Grand-Marshal Duroc was pacing his room in great agitation. Evening was drawing nigh, and still he had not received any intelligence from the Princess von Hatzfeld. Yet her husband had been arrested in the course of the forenoon and taken to the palace, in one of the rooms of which he was locked up and kept under strict surveillance. The news of his arrest had spread rapidly through Berlin, and cast a gloom over the whole city. Everywhere in the streets groups of pale and grave men were to be seen, who whispered to each other this latest dreadful event, and vented their anger in secret imprecations.
All were convinced that the Prince von Hatzfeld must die; every one felt it to be a new humiliation inflicted upon himself personally, that one of the most respected and distinguished men in Prussia was to be charged with felony, and tried as a common spy. No one doubted that the court-martial would pass sentence of death upon him; and that Napoleon would show no mercy, nor feel any compassion, could be read in his stern and melancholy air when, followed by his suite, he rode through the streets to Charlottenburg.
All the reproaches heretofore uttered against the Prince von Hatzfeld were forgotten; the people forgave his weakness, his cowardice, his predilection for France. At this hour, when he was menaced by the universal enemy and oppressor they only remembered that he was a German, and that the anger of the conqueror ought to make him a martyr of the German cause. They whispered to each other that Napoleon had selected the prince merely for the purpose of intimidating the opposition by an example of severity, and of frightening the royalists. "He is lost!" they said, mournfully. "The emperor will not pardon him, for he intends to punish in the prince's person ourselves, who love the king and would like to send him information concerning the enemy and his armies."
"The Prince von Hatzfeld is lost!" said Duroc, also, as he was uneasily and sadly pacing his room. "Yes! This time Talleyrand, in spite of all his sagacity, has been mistaken. The emperor does not intend to pardon the prince, for he has selected Davoust, Rapp, and Clarke as members of the court-martial, and they have no mercy on those whom their master has accused. The princess does not think of coming to me and of invoking my intercession. And even if she did, I should not be able to assist her. All my supplications would be in vain. The emperor has resolved on the prince's death from policy, not in auger; hence nothing can save him."
Just then the door opened, and the footman hastily entered. "Grand marshal," he said, "there is a veiled lady outside, who insists on seeing you. I have vainly requested her to give me her name; she will only mention it to your excellency, and—"
Duroc did not longer listen to him. He himself hastened into the anteroom, and, offering his arm to the lady, conducted her into his cabinet.
"Go down-stairs, Jean," he hurriedly said to his footman,"—down-stairs, hasten into the Palace Place, and when you see the emperor approaching in the distance, return and inform me of it."
Jean slipped out of the door, and Duroc locked it after him. "Well, madame," he then said, "speak! We are alone."
The lady hastily removed the veil from her face, and showed her beautiful, pale features bathed in tears.
"The Princess von Hatzfeld!" exclaimed Duroc, successfully feigning an air of great surprise.
"Yes, it is I," she said, breathlessly and with quivering lips. "I come to beseech you to assist me! You must do so—you must not desert me! My husband has been arrested! He is charged with having secretly informed the king of the operations of the French army. He is accused of being a spy. Oh, merciful Heaven! he will die, for the emperor is bent on having him executed; he desires to crush and ruin us all! Do you understand it is my husband?—he whom others charged with being a traitor to his country, because, in his generous exertions to avoid bloodshed, he always admonished the inhabitants to be patient and submissive—he is charged now with having betrayed the emperor, and is to be executed as a spy! They have dragged him from my side and taken him away. I fainted with grief and despair. Oh, I hoped—wished it were death that prostrated me! But God would not let me die; He preserved my life, that I might try to save my husband. The physician advised me to remain, and endeavor to take rest. Duroc, how can I take rest while the life of my beloved husband is in danger? I rose from my couch, for the thought flashed through my mind, 'Duroc will assist me in saving him!' And now I am here, and beseech you, have mercy on a wife's despair! Duroc, help me, so that I may save the prince! You have a kind and generous heart, and the emperor loves you! Implore him to have mercy on my husband! By all that is dear to you, I beseech you, beg for him!" And quite beside herself, pale and in tears, the young princess was about to kneel down before Duroc, but he quickly raised her up, and, bowing deeply, kissed her cold, trembling hands.
"I thank you, princess, for having thought of and believed in me," he said. "But I am afraid that your faith will be in vain."
"Pray for my husband," she said sobbing. "You see, I shall die if I lose him. Have pity on my youth, and on my unborn child! Implore the emperor to have mercy on the prince!"
"You believe the emperor would listen to me?" asked Duroc, sadly. "Then you do not know him; you do not know what he is when he is angry. I have been in more than twenty battles; bullets have hissed all around me; death was at my side, and I did not tremble, but I tremble when the emperor is angry. When I behold his marble face—his flashing eyes—when his voice resounds like the roll of thunder, I comprehend how women faint and flee. I myself feel then what I never felt in the battle-field—I feel fear!"
"Then you will not assist me!" exclaimed the princess, wringing her hands. "You will not do any thing for him? And yet he is innocent. My noble husband never committed the crime with which he is charged. He is no spy—no traitor—and yet he is to die! I have no friend, and the only man who I had hoped would aid me desert? me, because he is afraid of his master's frown!"
"No," said Duroc, "I do not desert you, I only tell you what the emperor is in his wrath; I only tell you that the tempestuous ocean is pleasant, and the thunder mild, compared with him in such a mood. However, I would gladly expose myself to it if I could be useful to you and to your husband. But it is a vain hope. The emperor would not listen to me; he would interrupt me, and order me to be silent. My intercession would irritate him even more, and, instead of delaying the terrible catastrophe, I should be likely to accelerate it."
"Well," exclaimed the princess, wringing her hands, "if you yourself dare not speak and beg for him, let me. I am not afraid of the emperor's anger, and when a woman clasps his knees and implores his mercy, he will at least listen, and his heart may be softened. I beseech you to grant me this favor—conduct me to the emperor! Let me implore him to pardon my husband!"
"You are right, it is perhaps the only way to save his life. Napoleon has a generous heart; your tears, perhaps, will touch him, for he cannot bear the sight of a weeping woman, and genuine grief always moves his heart. But just because he is conscious of his weakness, he will avoid seeing you, and give stringent orders not to admit any one. You must, at present forget your rank. You must not insist that the footmen announce you, and open the folding-doors, but you must make up your mind to appear, without any regard to etiquette, before the emperor, and oblige him to grant you an audience."
"Do you not see that I am nothing but a poor, unhappy woman, begging for mercy?" said the princess, with a melancholy smile. "Would I have come to you if I thought still of the rules of etiquette? Give me an opportunity to see the emperor, and, though it were in the open street, and thousands standing by, I should kneel down before him, and, like a beggar-woman, ask for the alms of his mercy—for my husband's life is in his hands!"
"Well, if such be your feelings, princess, I hope to be able to procure you access to him. We must act as generals do in the field, and try to outwit the enemy—we must deprive the emperor of the possibility of avoiding an audience. After his return from Charlottenburg and when once in his rooms, all will be in vain; he will admit no one, and close his ears against all supplications of mine. Hence you must meet him at the moment when he enters the palace. You must—"
A rapid knock at the door interrupted him, and Duroc hastened to open it. "Is it you, Jean?" he asked.
"Yes, M. Grand marshal, it is I," said the footman, "I come to inform your excellency that the emperor is just riding up the Linden with his suite. He will be here in a few minutes."
"All right. Go now, Jean."
"Let us go, too," said the princess, quickly approaching the door. "Give me your arm, M. Grand marshal; I am trembling so, I might sink down before appearing in the presence of the emperor!"
"Come, princess," said Duroc, compassionately, "lean firmly on me. Heaven will give you strength, for you have a noble and fearless heart. Come! I will conduct you to the foot of the staircase, which the emperor will have to ascend in order to reach his rooms. You may accost him there. God and love will impart strength to your words!"
With rapid steps they crossed the suite of rooms and stepped into the so-called Swiss hall, where the orderlies and soldiers of the guard on duty that day were assembled. The bearded warriors looked surprised at the grand marshal—whose face was graver than they had ever seen it in battle—and at this lady, hanging on his arm, as beautiful and pale as a lily. Duroc, who generally had a smile and a pleasant word for the soldiers of the guard, the faithful companions of so many battles, took no notice of them. He hastened with the princess through the hall into the corridor, and down the broad winding stairs opening immediately into the second court-yard of the palace. He then conducted her across through the inside portal to the splendidly-carpeted principal staircase in the rear of the vestibule.
"Await the emperor here," said Duroc, drawing a deep breath. "He will go up this staircase, and he cannot, therefore, avoid meeting you. But he has a sharp eye, and if he should see you from afar, he might, divining your intention, turn around and go the other way. Ascend as far as the first landing. The emperor cannot see you there before he mounts the first steps, and then he will not turn hack."
The princess hastily ascended the steps, which she had so often done with a joyous heart, and in a brilliant toilet, when repairing to the festivals of the royal court. Duroc followed her, and told the sentinel posted at the staircase and presenting arms to the grand marshal, that the lady had received orders to wait there for the emperor, who—
Just then the drums rolled, and the guard in the court-yard was called out.
"The emperor!" whispered the princess, sinking down on her knees, clasping her hands and praying silently.
"The emperor!" said Duroc, hastening down-stairs into the second court-yard.
Napoleon rode in at that moment, and Duroc, glancing uneasily at him, saw that his mien was even gloomier than previous to his ride; he saw that flashes of anger darted from his eyes, ready to wither the first being that should come near them. On riding up the Linden to-day, he had again missed the wonted music of "Vive l'Empereur!" and noticed that the people, standing here and there in groups in the street, when he passed them, had frowned instead of greeting him with the usual cheers. This want of respect, this visible defiance had darkened his countenance and embittered his soul. Just as he alighted from his horse, and threw the bridle to Koustan, the Mameluke, the grand marshal, pale, panting, and in visible emotion, stepped up to him. Napoleon noticed it, and his angry glance intimidated Duroc.
"You want to inform me that Berlin is seditious?" he asked, in a stern, hard voice. "I am not astonished at it. This city seems to be inclined to such movements. But I am about to set it a terrible example; I will show Berlin in what manner I punish rebels, and will cure its seditious tendency." Striking his boots with his riding-whip, as was his habit when out of humor, he crossed the court-yard in the direction of the staircase.
"No, sire," said Duroc. "Berlin is not seditious. I only intended to implore your majesty's noble and generous heart to grant me a favor."
The emperor looked at him with some surprise, and, advancing rapidly, he set foot on the first step of the staircase, his eyes directed to the grand marshal. "Well, what is it?" he asked, ascending the second step, and turning to Duroc, who was walking behind him.
"Sire, have mercy on the unhappy Princess von Hatzfeld! I beseech your majesty to grant her an audience."
"No, no," exclaimed the emperor, "do not say a word about that! I do not wish to see her, I—But what is this?" he interrupted himself, for he had now reached the first landing, and beheld the princess. She had knelt down, and, stretching out her clasped hands, fixed her large azure eyes on him with a most heart-rending, suppliant air.
Napoleon's brow grew darker than before, and with an angry air he asked, "What does this mean, M. Grand marshal? Who is this lady?"
"Sire, it is the Princess von Hatzfeld," replied Duroc, in a low voice. "She implored me to procure her an interview with your majesty. Sire, pardon me for having conducted her hither, that she herself might beg your majesty for this audience. I counted on your generous heart, which will forgive the wife who conies to implore your mercy for her husband."
"Have you not been told that I have expressly forbidden this affair to be mentioned to me?" exclaimed the emperor, in a threatening voice. "The court-martial alone has to judge the prince and I will and must not influence its verdict."
"Oh, sire," exclaimed the princess who was still on her knees, "have mercy on me!—have mercy on my unhappy husband!" Tears choked her voice, and ran in torrents over her pale face.
Napoleon seemed to be moved by this piteous spectacle; his eye became milder, and his frown disappeared. "Madame," he said, bending over her, "rise. A lady in your circumstances ought to kneel before God only. In consideration of your condition, I grant you an interview. Grand marshal, follow me, with the princess." He quickly ascended the staircase, and, without looking round, walked across the halls and rooms to his cabinet. Breathless, scarcely touching the floor with her feet, and strengthened by her profound emotion, the princess walked behind him by the side of Duroc.
"The emperor now enters his cabinet," whispered Duroc. "You have reached your destination."
"My God, have mercy on me!" sighed the princess, and raised her eyes imploringly to heaven. She was now in the cabinet, and Duroc withdrew to the door. Napoleon stood in the middle of the room; the brightly-burning fire shed a light over his whole figure, and rendered prominent his stern features.
"Sire," exclaimed the princess, falling on her knees, "I beseech you have mercy on my husband! Mercy, sire, mercy!"
"Mercy!" ejaculated Napoleon, harshly. "Do you know the crime of which your husband stands accused?"
"Sire, I know only that he worships your majesty; I therefore do not believe in his guilt," exclaimed the princess.
"He has acted the part of a miserable spy," added Napoleon, raising his voice. "After he had already sworn to me the oath of obedience and fealty, he mailed a letter to the King of Prussia, in which he reported to him the number, the spirit, and movements of the French troops. That is the act of a traitor and a spy, and as such he will be found guilty by the court-martial to-morrow."
"Sire, it is impossible! My husband cannot have done any thing of the kind. Oh, believe me, your majesty, he is innocent! He has been slandered in order to bring about his ruin; but he is innocent—assuredly he is innocent! He never wrote such a letter; he cannot have written it!" The emperor quickly walked to his desk, and took from it a paper, which he handed to her. "Here is the letter," he said. "Do you know your husband's handwriting?"
The princess fixed her eyes, dimmed by tears, on the paper she held in her trembling hands. She then uttered a cry, so piercing and heart-rending, that Duroc, who was standing at the door, felt the tears starting into his eyes. Napoleon himself could not help shuddering.
"It is his handwriting!" muttered the princess, dropping the paper upon the floor. Her quivering lips had now no longer the strength and courage to repeat her prayer—her head fell on her breast, and she uttered only low groans and sobbed.
The emperor seemed to be touched by her wordless yet eloquent grief. His manner, which had hitherto been stern, became gentle and kind, and he looked down with an expression of compassion on that kneeling, despairing form. He stooped, picked up the letter, and placed it in the hands of the princess. "Madame," he said, "here is the letter. Do with it what you please. For this letter is the only thing proving his guilt."
The princess looked up to him with a joyous, surprised glance. The emperor smiled, and pointed silently to the fire-place. She rose hastily from her knees, rushed toward the fire, and threw the paper into it.
"It is burning! It is burning!" she joyfully shouted. "My husband is saved! My husband is free!" and uttering a scream, she tottered back, and fell in a swoon at the emperor's feet.
Duroc rushed to her aid, and, raising her in his arms, was about to carry her out of the room; but the emperor himself rolled an easy-chair toward her, and assisted Duroc in placing her on it.
"Now, call Roustan," said Napoleon, "he will help you to remove the fainting lady. But quick, lest she awake and thank me! Conduct her to her husband, who is here at the palace. Let her personally announce to him that he is free, and tell him that he is indebted for his release solely to her intercession. Make haste!"
Roustan entered as soon as Duroc called him, and both of them carried the princess on the easy-chair out of the room. The emperor gazed musingly after them, and a sarcastic smile played on his lips. "Well," he said to himself, "I believe this scene will be an excellent match to the oath at the grave of Frederick the Great. It will form a glorious subject for an engraving—one that will be more honorable to me than was the oath to the beautiful queen. Artists will be delighted to publish such an engraving, and the good city of Berlin will say that I am a great man, and know how to forgive injuries."
Just then Talleyrand, who had the right to enter the emperor's cabinet at any time, without being announced, appeared on the threshold.
"Ah, Talleyrand," exclaimed Napoleon, "if you had come a little earlier, you would have witnessed a very touching scene. The Princess von Hatzfeld was here."
"I know it, sire. I have just met the poor fainting lady in the anteroom, and Duroc described to me in a few words what had taken place. How lucky it was that there was a fire in the room!"
The emperor bent a piercing glance upon Talleyrand, but the minister's face was perfectly calm and impenetrable. Not the slightest approach to a sneer was visible in it.
"This proof of generosity will win the hearts of all to your majesty," added Talleyrand. "People will forget Palm; they will only think of Hatzfeld, and praise you as a modern Cæsar. When the letters his enemies had written to Pompey were shown to Cæsar, he refused to read them, and threw them into the fire (there is always a fire burning in the right place and at the right moment), saying, 'Although I am sure to master my anger, yet it is safer to destroy its cause.' Your majesty has followed Cæsar's example, and, if you have no objection, sire, I shall induce Professor Lange to give an enthusiastic and eloquent account of this sublime scene to the inhabitants of Berlin."
"Then you have already gained him over to our side?" asked Napoleon. "The ardent champion of the queen has been converted?"
"He has, sire, thanks to his fear of death, and to the five thousand francs which I offered him, and which had the same effect upon him as a basilisk's eye on the bird. These German journalists, it seems, are even more needy than ours, for they can be had for less."
"Five thousand francs," said Napoleon, musingly, "and for that sum he sells his honor, his fealty, and his conscience! Ah, what miserable creatures men are, after all, and how right are those who despise them!"
"Sire, will you permit me to enter and make my report?" asked Duroc, looking in at the door.
"Come in, grand marshal. And now tell me, how is the poor princess? Has she recovered from her swoon?"
"Yes, sire, she was still unconscious when we carried her into her husband's room. He uttered a loud cry, rushed to her, and clasped her in his arms. She was awakened by his kisses and his anxious and tender ejaculations. A torrent of tears burst forth, and, encircling his neck with her arms, she exclaimed, 'You are saved! You are mine again! the emperor has had mercy on me!'"
"Poor woman! She was really in despair, but behaved very nobly and with a great deal of tact, and I am pleased with her."
Talleyrand scarcely smiled, as he muttered to himself:
"Yes, the emperor is right in being pleased with her, for the poor little lady really took the sentimental farce for a tragedy, and neither she nor Duroc looked behind the scenes."[21]
The hour when Napoleon was to give audience had come, and the ministers of the petty German princes, who had hitherto vainly implored Talleyrand to procure them admission to the emperor, were at length to accomplish their purpose, and to receive from the mouth of the conqueror himself the decision of their fate. He was in his cabinet pacing with rapid steps, while Talleyrand was standing at the desk, and with a pencil entering a few notes in his memorandum-book.
"No," said the emperor, sullenly, "I shall have no mercy on these petty German princes, and their miserable whining shall not shake my resolution. Frederick II., who uttered the most cutting sarcasms against these petty sovereigns, would have done much better if he had destroyed these grubs in the tree of royalty—if he had made a new crown from their small coronets. As he failed to do so, I shall not imitate the example set by him, and my brother Jerome shall wear the crown which shall make him a German king."
"Your majesty, then, will adopt the plan of a new kingdom in Northern Germany, which I had the honor to draw up?"
"Yes, but I shall somewhat extend the boundaries, which are too narrow as proposed by you. How much of Hesse, for instance, did you incorporate with the new kingdom?"
"Sire, the entire northern part of Hesse, so that the cities of Marburg and Hersfeld would form the southern boundary of the new kingdom, and that Cassel would be a good capital for the new king."
"And you would leave Hanau and Fulda to that perfidious elector?" asked Napoleon. "No, no, you are too generous. The Elector of Hesse and his whole family deserve to be annihilated, and I am not willing to have mercy on him or on the other petty tyrants. Brunswick, Nassau, Cassel, are all friends of England; they never will be faithful allies of ours; it is best, therefore, to depose them."
"The elector has already sent hither two ambassadors, whom he has authorized to give us the most fervent assurances of unwavering fealty," said Talleyrand, smiling.
"I know the promises of these legitimate princes!" exclaimed Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. "I know what they are worth. So long as they are in prosperous circumstances, their heart is full of haughtiness and malice. There are, in their eyes, no rights of man—only rights of princes; no subjects—only slaves. But no sooner are calamities approaching than they grow discouraged, and in their cowardice they degrade themselves before their people so far as to flatter them in the most fulsome and abject manner, making promises to them which they are neither able nor willing to fulfil. I have been told that these loquacious Germans, in their impotent wrath, have called me the 'Scourge of God!' Well, then, they shall be right. To these petty princes who are playing the part of great sovereigns, and perverting the rôle of royalty and of the throne into a miserable farce—to these caricatures of sovereignty—I will be a 'scourge of God!' I will scourge them to death! Who are now waiting in the anteroom?"
"Sire, there are the two ambassadors of the Elector of Hesse, M. de Malsburg and M. de Lepel; Chancellor von Müller, ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar; M. de Münchhausen, ambassador of the Duke of Brunswick; and, finally, a deputation of Poles, who have come to do homage to your majesty."
"I shall bid the Polish ambassadors welcome," exclaimed Napoleon, emphatically, "and make to these gentlemen many promises representing the most brilliant prospects. An insurrection in Poland just now would be highly conducive to the success of my plans. I will try to bring it about by all the means at my disposal, and accomplish my purpose. Hence, I will even go in person to Warsaw to fan the enthusiasm of the Poles."
"Sire," said Talleyrand, "that will be throwing down the gauntlet to the Austrian government, and if it intends to preserve its Polish provinces, it will have to take it up."
"We must take care that Austria does not regard as a gauntlet the bone that I mean to throw to the Poles," said Napoleon. "You will instruct my ambassador at Vienna to dispel carefully all such suppositions and apprehensions, by repairing to the Emperor of Austria and assuring him that I do not intend to fulfil the promises which I am making to the Poles; that, on the contrary, in case a rising should take place in Poland, I will take care not to let it reach Galicia, but to confine it to the Polish provinces of Russia and Prussia, provided the Emperor Francis maintain his present neutrality. Send instructions to-day to this effect to my minister in Vienna. And now I will receive the ambassadors."
"Whom will your majesty admit first?"
"Introduce in the first place the gentlemen from Hesse," said Napoleon, entering the small reception-room contiguous to his cabinet. Talleyrand crossed this room and entered the adjoining audience-hall, in which the plenipotentiaries had already waited for an hour. He beckoned the two ambassadors of Hesse to approach, and introduced them, by virtue of his position as minister of foreign affairs, into the reception-room, where the emperor was waiting for them.
"Sire," he said, "the ambassadors of the Elector of Hesse." Napoleon returned only a careless nod to their deep obeisances, and went to meet them.
"I admire the Elector of Hesse, because he dares to remind me of himself," said the emperor, sternly. "He has been intriguing against me too long to suppose that I would deal leniently with him. I formerly made friendly offers to him, and requested him to join the Confederation of the Rhine. Then it was time for him to prove his friendship and attachment to me, and to stand by me as a faithful ally. But at that time he still hoped that I would succumb in the struggle with Prussia; the tirades of the officers of the Prussian guard resounded in his ears like the music of a triumph already obtained over me, and drowned the voice of France. But he would not side openly with Prussia either; he would remain neutral until he could distinctly see which side would be victorious. Equivocal in his words and actions, he thought only of the safety of his person and his riches, and not of his country, his people, and his honor! Let him now receive the punishment due to his duplicity. I shall take possession of his states and appropriate his crown. The Elector of Hesse has ceased to reign."
"Sire," said M. de Lepel, in a timid, suppliant voice, "the elector dares to appeal to the generosity of your majesty. Marshal Mortier, with his forces, occupies Cassel and the Hessian states, and declares them to be French possessions. The elector and his crown-prince only escaped imprisonment by flight."
"They have been but too lucky to be allowed to escape," exclaimed Napoleon, angrily. "It is really time to make a rigorous example for once, and to prove to the sovereigns, who regard war as a game of hazard, that it may become very serious, and that they may lose their crown and life by it. That would induce them to weigh well the consequences of war in their councils of state before taking up arms."
"Sire, the elector, our master, repents of what he has done, and acknowledges that he was wrong," said M. de Malsburg, humbly. "His highness is ready to bow to every thing, and to submit to any conditions your majesty may be pleased to impose on him."
"What does that mean?" asked Napoleon. "What does your elector mean by conditions? I do not remember having imposed any conditions on him, for those which I offered six months ago were annulled by the events that have since taken place."
"But the elector hopes that your majesty, nevertheless, will remember them, and show favor instead of deserved punishment. Your majesty, by so sublime an act of generosity, would forever attach our master and his whole house to the French empire. You would have no more faithful and devoted servant in Germany than the Elector of Hesse."
"Sire," said Talleyrand, approaching suddenly, "I am free to intercede for the Elector of Hesse, who is so humbly imploring your majesty to have mercy on him!"
"Sire, have mercy on our unfortunate master, who is wandering about in foreign lands, solitary and deserted!" exclaimed M. de Malsburg, in a tremulous voice.
"Have mercy on our state, and on our people, who are devoted to their legitimate sovereign," said M. de Lepel. "Sire, our soldiers have been disarmed and disbanded; our treasury seized, and a French governor-general is carrying on the administration of our country in the name of your majesty; and still the sovereign and the people hope that Napoleon will have mercy on them—Napoleon, who is called the Great, not only because he knows how to conquer states, but to be generous. Sire, the sword of the conqueror builds only visible thrones that may perish; but the magnanimity of the conqueror builds in the hearts of men thrones that are imperishable."
"Ah, I should not like to count too much on the throne erected in the heart of the Elector of Hesse," said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders.
"Sire, will not your majesty listen at least to the promises which these gentlemen are authorized to make in the name of the elector?" asked Talleyrand.
"Well, what are they?" asked Napoleon. "What else have you to say to me in the name of your sovereign?"
"Sire, the elector is ready to submit at discretion to your majesty," said M. de Lepel. "Above all, he will hasten to join the Confederation of the Rhine. Besides, he is ready to pay a contribution—to surrender the fortresses in his states to the French, and to incorporate twelve thousand men with the French army. He only implores your majesty, in consideration of all these sacrifices, to leave him his sovereignty, and the possession of his titles, honors, and hereditary states."
"No," ejaculated the emperor. "No; he has forfeited his sovereignty; he is unworthy of being a prince. There is no dynasty in Germany which has been a more persistent enemy to France than that of Hesse-Cassel. Your master disdained to grasp the hand which I offered to him; the sword has decided now between him and me. Fate urges me to inflict upon him the punishment he has deserved by his misdeeds. Do not tell me the Hessian people sympathize with the fate of the elector, and that they are fondly attached to their legitimate sovereign. It is not true! The people of Hesse are nursing the elector, and they are right in doing so. He sold the blood of his subjects to England for many years, so that she might wage war against us in both hemispheres. To this trade in human beings he is indebted for the riches which he has amassed, and with which he has now fled from his country. Can you deny this, gentlemen? Can you deny, further, that the elector bitterly reproached one of his generals, who commanded the troops sold to England in America, with having held back his men, and with not having led them mercilessly enough into the fire? Do not the Hessians know that the elector upbraided him in this manner only because he received twenty-five ducats for every soldier who was killed in battle? Well, why do you not speak? Tell me that this is untrue—tell me that thousands of mothers are not weeping for their sons who have fallen in America, and whose graves they will never behold—that able-bodied men were not compelled by thousands to leave their country as sold slaves, and that the imprecations of those leaving did not unite with the curses of those remaining, in order one day to become at the throne of God a terrible accusation against him who ruined his states and his people, and enriched himself with the blood and tears of his subjects. Why do you not speak? Dare to say again the Hessian people love their sovereign, and long for his return? Speak!"
His voice rolled like thunder; his eyes darted fiery glances at the two gentlemen, who were standing before him, pale and dismayed, and who dared not look in the face of the emperor. Even Talleyrand, by an involuntary instinct of fear, had withdrawn several steps to the door, and his face, usually so calm and imperturbable, was betraying some apprehensions lest this terrible storm might be discharged on him, too, and some of its bolts hurled at his head.
The two envoys endeavored to utter a few words, but they spoke in so low a voice that no one understood them. They felt that the eyes of Napoleon were still fixed on them, rendering them confused and incapable of making any reply.
A smile, as a sunbeam, flashed through the clouds on the emperor's face, and his glance became milder. "I see at least that you are unable to deny the truth," he said. "Go home, gentlemen! Tell your master his career is finished, and that he has ceased to reign. Tell the people of Hesse, however, that they shall be happy and prosperous henceforward. Delivered from those cruel and infamous compulsory services which the elector was in the habit of imposing upon his subjects, the people will now be able to devote their exclusive attention to the culture of their fields; their taxes shall be diminished, and they shall be ruled in accordance with generous and liberal principles. Tell the people of Hesse what I have said to you! Go!"
He waved his hand imperiously toward the door and turned his back to them. With drooping heads, pale and trembling, MM. de Lepel and de Malsburg left the room. Napoleon stepped to the window, and was vigorously drumming a march on the rattling panes.
"Sire," said the feeble voice of Talleyrand behind him, "sire, the ambassador of the Duke of Brunswick."
"The Duke of Brunswick?" asked Napoleon, quickly turning to the gentleman who was standing by the side of Talleyrand, and who bowed deeply as soon as the emperor fixed his eyes upon him. "The Duke of Brunswick?" repeated Napoleon. "I do not know any Duke of Brunswick. It may be that I shall remember him after, a while. Let the dear duke wait until then. I have to attend to more important matters than to quarrel about antiquated and lost titles. Who else desires an audience?"
"Sire, the ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar," said Talleyrand.
"Introduce him," commanded Napoleon, "and in the mean time, sir, explain to me," he said to M. de Münchhausen, "—to me who is the Duke of Brunswick."
"Sire, he is a mortally wounded, a blind old man, who implores your majesty to permit him to die quietly in his capital, and sleep in the tomb of his ancestors," said the ambassador, deeply affected. "But in order to die calmly, he implores your majesty to give him the assurance that you will not deprive his son of the inheritance of his ancestors, and that you will not avenge upon the son the misfortunes of the father. Sire, the dying Duke of Brunswick sends me to recommend his family and his state to your majesty."
"The ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar," said Talleyrand, entering with M. de Müller.
The emperor greeted with a rapid nod the envoy of Weimar, and then turned once more to that of the unhappy Duke of Brunswick.
"I know of no Duke of Brunswick," said Napoleon, sternly. "His name and titles have been buried on the battle-field of Auerstadt. What would he who sent you have to say if I were to inflict on the city of Brunswick that subversion with which, fifteen years ago, he threatened the capital of the great nation which I command?[22] The Duke of Brunswick has disavowed the insensate manifesto of 1792; one would have thought that with age reason had begun to get the better of his passions, and yet he has again lent the authority of his name to the follies of hot-headed youth, which have brought ruin upon Prussia. To him it belonged to put women, courtiers, and young officers, into their proper places, and to make all feel the authority of his age, of his understanding, and position. But he had not the strength to do so, and the Prussian monarchy is demolished, and the states of Brunswick are in my power. Tell him that I shall show him that consideration which is due to an unfortunate general, justly celebrated, struck by that fate which may reach us all; but that I cannot recognize a sovereign prince in a general of the Prussian army. After his conduct toward France he cannot expect me to exercise toward him a ridiculous and undeserved generosity."
The ambassador of Brunswick withdrew, sighing, and with tearful eyes.[23] The emperor looked gloomily at him till he had disappeared.
"And now, Talleyrand, I will go to greet the envoys of Poland," he said, taking his hat, and advancing a few steps. But at that moment his eyes, as if accidentally, seemed to behold M. de Müller, who was standing by the side of Talleyrand. "Ah, I forgot the ambassador of the Duchess of Weimar. Well, perhaps it would have been fortunate for you if I had forgotten you. For when remembering you, I must remember the arrogance and obstinacy of that little duke who dared to oppose me and endeavored to frustrate my will."
"Sire," said M. de Müller, "the duke believed that his honor, his duty, and his rank required him not to act contrary to military fealty. He was connected with Prussia by virtue of military treaties of long years' standing; hence, he believed it incumbent on him to adhere to them even when the King of Prussia, to the profound personal regret of the duke, entered into open hostilities against France."
"Ah, bah! treaties!" ejaculated Napoleon. "I tell you, your duke had not his senses about him when he dared to oppose me. This is a good time for any prince to lose his states in a moment. You have just seen how I have acted in the case of the Duke of Brunswick. I shall have no mercy on those who oppose me and dare to bid me defiance! I will drive these wolves back into the swamps of Italy, whence they came!" Throwing his hat with an angry gesture on the floor, the emperor added in a loud voice, "Like this hat, I will crush them, so that no one in Germany will ever think of them. I feel really tempted to treat your prince in the same manner!"
"Sire, your majesty, however, condescended to lend a favorable ear to the prayers of the Duchess of Weimar," said the ambassador, in a timid voice.
"It is true," said Napoleon, "the duchess is a noble lady; if I pardon her husband, it is only for her sake, and because she is a sister of a princess closely related to me. But you ought not to rely too much on my forbearance and generosity. If the duke persists any longer in his resistance—if it be true that he has not yet left the Prussian service—I take back the promise I gave the duchess, and your duke shall learn what it is to oppose me!"
"Sire," said M. de Müller, "the duchess sent me hither in order to inform your majesty that her husband has left the Prussian service, and will return to Weimar to occupy himself only with the welfare of his own state. She ventures now to remind your majesty of your promise to forgive the duke and leave him in possession of his inheritance."
"Well, if that be so, I shall fulfil my promise," said Napoleon, in a milder voice. "I shall not deprive your master of his sovereignty; but, as a matter of course, he will have to submit to some sacrifices. I shall communicate my wishes concerning this point to my minister, M. de Talleyrand, and he will inform you of them. Do not fail to give the duke distinctly to understand that he is indebted for his state and political existence solely to the respect I feel for his wife and her sister, the Margravine of Baden." The conqueror nodded to the envoy and walked toward the door leading into the audience-hall. Talleyrand quickly picked up the emperor's hat from the floor, and carrying it to him, said, "Sire, you have lost your hat."
Napoleon smiled. "Well," he said, "now-a-days, when so many lose their heads and their crowns, a man may be pardoned for once losing his hat. Come, accompany me to the good, enthusiastic Poles!"
Scarcely had the emperor crossed the threshold of the audience hall, when it resounded with cheers and the constantly-repeated shout of "Vive l'Empereur!" He thanked the envoys of Poland for these greetings, and quickly approached them. They presented a magnificent spectacle in their national costume, adorned as it was with gorgeous embroidery and diamonds. "Introduce these gentlemen to me, Talleyrand," he said; "I will cherish in my memory the names of those whom henceforth I shall regard as friends!"
When Talleyrand presented them in succession, Napoleon listened to each of their high-sounding old aristocratic names with a kindly nod and a gracious air, which delighted the hearts of the Poles.
"Sire," said the Count of Dombrowsky, a silvery-haired man of seventy years—"sire, in bending our knees before your majesty, we represent all Poland, which is exclaiming, 'God save Napoleon the Great!—the liberator of nations!'"
"God save Napoleon the Great!—the liberator of nations!" echoed the others, kneeling down and extending their arms toward the emperor.
"Liberator of nations!" repeated Napoleon, smiling. "No one can liberate nations unless they do so themselves."
"But, in order to liberate themselves, the nations stand in need of a noble and high-minded chieftain!" exclaimed the old count. "Sire, the Polish nation trusts in you; it is on its knees, praying your majesty that you may become the liberator whom it has so long looked for. The great Napoleon has arisen upon France like a sun—he has come, seen, and vanquished the universe! O invincible Cæsar! In seeing you, all my wishes and those of my countrymen are fulfilled! Already we consider our country as saved, for in your person we worship the wisest and most equitable of legislators. You will redeem us! You will not permit Poland to be dismembered. Oh, sire, Poland puts her trust in the redeemer of nations! Poland puts her trust in Napoleon the Great, who will raise her from her degradation!"
"Poland puts her trust in you," repeated the Poles; and, in the enthusiasm of their patriotism, forgetful of etiquette, they crowded around Napoleon, and, again kneeling, kissed his hands and the hem of his garment.
Napoleon smilingly allowed them to do so, but his eyes assumed a graver expression. "Rise now, gentlemen," he said, "I have received through you the homage of poor, weeping Polonia, but now let me receive also in you the brave sons of this unhappy land, and speak to the men of Poland. Rise.'"
The Poles rose, and looked with beaming eyes and in breathless suspense at the emperor, whose face exhibited the austere regularity of a statue of ancient Rome.
"It would afford me the liveliest pleasure to see the royal throne of Poland restored," he said, "for it would also secure the independence of the adjoining states, which are now threatened by the unmeasured ambition of Russia. But words and idle wishes are not sufficient. When the priests, the nobility, and the citizens, make common cause—when they are determined to conquer or die—then they will triumph, and may count on my protection."
"Sire, the nobility, priests, and citizens, are already united and resolved," exclaimed Count Dombrowsky. "We are only waiting for our liberator to proclaim our independence."
Napoleon assumed a very serious air. "I cannot proclaim your independence before you are determined, sword in hand, to defend your rights as a nation."
"Sire, we are so determined!" unanimously shouted the Poles.
The emperor received this interruption with a gracious smile and added: "You have been upbraided with losing sight of your genuine interest, and of the welfare of your country, during your long-continued domestic dissensions. Taught by your misfortunes, be harmonious, and prove to the world that the whole Polish nation is animated by one spirit."
"Sire, we will prove it to the world," exclaimed the Poles, lifting up their hands, as if taking a solemn oath.
The emperor turned his stern eyes slowly and piercingly from one to another. He apparently wished to greet them all, and to read the innermost recesses of their hearts. Then he said, in a loud voice, "The restoration of Poland requires blood—blood, and again, blood!"
"Sire, we are joyously ready to shed ours for the sacred cause of the fatherland," exclaimed Count Raczinsky. "We wish to know only, or at least hope, that it will not be in vain. Sire, Poland is extending her arms toward you; she is beckoning you with a passionate love; she is longingly calling to you, 'Great Cæsar, come to my aid, that the sun may once more beam upon me—that you may disperse the long night of my torture, and that a happy day may again dawn for me!' Oh, sire, will you listen to the supplications of Poland?—will you come to her and break her chains?"
"No," said Napoleon, "I will not go to weeping Poland, shaking her chains, and only wailing and complaining instead of acting, but I will go to the men and heroes of Poland, who have thrown off their fetters, and shed their blood for their country! Go home and tell this to your countrymen, and ask them when I shall come!"
"Sire, they will say as we say now, 'God save Cæsar! We clash our swords, and dance the sacred war-dance, that he may come and let us see his face!'"
"As soon as it is time," said Napoleon, significantly. "Go, my friends, and tell your countrymen so. The time for weeping is past—that for action has come. Improve it, and be wise. Return home as fast as you can, for I should like to be with you before the present year has expired. Farewell!"
He greeted them in so winning a manner that, charmed with his affability, they again enthusiastically shouted, "Long live Napoleon the Great, the liberator of nations!" Amid the cheers of the sanguine Poles, Napoleon returned to the small reception-room, accompanied by Talleyrand, whom he had beckoned to follow.
"Well," asked he when they were alone, "what do you think of it? Will the Poles rise?"
"I am convinced of it, sire! Your words were like the steel striking the flint, and kindling the tinder of their national ardor. It will burn, sire—burn so brightly that Russia, Austria, and Prussia, may be badly injured in their Polish provinces."
"Certainly not Austria," said Napoleon, quickly; "for the rest, we shall know how to extinguish the fire as soon as it burns too extensively. Forward your dispatch to our ambassador in Vienna to-day. He is to assure the Emperor of Austria in the most emphatic manner that I do not intend permitting the Polish insurrection to spread too far, and that his Galician provinces, at all events, shall not be endangered.—Well, Duroc, what do you bring?" continued he, when the door opened, and the grand marshal entered with a letter in his hand.
"Sire, I bring two messages at the same time. In the first place, a new envoy of the King of Prussia has just arrived; he is the bearer of this letter which the king, who is now at Graudenz, has addressed to your majesty."
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, "he is at Graudenz, which is still closer to the boundary of his states. But I will drive him to the last town on the frontier. The queen must learn what it is to provoke a war!" He took the letter, which Duroc handed to him, and opened it hastily.
"Sire," said Duroc, "the bearer of that letter, Major von Rauch, asks the favor of an audience, in order to lay before your majesty the wishes and requests of his king, who has orally communicated them to him."
Napoleon turned to Talleyrand. "Receive him first," he said; "then report to me, and we shall see whether I can grant him an interview. But, wait a moment! Let us first see what is in the king's letter." He broke the seal and unfolded the paper. When about to read it, he raised his eyes toward Duroc.
"Sire, Prince Augustus of Prussia has just arrived as a prisoner of war, escorted by a detachment of our soldiers. The Grand-duke of Berg sends him to your majesty as a trophy of your victory. Colonel de Gerard accompanies him."
"Did the prince behave as a brave soldier?" asked Napoleon.
"Sir, Colonel de Gerard states that even our own men admire his heroism. The prince had separated himself with a battalion of grenadiers from the corps of the Prince von Hohenlohe, and was marching along the Uker. Our dragoons were pursuing him, but he repulsed them repeatedly, and would have succeeded in escaping, with his soldiers, if the impassable character of the ground had not detained him. He got into a marshy country, intersected by many small canals, which greatly impeded him. The horses sank into the mud, and their riders had to alight and lead them. The prince also was compelled to wade through on foot. He was leading his charger by the bridle, and just as he felt firm ground under him, and was about mounting, the horse broke from him and plunged into the Uker to save its own life. Our dragoons succeeded then in overtaking and capturing the prince; and the Prussians, seeing that their leader was taken, also surrendered. The grand-duke reports this affair at length to your majesty, because he knows that you honor bravery in an enemy, and because this living trophy would no doubt assume a higher value in your eyes."
"Where is the prince?" asked Napoleon, quickly.
"Sire, he is in the anteroom, and awaits whatever disposition your majesty may make of him. Sire, he humbly requests your majesty to permit him to repair to his parents, to recover from his wounds."
"I will see him. Admit him at once."
"Sire, would not your majesty graciously permit him to arrange his toilet a little?" asked Duroc. "The prince is not dressed sufficiently well to appear before your majesty."
"No matter," said Napoleon. "Bring him in immediately." He waved his hand to Duroc, and then looked again at the letter which he still held in his hand.
Talleyrand, who was standing near him, fixed his subtle eyes on the emperor's face. He saw that it brightened up with proud satisfaction, and that gradually a cold, disdainful smile played on his lips.
"I shall be able to impose very rigorous conditions upon the new Prussian envoys," said Talleyrand to himself; "the king seems to submit very humbly, for the pride of a triumphator is beaming on the emperor's forehead."
Just then Napoleon threw the letter impetuously on the table. "Read it, Talleyrand," he said, carelessly. "It is always instructive to see how small these men are in adversity, and how overbearing in prosperity. And such men desire to be sovereign princes, and wear a crown!"
Talleyrand was extending his hand toward the letter when the door opened, and the grand marshal entered.
"Sire," he exclaimed, "Prince Augustus of Prussia."
"Let him come in," said Napoleon, sitting down slowly and carelessly in the easy-chair, covered with purple velvet, which, was standing in the middle of the room. He beckoned Talleyrand to come to him.
At this moment there appeared on the threshold the tall, slender form of Prince Augustus of Prussia. Duroc was right; the prince was not in very courtly trim to appear before the emperor. His uniform was torn and bespattered; he had but one boot, and that covered with mire; the other had stuck in the marshy ground near Schonermark, and he had replaced it by a heavy wooden shoe, such as those worn by German peasants; his right arm was in a linen bandage, flecked with blood, and an oblique wound, covered with a broad black plaster, was on his forehead. Such was the miserable condition in which the nephew of Frederick the Great appeared in the brilliant halls of the royal palace of Prussia before the conqueror of his country and of his house, who received him, seated, and scarcely nodded in return to the stiff military salutation of the prince. Napoleon looked sternly at the prisoner, and his lips betrayed the anger seething in his breast. The prince, however, apparently did not notice this, nor feel uneasy and irritated at the singular situation in which he found himself; his eyes met those of the emperor calmly and fearlessly; he did not bow his head, but carried it erect; not a trace of fear or sorrow was to be seen in his youthful countenance; a faint smile indeed was playing on his red, full lips when he glanced over the room, and again at Napoleon, behind whom Talleyrand and Duroc were standing in a most respectful attitude.
"You are a brother of Prince Louis Ferdinand, who was killed at Saalfeld?" asked the conqueror, in a harsh voice.
"Yes, sire, I am a son of Prince Ferdinand of Prussia," was the grave reply.
"A nephew of Frederick II.," exclaimed Napoleon. "A nephew of the heroic king who loved France so well, that his heart and opinions were those of a Frenchman."
"Sire," said the prince, calmly, "history teaches, however, that the great king was not always the friend of that country, and that his love for it did not prevent him from waging war against it. His enmity against France gained him no less glory than his friendships for its poets and savants.
"Ah, you refer to Rossbach," said Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders. "We have expunged that name with the names of Jena and Auerstadt, and the monument that once stood on the battle-field of Rossbach is now on the way to Paris—a trophy of our victorious army."[24]
The prince bent his head a little. "It is true," he said, "the goddess of victory is very fickle. The future therefore consoles those who have succumbed in the present."
The emperor cast an angry glance on the prince, who met it with a bold, unflinching air.
"I see you are, both by birth and sentiment, a brother of Prince Louis Ferdinand," said Napoleon. "Like him, you belonged to the hot-headed young men who would have war at any price. Hard blows were required to moderate your war-fever. I hope you are cured of it now. Your brother has expiated his mad arrogance on the battle-field of Saalfeld. It is your fate to return as a prisoner of war in the most pitiful plight to the capital of Prussia, which you left a few weeks since with such foolish hopes of victory. You ought to have listened in time to reason, and not to the siren voice of the queen, who, in a manner so disastrous to Prussia, inveigled all the young men to plunge into the Charybdis of war, and—"
"Sire," said the prince, interrupting him in an almost threatening voice—"sire, no reflections on the queen, if you please! Having conquered us, you are at liberty to humiliate and abuse the vanquished, if your majesty derive pleasure from such a triumph, but the noble and unhappy queen should not be dragged into a quarrel of men. We do not claim the excuse of having been inveigled by her, and her exalted virtue does not deserve that charge."
"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, scornfully, "like all young men, you seem to belong to the enthusiastic admirers of the queen."
"Sire, that proves that the young men of Prussia are still imbued with respect for virtue. It is true we all adore the queen as our tutelary saint; she is the radiant pattern of our mothers, our wives, and daughters; she is the ideal of all—and those who have once been so happy as to have seen and spoken with her, bow to her in love and admiration."
"Had all of you bowed less to her, Prussia would not now lie humiliated in the dust," said the emperor, harshly. "Prussia and France are destined by Nature to be friends, and I, who never have sought war, but always regarded it only as a deplorable necessity, was greatly inclined to offer my hand to Prussia in peace and friendship. But your queen and your officers of the guard were bent on having war, and believed they would win laurels by waging it. Now you have it with all its terrors. What has it brought upon you? You have lost a brother by it, and you yourself had to lay down your arms at Prenzlau."
"Sire," said the prince, in generous pride, "I request your majesty not to confound me with those who concluded the capitulation of Prenzlau. I did not capitulate; I was taken prisoner, sword in hand, but I did not surrender it voluntarily."
"Young man," said Napoleon, in grave, cold calmness, "beware of being plunged into deeper distress by your haughty spirit. The Prussian princes are not now in a position to utter high-sounding words. Your king is fully aware of this. Listen attentively to what I tell you: he has begged me for peace in the most submissive manner; he is imploring me to grant him my friendship, and calls himself happy because I am dwelling in his palaces."
"Sire, that is impossible," exclaimed the prince, carried away by his impulsive temper. Napoleon shrugged his shoulders, and then turned his head a little aside toward his minister. "M. Talleyrand, please read to us the letter," he said; "I merely glanced over it.—Owing to the portentous events of the last days, you are, prince, without direct news from the king. You may, then, derive from this letter some information concerning his situation and sentiments. Read, M. Minister! And you, prince, take a seat."
He pointed to one of the chairs standing near the door. Prince Augustus, however, did not accept this gracious invitation. He bowed, and said, smiling, "Your majesty will permit me to stand, for my costume is hardly in harmony with gilt chairs, and I believe it behooves a poor vagabond like myself to stand humbly at the door. Moreover, Prussian etiquette requires us to stand in listening to the words of our sovereign."
"Read, Talleyrand," said the emperor, and leaning back carelessly, he tried to discover in the prince's face the impression which the king's letter would make upon him. Talleyrand read as follows:
"Monsieur mon Frère: When I begged your imperial majesty to grant me peace, I consulted my reason, but I have now consulted my heart. In spite of the terrible sacrifices which you have imposed on me, sire, I desire most anxiously that the treaty, which has already been secured by the approval of the main points, will entitle me soon to resume my amicable relations with your imperial majesty, which the war interrupted for a moment. It is an agreeable duty for me, monsieur mon frère, to manifest, by a proof of confidence, my sincere desire to cultivate your friendship; and I believe I do this by stopping the further advance of the Russian troops, without waiting for the definitive conclusion of peace.
"I was anxious that your majesty should be received and treated at my palaces in a manner agreeable to you. I have zealously taken such steps as were necessary for that purpose, and, according to my power, in the situation in which I am now, I hope my endeavors have been successful. In return, your majesty will permit me to recommend my capital and the province of Brandenburg to your generosity. This province, so little favored by Nature, is, as it were, a creation of my immortal ancestor. I hope, sire, you will regard it as a monument he erected to himself; and the numerous points in which your majesty resembles that great man, I trust, will be an additional inducement for you to order his work to be treated in a magnanimous manner.
"Besides, I should like to request your majesty kindly to exempt the district of Halberstadt and the duchy of Magdeburg from the cruel losses you are imposing on me. Such an order I should regard as a precious guaranty of your personal feelings toward me, and you may depend upon it, sire, I should zealously strive to reciprocate these feelings in the most cordial manner. I pray God to take you in his Holy keeping, and remain, monsieur mon frère,
"Your majesty's obedient servant,
"FREDERICK WILLIAM."
While the letter was being read, Napoleon did not avert his eyes for a single moment from the countenance of the prince. He saw that he blushed with indignation at first, and that gradually a profound grief overshadowed his noble features.
"Well, was I not right?" asked Napoleon, when Talleyrand had concluded. "Does not your king submit to all my conditions? Does he not bid me welcome to his palaces?"
"Sire," said the prince, mournfully, "it does not behoove me to censure the words of my king. When he has spoken, I must be silent. I only dare to observe that your majesty may see from this letter that the queen does not meddle with government affairs. Had she done so, your majesty, no doubt, would not have received this letter of Count Haugwitz."
"Of Count Haugwitz?" asked Napoleon. "Of the king, you mean?"
"Sire, the king lent to this letter only his name and handwriting; Count Haugwitz furnished the words and the spirit it breathes."
"Then you believe that the queen does not share the views of her husband?" asked the emperor, hastily. "You believe she would still insist on the further continuation of the war if her opinion were consulted?"
"Sire, I only take the liberty to state that she would not have written such a letter."
"I know it very well!" exclaimed Napoleon. "Your queen hates me; she would die rather than beg my friendship; she would bury herself under the ruins of her throne rather than put an end to this war and call me her brother. But I will bend that haughty soul—I will crush her heart, and make her repent of what she is doing. I will—but," he suddenly interrupted himself, "what is the matter with you! You turn pale! You are tottering, prince!"
The emperor arose and advanced a few steps; but the prince motioned him back. "It is nothing," he said faintly, "only a momentary weakness—that is all. I have not taken rest for several days and nights, and loss of blood has exhausted my strength. Besides—why should I shrink from confessing it—I am hungry, sire; I have eaten nothing for the last twenty-four hours."
"Poor young man," said Napoleon, compassionately, as he approached the prince, "I deplore your misfortunes. Personally you have not deserved them, for I know you have fought bravely, and are worthy of a better fate than that of a prisoner of war; but will you give me your word of honor that you will not attempt to escape or participate again in this war against me?"
"Sire," said the prince, pointing at his wounded right arm, "sire, I believe I must give you my word of honor. I am your prisoner, and shall not attempt to escape."
"Then go to your parents. I permit you to remain at the house of Prince Ferdinand until you have recovered from your wounds. I will not deprive your mother any longer of the pleasure of embracing her brave son. Go, then, to her!" The prince bowed and was about to withdraw.
"Well, prince, have you not a word of thanks for me?" asked Napoleon, kindly.
The prince smiled mournfully. "Sire," he said, bowing deeply, "sire, I thank you for treating me so leniently."