While Wilhelmine’s servant gave himself up to his hopes, slowly down the broad avenue, an elegant four-in-hand carriage rolled past him, and stopped at the house where lived Colonel Bischofswerder, long before he had reached the Brandenburg Gate. A gentleman sprang out, hastening past the footman into the house, where a servant evidently awaited his arrival, and preceded him with devout mien, throwing open the wide folding-doors and announcing, in a solemn voice—“His excellency, Count Cagliostro.” He then respectfully withdrew, bowing profoundly as the count passed, and closed quickly and noiselessly the doors behind him.
The two gentlemen within hastened to meet the count, who nodded smilingly, and extended to them with a gracious condescension his white hand sparkling with diamonds. “My dear brothers,” said he, “you have unfortunately announced me the truth—Wilhelmine Enke is faithless—is an apostate.”
“A courtesan, ensnared by the devil of unchastity,” murmured the elder of the two—a man of long, lank figure, pale, pock-marked face, the broad high forehead shaded with but little hair, the watery blue eyes turned upward, as if in pious ecstasy, and the large, bony hands either folded as if in prayer, or as if in quiet contemplation, twirling his thumbs around each other. “I have always said so,” said he, with a long-drawn sigh; “she is a temptress, whom Satan, in bodily repetition of himself, has placed by the prince’s side, and his salvation cannot be counted upon until this person is removed.”
“And you, my beloved brother, think otherwise—do you not?” asked Cagliostro, gently.
“Yes,” answered Bischofswerder, “you know well, sublime master and ruler, how much I esteem and love the worthy and honorable Wollner, and how much weight his opinion has with me. In all my reports to the Invisible Fathers I have always particularly mentioned him, and it was upon my wish and proposal that they appointed him director of one of the three Berlin circles. He is occupied near me in the confederacy, and is also in the service of the crown prince, for it was by my especial, earnest recommendation that his highness called him to Berlin from the exchequer of Prince Henry at Rheinsberg, that he might give him lectures in politics and other branches of administration, I do not say it to boast, although I have always regarded it as an honor to have opened the way to a distinguished man, to have his great talents properly valued. I only say it to prove my high appreciation of dear brother Wollner, and to defend myself, master, in your eyes, that I differ in opinion from him, and do not advise a violent removal of this person, to whom the prince is more attached than he himself knows of.”
“It is not necessary to excuse yourself to me, my son,” said Cagliostro, pompously. “The eyes which the Invisibles have lighted up with a beam of revelation, see into the depths of things, and reveal the most hidden. I have glanced into your hearts, and I will tell you that which I have therein read. You, Hans Rudolph von Bischofswerder, belong to the world; its joys and sorrows agitate you. You have a longing for science and the knowledge of the Invisibles, and you would also enjoy the Visibles, and take part in the pleasures of life. What you would allow yourself, that you would also grant to your royal master, whose friend and leader you are, and who, one day, will be the future king and ruler of the visible world, and a faithful son and servant of the Invisibles. Is it not thus?”
“It is so,” answered Bischofswerder, who, with wondering astonishment, drank in every word that fell from Cagliostro’s lips as a revelation. “You have read the inmost thoughts of my heart, and what I scarcely suspected myself, you are knowing of, lord and master.”
“Toil and strive, my son, and you shall rise to the highest grade, in which presentiment and recognition, thinking and knowing, are one.”
He extended to Bischofswerder his hand, who fervently pressed it to his lips; then turned to Wollner, who, with upturned gaze and folded hands, might have been praying, for his thumbs were not turning around, but rested, quietly crossed.
“You, my son and brother,” continued Cagliostro, with his lofty, haughty reserve, “your thoughts are diverted from earth, and the joys of this world have no charm for you!” “I have laid the oath of virtue and chastity upon the altar of the Invisibles,” replied Wollner, with a severe tone of voice. “I have given myself to a pious life of abstinence, and sworn to employ every means to lead those that I can attain to upon the narrow path which leads to the paradise of science, of knowledge, and heavenly joys. How could I forget my oath, which is to win the prince, who is to become a light and shield in the holy order, from the broad course of vice, to the pathway of the blest? How can I bear to see him lost in sin who is elected to virtue, and who longs for the light of knowledge?”
“But, in order to bear the light in its brightness, he must have passed through the darkness and gloom of sin,” said Cagliostro. “After the days of error follow those of knowledge. This is what causes the mildness of our brother Theophilus, whom the earthly world calls Bischofswerder, whilst you, brother Chrysophorus, demand from the prince the severest virtue, which is the first great vow of the brothers advancing in the holy order of the Rosicrucians. You are both wrong and both right. It is well to be lenient as brother Theophilus, but that must have its limit, and the night wanderer who stands upon the brink of a precipice must be awakened, but not with violent words, or calling loudly his name, because a sudden awakening would only hasten his fall. Slowly and carefully must he be roused; as one would by degrees accustom the invalid eyes to the mid-day, so must the light of virtue and knowledge dawn upon the eyes, ill from vice, with prudent foresight. Hear my proposal. Summon the three circles of the brothers of the highest degree to a sitting to-night. You have told me that the prince desires to belong to the seeing ones, and be in communion with the spiritual world. This night his wish shall be fulfilled, to see the spirits, and a new future shall rise before him. My time is limited; let us arrange every thing, for the voices of the Invisibles already call me home.”
At this instant a modest knocking was heard at the door, which was repeated at different intervals.
“It is my servant,” said Bischofswerder, “and he has undoubtedly an important communication for me.”
He opened the door, speaking with the person outside in a low tone, and returned with a sealed note.
Cagliostro, apparently, was lest in deep thought and indifferent to the conversation without, directing quietly and calmly, in the mean time, a few questions to Wollner, and, as it seemed, listening only to his answers. Yet as Bischofswerder approached him, saying, “it is, indeed, important news; I have proof in hand that—” he interrupted him with a commanding motion, and finished the broken sentence: “—that Wilhelmine Enke is a powerful adversary, having connection with the court, as this letter from her is directed to Minister Herzberg. Is it not this that you would say, Theophilus?”
Astonished, he replied in the affirmative, begging his master to read it.
“It is unnecessary,” replied Cagliostro, waving back the letter; “to the seeing eyes every thing is revealed. This person announces to Minister von Herzberg that the deceiver and necromancer, Cagliostro, in his flight from Mittau, has visited her to menace her. She begs protection for herself and an arrest for me; that I am known as Count Julien, at the hotel King of Portugal, at Berlin, and that haste is necessary.”
Both gentlemen glanced astonished and enraptured, first at the sealed epistle and then at the great Magus.
“Open the letter and convince yourselves of the contents!” commanded Cagliostro.
“It is unnecessary,” cried Bischofswerder, with enthusiasm. “We recognize in you truth and knowledge; you have revealed to us the contents.”
“Nay, there is a lingering doubt in the mind of brother Chrysophorus!” said Cagliostro, regarding Woellner fixedly, who stood with downcast eyes before him.
“My ruler and master,” stammered Woellner, in confusion, “I dare not doubt, only—”
“You would only be convinced, open then the letter,” interrupted Cagliostro, sarcastically.
With a sharp knife, Bischofswerder cut the end of the envelope, and handed the letter to him.
“Give it to Chrysophorus,” commanded the count. “He shall read it, and may the incredulous become a believer!”
Woellner perused the epistle with a slightly tremulous voice, stopping now and then, at an illegible word, which his master quickly supplied to him, finishing the sentence as correctly as if he held the writing in his hand.
The contents were exactly as Cagliostro had given them, and the farther Wollner read, the more his voice quivered and Bischofswerder’s enthusiasm increased.
As the reading was finished, the former sank, with uplifted hands, before his master, as if imploring mercy from a mighty, crushing power.
“I have been unbelieving as Tobias, doubting as Paul; have mercy on me, O master! for in this hour the divine light of belief and knowledge banishes doubt from my sinful heart. I acknowledge thy supernatural power and heavenly wisdom! My whole being bows in humility before you and your sublimity, and henceforth I will only be your humble scholar and servant, the tool of your will. Forgive me, all-knowing one, if my heart doubted. Breathe upon me the breath of knowledge, and lay thy august right hand upon my head, and penetrate me with thy heavenly power.”
“Have mercy upon me also,” cried Bischofswerder, as he kneeled beside Woellner, and, like him, raised his hands imploringly to Cagliostro. “Breathe upon me the breath of thy grace, and regard me, the repentant and unworthy, with thy heavenly glance!”
Cagliostro looked to heaven, and from his lips there fell disconnected words of exhortation; suddenly he drew forth his hands, which he had pushed into his gown and crossed upon his breast, stretching them out with wide-spread fingers.
“Come to me, ye spirits!” he cried, in a loud, thundering voice. “Ye spirits of fire and air, come to me! Ye shall flame and burn upon the heads of these two persons and announce to them that the Invisibles are with us. Come to me, ye spirits of fire!”
He clinched his fingers, extending them again, and upon the points there danced and flickered a blue light. A heavenly smile shone upon the beautiful face of the Magus, his hands slowly sank upon the heads of the kneeling ones, the flames gliding upon their heads, resting there a moment, and then dying away.
“The Invisibles have proclaimed themselves to you through the sign of fire,” cried Cagliostro. “The sacred flame has glowed upon your heads, and I now press upon your brow the solemn kiss of consecration and knowledge!”
He bowed down to the kneeling ones. It seemed as if a cloud of perfume had passed over their glowing faces, or as if an odorous lily had been pressed upon their foreheads, and their hearts quivered with delight. He passed his hand lightly over their faces, and a feeling of rapture spread through their whole being. Then as he commanded them to rise, they obeyed, without realizing that they had limbs or body, but regarded the miracle-worker, entranced with his smile.
Cagliostro, with hasty decision and earnest, commanding air, made a few opposite strokes in the air, and immediately the faces of the magnetized looked as if they had awakened from a dream of splendor and delight to insipid, flat reality.
“I have permitted you to behold, for an instant, the mysteries and miracles which are serviceable to the knowing ones,” said Cagliostro, with calm earnestness. “Your souls were in communion with the Invisibles, and from the source of knowledge a spark of illumination fell upon your heads. Guard it as a heavenly secret that no one should know of, and now let us continue our conversation.”
“Permit me once more to lay my head at your feet, and receive power from the touch thereof,” implored Bischofswerder.
“Let me embrace your knees, and entreat pardon and grace,” begged Woellner, as he sank down to clasp them, and the former threw himself at the feet of his master, passionately kissing them.
Smilingly he received their homage, and assisted them to rise.
“Now let us speak in a human, reasonable manner, my friends. Brother Theophilus, you, first of all, return the letter to the envelope and seal it.”
Bischofswerder obeyed; taking from the table a little bottle and a small brush, he carefully applied an adhesive substance to the edges, pressing them firmly together.
“Master, no one could discover that it had been opened. Command what shall be done with it.”
“Give it to your servant, that he may return it to him who brought it, and the latter can now deliver it at its address.”
“To the Minister Herzberg!” they both cried, amazed. “It is impossible; he is a sworn enemy of the holy order and your own heavenly person. He could take the most violent measures, and cause your excellency to be arrested.”
“I believe it,” smiled Cagliostro. “The great Frederick would announce triumphantly that he had had the great Semiramis of the North taken, which the Russian police had failed to accomplish. It would be a welcome triumph for unbelievers and fools, and they would trumpet it joyfully through the world! It must not be; although my spirit in its power and might would soon release my body, yet I will not grant this momentary triumph to my enemies. My time is limited; I must forth to Egypt, where the Brothers of the Millennium will assemble in the course of a week in the pyramids, to announce to me their will for the coming century. I am the Spirit of God, which the Invisibles have willed to enter a human form, therefore it must be regarded as sacred and protected.”
“Allow me to guard, with my life, your sublime person!” cried Bischofswerder.
“And I also implore you to grant me the happiness to watch over the security of your heavenly self, and defend it to the last drop of my blood!” cried Woellner; “only tell us what we have to do.”
“Above all things obey my command concerning the letter,” replied the count, smiling.
Bischofswerder submissively went out with the epistle, returning in a few moments. “It is as you have ordered: in a quarter of an hour it will be in the hands of Minister Herzberg.”
“No,” replied the count, fixing his eyes upon empty space, “it will not be there, for Herzberg is not at home. I now see him driving in a carriage with four black steeds to the country. At this instant he is crossing a bridge, now he enters a town, turning down one of the streets, where the noise of the wheels is lost. Again I hear him, leaving by the gate, ascending a broad avenue.”
“It is the route to Sans-Souci,” murmured Bischofswerder, in a low voice, but the count must have understood him, as he repeated aloud:
“Yes, that is the route to Sans-Souci, and the lonely, fretful old king will keep his minister the entire day, and will not receive the missive from his secret female accomplice until his return in the evening, and then he will dispatch his bailiffs in all haste to the hotel to arrest Count St. Julien, and forward an order to every gate to forbid his departure. It will be too late, however—he will have already departed.”
“Departed!” cried the two gentlemen, frightened. “Will you, then, forsake us?”
“Hush, my brothers, be quiet!” answered Cagliostro. “I shall have departed for the profane, but I will remain here for the consecrated until to-morrow morning. It oft happens that the lofty even must come down, and the brilliant obscure themselves. To-day I must descend from my spiritual height, and humble myself in the dust of lowliness. When the unholy and unconsecrated essay to behold that which they should not with their earthly eyes; they must be blinded with earthly dust, and for those which are not worthy of miracles, we must sometimes condescend to jugglers’ tricks. By the latter I will mislead my enemies to-day. How many gates are there to the city of Berlin?”
“There are nine, master.”
“Send immediately messengers around in your circles to order eight travelling-carriages and sixteen large black trunks. Further, send me eight confidential discreet men of my height and size, with eight perukes, exactly the cut of mine. Command four post-horses, with two postilions for eight different addresses. This is all that is necessary for the moment.”
“All shall be faithfully and quickly accomplished,” said Bischofswerder, humbly. “We will divide the execution of your orders, and there only remains to appoint the time and place when and where to direct the postilions.”
“All this will follow; forget not, in trifling, earthly things, the great heavenly circumstances. Summon the consecrated of the highest degree of your circle to go to-night to the palace of Prince Frederick William at Potsdam, and under the very eyes of the old freethinking king we will open to the crown prince the doors of the spiritual world, and consecrate him to the highest degree. But first the Invisibles shall speak with him, and announce the heavenly region of the unapproachable. Finish the preparations, my brothers—fulfil exactly and punctually my orders, and then come to the hotel to receive my last commands.”
Cagliostro quitted the two confidants, entered his carriage awaiting him before the door, and drove to the hotel. The host and chief waiter received him with extreme deference, both accompanying him up the stairs—the latter throwing wide open the large doors of his room. The count turned, and, in addressing some indifferent question to the host, opened his gold-embroidered blue satin vest.
The host turned pale, and shrank back, as if seized with a sudden fright. Cagliostro passed on, motioning him to follow, which he humbly obeyed, sinking upon his knees as the door closed.
“Have you recognized the sign which I wear upon my breast?”
“Yes, master,” he stammered, bowing down with the greatest reverence.
“Then you belong to the elect of the Inner Temple, for the sign of knowledge is only made known to them.”
“I do, indeed, understand its mysteries, master, and I know that one of the Invisibles, in infinite condescension, appears in a visible form before me. Immeasurable as the happiness, is my obedience! Command me, master; my life and riches belong to the holy alliance!”
“Rise and receive my orders,” replied Cagliostro, with great dignity. In a brief, dictatorial manner he communicated the necessary arrangements; then dismissed him with a haughty nod, and entered the adjoining room of his wife, Lorenza Feliciana.
She had thrown herself upon the divan, in charming neglige. Her head was encircled with black ringlets, which she wore unpowdered, despite the fashion. Her eyes were closed, and her beautiful shoulders were but half concealed by a black lace veil.
She slept so quietly and soundly that the count did not awaken her upon entering. He approached her lightly upon the soft carpet, and stood regarding her attentively. A pleasant smile spread over his face, softening its expression, and his eyes beamed with passionate tenderness.
“She is indeed beautiful,” he murmured, softly. “No one could withstand the charm of this wonderful woman. Ah, would that I could crush these wicked spirits within me, silence all these seductive, sinful voices, and fly to some secluded valley of our dear fatherland, and there, reposing on her love, let life glide calmly on and smile at the past without regret, as a fading dream! Would that I could forget, and become again pure and innocent, blest in my affection, simple in my tastes, and without wants! But no, it is too late! I cannot retreat, the demons will not be driven out; to them my soul belongs, and I must fulfil my destiny!—Awake, Lorenza, awake!” Her beautiful form shook with fright; she started, opened her eyes, demanding, “What is the matter? Who is here?”
“It is I, Lorenza,” he said, sadly; “I was obliged to awaken you, to tell you something important.”
“Are the pursuers here? Have they discovered us? Are they coming to take us to prison?”
“No, no; be quiet, Lorenza, no one has discovered us!”
“Quiet!” she repeated, with a scornful laugh. “We have travelled day and night the last ten days, hiding ourselves in miserable holes and dens, under assumed names, believing our pursuers were at our hacks; and now that we are showing ourselves publicly, you ask me to be quiet! I have slept for the first time since that fearful night in Mittau, and it is very cruel and thoughtless of you to wake me, if the bailiffs are not here, and danger does not menace us.”
“For the moment we are safe, but I have something important to tell you.”
“Important?” she cried, shrugging her shoulders. “What is of consequence to me, since that night? Oh, when I think of it, I could shriek with rage, I could annihilate myself in despair!”
“It was indeed a dreadful experience, and my heart quakes when I think of it,” said Cagliostro, gloomily. “The secret assembly consisted of the highest and most influential of the Courland nobility. Suspecting no wrong, not even that there could be traitors among the believers who would falsify my spirit apparatus, I gave myself up to conjuring the departed.”
“And I upon my fairy throne,” added Lorenza, “couched in the innocent costume of the celestial, only veiled with a silvery cloud, heard a sudden shriek. The room was quite dark; I saw, upon opening my eyes, that no spirits enlivened it.”
“Every thing failed—that is to say, my assistants let it fail,” said the count, “and the assembly began to murmur. Suddenly, instead of the departed princes and heroes, what fearful forms arose!”
“Apes, cats, and other animals,” cried Lorenza, with a loud laugh. “Oh, what an irresistible sight! In spite of my anger I had to laugh, and laugh I did upon the fairy throne, like—”
“Like a foolish child who neither knows nor understands danger,” interrupted the count. “Your laughing soon ceased in the fearful tumult and uproar. They shrieked for light, the ladies fled, and the men menaced me with loud curses, calling me a charlatan, and threatening my life!”
“Mine also,” cried Lorenza; “oh, what insults and ill-treatment I was forced to listen to! They rushed upon me, shrieking for the brilliants and money which they had brought me as an offering. How they scolded and called me a deceiver! I was only very beautiful and coquettish, and that was no deception! I charmed them with my coyness, and they brought me the most costly presents, because I was a virtuous woman. Now they reproached me, demanding a return of them all, which they had forced upon me of their own free will. I was obliged to bear it silently in my costume of innocence, and as goddess I could not defend myself and speak with human beings—who pushed up to the throne. It was a very ridiculous position; happily I did not quite lose my senses, but let the apparatus play, and disappeared into my dressing-room below, which fortunately closed above me. I dressed, and rushed to your room to rescue my treasures.”
“Even in this extreme danger you only thought of your riches, not of me,” said Cagliostro, with a bitter smile.
“Have you not taught me yourself that money was the only thing worth striving to possess? Have you not revealed to in wisdom that riches alone make us happy, and procure for us honor, power, love, and constancy? Ah! Joseph, have you not made me the miserable, heartless creature that I am? Can you reproach me that your teaching has borne such good fruit? I am happy to be the priestess of wealth, and grateful for what you have made known to me.”
“It is true,” sighed Cagliostro, “I have taught you the truth of things; I have disclosed to you the world’s motive power. Riches are indeed the god upon earth, toward whom all are pressing, rushing on. We must all follow and serve him as slaves, or be crushed under the wheels of his triumphal car. Men talk and reason about the storm and pressure which is spreading through the world, and finally will reduce every thing to storm the eternal and undying bliss of wealth, and press on for gold.”
“To think that we have lost every thing!” cried Lorenza, springing up and stamping with her silken-shod foot; “every thing is lost that I have been years gaining, by hypocrisy, deception, and coquetry. They have robbed me! The shameful barbarians have seized all our effects. The police surrounded the house, guarding every entrance, and we were obliged to escape by the roof into the house of one of the brothers, leaving all our treasures behind.”
“You exaggerate, Lorenza, and represent it worse than it is. Look around; you are surrounded with luxury and comfort. Our great undertakings in Courland and St. Petersburg have failed, it is true, and the Russian empress has ordered me to be driven away and pursued. But the Invisible Fathers have not forsaken me, as they know that I am a useful tool in their hands. They have carefully provided me with money, passports, and instructions. We have lost thousands, but we will regain them, for the future is ours. I am protected by the order, and called to a new and important mission in Paris, to strive for the sacred aim of the Church.”
“And have they no mission for me?” asked Lorenza. “Is there nothing further for me to do in that city than to be a beautiful woman, and play tricks for my dear husband?”
“Great events await you in Paris, which we will aid you to prepare. The Invisible Fathers send you before me to the Cardinal de Rohan. You are going to Paris in the service of the revolution of minds. The carriage is ordered, and you are to set off this very hour.”
“And when are you going, Joseph?” Lorenza asked, with a touch of melancholy.
“I shall officially depart in an hour, but in reality at the same time that the Baroness von Balmore leaves the hotel in her travelling-carriage. Near the waiting-maid will a servant sit upon the box. I shall be he.”
“Officially you depart in an hour; what does that mean?” Cagliostro smiled. “It is a long story and a comical one. Come, seat yourself by me upon the sofa; repose your head upon me, and listen to what I will relate to you.”
Late in the afternoon of the same day a travelling-carriage drove up before the hotel “King of Portugal,” in the Burgstrasse, with two large black trunks strapped upon it behind the footman’s box, and the postilion, sitting by the coachman, playing the beautiful and popular air, “Es ritten drei Reuter cum Thore hinaus!”
Count St. Julien descended the stairs, followed by the host, and nodded in a lofty manner to the two waiters and hostler awaiting him at the entrance, who returned it by a profound bow, at the same time not failing to see the white hand extended with the trinkgeld.
The host himself closed the carriage door, and the count departed amid the merry peals of the postilion, the former gazing after him with the satisfaction of one who has made a good bargain. The servants watched it, too, until it had disappeared around the corner of the next street.
At this instant the quivering tones of a post-horn were heard, and an open caleche appeared and stopped before the hotel with two large black travelling-trunks upon it, and the postilion upon the box blowing the popular air, “Es ritten drei Reuter zum Thore hinaus!”
The host observed the empty carriage with a smile, but the servants asked themselves astonished what it meant, and as they turned and saw Count St. Julien descending the stairs, they were startled. He offered them the usual trinkgeld, entered the carriage, and rolled away with a commanding nod.
The host seemed speechless with astonishment, and stood as if rooted to the spot. The servants stared after the carriage until it turned the corner; when just then a post-horn was heard playing the agreeable melody of “Drei Reuter,” and a travelling-carriage with two large black trunks drove up to the door.
The servants turned pale, looking shyly toward the stairs. Slowly and with great dignity Count St. Julien descended, greeting them with a gentlemanly nod as he passed, and, extending his white hand with a trinkgeld, mounted his carriage, and drove away.
The host stood as if stunned, outside the door, looking right and left with unspeakable terror. The servants tremblingly fixed their eyes upon the stairs, no longer possessing the power to move, but heard the post-horn, and the carriage which drove up to the door the third time. Slowly and proudly Count St. Julien advanced. It was the same cold, grave face, with the thick black beard, and the powdered peruke, the curls of which overshadowed the brow and cheeks. He wore exactly the same dark-brown cloak over the black velvet dress. The white hand, with broad lace wrist-ruffles, reached them also a trinkgeld.
This time the fellows had scarcely self-possession sufficient to take the present, for every thing swam before their eyes, and their hearts one moment almost ceased to beat, and then palpitated with the feverish rapidity of terror.
“I would run away,” murmured the chief waiter, as Count St. Julien for the fourth time drove away, “if my feet were not riveted to the floor.”
“If I could move mine I would have gone long ago,” groaned the second waiter, the clear drops standing upon his forehead. “It is witchcraft! Oh, Heaven! they are coming again, playing the ‘Drei Reuter.’”
The count descended the stairs for the fifth time, whispered to the hostler, who was quite engrossed counting his money, handed the trinkgeld to the pale fellows by the door, and mounted his carriage, driving away amid the merry peals of the post-horn.
“Julius,” murmured the steward, softly, “give my hair a good pulling, that I may awake from this horrible dream.”
“I cannot,” he whimpered, “my hands and feet are lame. I cannot move.”
“I will,” said the hostler, courageously stretching forth his hand, and pulling it so vigorously that the steward was fully convinced of the reality of things.
Again the post-horn sounded the “Drei Reuter;” again the carriage stopped before the door, and the count descended, giving to every one a gift like the “Maedchen aus der Fremde,” and for the sixth time rolled away.
“We are bewitched; it is a ghost from the infernal regions!” groaned the steward.
“I cannot abide it any longer—I shall die!” said the second waiter.
“I do not mind it,” said the hostler, as he jingled the money; “if they are ghosts from hell, the eight groschen do not come from there, for they are quite cool. See how—Ah, there comes the count again!”
For the seventh time he passed down the stairway, by the servants, who wore no longer standing but kneeling, which the count received as a proof of their profound respect, and slipped the money into their hands.
“Praise God, all good spirits!” murmured the head waiter; but neither the count nor the money seemed to be moved by the pious exhortation, for he quietly entered his carriage, and the eight groschen lay in the servant’s hand, at which the hostler remarked that he would stand there all night if the count would only continually pass by with groschen. It pleased the count to descend the stairs yet twice more, divide the trinkgeld, and mount his carriage. As he drove away the ninth time, it appeared as if the Drei Reuter were determined to drive out of the gate and forsake the hotel “King of Portugal.” The host waited awhile, and talked with the neighbors, who, roused by the continual blast of the post-horn, were curious to know how it happened that so many guests were departing by extra posts. Whereupon the host, in a hollow, sepulchral voice, his eyes glaring, and shrugging his shoulders, declared that there had been but one gentleman at the hotel, but nine times he had seen him drive away, and the devil must have a hand in the matter!
Shaking his head, he returned to the hotel, and found the servants busily counting their money, occasionally casting covetous looks toward the stairs, as if they hoped the count would again descend.
Exactly as Cagliostro had foretold, Minister Herzberg did not return from Sans-Souci until late in the evening, and then found Wilhelmine’s letter in his cabinet.
Immediately the police were instructed to arrest Count St. Julien at the hotel “King of Portugal.”
An hour later the chief of the police came to say that the count had already been gone two hours. He repeated the account of the host, corroborated by the servants, of nine different counts having driven away from the hotel.
Herzberg smiled. “We have to deal with a very clever scoundrel,” said he, “and it is no other than the so-called Count Cagliostro, who was lately exposed as a bold trickster in Mittau and St. Petersburg, and about whose arrest the Empress Catharine is very much exercised. It would be very agreeable to the king to show this little attention to her imperial highness, and trap the adroit pickpocket.”
“We might succeed in catching him in his flight,” remarked the chief. “For the last six months the king has given orders that every passport should be examined at the gates, and the route of the travellers noted down, which is all registered and sent to the king. It would be very easy to discover by which gate he departed, and his route, and then have him pursued.”
“That is well thought of, director; hasten to put it into execution, and inform us of the result.” He returned in an hour to the minister’s cabinet, shaking his head gravely. “Your excellency, it is very strange, but he is a wizard. This man has driven out of the nine gates at the same hour and minute.”
Herzberg laughed. “This is one of his tricks, and by it I recognize the great necromancer.”
“Your excellency, this is no trickery, but witchery. It is impossible for any one man to drive out of the nine gates at the same hour, in the same carriage, with two large black trunks and a postilion blowing the same melody, and provided with a correct passport, which he shows and is recognized as Count St. Julien, who is going to Paris by Hamburg. Here are the nine registers from the different gates, all the same, if I am not bewitched and do not read straight.”
“This trick does honor to the count,” said Herzberg, smiling. “To-morrow you shall accompany me to Sans-Souci and read aloud the registers to the king. Do you think it will be impossible to pursue the count now?”
“I should be very happy to follow your excellency’s judgment in this matter, and arrest the rascal in any way that you could point out,” said the director.
“I am convinced that he is in the city; and driving put of the nine gates at the same time was the best manner to escape being discovered,” said Herzberg. “He is concealed in some one of the houses of the brothers, and we shall be obliged to let him escape this time.”
In order the more securely to carry out the initiation of Prince Frederick William, in company with Bischofswerder and Woellner, Cagliostro had arranged his pretended departure. For a long time the prince had expressed an extreme desire to be received into the mysteries of the miraculous and holy order, of which he had heard his friends speak with so much reverence. But he had been put off from time to time with regrets and shrugs of the shoulders, and expressions of the impossibility of granting the request.
“The spirits do not always appear even to the consecrated,” said Bischofswerder. “They make themselves known after many fervent prayers and implorings, and when we have withdrawn from every one who could entice us to doubt or disbelief. I fear that it would be impossible to conjure the spirits of the departed, so long as your highness honors a certain lady with your particular favor, who ridicules the sublime order and mingles with its enemies. How can they appear to those who have just been in the company of a friend of the Illuminati and unbelievers?”
“The spirit-world only reveals itself to the virtuous and pure,” said Woellner, in a harsh, dry voice. “Its inhabitants cannot approach those who are not chaste and innocent, for sin and vice surround them with a thick fog, which keeps them at a distance from the clear atmosphere of the sublime. If you would call up the spirits, you must remove this woman who entices you from the path of virtue, and renders the sphere impure around you.”
Despite the warnings and the great wish the prince had to be received into the spirit-world, and become a member of the highest grade of the Rosicrucians, he could not resolve to forsake her who had been his friend for ten years, and who had borne shame and degradation on his account, refusing eligible and rich men rather than leave him and become a legitimate wife. Wilhelmine was the beloved of his youth, the mother of his two dear children, and she alone knew how to drive away the ennui which pursued the prince, with her amiable, subtle wit. Nay, he could not be so ungrateful, so heartless, as to reject her who had so tenderly loved him when young and beautiful, now that the first bloom of youth and beauty had faded!
Bischofswerder and Woellner recognized this difficulty, and applied themselves the more energetically for its removal. They supposed that the unexpected arrival of Cagliostro would very naturally appear to the prince as a special messenger, sent, without doubt, from the fathers, to accomplish his conversion. They announced to the prince that the Invisibles had taken pity upon his desire for knowledge, and had consented to permit him to gaze into the regions of the blest, although he wandered in the path of vice, and that he must hold himself in readiness to accompany the messenger whenever he should be sent to call him.
For this reason the crown prince had written to Wilhelmine that she should not expect him until the following morning, and he did not quit his room the entire day, with excited expectation awaiting the summons. As evening set in the prince was cast down, and quite of the opinion that the Invisibles did not deem him worthy to enter their pure presence, and thought that Wilhelmine must be the hinderance. Whilst he was reflecting whether to sacrifice his beloved to the salvation of his soul, the secret door gently opened, and two men, masked and wrapped in black cloaks, entered and placed themselves near the door. The prince did not remark their entrance, and was quite frightened as he chanced to turn, and saw these two immovable figures.
With quivering voice he demanded their mission.
In the same tone, as if one were an echo of the other, they answered, “We desire nothing, but you demand knowledge of the spirit-world, and would have its mysteries revealed to you, which the Invisibles will now grant you. Follow us, therefore!” They reopened the secret door; one of the masked preceded the prince, and the other followed him.
The prince shuddered at the thought that he might be rushing into some unknown danger, and intrusting himself to those who would misuse his confidence. He demanded to see their faces, declaring himself prepared to follow, when acquainted with his guides.
“It would then be better to remain,” replied one of the masked. “He who lacks confidence is not worthy of it, and he who trusts only the Visibles, the Invisibles flee.”
The prince recognized the voice of Bischofswerder, and smiled, but he knew not that it was permitted him to hear it to inspire him with courage.
“Well, so let it be; the fathers shall see that I am a believer,” cried the prince.
Immediately one of the brothers put his own cloak, three-cornered hat, and mask upon his highness, still remaining cloaked and masked himself, much to the astonishment of the passive prince. “Come, now, the Invisibles await you,” said one of the masked. The prince stepped courageously into the little corridor which led to the secret stairway, one brother preceding him, causing a soft light to illumine their path, the other following him.
In silence they reached the side-door of the palace, where a close carriage awaited them.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Frederick William, as he entered, followed by the two brothers.
“To the Invisibles,” answered a strange voice.
Again the prince essayed to begin a conversation, his only response being, “Purify your heart and pray.” Silently they galloped over paved and unpaved streets, the prince heartily repenting having been drawn into this adventure. He thought of his charming and beloved Wilhelmine, and half determined to give the command to drive to Charlottenburg. The fact of Bischofswerder being with him, and fearful of appearing weak and wanting in courage in the eyes of his friend and favorite, prevented him.
After several hours’ drive, they stopped at the marble palace of Potsdam, near the one which the prince was accustomed to occupy. His highness looked cautiously around, and breathed more freely, as he felt that he was now surely among friends.
The white palace stood silent and deserted in the darkness, this palace at Potsdam being only used for the guests of the king. The carriage stopped at the side-door, where there was no sentinel, and they alighted, entering the palace, winding along the corridors in the same order as before, guided by the glimmering light of the one preceding. Solemn music, strange ringing sounds, fell upon the ear as they advanced. Sometimes they were sharp and cutting as glass, then threatening and penetrating as the wind, shrieking and moaning, causing one to be very nervous if not terrified.
The farther they proceeded the louder grew the sounds, and at intervals groans, moans and wailings were heard, as of those waiting and imploring for mercy.
One of the brothers now opened a door, and then placing themselves upon each side, the unknown voice announced to the prince that they had arrived at the long-sought-for goal.
“What have we come here for?” asked the prince.
“To behold that which you have many times petitioned to be permitted to see,” replied Bischofswerder, gently encouraging and inspiring Frederick William. “The Invisibles have at last yielded to your wishes, and the spirits which you summon will appear. If your courage fails you, and you dread the presence of the departed, command to be reconducted to your palace, and we will obey; but renounce forever the sublime happiness of beholding the Invisibles and of holding communion with the spirit-world!”
“I fear not, but wish to be in the company of the spirits,” answered the prince, proudly.
“Kneel,” they commanded, permitting him to enter, “and thrice summon in a loud voice the names of three departed, who will answer your questions. Beware of approaching them, for their glance is death and their breath destruction! Therefore remain kneeling, as it becomes a mortal in the presence of an immortal. Hope and pray, brother!”
As the door closed upon the prince, and he found himself in such impenetrable darkness, he sank upon his knees, for he dared not advance, and retreat was impossible, in spite of heart-quakings.
The shrill, penetrating music ceased, and a voice from a distance called: “Summon thrice those that thou desirest to see.”
“Marcus Aurelius, Leibnitz, and the distinguished elector,” called the prince in a loud voice.
“Who summoned me?” was responded in hollow, sepulchral tones, and directly over the crown prince a blue, vaporous light was visible—at first only a cloud, then by degrees increasing and condensing itself into a human shape, until it took the form of a Roman warrior of the olden time; no other than Marcus Aurelius, in helmet and coat-of-mail, with a pale, earth-colored face and glaring eyes.
“Who summoned me?” repeated the figure. The prince’s lips refused to respond, and shuddering he gazed upon the corpse-like face, so exact in feature to the old Roman emperor.
“You answer me not!” thundered the voice, “but I will tell you who you are—one lost in sin and an apostate!—the crown prince of Prussia, a future king, who will be called to govern a people, and knows not self-government! Turn from the path of vice while it is yet time; rise from the dust, that the ashes of retribution do not bury you in a living tomb, like the sinful Pompeians. No monument marks the place of the sinful; he sinks into the night of oblivion, or he is cursed by succeeding generations. Therefore turn from the errors of sin. Rise to virtue, that the blessed may approach you. I shudder in your presence. Woe to you! woe! woe!”
The cloud-portrait vanished, and darkness reigned for a moment. The prince cried in anguish: “I will hear no more; this air oppresses me—open the door—I renounce communion with the spirits; I will go out!”
The light reappeared in the dark room and another form hovered over the prince—of grave, obscure face, with a great peruke, staring at him. He recognized the distinguished philosopher Leibnitz, whom he had desired to see, but who now filled him with unspeakable terror. Like the former spirit, he also, when unanswered, reproached the erring prince, conjuring him to return to virtue.
As the menacing ghost disappeared, the prince felt for the door, and shook it with the power which terror lends, crying, “Open, open!” It opened not, and the third summoned, the great elector, Frederick William, appeared, with high, up-lifted arm, glittering eyes, advancing with angry mien, shaking his lion’s mane against the erring son of his house, whom he menaced with curses and revenge, if he did not renounce the courtesan who had seduced him to vice and unchastity.
“I will become better,” groaned the prince. “I will perform the wish of the spirits. Only have mercy on me—free me. Help! help! Open the door, Bischofswerder, I will do better. Open the door!”
This time it really opened, and a long train of dark, masked forms entered the dusky room surrounding the prince, wringing their hands, imploring him to turn from sin, and forsake the unholy woman.
They whimpered, they implored, sinking upon their knees, beating their clinched hands, and weeping: “Turn, beloved elect! Renounce Wilhelmine Enke; renounce vice! Repulse the seductress, and turn your countenance to Virtue which you have seen in all her beauty!”
“I will perform that which you demand,” wept the prince, as the deathly terror and nervous excitement made him yielding.
“Swear!” cried the chorus of masks.
“I swear that Wilhelmine Enke shall no longer be my mistress. I swear by all that is holy that I will renounce her! I—”
Voice failed him; there was a ringing and buzzing in his ears; every thing swam before his eyes, and he sank fainting. The prince awoke after long unconsciousness, and found himself upon his bed in the new palace at Potsdam, Bischofswerder at his side, watching him with the tenderest sympathy. He bent over him and pressed his hand to his lips with a cry of delight. “Heaven be praised; my dear prince, you have awaked to commence a new life! You now belong to the virtuous and honorable, whom the Invisible Fathers bless!”
“Is it true, Bischofswerder,” said the prince, languidly, “that I have sworn to renounce Wilhelmine Enke, and never to love her more?”
“You have sworn it by all that is holy, and all in heaven and on earth have heard your oath, and there is joy thereat.”
The prince turned his head, that Bischofswerder might not see the tears streaming down his cheeks.