, one day perhaps, when he has thrust me out of the way and murdered me, when my father has gone to his last home, when the Emperor has pronounced the Mark of Brandenburg an unincumbered fief, and bestowed it as an act of grace upon Count Schwarzenberg or his son. Oh, I know all his plans, and I know that no moment of my life is henceforth secure—know that I am a victim of death if prudence and cunning do not save me! I thought of all this during my long journey to this place. I have weighed all, pondered all, and my whole future lay before me like a white sheet of paper. I saw a hand unroll it, and with bloody letters inscribe the word 'Death'; but I saw this word blotted out by a cautious finger, and, ere it was written to the end, replaced by the word 'Life' in characters small and hardly visible. Yes, I will live, will reign, will have fame, honor, and influence, will make a name for myself! Leuchtmar, I have left behind in Holland my youth, my hopes, my dreams, my heart! I come here as a man, despite my eighteen years, as a man who from the wreck of his youth will save only this: the future and fame! A man, who has suffered so much, that he can say of himself: I defy pain, and it has no longer any power over me! I defy life, and will conquer it! Yes, Leuchtmar, I will conquer it; and although I no longer love it, I do not mean to allow it to be snatched away from me. Hear me, friend, for to-day is the last time for a long while that I may speak openly and candidly to you. I entreat you, guide of my youth, to preserve for me your friendship and your faith. I beseech you never to lose confidence in me, and, if ever a doubt should intrude itself with regard to me, to remember this hour, in which I have laid bare to you my heart, and in which you have been a witness to my indignation and grief, my excitement and hatred! You are familiar with my countenance, friend; impress it upon your memory, in order that you may never forget it, even if you should not see it for a long time again. Look once more in my eyes, and read in my glances my love and reverence for you!"
"I do look into your eyes, son of my heart," said Leuchtmar, deeply moved. "I look through your eyes into your soul, into your heart, and read therein great determination and heroic aims. Strive after them, my favorite, and when the present seems to you dark and gloomy, then lift your eye to the glittering star, which hovers over you and is your future. To endure evil, and still to remain joyful and valiant, therein lies true heroism. To turn from the dust of earthly needs, to step over it with head held heavenward, thereby is true faith proved. God bless you, my son! Be brave, be wise, be true! Trust in yourself, your friends, your people, and your God; then is the future yours, and you will overcome all your foes, and will triumph over the proud man who now thinks that he triumphs over you. I said to you, be brave, be wise, be true. I forgot one thing, though, which I shall now add—be circumspect! Remember that oftentimes it is not the sword which carries off the victory, but cunning; remember Brutus, who freed Rome."
"Oh, my friend, you have spoken truth," exclaimed the Prince; "you have read to the bottom of my soul, and understood my inmost thoughts. Now am I glad and full of confidence, for my friend and teacher will never doubt me. And hear one thing more, my Leuchtmar. You must accept a memento of this hour, a memento which I prepared even before my departure from The Hague, and which shall be to you a proof of my gratitude. I am poor and powerless, and as I build all my hopes upon the future, so must I do with my presents as well. You must accept from me a gift of my future, friend. I know full well that what you have done for me can not be recompensed, but I would so gladly testify my gratitude to you, and therefore I give you this paper!"
He drew forth a paper from his pocketbook, and handed it to Leuchtmar with a friendly smile. "Take it and read," he said.
Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun took the paper, and fastened his eyes upon the words, which were inscribed in large letters on the outside.
"A Deed of Expectancy!" he said, astonished.
The Electoral Prince nodded. "A deed of expectancy, written with my own hand and sealed with my own signet ring. Yes, yes, my friend, I have nothing to give away but expectations; yet if the Electoral Prince should ever become Elector, he will convert these expectations into reality and truth. Now unfold the paper, and see what manner of expectation it holds out."
"An act, donating the feudal tenure of Neuenhof, lying within the territories of Cleves!" cried Leuchtmar joyfully. "Oh, my dear Prince, that is truly a princely gift!"
"Yet it is not the Prince, but the grateful scholar who gives it to you," said Frederick William, "and in proof of this I have written these words, which I will read to you myself." He bent over the paper, and read: "We have voluntarily and with due consideration promised and engaged to give to Baron Leuchtmar von Kalkhun this estate of Neuenhof, out of the particular and friendly affection which we bear to him. We also swear that if we hereafter attain to power and authority, and our much-esteemed Romilian von Leuchtmar be to our sorrow cut off by death, we in the same way will this estate to his eldest son, and grant him the enjoyment of all that we assigned and destined for his father in his lifetime."[23]
"That is indeed to carry happiness and reward beyond the grave!" cried Leuchtmar, with tears in his eyes. "Oh, I thank you, my Prince, thank you from my inmost soul, for myself and my children!"
"You have nothing at all to thank me for, friend," said the Prince. "I shall ever be much more in your debt. If, however, I some day become a good Prince to my country and a father to my people, then you must reflect that this is the return I make to you, my teacher, my educator! You see I hope in the future, and think that I shall succeed in evading murderous designs and fulfill my aims. But, indeed, your warning I may never forget, and circumspect I must be first of all. Wear a mask, as Brutus did! Let me embrace you once more, friend Leuchtmar; look me once more in the eye. And now—I hear some one coming! Farewell, Leuchtmar! I put on my mask and not for a moment can I withdraw it from my features."
V.—BRUTUS.
The door was now opened, a valet entered and announced, "Her highness the
Electress!" And before the Electoral Prince had time to advance, the
Electress had entered the room.
"I come to welcome you once more, my Frederick!" she cried, stretching out her arms to her son. "Entirely without witnesses, simply as his mother would I greet my son, and tell him how happy I am that he is once more here."
She flung her arms around her son's neck, and pressed him ardently to her bosom. Baron Leuchtmar, who upon the Electress's approach had stepped aside, now crept softly through the apartment to the door, and was already in the act of opening it, when the Electress quickly raised her head and looked around.
"Stay where you are, Baron Leuchtmar," she said; "why would you slip away from us?"
"I may not presume by my presence to disturb the confidential discourse between the Electress and her son."
"You do not disturb us at all, for you belong to us, Leuchtmar," replied Charlotte Elizabeth, nodding kindly to him. "On the contrary, I will tell you that I knew you were here, and came here on that very account, in order to salute you without witnesses, and to have a private conversation with you and my son. For well I know, Leuchtmar, that we may confide in you, and that you belong to us—that is to say, to the enemies of Schwarzenberg, to the enemies of the Imperialists and Catholics, to the friends of the Swedes and Reformers."
"Your highness may be well assured that I return home just as I went away," said Leuchtmar earnestly—"that is to say, an upright Protestant, a true Brandenburger, and a determined opponent of those who concluded the peace of Prague, and thereby separated the Elector of Brandenburg from the Swedes, and made him wholly and solely subservient to the Emperor's interests."
"You will not name him, the evildoer, who has brought this to pass," cried the Electress, "but I will name him: it is Count Schwarzenberg! It is the Stadtholder in the Mark, who has brought upon us all this mischief and disgrace, who has sundered us from our nearest blood relations, the family of the Swedish King, and has leagued us with and subjected us to those who are our sworn enemies and adversaries, the Imperialists, the Austrians. Oh, my son! promise me that you will some day take vengeance for the ignominy and humiliation which we must now undergo. Swear in this first hour of your return home, solemnly joining hands with me, that as soon as you come into power the first act of your government shall be to renounce allegiance to the Emperor and to ally yourself again with the Swedes, our natural allies."
She stretched out her right hand to her son. "Swear, my son!" she cried, solemnly, "give me your hand upon it!"
But Frederick William did not lay his hand within hers. He drew back, declining her proffered hand.
"Forgive me, my dearest mother," he said, "forgive me; but I can not swear, for I do not know whether I could keep my oath! May the good God long preserve my gracious father's life, and grant him a glorious reign. But if hereafter, and surely to my deepest regret, duty and the right of Succession deliver into my hands the reins of government, then I must guide them, as circumstances direct, as determined by the contingencies of the times and the good of the country; and I dare not bind myself beforehand by any given word or by promises."
"You refuse, my son, to promise me that you will make amends for all the evil done by that wicked enemy of your house, your family, and your country?"
"Dearest mother, I know not of whom you speak, and who it is that has burdened himself with so heinous a crime."
With impulsive movement the Electress laid her hand upon his arm, and looked him steadily in the eye.
"Are you dissembling, or is that the truth?" she asked. "You do not know of whom I speak? You do not know who is the enemy of your house and family?"
"I am trying in vain to study it out, mother, and I beg you not to be angry with me on that account, for your grace must reflect that I have been absent almost four years, and am therefore a little unacquainted with the situation of affairs here. If you had addressed that question to me before my departure, most assuredly I should have replied without hesitation, 'It is Count Schwarzenberg!' But I have since then found out that I had done the count injustice in many things through my inexperience and want of foresight; that he is a very great and experienced statesman and politician, who with his far-seeing glances can discern much more clearly than I with my unpracticed eyes the relations of things. Who knows but that, after all, the peace of Prague has been a real blessing to our land. When I behold its present pitiable and languishing condition as a neutral, how can I avoid reflecting with horror upon what might have been the state of things had we joined any decided war party. Had we sided with the Swedes, the enmity of the powerful Emperor, vastly surpassing us in material resources, would long since have destroyed us root and branch, and my dear father would have most probably shared the same lamentable fate as the Elector of the Palatinate, his brother-in-law, or the Margrave of Liegnitz and Jägerndorf, his cousin. He must have wandered with wife and children an exile in foreign lands, or died of grief among strangers. On the other hand, had we sided with the Emperor against the Swedes, a raging, implacable foe would have quartered himself in the heart of our dominions, and not merely Pomerania, but the Mark and the duchy of Prussia would have been overrun-by his warlike hordes. But on my journey hither I have witnessed the misery and unspeakable wretchedness of our land, and asked myself with heavy, sorrowing heart what would have become of our unhappy country in times of war if neutrality could reduce it to such poverty and plunge it in such want and suffering. And then I was forced to acknowledge that Count Schwarzenberg had acted right well as Stadtholder in the Mark in wishing, before all things, to preserve the Mark intrusted to him from yet greater calamity, by holding it to that neutrality, being alike impartial between the Emperor and the Swedes. I therefore begged his pardon in my heart for having often accused him unjustly before, for he is indeed a faithful and zealous servant to his master, and especially endeavors to further his interests, to maintain his position, and to console him in these times of affliction. I see, too, that not merely the Elector holds him in high estimation, and honors him as his true and valued counselor and friend, but that my mother as well has taken him into her favor, and that she has quite recovered from the mistrust with which she previously regarded him. For surely it is a proof of great favor when the Electress allows the count to offer presents of dresses to herself and her daughters, and no one of us can mistrust him, who so cordially rejoices over my return that he volunteers to celebrate it by a splendid festival. The whole Electoral family has accepted the invitation to this festival, and thereby prove to Berlin, yea, to the whole country, that we are on the best terms with the Stadtholder, and that nothing has transpired which could shake our confidence in him.'"
The Electress had listened to her son with ever-growing amazement. Her glances had grown more and more indignant; she had often turned from her son to Leuchtmar, as if to read in his features whether or not he shared her astonishment and irritation. Now, when the Prince was silent, she stepped across to Leuchtmar, and laid her hand upon his arm.
"Leuchtmar," she asked with trembling voice, "is he in earnest? Has he actually altered so entirely? Has he really gone over to our enemies and adversaries?"
"Most gracious lady, the Electoral Prince is by far too tender a son ever to become alienated from his mother," replied the baron earnestly.
"He speaks the truth, my dearest mother," exclaimed Frederick William, nearing his mother. "Never could I alter toward you, never forget the gratitude and love I owe you, never go over to your enemies and adversaries. But why should we carry politics into private life, and what have Swedes and Imperialists, Catholics and Reformers to do with our family life and our domestic circle? Let us hand politics over to those whose duty it is to deal with them; let us not seek to meddle in the government, for we have no right to do so, and should step aside for those who understand matters far better than we do, and who manage the machine of state with as much foresight as wisdom. I, at least, am determined to hold myself aloof from all such burdensome affairs, to enjoy my youth and freedom, and I thank God that I have not to bear the weight of administering the government, but have only the pleasant task allotted me of permitting myself to be governed!"
"It is not possible!" cried the Electress, with an outburst of passion—"no, it is not possible that my son can so speak and think! O Leuchtmar! what have you made of my son? Who has changed him, my darling, my only son? I hoped that he would come back a hero, around whom would cluster all those who are true to our house, our faith, and our fatherland! I hoped that in him I should find a refuge against the aggressions, the villainy, and the wiles of my enemy! I hoped that the son would succeed in winning back his father's heart, and turning him against that proud man who rules him entirely, and who will crush us all. O God! my God! for three long years I have been looking forward to his return as the time of vengeance and retribution, and now that son is here, and what do I find in him? A son weakly obedient to his father, a submissive admirer of Count Schwarzenberg, a weakling who longs not at all for honor and influence, who is glad that he has not to govern and work, but that others must govern and work for him! Alas! I am a poor mother, and much to be pitied, for in vain have I hoped that my son would assist me to avenge the misfortunes of my house, and punish and bring my enemies to account!"
She covered her face with her hands, weeping aloud. The Electoral Prince gave her a look of mingled grief and pain, took one hurried step forward, as if he would go to her, and encircle her in his arms, then paused, retreated slowly, gently, ever farther from the spot where she still stood with face concealed and sobbing aloud. It was as if an invisible hand continually drew him farther from his mother, ever nearer the door of the antechamber. Now he stood close to it, leaned against it, and—was the old castle so disjointed, or had the Electoral Prince with sudden touch pressed upon the latch?—the door flew open. The Electoral Prince fell backward into the antechamber, and, had it not been for the Electress's valet, against whom he stumbled, would have fallen to the ground.
"By my faith!" he cried, while he nodded to the lackey, who stood there with red face and deep embarrassment of manner—"by my faith! it was a piece of good luck for me that you were standing so near the door, my friend, else I should probably have had a bad fall. This rickety old castle must be repaired. One can not even lean against the doors without their flying open!"
He nodded to the lackey, who stood there in confusion, not having at all recovered his self-possession, and stepped back into the room. In passing, his eye caught that of Leuchtmar, who replied by a nod of assent, stolen and significant; then he approached the Electress, who, surprised by this sudden and unexpected interlude, had let her hands glide from before her face, and now dried her tears.
"I beg my revered mother's pardon for disturbing her so ridiculously," he said, seizing her hand and pressing it to his lips. "It was not my fault, and only occasioned by the insecure fastening upon the door. It was by a right fortunate accident that your grace commanded your valet to station himself close to the door of the cabinet, for he thereby saved me from an unpleasant fall."
"I did not command the lackey to station himself in your sleeping apartment," said the Electress, "and consider it contrary to all rules of propriety."
She rapidly crossed the study and opened the door just as the lackey was slinking through the one opposite.
"Frederick, come here!" cried the Electress, and with head sunk and humbled mien the lackey came a few paces nearer.
"Did I not order you to wait for me in the antechamber, and to forewarn us of the approach of any one else?" asked the Electress.
"Your highness," replied the lackey humbly, "I followed your grace's orders exactly, and stood here in the antechamber and kept guard, but nobody came."
"But this is not the antechamber, you blockhead!" cried the Electress. "It is there, without! Go out there and wait!"
The lackey made haste to obey the order given him, and the Electress turned to the Prince. "I beg you, my son, to pardon the man his stupidity," said she; "but he deserves some indulgence in so far as he has only been in our service for a short while, and consequently is not well acquainted with the plan of the palace. My valet fell sick on the journey from Königsberg here, and we were obliged to leave him behind, which was so much the more inconvenient as he was our hairdresser besides, and understood how to arrange the Elector's hair as well as my own and the young ladies'. Count Schwarzenberg heard of it, and by a piece of good fortune, was able to spare us one of his valets."
"Oh!" cried the Electoral Prince, smiling. "This fellow, then, has been transferred from the Stadtholder's service to that of your grace?"
"Yes, and I must say that he is a very useful and efficient servant, who understands all the newest styles of French hairdressing, and is well skilled in other ways also. I beg you therefore to excuse him for this little mistake."
"He is perfectly excusable," said the Electoral Prince, bowing. "So much the more excusable, as it might well happen that he is not yet familiar with this castle."
"It is true," cried the Electress, casting her eyes around the room, "it does look a little dilapidated and desolate here, and care ought indeed to have been taken to refurnish your apartments and give them a more comfortable aspect. You know, Frederick, we only expect to tarry here for a short time, and think of returning to Prussia very soon, and there I shall see myself that you are provided with handsomer and more commodious rooms. There I am the princely lady of the house, and everywhere reigning duchess, while here, in the resident palace of Berlin, I seem to myself only a guest, who has nothing at all to say in the directing of the household, but must silently acquiesce in everything. And it is so, too, and has come to this pass, that the Stadtholder in the Mark is the only ruling lord and commander, and the Elector seems to come here only as the Stadtholder's guest."
"The Stadtholder, though, seems at least a right polite and splendid host," remarked the Electoral Prince, smiling, "a host who lays himself out to attend to the comfort and entertainment—nay, even to the wardrobes—of his noble guests."
"Your Electoral Highnesses!" cried an advancing lackey—"your Electoral Highnesses, the steward of the household is without, and announces that dinner is served, and that the Elector and the young ladies have already repaired to the dining hall."
"Then let us go too, my son," said the Electress, offering her hand to the
Electoral Prince.
"But, most gracious mother, I still have on my traveling suit, and—"
"My son," sighed the Electress, "your traveling suit is so showy and elegant that I can only wish that in the future your court dress may always be so handsome. Come, give me your arm, and let us hurry, for your father does not like to be kept waiting, and is very punctual at mealtimes. You, Baron von Leuchtmar, follow us. We herewith invite you to be our guest, and to accompany us to table."
The Electress took the Prince's proffered arm, and swept through the door held open for her by the lackey. The steward of the household, who had awaited them in the antechamber, golden staff in hand, now preceded them, the lackeys flew before them to open the doors, and through a suite of gloomy, deserted rooms, with old-fashioned, dusty, and half-decayed furniture, moved the princely pair, followed by Baron von Leuchtmar, behind whom strutted the lackeys at a respectful distance. The Elector stood with the two Princesses in the deep recess of the great window, when his wife and son entered; he greeted them both with a short nod of the head, and, casting a dark, unfriendly glance at Baron von Leuchtmar, who was reverentially approaching him, gave his arm to his wife, and led her to the two upper places at the oblong table.