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Napoleon and Blücher: An Historical Novel

by L. Mühlbach · English · Gutenberg #3801 · 1,195,610 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Napoleon and Blücher: An Historical Novel

Author: L. Mühlbach


        
Release date: March 1, 2003 [eBook #3801]
                Most recently updated: January 9, 2021

Language: English

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NAPOLEON IN GERMANY

NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

An historical Novel

BY

L MUHLBACH




TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY F. JORDAN




CONTENTS.


NAPOLEON AT DRESDEN.

      I. Frederick William and Hardenberg
     II. The White Lady
    III. Napoleon and the White Lady
     IV. Napoleon at Dresden
      V. Napoleon's High-born Ancestors
     VI. Napoleon's Departure from Dresden



THE LAST DAYS OF 1812.

    VII. The Conspirators of Helgoland
   VIII. The European Conspiracy
     IX. Gebhard Leberecht Blucher
      X. Recollections of Mecklenburg
     XI. Glad Tidings
    XII. The Oath



CHANCELLOR VON HARDENBERG.

   XIII. The Interrupted Supper
    XIV. The Defection of General York
     XV. The Warning
    XVI. The Diplomatist
   XVII. The Clairvoyante
  XVIII. An Adventuress
    XIX. The Two Diplomatists
     XX. The Attack
    XXI. The Courier's Return



THE VOLUNTEERS.

   XXII. The Manifesto
  XXIII. Leonora Prohaska
   XXIV. Joan of Orleans
    XXV. The National Representatives



WAR AND AN ARMISTICE.

   XXVI. Theodore Korner
  XXVII. The Heroic Tailor
 XXVIII. The General-in-Chief of the Silesian Army
   XXIX. The Ball at the City Hall of Breslau
    XXX. The Appointment
   XXXI. After the Battle of Bautzen
  XXXII. Bad News
 XXXIII. The Traitors
  XXXIV. Napoleon and Metternich



DELIVERANCE OF GERMANY.

   XXXV. On the Katzbach
  XXXVI. Blucher as a Writer
 XXXVII. The Revolt of the Generals
XXXVIII. The Battle of Leipsic
  XXXIX. The Nineteenth of October



HANNIBAL ANTE PORTAS.

     XL. Blucher's Birthday
    XLI. Passage of the Rhine
   XLII. Napoleon's New-Year's-Day
  XLIII. The King of Rome
   XLIV. Josephine
    XLV. Talleyrand
   XLVI. Madame Letitia



FALL OF PARIS.

  XLVII. The Battle of La Rothiere
 XLVIII. The Diseased Eyes
   XLIX. On to Paris!
      L. Departure of Maria Louisa
     LI. The Capitulation of Paris
    LII. Night and Morning near Paris
   LIII. Napoleon at Fontainebleau
    LIV. A Soul in Purgatory






NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER.




NAPOLEON AT DRESDEN.


CHAPTER I.

FREDERICK WILLIAM AND HARDENBERG.


It was a fine, warm day in May, 1812. The world was groaning under
the yoke of Napoleon's tyranny. As a consolation for the hopeless
year, came the laughing spring. Fields, forests, and meadows, were
clad in beautiful verdure; flowers were blooming, and birds were
singing everywhere--even at Charlottenburg, which King Frederick
William formerly delighted to call his "pleasure palace," but which
now was his house of mourning. At Charlottenburg, Frederick William
had spent many and happy spring days with Queen Louisa; and when she
was with him at this country-seat, it was indeed a pleasure palace.

The noble and beautiful queen was also now at Charlottenburg, but
the king only felt her presence--he beheld her no more. Her merry
remarks and charming laughter had ceased, as also her sighs and
suffering; her radiant eyes had closed forever, and her sweet lips
spoke no more. She was still at Charlottenburg, but only as a
corpse. The king had her mausoleum erected in the middle of the
garden. Here lay her coffin, and room had been left for another, as
Frederick William intended to repose one day at the side of his
Louisa.

From the time that the queen's remains had been deposited there--
from that day of anguish and tears--the king called Charlottenburg
no longer his "pleasure palace." It was henceforth a tomb, where his
happiness and love were buried. Still, he liked to remain there, for
it seemed to him as though he felt the presence of the spirit of his
blessed queen, and understood better what she whispered to his soul
in the silent nights when she consoled him, and spoke of heaven and
a renewed love. The bereaved husband, however, did not prefer to
dwell in the magnificent abode of his ancestors, where he had
formerly passed in spring so many happy days with his beloved
Louisa. He had, therefore, a small house near the palace; it was
into this plain and humble structure that he had retired with his
grief-stricken heart. Here, in his solitude, he had already passed
two springs.

The second year had nearly elapsed since the queen's death, and
Frederick William's heart was still overburdened with sorrow, but
yet he had learned what time teaches all mortals--he had learned to
be resigned. Yes, resignation in these melancholy days was the only
thing that remained to the unfortunate King of Prussia. It was a sad
and difficult duty, for he had lost happiness, love, greatness, and
even his royal independence. It is true, he was still called King of
Prussia, but he was powerless. He had to bow to the despotic will of
Napoleon, and scarcely a shadow of his former greatness had been
left him. The days of Tilsit had not yet brought disgrace and
humiliation enough upon him. The Emperor of the French had added
fresh exactions, and his arrogance became daily more reckless and
intolerable. In the face of such demands it only remained for
Frederick William to submit or resist. He looked mournfully at his
unhappy country, at those whom the last war had deprived of their
husbands and fathers; at his small army; at the scanty means at his
disposal, compared with the resources of Napoleon, and--the king
submitted.

He had indeed hesitated long, and struggled strongly with his own
feelings. For, by submitting to Napoleon's behests, he was to become
the open enemy of the Emperor Alexander, and the King of Prussia
was, jointly with the Emperor of the French, to arm against the
Emperor of Russia. It was a terrible necessity for Frederick William
to sacrifice his friend to his enemy, and at the very moment when
Alexander had offered his hand for a new league, and proposed to
conclude an offensive and defensive alliance with Prussia and
England.

But such an alliance with distant Russia could not strengthen
Prussia against neighboring France, whose armies were encamped near
her frontiers. The danger of being crushed by Napoleon was much more
probable than the hope of being supported by Russia. Russia had
enough to do to take care of herself. She was unable to prevent
France from destroying Prussia, if Napoleon desired, and the crown
might fall from the head of Frederick William long before a Russian
army of succor could cross the Prussian frontier. He submitted
therefore, and accepted with one hand the alliance of France, while
threatening her with the other.

On the 24th of February, 1812, the Prussian king signed this new
treaty. As was stipulated by the first article, he entered into a
defensive alliance with France against any European power with which
either France or Prussia should hereafter be at war. Napoleon, the
man who had broken Queen Louisa's heart, was now the friend and ally
of King Frederick William, and the enemies of France were henceforth
to be the enemies of Prussia!

It was this that the king thought of to-day, when, in the early part
of May, he was alone, and absorbed in his reflections, at his small
house in Charlottenburg. It was yet early, for he had risen before
sunrise, and had been at work a long time, when he ceased for a
moment and yielded to his meditations. Leaning back in his easy
chair, he gazed musingly through the open glass-doors, now on serene
sky, and again on the fragrant verdure of his garden.

But this quiet relaxation was not to last long; the door of the
small anteroom opened, and the footman announced that his excellency
Minister and Chancellor von Hardenberg requested to see his majesty.

"Let him come in," said the king, as he rose, turning his grave
eyes, which had become even gloomier than before, toward the door,
on the threshold of which the elegant and somewhat corpulent form of
the chancellor of state appeared. He bowed respectfully. His noble
and prepossessing countenance was smiling and genial as usual; the
king's, grave, thoughtful, and sad.

"Bad news, I suppose?" asked the king, briefly. "You come at so
early an hour, something extraordinary must have happened. What is
it?"

"Nothing of that kind, your majesty," said Hardenberg, with his
imperturbable smile. "Yet, it is true, we are constantly in an
extraordinary situation, so that what otherwise might appear unusual
is now nothing but a very ordinary occurrence."

"A preamble!" said Frederick William, thoughtfully. "You have, then,
to tell me something important. What is it? Take a seat and speak!"
The king pointed to a chair, and resumed his own. Hardenberg seated
himself, and looked down for a moment with an air of embarrassment.

"Any thing the matter in Berlin?" asked the king. "Perhaps, a
quarrel between the citizens and the French?"

"No, your majesty," said Hardenberg, to whose thin lips came his
wonted smile. "The people of Berlin keep very quiet, and bear the
arrogance of the French with admirable patience. I have to report no
quarrels, and, on the whole, nothing of importance; I wished only to
inform your majesty that I received a courier from Dresden late last
night."

The king started, and looked gloomy. "From whom?" he asked, in a
hollow voice.

"From our ambassador," replied Hardenberg, carelessly. "Surprising
intelligence has reached Dresden. They are expecting the Emperor
Napoleon. He left Saint Cloud with the Empress Maria Louisa on the
9th of May, and no one knew any thing about the object or
destination of the journey. It was generally believed that the
emperor, with his consort, intended to take a pleasure-trip to
Mentz, but immediately after his arrival there he informed his suite
that he was on his way to a new war, and would accompany his wife
only as far as Dresden, where they would meet their Austrian
majesties. Couriers were sent from Mentz to Vienna, to Dresden, to
King Jerome, and to all the marshals and generals. The columns of
the army have commenced moving everywhere, and are now marching from
all sides upon Dresden. As usual, Napoleon has again succeeded in
keeping his plans secret to the very last moment, and informing the
world of his intentions only when they are about to be realized."

"Yes," exclaimed the king, in a tone of intense hatred and anger--
"yes, he wears a kind, hypocritical mask, and feigns friendship and
pacific intentions until he has drawn into his nets those whom he
intends to ruin; then he drops his mask and shows his true arrogant
and ambitious face. He caressed us, and protested his friendship,
until we signed the treaty of alliance, but now he will insist on
the fulfilment of the engagements we have entered into. He commences
a new war, and, by virtue of the first article of our treaty, I have
to furnish him an auxiliary corps of twenty thousand men and sixty
field-pieces."

"Yes, your majesty, it is so," said Hardenberg, composedly. "The new
French governor of Berlin, General Durutte, came to see me this
morning, and demanded in the name of his emperor that the Prussian
auxiliary troops should immediately take the field."

"Auxiliary troops!" exclaimed the king, angrily. "The Prussian
victims, he ought to have said, for what else will my poor,
unfortunate soldiers be but the doomed victims of his ambition and
insatiable thirst for conquest? He will drive them into the jaws of
death, that they may gain a piece of blood-stained land, or a new
title from the ruin of the world's happiness; he does not care
whether brave soldiers die or not, so long as his own ambition is
served."

"Yes," said Hardenberg, solemnly, "his path leads across corpses and
through rivers of blood, but the vengeance of God and man will
finally overtake him, and who knows whether it may not do so during
this wild Russian campaign?"

"My evil forebodings, then, are proving true," said the king,
sighing; "the expedition is directed against Russia?"

"Yes, against Russia," said Hardenberg, sneeringly; "the master of
the world intends to crush Russia also, because she ventured to
remain an independent power, and the Emperor Alexander was so bold
as to demand the fulfilment of the promises of Tilsit and Erfurt.
Providence is always just in the final result, your majesty. It
punishes the Emperor Alexander for suffering himself to be beguiled
by the flatteries and promises of Napoleon, and the territories
which he allowed Napoleon to give him at Tilsit, at the expense of
Prussia, will be no precious stones in his crown."

"Not a word against Alexander!" exclaimed the king, imperiously.
"However appearances may be against him, he has always proved a true
friend of mine, and perhaps especially at a time when we suspected
it the least. His keen eyes penetrated the future, and behind the
clouds darkening our horizon he believed he could descry light and
safety. He yielded, in order to lull Napoleon to sleep; he pretended
to be fascinated, in order to convince him of his attachment and
devotedness. He wished to be regarded as Napoleon's friend until ho
had armed himself, and felt strong enough to turn against the
usurper. Hush! do not contradict me. I have heard all this from
Alexander's own lips. On his return from Erfurt he confided the
plans of his future to me and the queen, under the seal of secrecy.
Louisa carried the secret into her grave, and I have preserved it in
my breast. Now I may communicate it to you, for the hour of decision
has come; it finds me on the side of France, and God has decreed
that I should turn my arms against my friend, against Alexander! Ah,
happy the queen, because she did not live to see this day and
witness my new humiliation and disgrace! And was it, then,
unavoidable? Was it, then, really necessary for me to enter into
this hateful alliance? Was there no way of avoiding it?"

And as the king put this question to himself rather than to
Hardenberg, he laid his head against the back of his easy-chair, and
looked gloomy and thoughtful.

"There was no way, unfortunately, of avoiding it," said Hardenberg,
after a short pause. "Your majesty knows full well that we submitted
to stern necessity only; to act otherwise would have been too
dangerous, for the crown on the head of your majesty would have been
menaced."

"It is better to lose the crown and die a freeman than live a
crowned slave!" exclaimed the king, impetuously.

"No, pardon me, your majesty, for daring to contradict you," said
Hardenberg, smiling; "it is better to keep the crown, and submit to
necessity as long as possible, in order to be able to take future
revenge on the oppressor. At times I am likewise tortured by the
doubts and fears now disquieting the noble soul of your majesty. But
at such hours I always repeat to myself, in order to justify our
course, a few words from the letter which the Duke de Bassano
addressed to our ambassador, Baron von Krusemark, as the ultimatum
of the Tuileries. I have learned this letter by heart, and, if you
will graciously permit me, I will repeat a few words." The king
nodded assent, and Hardenberg added: "This letter read: 'My dear
baron, the moment has come when we must give you our views about the
fate of Prussia. I cannot conceal from you that this is a matter of
life and death for your country. You know that the emperor
entertained already at Tilsit very unfriendy intentions against
Prussia. These intentions still remain the same, but will not be
carried out at this time, on the condition that Prussia become our
ally, and a faithful one. The moments are precious, and the
circumstances very grave.'" [Footnote: "Memoires d'un Homme d'Etat,"
vol. xi., p. 324]

"An outrageous letter!" muttered Frederick William to himself.

"Yes, an outrageous letter," repeated Hardenberg, bowing, "for it
contained a serious threat, and yet, on the other hand, it offered
us a sort of guaranty. Prussia was lost, in case she refused to join
the alliance, for Austria had likewise acceded to it, and, by
holding out against the wishes of France, Prussia would have run the
risk of being crushed by two armed enemies in the north, as well as
in the south, and blotted out from the list of nations. We,
therefore, were obliged to submit; we had no other choice."

"But what did we gain by submitting?" asked the king, angrily. "In
order to preserve my people from the horrors of war, I bowed to
Napoleon's will, and accepted the disgraceful alliance. I thereby
wished to secure peace to my unfortunate country, which stands so
greatly in need of it. Instead of attaining this object, the
alliance plunges us into the very abyss which I intended to avoid,
and I am compelled to send my soldiers into the field for an unjust
cause against a monarch who is my friend, and under the orders of a
commander-in-chief who is my enemy, and has always shown his bitter
hostility to me."

"But your majesty has at least prevented your own country from being
devastated by war. It is true, you send out your army, but the war
will not lay waste the fields of Prussia; it will not trample in the
dust the crops of the Prussian farmer, interrupt the labors of the
mechanic, or carry its terror into our cities and villages, our
houses and families. The enemy is at least far from our own
country."

"You only wish to palliate the calamity," exclaimed the king. "The
enemy is here, and you know it. He is dogging every step of ours; he
is listening to every word of mine, and watching every movement. An
inconsiderate word, an imprudent step, and the French gendarmes will
rush upon me and conduct the King of Prussia as a prisoner to
France, while no one can raise his hand to prevent them. We have the
enemy in Berlin, in Spandau, and in all our fortresses. Our own
soldiers we have to send into the field, and our cities and
fortresses are occupied by French garrisons. An army of four hundred
and eighty thousand infantry and seventy thousand cavalry cover
Prussia like a cloud of locusts; Berlin, Spandau, Konigsberg, and
Pillau, have received French garrisons; only Upper Silesia, Colberg,
and Graudenz, have remained exempt from them. The whole country, as
though we were at war, is exposed to the robberies, extortions, and
cruelties in which an enemy indulges: this time, however, he comes
in the garb of a friend, and, as our ally, he is irritating and
impoverishing the farmers, and plundering the mechanics and
manufacturers. And I am not only obliged to suffer all this in
silence, but I must send my own soldiers, the natural defenders of
our states, into a foreign country, and command them to obey the man
who has heaped the vilest insults not only on myself, but on the
whole of Prussia, and has broken the heart of my beloved wife!" And
the king, quite exhausted, breathless with his unusually long
speech, and almost ashamed of his own tremulous excitement, buried
his face in his hands and groaned aloud.

Hardenberg gazed upon him for a moment with an expression of
profound sympathy; he then looked around the room with searching
glances, which seemed to pierce every niche, every fold of the
curtains, and every piece of furniture and sculpture. "Is your
majesty sure that no one can hear and watch us here?" he asked in a
low voice.

The king dropped his hands from his face, and looked at him in
surprise.

"Your majesty, you yourself say that you are surrounded by spies,
and eavesdroppers," added Hardenberg. "Does your majesty suspect any
such to be here?"

"No," said the king, with a mournful smile, "it is the last blessing
of my Louisa that she has secured me this quiet asylum. The spies do
not venture to penetrate here--this retreat is not desecrated by
their inquisitive and lurking glances."

"Well," said Hardenberg, almost joyously, "if we need not be afraid
of the eyes and ears of spies, your majesty will permit me to speak
freely to you. My king, great events are maturing; while
impenetrable darkness still seems to surround us, morning is
gradually dawning, and the day of retribution is not distant. Europe
is utterly tired of war, and this incessant bloodshed; she has
practised forbearance until it is exhausted and converted into an
intense indignation. Thanks to his unscrupulous machinations,
Napoleon has hitherto succeeded in bringing about wars between the
different nations of Europe in order to derive benefits for France
alone from these fratricidal struggles. It was he who drove the
Poles and Turks into a war against the Russians, the Italians
against the Austrians, the Danes against the Swedes and English, and
armed the princes of the Rhenish Confederation against their German
countrymen and brethren. He instigated all against each other; he
made them continue the struggle until they sank from loss of blood,
for he knew that he would then be able to take the property of those
whom he had made murder each other. And who could prevent him? The
warriors, exhausted by their long and bloody work--the starving
people, to whom, in their hunger and anguish, only he who brought
them peace and a little bread seemed a true friend! Italy wished to
deliver herself from the Austrian yoke, and after long struggles the
liberty that Napoleon had promised her consisted but in entire
submission to his own behests. To Poland, too, he promised
deliverance, and, after the unfortunate country had risen, and spent
her last strength and her best blood in the war against Russia, she
became exhausted, and offered no resistance when he claimed her as
his spoil, and declared the Poles, who had dreamed that they were
free, to be subjects of France. The princes of the Rhenish
Confederation were compelled to send their German troops to Spain,
to wage war against a nation that was struggling for independence;
and Napoleon in the meantime placed a French adventurer upon a
throne in the middle of Germany, and erected a kingdom for him from
the spoils he had taken from German princes. Holland, which had
endeavored to preserve some vestiges of liberty, was suddenly
deprived of her sovereign, and converted into a French province; and
when Napoleon had succeeded in bringing about a war between Sweden
and Russia, and instigating unfortunate Finland to resist the latter
power, he profited by the favorable moment, and took Stralsund and
the Island of Rugen, both of which belonged to the King of Sweden,
who had been his ally up to that time. In Italy only the Pontifical
states and the holy father at Rome still resisted him, after the
remainder of the peninsula had awakened from its dreams of liberty
under the rule of French marshals and Napoleonic princes. He
instigated Naples and Sardinia against Rome, and when the struggle
had commenced, he magnanimously hastened to the assistance of his
brother-in-law Murat, arrested the pope, conveyed him as a prisoner
to France, and declared Rome to be the property of that country
until the pope should submit to his will. No country, no nation,
escaped his intrigues--conflagrations, devastation, and death
accompanied him everywhere! But the nations, as I have stated
already, are at length impatient; they are wearied of fighting; or,
rather, if they still fight, they intend to do so only in order to
conquer peace for themselves, and bring retribution on him who was
the sole cause of all this bloodshed."

"And they commenced by rushing, at his command, into the field--by
entering upon another war!" exclaimed Frederick William, shrugging
his shoulders with a sneer.

"Your majesty," said Hardenberg, solemnly, "they will do so now for
the last time. Napoleon is digging his own grave, and, by
consolidating the forces of all countries into one vast army, he
makes friends of those whom he hitherto successfully tried to make
enemies and adversaries of each other. But when the nations have
once found out that they are really brethren, it only needs a voice
calling upon them to unite for one grand object--that is to say, for
the deliverance of Europe from the tyrant's yoke!"

"Those are Utopian dreams," said the king. "Whence should this voice
come? Who would be so audacious as to utter it?"

"Whence should this voice come?" asked Hardenberg. "Your majesty, it
will come from heaven, and find an echo on the whole earth. It will
resound from the hundred thousand graves of the soldiers killed in
battle; from the breasts of sorrowing widows and orphans, and, like
the noise of the tempest, it will come from the lips of thousands of
humiliated and disgraced men. This voice will not be that of a
single man; but God, Nature, and all nations, will unite, and
millions will utter that one shout of 'Liberty! Let us rise and
expel the tyrant!'"

"But, then, the story of the tower of Babel will be reenacted," said
Frederick William, sighing; "the nations will not understand each
other; an endless confusion of languages will ensue, and, finally,
the building, which they intended jointly to erect, will fall to
ruins and they be dispersed."

"In order to prevent this, a chieftain must gladly place himself at
their head, and direct their will," exclaimed Hardenberg. "I hope
God will intrust this leadership to your majesty."

"To me?" asked the king, almost angrily. "Will you take the liberty
of mocking my distress, or do you believe that I ought to be
consoled in the calamities of the present by such hopes of the
future?"

"No, your majesty, I am only convinced that God will one day intrust
the task of retribution to Prussia, because it is she that has
suffered most."

"Let us leave retribution to God," said the king, gently.

"No, your majesty," exclaimed Hardenberg, "let us now take upon
ourselves the task of avenging our wrongs, and only pray to Heaven
for a blessing on our efforts. And that God is with us, that He at
last averts His face from the man who has so long trampled the world
under foot, is shown by the new war into which Napoleon is about to
enter. This expedition to Russia is the first step to his ruin!"

"Oh, you are mistaken!" exclaimed the king, almost indignantly. "It
will be a new triumphal procession for Napoleon. Russia will succumb
to him, as we all have done. He marches upon the position of his
enemy with the armies of all his allies--half a million of warriors
and thousands of cannon--while Russia stands alone; she has no force
compared with his, and no allies whatever."

"She has one friend more powerful than any Napoleon has," said
Hardenberg, solemnly--"NATURE. When this ally appears, with its
masses of ice and snow-storms, Napoleon is lost."

"But he will take good care not to wait for this reenforcement,"
exclaimed the king. "As always, he will finish the war in a few
weeks, vanquish the feeble forces of Alexander with his own
tremendous columns in one or two decisive battles, and then, on the
ruins of the Russian empire, dictate terms of peace to the
humiliated emperor. This has been the course of events ever since
Bonaparte commanded, and so it will be hereafter."

"Your majesty, it will not; for, during twelve years, he has been
the instructor of the world, and the nations have learned from him
not only the art of war, but his special strategies. His secret
consists in the rapidity of his movements. He has made
Macchiavelli's words his own: 'A short and vigorous war insures
victory!' He must, therefore, be opposed by a protracted and
desultory war--his enemies must fight long, not with heavy columns,
but with light battalions, now here, now there; they must take care
not to bring on a general battle, but slowly thin the ranks of his
army, and exhaust his resources and his patience. This was the
course which the Spaniards pursued, and their hopes are, therefore,
promising; they are carrying on a guerilla warfare, and he is
obliged to renew the struggle every day without being able to defeat
them in a decisive battle. Russia will adopt a similar plan. She
will take pains to draw Napoleon farther and farther into the
interior of the country, incessantly alluring him forward by
insignificant victories, rendering him eager for a great battle. In
strict obedience to the plans he has adopted, she will especially
endeavor to weaken Napoleon, and cut him off from his supplies and
base of operations. She will successively fight him at every
important point with a strong army, supported by large reserves,
tire him out, and ruin him in detail. This plan she will adhere to
until her great ally approaches from Siberia--grim Winter, covering
Russia with an invulnerable defence, so that her sons may at last
take the offensive, and expel the terrified enemy."

"That is a grand, but an infernal scheme!" exclaimed the king, who
had risen, and was walking up and down with hasty steps. "Who
conceived it?"

"No single brain; it is the result of the consultations of the most
eminent Russian generals. They also have studied Macchiavelli, and
found that significant axiom, 'He who knows how to resist will
conquer in the end.' The Russians, therefore, will resist, and they
will conquer."

"But who tells you that this is the plan which Russia will adopt?"
asked the king. "Whence have you derived such accurate information?"

"Your majesty," said Hardenberg, smiling, "though we publicly act as
the enemies of Russia, and are compelled to send our army against
her, she secretly regards us as her ally, and knows well that we are
only waiting for the favorable moment to drop the mask and become
the open enemy of the usurper. We have, therefore, warm friends in
Russia, who will keep us informed about every thing going on, that
we may prudently use the favorable moment when we also can take up
arms against Napoleon."

"No rash steps--no coups de main," exclaimed Frederick William,
gravely and imperiously, standing in front of Hardenberg, and
looking him full in the face. "I am opposed to any sort of underhand
games; when you are not strong enough to attack your enemy openly
and honestly, you ought to be too proud to shoot at him from an
ambuscade, like a coward and bandit. The bullet may miss him, and he
who fired it dies as a traitor, overwhelmed with disgrace. I have
concluded this alliance with France; I am now her ally, and thereby
compelled to furnish her an auxiliary corps of twenty thousand men
against Russia; so long, therefore, as this campaign lasts, I must,
by virtue of the pledges I have given, stand by France, and woe to
the general of mine who should forget this, and disobey the orders I
have given him!"

"There may be circumstances, however, your majesty," said
Hardenberg, in an embarrassed tone, "circumstances--"

"There can be none," interrupted the king, "justifying us to turn
traitors. A man has but one word to pledge, and that I have pledged
to Napoleon. When my soldiers forsake the colors under which I have
placed them, they shall be punished as deserters. No one knows the
anguish with which I say this, but as a man who must keep his word,
and as a commander-in-chief who, above all, must maintain discipline
and subordination, I cannot speak otherwise. Tell your friends in
Russia so. I am sad and dejected enough, compelled as I am to become
Napoleon's ally. But I will not perjure myself!"

"Your majesty, I bow in admiration of these noble words of my king,"
exclaimed Hardenberg, enthusiastically; "I wish the whole world
could hear them. At this hour you obtained a greater victory than
Napoleon ever gained on the battlefield--a victory of duty and
fidelity over your own inclinations and wishes! Far be it from me to
oppose this magnanimous resolution. Our army, then, will march out
side by side with the French troops and will return, if it ever
should, as an auxiliary corps of the grand army. But then, your
majesty, the new day will dawn, for which we must prepare while
Napoleon is in Russia. It must be in secret--in the dead of night--
but the rising sun will find us ready. The world is now united for
the great work; brethren are offering their hands to brethren from
the shores of the Mediterranean to those of the Atlantic and the
Baltic. Their common sufferings have filled their hearts with the
same love and hatred. All the nations are uniting into one family,
and in their wrath will destroy him who is menacing all alike.
Secret messengers keep the brethren in the west and north, in the
south and east, well informed of what is done by their friends.
Patriotic poets are arousing the nations from the lethargy that
enthralled them during so many years; they make them hear the gospel
of liberty, and awaken them from their indifference. In secret
workshops the brethren are forging arms; in the night the sisters
are at work upon uniforms, and their children are making lint for
warriors to be wounded in the holy war of liberation. They are
quietly preparing for it in the offices, the students' halls, and
the workshops. At the first call they will fling aside their pens
and tools, take up the sword, and hasten into the field, to deliver
the fatherland. All Europe, at the present moment, is but one vast
secret society, which has even in France active and influential
members. Napoleon stands on a volcano, which will soon engulf him."

"Enough!" exclaimed the king, anxiously. "Say no more; I will know
nothing about secret societies and conspiracies. They are perhaps an
inevitable evil in these times, but still they ARE an evil,
destroying those for whose benefit they were intended."

"May God in His mercy favor them in advancing our cause," exclaimed
Hardenberg, "that from them may arise the army that is to deliver
the nations from the yoke of the tyrant! I am convinced that it will
be so, and that the moment will come when Prussia will be able to
redeem the oath which I am sure every Prussian took when he saw the
coffin of the august Queen Louisa. On the day, your majesty, when I
saw it, I resolved to strive for no other object than to deliver my
country. For this I will devote my whole strength--my life, if need
be! Heaven heard my oath, and I shall not die before its
fulfilment."

The king gazed long and mournfully upon the queen's portrait which
hung over his desk, and represented her in the attire in which
Frederick William had seen her for the first time. "But she died
before the hour of deliverance struck," he said, gloomily, to
himself. "Her heart was broken, and she did not even take hope with
her into the grave. She,--" he stopped suddenly, and turned his eyes
toward Hardenberg. "I will communicate something to you," he said
briefly and impulsively; "I will confess to you that I comprehend
your oath; for I also took one when I held the queen's corpse in my
arms. In the beginning the terrible blow paralyzed my soul, and I
felt as though I had been hurled into a dark abyss. Suddenly I
heard, as from a voice resounding in my ears, 'You must not die
before you avenge her death upon him who broke her heart!' I bent
over her, and kissing her lips, swore that I would live only to
obey. I have not forgotten that oath and that hour, and, you may
depend on it, I shall ever remember it; but I will wait for the
favorable moment and it must not be supposed that I can allow myself
to be carried away by imprudent projects."

"No one would wish that, your majesty," said Hardenberg hastily. "On
the contrary, prudence, above all, is necessary at the present time,
and for this reason I would entreat you to overcome your feelings
and go to Dresden, to pay your respects to the emperor."

"Never!" exclaimed Frederick William, starting up and blushing with
indignation. "No, nowhere else than in battle can I meet again this
man, who has destroyed my happiness, my honor, and my hopes! Do not
allude to this any more. It cannot be. How can I meet him, whom I
have not seen since the days of Tilsit? Who can ask me to go to
Dresden, to stand there as a courtier at the door of an arrogant
victor, and mingle with the crowd of his trainbearers?"

"Your majesty, the Emperor of Austria will also go to Dresden," said
Hardenberg, entreatingly.

"The Emperor of Austria does so, because he is unfortunate enough to
be Napoleon's father-in-law."

"Nevertheless, the Emperor Francis saw his son-in-law for the last
time on the day when, after the battle of Austerlitz, he repaired as
a supplicant to the bivouac-fire of Napoleon, and implored the
conqueror to grant him peace. That was even worse than Tilsit, and
still the Emperor of Austria comes to Dresden, to become, as your
majesty said, the trainbearer of the victor."

"Why does he do so?" asked the king, shrugging his shoulders.
"Because he must--because at the present time every wish of Napoleon
is almost an order, even for princes. Napoleon caused his ambassador
at Vienna verbally to inform the emperor that he wished to see his
father-in-law at Dresden, and witness the meeting of his consort,
Maria Louisa, with her parents. The Emperor Francis hastened to
comply with this request, and is expected to arrive to-morrow."

"Well, Bonaparte, fortunately, expressed to me no such wish, and it
will not be expected that I should go thither without being
requested to do so."

"Pardon me, your majesty, our ambassador at Dresden received a
similar communication from the French envoy at the court of Saxony.
The Emperor Napoleon desires likewise to see your majesty at
Dresden. Here is the letter from the ambassador."

The king took the paper and hastily glanced over it. He then heaved
a profound sigh, and, returning it to Hardenberg, fixed his eyes
once more upon the portrait of the queen. He gazed steadfastly upon
it. Gradually the expression of his features became milder, and his
gloomy eye more cheerful. With a wave of his hand he called
Hardenberg to his side; looking again at the portrait, and saluting
it with a gentle nod, he said, "She overcame her feelings, and went
to Tilsit, because she believed it necessary, for the welfare of
Prussia, to pacify the wrath of Napoleon. I will follow the example
of my beloved Louisa. I will conquer myself, and go to Dresden. But
you, Hardenberg, must accompany me."




CHAPTER II.

THE WHITE LADY.


Great commotion reigned at the palace of Baireuth. Servants hurried
through the brilliantly-decorated rooms, spreading out here and
there an additional carpet, placing everywhere vases filled with
fragrant flowers, or dusting the finely-polished furniture. It was a
great and important day for Baireuth. All felt it, and excitement
and curiosity drove the inhabitants into the streets. No one cared
to stay at home, or be absent at that historic hour which was to
shed upon Baireuth a ray of her ancient glory.

The man at whose feet the world was prostrate, to whom kings and
princes were bowing, before whom empires trembled and thrones passed
away, who had only to stretch out his hand to establish new
dynasties, and whom the world admired while it hated--Napoleon--was
to arrive at Baireuth. The quartermasters had arrived already early
in the morning, and ordered in the name of the emperor that the
rooms at the palace should be put in readiness, because he intended
to reach Baireuth in the afternoon of the 14th of May, and stop
overnight.

The whole population seemed to be in the streets. The windows of the
houses along the route of the emperor were open, crowded with the
most distinguished ladies of the city; they were dressed in their
most beautiful toilets, and held in their hands bouquets, with which
they intended to salute Napoleon. But the greatest commotion, as we
have remarked, reigned at the new palace, for the emperor had given
express orders that apartments should be prepared for him there, and
not at the old palace of the Margraves of Brandenburg. Count
Munster, intendant of the palaces, had, of course, complied with
these orders, and four brilliant rooms were ready for the reception
of Napoleon. All the arrangements were completed, and the intendant,
followed by the castellan, walked for the last time through the
imperial rooms to satisfy himself that every thing was in good
order.

"No, nothing has been left undone," said the count, when he stepped
into the bedchamber destined for the emperor. "Every thing is as
comfortable as it is splendid; the arrangement reflects a great deal
of credit upon you, my dear Schluter, and will, doubtless, procure
you a liberal reward from the emperor, who is said to be very
munificent."

"I do not wish to accept any presents at the tyrant's hands,"
growled the castellan, with a gloomy face; "I do not want to stain
my hands with the plunder which he brings from foreign lands, and
which is accompanied with a curse rather than a blessing."

"You are a fool, my dear Schluter," exclaimed the count, laughing.
"You see at least that curses do not incommode the emperor, for his
power and authority are constantly on the increase. He is now going
to Dresden, to see at his feet all the princes of Germany; and he
will then hasten northward, to gain new victories and humiliate the
only man in the world who still dares to defy him, the Emperor
Alexander of Russia."

"I know some one else who will not bow to him, and whom he will not
humiliate," said the castellan, contemptuously shrugging his
shoulders.

"Well, and who is that?" asked Count Munster, quickly.

"It is the White Lady!" exclaimed the castellan, solemnly and
loudly.

Count Munster shuddered and glanced around in evident terror, "For
Heaven's sake, hush!" he said, hastily. "Pray forget these foolish
hallucinations, and, above all, do not venture to talk about them at
the present time."

The castellan shook his head slowly. "You ought not to talk of
hallucinations, count," he said, solemnly. "The White Lady is awake
and walking, and she knows that the enemy of her house, the house of
Brandenburg, will spend the coming night at this palace. I repeat it
to your excellency, she is walking, and her eyes are filled with
wrath, and there is a curse on her lips against the enemy of the
Hohenzollerns. I would not be surprised if she should shout to-night
into the ears of the tyrant, and, by her words, awaken him from his
slumber."

"Gracious Heaven, Schluter, do not talk so audaciously!" exclaimed
the count, anxiously. "If one of the attendants of the emperor
overhear your words, you would perish. Napoleon is said to be
somewhat superstitious; he, who otherwise is afraid of nothing in
the world, is said to be easily terrified by ghosts, and to believe
in all sorts of omens and prophecies. He has already heard of the
White Lady of Baireuth, and therefore given express orders that
apartments should be prepared for him at the new palace, and not at
the old one, and rooms selected in which she was not in the habit of
walking. [Footnote: Historical.--Vide Minutoli, "The White Lady," p.
17.] I hope that you have punctually carried out this order, and
that these rooms are exempt from the visits of the apparition?"

"Who has the power to give orders to spirits, and command them, 'So
far and no farther?'" asked the castellan, almost scornfully. "She
goes whither she desires, and the doors closed against her she opens
by a breath. The walls disappear before her, and where you expect
her least of all, there you suddenly meet her tall, majestic form in
the white dress, her head covered with a black veil, under which her
large angry eyes are flashing."

"Hush, Schluter!" exclaimed the count, anxiously, "I know the
portrait of the White Lady, which hangs in the cabinet adjoining the
audience-hall, and it is, therefore, unnecessary for you to describe
her appearance to me."

"Your excellency knows that we have two portraits of the White
Lady," said the castellan, laconically.

"Yes, the one with the white dress is at the hermitage; the other,
representing her in a dark dress, is here at the palace. Thank
Heaven! there is but one portrait of her here, and I hope it is in
the other wing of the building."

"That is to say, I saw the portrait there this afternoon, but who
knows whether it is still there?"

"How so? Who knows?" asked the count impatiently. "What do you
mean?"

"I mean, count, that it is in fact no portrait, but only the bed in
which the White Lady sleeps until it pleases her to walk, and that,
while she is walking, it will certainly not be found at its place.
Did I not report to your excellency six months since that the
portrait had again broken the nail and fallen? It was an entirely
new nail, count, so firm and strong, that half a regiment of French
soldiers might have been hung upon it at the same time; I had had
the nail made by the blacksmith, and the mason fixed it. I myself
hung up the portrait, and it seemed as firm as though it had grown
in the wall. But that very night a noise like a thunder-clap rolling
over my head awakened me, and when I opened my eyes, the White Lady
stood at my bedside; her right hand raised menacingly, her black
veil thrown back, she stared at me with a face flashing with anger.
I uttered a cry, and shut my eyes. When I opened them again, she had
disappeared. In the morning I went into the hall to look after the
portrait. It was gone. Where the nail had been fixed nothing but a
blood-red stain was to be seen; the nail itself, broken into small
pieces, lay on the floor. The portrait had walked to the small
cabinet adjoining the hall, and was quietly leaning there against
the wall as though nothing had happened."

"And I told you to let it stand there, and not try again to hang it
up. The large painting is too heavy."

"If the large painting wanted to hang on the wall it would allow the
smallest nail to hold it," said Schluter, shaking his head. "But the
White Lady wishes to stand on her own feet, and no human power is
able to prevent her."

"Schluter, I repeat to you, you are a dreamer," exclaimed the count,
impatiently. "Let us speak no more of the apparition. It makes one
feel quite curious. Tell me now whether you have really removed the
portrait far enough that it cannot be seen by the emperor?"

"When I was an hour ago at the cabinet adjoining the audience-hall,
the portrait was still there. But who knows what may have happened
since then?"

"Well, it is a fixed idea of yours," said the count, shrugging his
shoulders. "I do not wish to hear any more of it. These rooms are
finely arranged, and I have no fault to find with them. Now lock the
entrance-door, and let us go out through the Gallery of Palms, by
which the emperor will have to enter."

"Pray, your excellency, lead the way; I shall lock the door and
immediately follow you," said the castellan, walking hastily through
the opened rooms.

Count Munster slowly walked on, thoughtfully looking down, and
shuddering inwardly at the immovable superstition of the castellan,
whom his reason vainly endeavored to deride.

"And still it is folly, nothing but folly," he muttered to himself,
while opening the high hall-door, and stepping into the anteroom, to
which, on account of its length and narrowness, and the fresco
paintings of tropical plants on the walls, the name of the "Gallery
of Palms" had been given.

All was silent in this gallery; the setting sun shed its beams
through the windows, covered with dark curtains, and drew trembling
shining lines across the high room. The footsteps of the count
resounded so loudly that he himself was frightened, and glanced
anxiously around. Suddenly he started in dismay, and quickly
advanced several steps. He had seen something moving at the lower
end of the gallery, and it seemed to him as though he had heard
approaching footsteps. Yes, he was not mistaken; now he saw it quite
distinctly! A lady approached. The sun illuminated her tall form,
and shed a golden light over the white dress falling down in ample
folds over her feet. She approached with slow steps, quite
regardless of the count, who at first looked at her in surprise, and
then turned with an angry face toward the castellan, who just then
entered.

"You did not comply, then, with my orders, Schluter?" exclaimed the
count, vehemently. "I told you expressly to keep the rooms shut
until the emperor's arrival, and not to admit any one. How could you
dare disobey my instructions?"

"But, your excellency, I did obey them," answered Schluter. "Not a
human being besides the footmen has been permitted to enter here,
and even those I drove out two hours ago, and shut the doors."

"If that be true, how does it happen that there is a lady here in
the gallery," asked Count Minister, stretching out his arm toward
the lower end of the apartment.

"A lady?" asked Schluter, greatly amazed. "Where is she, your
excellency?"

The count fixed his eyes searchingly on the large arched window, in
the bright light of which he had distinctly seen the lady. She was
gone--the gallery was empty. "You forgot to shut the lower door, and
while I turned and scolded you, the lady escaped!" he exclaimed. He
hastily rushed forward, and tried to open the door leading into the
corridor: but this was locked. The count vainly shook the lock.
"That is strange," he muttered, dropping his hand. "I know I saw her
distinctly; it is impossible that I could have been mistaken. Where
can she be? What has become of her? Where has she concealed
herself?"

"What becomes of the last sigh of a dying person, your excellency,"
asked Schluter, solemnly. "Where does the soul conceal itself after
escaping from the body?"

"Ah, nonsense!" ejaculated Count Munster. "It could not have been a
spectre. Why, it is not a spectre's hour, and, besides, I certainly
saw the lady plainly; it was a decidedly earthly figure. Her face
was pale and grave, but there was nothing spectral about it. She
wore a black veil thrown back from her face; the upper part of her
body was covered with--"

"A dark pelisse trimmed with fur," interrupted Schluter, composedly.
"Below this dark pelisse protruded a white silk dress, falling to
the ground in full folds."

"Yes, yes, that was the costume," exclaimed the count. "But how do
you know it without having seen her?"

"It is the costume of the White Lady, your excellency," said
Schluter, "and it was she who just walked through the gallery. Pray,
count, go with me to the other wing of the palace and look at her
portrait; your excellency will then be convinced that I tell the
truth."

"No, no, I do not wish to see it," replied Count Munster, whose
cheeks turned pale, and who felt his heart frozen with terror.
"Unlock the door, Schluter! The air here is sultry and very
oppressive! Quick! quick! open the door!" The castellan obeyed, and
the count rushed out into the corridor, where he opened a window and
inhaled the fresh air in eager draughts.

At this moment shouts were heard at a distance, and at the same time
the count's footman rushed breathlessly down the corridor. "Your
excellency, the emperor is coming. He has already passed through the
gate, and the people are loudly cheering him. I have run as fast as
I could, in order to inform your excellency."

"I am coming," said the count, advancing rapidly. But, having
proceeded a few steps, he turned again and beckoned the castellan to
his side. "Schluter," he whispered to him, "if you love your life,
do not say a word about what has just happened here. It must remain
a secret."

"A secret!" muttered Schluter to himself, gazing after the count,
who hurried away. "The White Lady will manage the affair in such a
manner that he at least will hear of the secret, and the
bloodthirsty tyrant will not sleep well in the palace of the
Margraves of Brandenburg." He violently closed the door and stepped
out into the large staircase-hall, the doors of which opened upon
the street. Uttering incoherent words of indignation in an
undertone, the castellan pushed open one of the windows and looked
gloomily down on the street. An immense crowd were in front of the
palace; all eyes were turned to the side from which the emperor was
to approach. Breathless with curiosity, the people waited for the
arrival of the hero who had conquered nearly all the world.

"How those fools are gaping!" growled Schluter. "Idle and lazy as
usual; they like to complain and lament, but they never think of
doing anything. If only each one would take up a single stone from
the pavement and throw it as a greeting at the tyrant's iron head,
all this distress and wretchedness would be at an end. But no one
thinks of that, and I should not wonder if those fellows, instead of
cursing him, should enthusiastically cheer him."

The shouts drew nearer at this moment, as the crowd rushed from the
lower part of the street, their acclamations growing constantly more
deafening. French lancers galloped up to keep the people back, and
several carriages, preceded by a plain calash, came in view. A
negro, dressed in a richly-embroidered livery, sat on the box by the
side of the coachman; two plainly-dressed gentlemen occupied the
inside of the carriage.

"That is he!" growled Schluter. "The Evil One brings him hither--he
is his best friend. Yes, that is he, and he looks pale, grave, and
incensed, as though he would like to wither by a single glance the
whole miserable rabble staring at him."

"That is he!" shouted the people. "Long live Napoleon! Long live the
emperor!"

Napoleon gazed coldly arid impassively upon the crowd, whose cheers
came to him as a sound to which he had long been accustomed, and
which was by no means agreeable. It was not worth while for him to
smile on these inhabitants of a small city; a cold, quick nod was a
sufficient acknowledgment. "Long live Napoleon!" shouted the crowd
again, when the emperor, having left the carriage, now turned again
in front of the palace-gate, and gazed long and indifferently upon
the spectators.

The castellan closed his window. "Ah!" he said, "he dares to enter
this palace. The White Lady will bid him welcome, and know how to
hasten the flight of this arrogant tyrant. Napoleon is coming! Do
you hear that, White Lady? Napoleon is coming!" He burst into
laughter, and, opening the door of the corridor, took a position at
the one leading into the Gallery of Palms.

Footsteps resounded on the staircase, and various persons appeared.
Generals, adjutants, and lackeys hurried in and formed on both
sides, as it were, in line of battle. The emperor then entered the
lower end of the corridor; Count Munster walked by his side in the
most respectful and submissive manner. All bowed their heads
reverentially, but the emperor took no notice of them, and slowly
passed the saluting officers and servants.

"I hope you have punctually fulfilled my orders, count?" he asked,
in his sonorous voice. "This is the new palace, is it not?"

"It is, sire. And this man will testify that no one has set foot
into the imperial rooms," said Count Munster, pointing with a smile
to the castellan, who, holding his bunch of keys in his uplifted
arm, stood at the entrance of the Gallery of Palms.

"Who is it?" asked Napoleon, whose eagle eye was fixed upon
Schluter.

"Sire, it is the castellan of this palace, a faithful, reliable man,
who has been on service here for more than thirty years. He has
guarded and locked the rooms, and they open now only to your
majesty's orders."

"Open," ordered the emperor, with a quick wave of his hand. The
castellan obeyed, and Napoleon entered. Count Munster followed, and
the attendants crowded in after them. Advancing quickly into the
middle of the gallery, the emperor stood directly in front of the
arched window in which Count Munster had before seen the strange
apparition.

"The White Lady, then, never appears in this wing of the palace?"
asked Napoleon, abruptly.

"No, sire--never," said Count Munster, solemnly. "On the whole,
sire, no one here believes in the absurd old story, and I am sure no
one knows of the White Lady otherwise than from hearsay."

The emperor nodded, and passed on. "Let us soon have supper; you
will be my guest," he said, turning on the threshold to Count
Munster and dismissing the gentlemen of his suite.

The door closed. He was now a guest at the palace of the ancestors
of the royal family of Prussia, the Margraves of Brandenburg.




CHAPTER III.

NAPOLEON AND THE WHITE LADY.


The emperor had long risen from the supper-table. The imperial suite
had been allowed to withdraw. Alone he sat in a comfortable night-
dress on the high, antiquated easy-chair, in front of the fire-
place, in which, at his express order, notwithstanding the warm
weather, a large fire had been kindled. He liked heat; the sun of
Egypt and the desert had never been too warm for him; in the hottest
summer days in France he frequently felt chilly, and called for a
fire. It seemed as though the inflamed blood in his veins made the
world appear cold to him; he saw the light of the sunbeams, but did
not feel their warmth. He now sat close to the fire, his face bent
over the large map that lay on the table. It was a map of Russia. He
rapidly drew several lines across it, marking positions with the
colored pins, taken from the small boxes beside him. "Yes, this is
my plan," he said to himself, after a long pause. "Three of my corps
must be placed on the Niemen; Davoust, Oudinot, and Ney, will
command them. There, farther to the left, the cavalry reserves,
under Nansouty and Montbrun, will take position. Here the old guard,
under Lefebore; there the young guard, under Mortier and Bessieres,
with the cavalry of the guard. At this point, farther to the south,
the fourth corps, composed of the Italians and Bavarians, will
operate, and the Viceroy of Italy, Eugene, will be its general-in-
chief. Farther down, here at Grodno and Bialys tock, I will place
the Poles, Westphalians, and Saxons; the fifth, seventh, and eighth
corps to be commanded by my brother Jerome. The Prussians will halt
at Tilsit, and form the extreme left wing; Macdonald will be their
leader; and below there, at Drochiczyn Schwartzenberg with his
Austrians will form the extreme right wing. The preparations are
complete, and the thunder-cloud is ready to burst over Russia if
Alexander should persist in his obstinacy. Like the waves of the
tempestuous ocean, my armies are rolling toward the shores of
Russia. They can still be stopped by a suppliant word from
Alexander. If he refuses, let his destiny be fulfilled, and let the
roar of my cannon inform him that his hour has struck, and that the
end of his imperial power draws nigh. It was his own will. He
himself has brought destruction upon his head! He--"

A loud noise above his head, making the walls tremble and the
windows rattle suddenly interrupted the stillness. The emperor rose
from his seat and shouted "Roustan!" The door of the adjoining room
opened and the Mameluke appeared on the threshold.

"What was it?" asked Napoleon hastily.

"Sire, it was as if a wall fell in above us; the noise was as loud
as though a cannon were fired in the palace. I rushed immediately
into the corridor, but every thing there was quiet. Only the
castellan of the palace appeared in the utmost haste in his night-
gown, and asked whether an accident had happened in the rooms of the
emperor."

"Where is the castellan now?"

"Sire, when I told him that the noise was on the upper floor, he
immediately went thither in order to see what had occurred."

"Go and bring him to me," ordered Napoleon; and when Roustan had
withdrawn, the emperor fixed his eyes steadfastly on the door, and
his compressed lips quivered with impatience.

Finally, the door opened again; Roustan appeared, followed by the
castellan, pale and trembling, behind the Mameluke, and clinging
with his hands to the door to support himself.

Napoleon cast upon him one of his quick glances. "What was this
noise, and why do you tremble so violently?"

"Pardon me, your majesty," faltered Schluter, "but my terror--the
surprise--I am afraid I have lost my senses. I have just seen
something so unheard of, so incredible, that I--"

"What have you seen?" asked Napoleon. "Speak! What was this noise?"

The castellan slowly raised his head, and stared with terrified eyes
at the emperor. "Your majesty," he said, solemnly, "the White Lady
made the noise!"

Napoleon started, and his brow grew clouded. "But did they not tell
me that the miserable spectre never haunted this part of the
palace?" he asked. "Did I not issue orders that rooms should be
given me where I should not be disturbed by this apparition?"

"Your majesty, she has hitherto never entered these rooms,"
exclaimed Schluter. "Never before has the White Lady directed her
steps hither, and this afternoon her portrait stood quietly in a
cabinet of the other wing of the palace. I can take an oath that
this is true."

"What portrait do you refer to?" asked Napoleon, impatiently.

"The portrait of the White Lady," said Schluter. "I saw it this very
day in the cabinet on the other side; all the doors were locked, and
now I suddenly find this large painting in the room above you; it
was lying on the floor as if in walking it had stumbled over
something and fallen. It is the first time that the White Lady
appears in this wing of the palace; her portrait has come from the
other side, and Heaven alone knows how it has happened. Whenever we
wished to convey the painting, with its enormous wooden frame, from
one room to another, no less than six men were required to carry it,
and now it is here as though it had flitted through the air: and it
is lying on the floor as if struck down by lightning."

"And you think the fall of the painting produced the noise?"

"I feel convinced of it. If your majesty wishes me to do so, I will
get a few men, go up-stairs to raise the painting, and let it fall
again, that your majesty may judge whether it is the same noise or
not."

"Ah, you do not feel much respect for your walking portrait,"
exclaimed the emperor, smiling. "You want to abuse it, and make
experiments with it. We will suppose that the fall of the painting
was the sole cause of the noise. Now, that it is on the floor, I
believe it will lie still and disturb us no longer, unless it be
that your portrait should fall asleep and snore. What do you know
about that?"

"Your majesty," said Schluter, gravely, "the White Lady never
sleeps!"

The emperor cast a searching glance upon him, and then turned away,
folded his hands, and slowly paced the room. Suddenly he stood in
front of the castellan.

"What about this White Lady?" he asked, hastily. "Who was she, and
what is her history?"

"Ah, sire, it is a long and melancholy history concerning the
ancestors of the Margraves of Brandenburg," said Schluter, sighing.

"You know the history?"

"Yes, your majesty, I know it well."

"Tell it to me, but very briefly," said Napoleon, throwing himself
on the easy-chair in front the fireplace, and ordering Roustan, by a
wave of his hand and the word "Fire!" to add fresh fuel.

"Now, tell me all about it."

"Your majesty," replied Schluter, hesitatingly, "I do not know how
to narrate a story in fine words, and you must pardon me if I do not
acquit myself very satisfactorily."

"Who was this White Lady?"

"Sire, her name was Cunigunda, Countess von Plassenburg. Her parents
had compelled her to marry the old Count von Plassenburg, and when
her husband died, after two years of unhappy wedded life, the
Countess Cunigunda of Orlamunde and Plassenburg was a young widow,
twenty-four years of age, heiress of the splendid Plassenburg, and
mother of two children. She was a gay-spirited lady, and looked
around for another husband. Her eyes fell on the Burgrave of
Nuremberg, the distinguished nobleman Albert the Handsome. The whole
German people called him so; and all the girls, far and near,
daughters of the nobility, as well as those of the citizens of
Nuremberg, loved the fine-looking Burgrave of Nuremberg, who was the
ancestor of the House of Hohenzollern. But the noble Count Albert
loved only one young lady, beautiful Beatrice of Hainault, and would
marry none but her. The Countess Cunigunda of Orlamunde, however,
was not aware of this, and sent him a message, asking him whether he
would not like to marry her. She would give him, besides her hand,
the splendid Plassenburg and all her other property. Burgrave Albert
the Handsome smiled when he heard the message; shrugging his
shoulders, he said: 'Tell your countess I regard her as very
amiable, and should like to marry her, provided four eyes were not
in existence. But as it is, I cannot do so.' The burgrave referred
to the eyes of his parents, who did not like the Countess of
Orlamunde, and he wished to make them responsible for his refusal,
so as not to offend the beautiful widow. But Cunigunda interpreted
the words differently, and thought the four eyes, which the Burgrave
said were in the way of their marriage, were those of her two
children. She loved the handsome Burgrave so intensely, that she
henceforth hated the children, because she believed them to be the
sole obstacles to her marriage. The Evil One and her passion
whispered into her ear, 'Go and kill your children.' So Cunigunda
rose from her couch; in a long white night-dress, her head covered
with a black veil, she crept to the bed of her children, and,
drawing from her raven hair a long golden pin, set with precious
stones (a gift which she had once received at the hands of Burgrave
Albert), she pierced the heads of her children, penetrating the
brain to the vertebra."

"Medea!" ejaculated Napoleon, staring into the fire. "This, then, is
the history of the Medea of the Hohenzollern."

"No, sire, the name of the countess was not Medea, but Cunigunda,"
said Schluter, respectfully.

Napoleon smiled. "Proceed," he said.

"On the following morning there was great wailing at the
Plassenburg, for the two sweet little children lay dead in their
bed; not a vestige of violence was to be seen, and the physician of
the countess decided that a stroke of apoplexy had killed them. The
Countess of Orlamunde sent a mounted messenger to Nuremberg to
Burgrave Albert the Handsome, requesting him to come and see her.
And when the burgrave came she met him in a white bridal dress, and
looked at him with radiant eyes; in her uplifted right hand she had
the golden hair-pin, and said, 'The four eyes are no longer in
existence. For your sake I have stabbed my two children with this
pin, your first love-gift; the four eyes are extinguished forever.
Now, marry me!' But the burgrave recoiled in terror, and pushed back
the murderess, who was about to embrace him. He then dragged her
through the rooms to the dungeon of the castle. She begged and
cried, but the burgrave had no mercy upon the infanticide, and
hurled her down into the dungeon. He then informed the courts of the
crime that had been committed. The Countess von Orlamunde, the last
member of her family, was put on trial, and sentence of death passed
upon her. The burgrave of Nuremberg sent the first executioner from
the city to the Plassenburg, and the countess was beheaded in the
presence of the burgrave, and in the same room in which she had
murdered her children. Before putting her head on the block she
glanced at the handsome burgrave, raised both her arms toward
heaven, and took a fearful oath that she would avenge herself on him
and his house; that, whenever one of his descendants was at the
point of death, she would be present, as the burgrave himself was
now present at her death; that she would never rest in her grave,
but live and walk, though the burgrave had her executed, and that,
as she was before him now at her last hour, she would appear to him
at his last hour. After uttering these words, she put her head
calmly on the block. The burgrave then had her buried at the convent
of Himmelskron, and, by virtue of an old treaty, the Burgraves of
Nuremberg now succeeded to the fiefs of the Counts of Orlamunde,
whose line had become extinct. The Plassenburg, with Baireuth and
Burgundy, and all the possessions of the Counts of Orlamunde,
therefore passed into the hands of Burgrave Albert the Handsome. He
did not enjoy the inheritance a long time, for, a few years
afterward, shortly after he had married the beautiful Countess
Beatrice of Hainault, he died very suddenly. His wife was awakened
by a loud cry he uttered. He then exclaimed, 'Cunigunda, do you come
already to take me away? Woe to me! Woe to me!' All became still;
the countess called for the servants and a light. They rushed into
the room with torches. Burgrave Albert the Handsome lay in his bed
dead. That, your majesty, is the history of the White Lady of
Baireuth."

"This lady, then, followed the Hohenzollern from the Plassenburg to
Baireuth and Berlin?" asked Napoleon. "For she appears sometimes at
Berlin, does she not?"

"At Berlin, and all places where members of the house of
Hohenzollern, the descendants of the Burgraves of Nuremberg, are
about to die."

"Oh, the dear lady, then, appears only to the family of the
Hohenzollern," exclaimed Napoleon, smiling. "Is it not so?"

"No, your majesty, at times she appears also to others," said
Schluter; "she walks about the palace, and if there is any one in
her way whom she dislikes, she tells them so, and angrily orders him
away. She forgets no insult heaped upon her house, and she is
terrible in her wrath."

"I have heard of it," exclaimed the emperor, gloomily. "My generals
complained vehemently of the annoyances they had suffered here in
1806, owing to the movements of this lady. You were here at that
time, were you not?"

"I was, sire, and so I was when General d'Espagne, in 1809,
established his headquarters at this palace."

"Ah, I remember," said Napoleon to himself. "Duroc told me the
horrible story at that time. Tell me what was it that befell General
d'Espagne here?"

"Sire, the general had arrived late at night, and, being weary, had
immediately retired. In the night terrible cries were heard in his
room. The orderlies hastened into it; the general's bed, which, when
he retired for the night stood at the wall, was now in the middle of
the room; it was upset, and, having fainted, he lay under it. He was
placed on a couch, and a doctor sent for, who bled him, and, when he
awoke, gave him sedative powders. The general declared that the
White Lady had appeared to him, and tried to kill him. While
struggling with her, his bed was upset, and, when about to succumb,
he uttered loud cries for assistance. He described all the
particulars of the countenance, form, and dress of the apparition,
and, at his express request, I had to conduct him to her portrait.
As soon as he saw it, he turned pale, and almost sank to the floor,
muttering, 'It is she! She looked exactly like that when she
appeared to me! Her apparition, doubtless, indicated my impending
death!' His officers tried to dissuade him from this belief, but he
adhered to his conviction, and left the palace that very night in
order to establish his headquarters at the 'Fantaisie,' the king's
little villa near the city. On the following morning General
d'Espagne sent a large detachment of soldiers to this palace; they
had to open the floor under the direction of their officers, and
take down the wall-paper, in order to see whether there were any
secret trap-doors or hidden entrances. [Footnote: Vide Minutoli,
"The White Lady," p. 17.] But they found nothing, for the White Lady
needs no theatrical apparatus; she goes where she pleases, and walls
and locked doors open to her. General d'Espagne, however, was unable
to overcome his horror. He left Baireuth on the following day, and
when he rode out of the gate he said, 'I heard my own death-knell
here at Baireuth. I shall soon die!'"

"And he really died shortly after, for he was killed at the battle
of Aspen," [Footnote: Ibid., p.17.] said Napoleon to himself,
staring gloomily into the fire. A pause ensued; suddenly the emperor
rose. "It is all right," he said. "Go! Your story of the White Lady
was quite entertaining. I hope she will keep quiet now. Go!--And
you, too, Roustan! I will afterward call you!" Long after the two
had withdrawn, the emperor walked slowly up and down the room. He
stood at length in front of the fireplace, and stared moodily into
the blazing flames. His face was pale and gloomy. "Foolish stories,
which no man of sense can believe! but which, nevertheless, are
fulfilled now and then," he added, in a lower voice. "Was it not
predicted to Josephine that she would become an empress; and that
not death, but a woman, would hurl her from the throne? The prophecy
was fulfilled! Poor Josephine! I had to desert you, and, at your
lonely palace of Malmaison, you are perhaps praying for me at this
hour, because you know I am about to brave new dangers. Poor
Josephine!--you were my good angel, and, since you are no longer at
my side--no matter!" the emperor interrupted himself; "I will retire
to rest." He advanced several steps toward the door leading into his
bedroom, where Roustan and Constant were waiting for him, but
stopping said, "No, I will first arrange my plans, and fight my
decisive battles with the Emperor Alexander." He returned with rapid
steps to the table covered with maps, and resumed his seat in the
easy-chair. The tapers were burning dimly; the flames in the
fireplace flickered, shedding a dark-red lustre on the marble face
of the emperor, who, bending over the map, sat motionless. Perhaps
it was the heat, or the profound silence, that lulled him to sleep.
His head fell back into the chair, and his eyes closed. The emperor
slept, but his sleep was not calm, and his features, which when
awake were so firm and motionless, were restless, and expressive of
various emotions. Once he exclaimed in a tender voice, "My father!
Do you at last come to me? Oh, welcome, father!" And a joyous
expression overspread the countenance of the sleeper; but it soon
faded away, and he appeared angry, and his lips quivered. "No, no,"
he said, with a faltering tongue, impeded by sleep, "no, father, you
are mistaken! my luck does not resemble the changing seasons; I am
not yet in autumn, when the fruits drop from the trees and winter is
at hand." He paused again, and his face assumed the expression of an
attentive listener. "What!" he then exclaimed in a loud voice, "you
say my family will leave me, and betray me in adversity? No, that is
impossible, I have lavished kindnesses on them, I--" He paused, and
seemed to listen again. "Ah," he exclaimed, after a short interval,
starting violently, "that is too much! All Europe is unable to
overthrow me. My name is more powerful than Fate!"

Awakened, perhaps, by the loud sound of his own voice, he opened his
eyes and looked around uneasily. "Ah," he said, putting his hand on
his moist forehead, "what a terrible dream it was! My father stood
before me, and predicted what would befall me. He prophesied my
ruin! He cautioned me against my relatives, and the ingratitude of
my marshals! [Footnote: "Le Normand." vol. ii, p. 421.] It is the
second time that this is predicted to me, and just as I now saw and
heard my father in my dream, the old sorceress spoke to me by the
pyramids of Egypt." And the emperor, absorbed in his reflections,
muttered in a hollow voice: "'You will have two wives,' said the
Egyptian sorceress to me; 'your first wife you will unjustly desert.
Your second wife will bear you a son, but your misfortunes will
nevertheless begin with her. You will soon cease to be prosperous
and powerful. All your hopes will be disappointed; you will be
forcibly expelled, and cast upon a foreign soil, hemmed in by
mountains and the sky. Beware of your relatives! Your own blood will
revolt against you!' [Footnote: This prophecy is historical. Vide
"Le Normand," vol. ii., p. 487.] Nonsense," exclaimed the emperor,
quickly raising his head; "all this is folly. The palace, with its
weird traditions, has infected me, and I scent ghosts in the air,
and transform my dreams into prophecies. I will retire!"

For the second time he approached the door of the bedroom, but
suddenly recoiled and stood with dilated eyes. In front of it
appeared a tall female figure, her arms spread out before the door,
as if she wished to prevent the emperor from passing out. A long
white dress covered her slender form, a black veil concealed her
bosom and her erect head; but behind the transparent tissue of the
veil was a pale, beautiful face, the eyes of which were flashing
like swords' points. Breathless with horror, he fixed his eyes
steadfastly on the apparition, that approached him now with uplifted
arms. Trembling in spite of himself, he drew back, and, putting his
hand on the back of the easy-chair, gazed searchingly at the
approaching figure.

"You dare set your foot into the house of the Hohenzollerns?" asked
the spectre in a hollow, menacing voice. "You come hither to disturb
the repose of the dead? Flee, audacious man--flee, for destruction
is pursuing you; it will seize and destroy you! Your last hour has
come! Prepare to stand before your Judge!"

"Ay, you will kill me, then, beautiful lady?" asked Napoleon,
sneeringly. "You will revenge the defeats I have inflicted on the
descendants of Burgrave Albert the Handsome, on the battle-fields of
Jena, Eylau, and Friedland? In truth, I should have thought that
beautiful Cunigunda of Orlamunde would rather welcome me as a
friend, for was it not I who avenged her on the faithless house of
Hohenzollern?"

"You try to mock me," said the spectre, "for your heart is filled
with doubt, and your soul with pride. But beware, Bonaparte--beware,
I tell you for the last time--your hour has come, and every step you
advance is a step toward your ruin. Turn back, Bonaparte, if you
intend to be saved, for ruin awaits you on the battle-fields of
Russia! Turn back, for the souls of your victims cry to God for
vengeance, and demand your blood for theirs--your punishment for the
ruthlessly destroyed happiness of whole nations! Bonaparte, escape
from the soil of Germany, and dare no longer to set foot upon it,
for disgraceful defeats are in store for you! Return to France, and
endeavor to conciliate those who are cursing you as a perjurer and
renegade!"

"Who are they who dare call me a perjurer and renegade?" asked
Napoleon, hastily.

"Who are they?" repeated the spectre, advancing a step toward the
emperor and fixing her menacing eyes upon him. "The men to whom you
once vowed eternal fidelity, and whom you called your brethren--
Philadelphians!"

The emperor started in terror, and his cheeks turned livid. His
features, which had hitherto had a sneering, scornful air, were now
gloomy, and he stared with an expression of undisguised fear at the
lady who stood before him in an imposing attitude, with her arm
lifted in a menacing manner.

"The Philadelphians?" asked Napoleon, timidly. "I do not know them."

"You do!" said the spectre, solemnly. "You do know that the
invisible ones are watching you, and will punish you because you
have broken your oath!"

"I know of no oath!"

"Woe to you if you have forgotten it. I will repeat it to you! It
was in 1789, at the forest of Fontainebleau, that you appeared at
the meeting of the brethren and requested to be initiated. The
Philadelphians admitted you into their league and received your
oath. Shall I repeat this oath to you?"

"Do so if you can!"

"You swore that never again should a freeman obey kings, and that
death to tyrants under all titles and in all governments is
justifiable."

"That was the formality of the oath of every club and secret society
at that time," exclaimed Napoleon, contemptuously.

"But the Philadelphians demanded still another written oath of you.
It read as follows: 'I consent that my life be taken if I ever
become reconciled to royalty. In order to contribute to its
eradication in Europe, I will make use of fire and sword, and, when
the society to which I belong asks me to do so, sacrifice even what
is most precious to me.' You wrote this and affixed your name to it
with your blood." [Footnote: "Le Normand" vol. ii., p. 516.]

"It is true, I did!" muttered Napoleon. "I was a fool, dreaming,
like all the others, of the possibility of a republic."

"You were a believer, and have become a renegade," exclaimed the
spectre, in a threatening voice. "The invisible ones will judge and
punish you, unless you make haste to conciliate them. You have
forgotten that you stand under the yoke of the Philadelphians. The
Emperor Napoleon believes that he has power to blot out with the
blood of subjugated nations the words of the sacred oath which
Lieutenant Bonaparte swore to the Philadelphians in the forest of
Fontainebleau."

"And I HAVE the power to do so!" exclaimed Napoleon, proudly. "I
stretch out my arm over Europe, and she bows before me."

"But the Philadelphians will break your arm, and convert your crowns
into dust, unless you make haste to conciliate them," exclaimed the
spectre. "Turn back, for it is yet time. Return to France, renounce
conquests: France wants no more wars; she is cursing the tyrant who
refuses peace to her and to Europe. There has been bloodshed enough.
Take an oath at this hour that you will renounce your ambition, and
no longer pursue a career of crime and blood! Swear that you will
return to France to-morrow!"

"Never!" ejaculated Napoleon, vehemently, and coloring with anger.

"Swear that you will return, or I will kill you!" cried the spectre.
"I will kill you as a wolf. Swear that you will return!"

"Never!"

"Ah, you will not swear--you prefer to die, then," and at a bound
she was by the Emperor's side, grasped him with iron hands, and
threw him down on the easy-chair. "You prefer to die!" she repeated
wildly, tearing the black veil from her head and showing her face
unveiled. It was livid as that of a corpse, the bloodless lips
quivering, and her red eyes flaming with rage.

"You prefer to die!" exclaimed the spectre, for the third time.
"Well, die!" And her arms encircled Napoleon's breast like iron
rings, her glance seemed to pierce his face, her lips opened and
exhibited terrible teeth, as if ready to tear his breast. The
emperor was unable to breathe; he felt his strength giving way, and,
with a last effort, he uttered a shrill cry calling for help.

"Sire, sire, awake!" cried an anxious voice by his side. Napoleon
started up, and violently pushed back the hand which touched his
arm. "Who is there?" he asked, angrily.

"Sire, it is I--Constant!" said the faithful valet de chambre. "I
heard in the antechamber your majesty's groans and cries; I rushed
in and saw you writhing on the easy-chair. A bad dream seemed to
torment your majesty, and I therefore ventured to awaken you."

"And I am glad you did, Constant," said the emperor. "Ah, my friend,
what a terrible dream it was! The White Lady was here; she threw
herself upon me like a tigress; she wanted to tear me and drink my
heart's blood."

"Your majesty had once before a similar dream," said Constant,
smiling.

"Where--where was it?" asked Napoleon, hastily, wiping the cold
sweat from his brow.

"Sire, it was at Erfurt, when the Emperor Alexander was there."
[Footnote: Constant, "Memoires," vol. iv., p. 79.]

"Yes, I remember," said the emperor, in a low voice. "It seems this
bad dream returns as soon as I approach Alexander. Does Fate intend
to warn me? Is he to be the wolf that will one day lacerate my
breast? Ah, it was an awful dream, indeed, and even now it seems to
me as really seen and heard." He glanced around the gloomy room.
Every thing was in precisely the same condition as when he had
entered it. The maps lay undisturbed on the table before him; the
colored pins stood in long rows like little armies, and opposite
each other, drawn up in line of battle. But the tapers had burned,
down, and the fire was nearly extinguished. Napoleon rose
shudderingly from his easy-chair. "I will go to rest," he said.

Constant, taking a candlestick, preceded the emperor, and opened the
door of the adjoining room. Fifteen minutes afterward Napoleon was
in bed, and Constant and Roustan had withdrawn into the antechamber.

But this sleep was not to be of long duration. A loud cry, uttered
by his master, awakened Constant, and caused him to rush into the
bedroom. The emperor had raised himself in bed. "Constant," he said,
"it was no dream this time. The White Lady was here--I saw her
distinctly--I had not fallen asleep, my eyes and all my senses were
awake. I saw the tall, white figure, her head covered with the black
veil, at the wall there, as though she had grown from the ground. At
a bound she was at my bedside, and raised her hands. I quickly
seized her and called for you. She then glided from my fingers and
disappeared. Like General d'Espagne, I say there must he a trap-door
somewhere in this room. Call Roustan, take lights, and examine the
walls and the floor."

The valet de chambre hastened to fetch Roustan: they took lights and
made a thorough examination, but in vain. The oaken planks of the
floor were firmly joined, and the dark velvet hangings glued to the
walls.

"Well, then, the White Lady has fooled me in another dream," said
the emperor. "Go! Let us sleep." The two servants withdrew.

About an hour had elapsed, when another cry, uttered by the emperor,
called Constant back into the bedroom. Seized with dismay, he halted
at the door. The bed was in the middle of the room; the table which
stood beside it was upset, and the night-lamp lay thrown on the
floor.

"I hope that no accident has befallen your majesty," said Constant,
rushing toward the emperor.

"No," said Napoleon. "But this accursed white spectre was here
again. It wanted to treat me like General d'Espagne; to upset my bed
and throttle me. I awoke just when this horrible monster of a woman
pushed the bed with the strength of a giant into the middle of the
room. I called for you, and she disappeared. As the White Lady
apparently does not like several persons to be in the room, you and
Roustan must remain here to-night."

"And, with your majesty's leave, each of us will hold a pistol in
his hand, that we may fire at the apparition if it return."

"Ah, my friend, you know little of the power of spectres," said
Napoleon, smiling. "When you have fired at them, they laugh
scornfully, throw the bullet back to you and pass on entirely
uninjured. That is their fashion. But you may take your pistols, and
if she has still a human heart in her breast, she will feel some
respect for it."

And the White Lady really seemed to have a human heart. Constant and
Roustan, who sat on the floor beside the emperor's bed with cocked
pistols, waited in vain for the return of the apparition. Every
thing remained quiet; nothing stirred in the room, where the
emperor, guarded by his faithful servants, now at last enjoyed
repose.

When he rose on the following morning, his face was even paler and
gloomier than usual. He who generally on being dressed conversed in
an affable manner with his servants, remained silent and grave that
day, and muttered only occasionally, "The accursed palace! The
miserable spectre-hole!" [Footnote: Historical.--Vide Minutoli, "The
White Lady," p. 17.]

Constant and Roustan, having finished the emperor's toilet, were
about leaving the room, when he called them back by a gesture. "You
will not mention any thing about what happened here last night!" he
said, imperiously. "If I find out that you disobey my order, I shall
be very angry. Go!" And the emperor went into the Gallery of Palms
in order to receive the reports of his suite and give the usual
audiences. With a nod and a dismal look he greeted Count Munster,
who inquired, with the fawning smile of a true courtier, whether his
majesty had passed an agreeable night.

"Your castellan, then, has not informed you of the horrible noise
last night in the palace?" asked Napoleon, angrily. "You ought to
get better nails, count, to hang up paintings, so that they do not
fall down. He who wants to hang anybody or any thing, even though it
be but a painting, ought to have at least a substantial gallows."

"Sire," faltered Count Munster, "I do not comprehend--this palace--"

"Is not even fit to be a gallows, for it drops those who have been
hung in it," exclaimed Napoleon, vehemently. "It is an accursed
place, and the air in it as sultry and oppressive as in a rat-hole.
Have the carriages brought to the door. Let us depart!" He did not
deign the count another glance, and returned into the adjoining
room, whither none but the grand marshal and his adjutants were
permitted to follow.

Fifteen minutes afterward, the emperor, with his numerous suite,
left the palace of Baireuth and set out for Plauen, where he
intended to join the Empress Maria Louisa, who had stopped there
over night, and continue with her the journey to Dresden. The
streets of Baireuth, which had presented so animated a spectacle the
day before, were at this early hour quiet and deserted; all the
windows were closed; only here and there a wondering, inquisitive
face appeared behind the panes and looked at the carriages that
rolled through the streets, and at the melancholy countenance of the
emperor, who sat in his open calash. When out of the gate, he turned
again, and cast an angry glance on the palace, whose high gray walls
were brightened by the morning sun. "An accursed old palace!" he
muttered to himself. "I shall never spend there another night."
[Footnote: Napoleon's own words.--Vide Minotoli, p. 17.] And leaning
back in a corner of the carriage he gazed in silence at the sky.

Count Munster, however, stood inside the palace of Baireuth, at the
window of the Gallery of Palms, and looked anxiously after the
emperor. The carriages disappeared at a bend in the road behind the
green willows, and the count turned to Castellan Schluter, who was
standing behind him.

"But tell me, for Heaven's sake, Schluter," exclaimed the count,
"what did the emperor refer to? What happened to him last night?"

"There happened to him what will happen to all those who dare
disquiet the White Lady of Baireuth or defy her power," said
Schluter, solemnly.

"You really believe, then, that she appeared to him?" asked the
count, in terror.

"The emperor sent for me late last night, and again this morning.
Shall I tell your excellency what it was for? The portrait of the
White Lady, which I had put yesterday into the cabinet adjoining the
audience-hall in the other wing of the palace, had walked over to
this side, and, in the room directly above the emperor, had thrown
itself down with so much violence, that the noise resounded through
the whole building."

"But that is altogether impossible," exclaimed Count Munster, in
dismay. "Why, you told me that the portrait was standing in the
other wing of the palace, and that you had carefully locked all the
doors."

"But I told your excellency also that locks and bolts are unable to
impede her progress, and that, when she intends to wander, the walls
open to her, and that all obstructions give way. The air wafted her
over to the enemy of her house, and, by the thunder of her wrath,
she awakened him from his slumber."

"And that was the reason why the emperor sent for you last night?"

"Yes, I had the honor of narrating to him the history of the White
Lady," said Schluter, laughing scornfully. "I did so, and told him
also what happened here to General d'Espagne."

"But did you not say the emperor has sent for you again this
morning?"

The castellan nodded.

"Well, what did he want again?"

"I had to describe to him the costume in which the White Lady is in
the habit of walking--her dress, her veil, her countenance--in
short, I had to tell him all about her appearance. I proposed at
last that I would have the portrait brought to him, that he might
himself look at it; but, when I did so, he cast a furious glance on
me, and said in an angry voice, 'No, no, I do not want to see it!
Let me alone with your doomed portrait!'[Footnote: Historical.--Vide
Minutoli, p. 17.] In truth, I believe the all-powerful emperor was
frightened, and the White Lady had paid him a visit. In fact, he
turned quite pale!" And Schluter burst into loud and scornful
laughter.

Count Munster shook his head gravely, and hastened to leave the
Gallery of Palms and the haunted palace.

The castellan remained there and listened until the count's
footsteps died away. He then hurried to the rooms which the emperor
had occupied. When he arrived at Napoleon's bedroom, he pushed the
bed aside, and stooped down to the floor, at which he looked with
searching eyes. "It is all right! Nothing is to be seen!" he
muttered to himself. "The White Lady will yet be able often to walk
here!" He burst into loud laughter and left the imperial apartments
to return to his own rooms, which were situated on the ground-floor.
"I will now put away my dear treasures, that no uninitiated eye may
behold them," he said, carefully locking the door. "Come, my
mysterious treasures! Come!" He drew from his bed a long white
dress, a small cloak trimmed with fur, and a long black veil,
[Footnote: These articles, belonging to the toilet of the White
Lady, were found in Schluter's trunk when he died, in 1880.--Vide
Minutoli, p. 17.] and while carefully folding up these articles,
which he locked in a trunk standing under the bed, He sang in a loud
and merry voice:

[Footnote: A comic song, sung in Germany in 1812.]
 "Ein Korsl, Ihr kennt den Namen schon,
 Seit vierzehn Jahr und druber,
 Spricht allen Nationen Hohn,
 Giebt Fursten--Nasenstuber,
 Sturzt Throne wie ein Kartenhaus
 Und treibt das Wesen gar zu Kraus,
 Nicht Bona--Malaparte!"

[Footnote:
 A Corsican--you know his name--
 For more than fourteen years
 Has scorned the nations, to their shame,
 And pulled their princes' ears.
 He plays sad tricks upon his toes,
 And, marching with his guards,
 He casts down kingdoms as he goes
 Like houses made of cards,
 A better name for him would be
 Not BONA, but MALA-parte]




CHAPTER IV.

NAPOLEON AT DRESDEN.


Joy, happiness, and love, reigned at the court of the King of
Saxony, Napoleon had honored the royal house of Saxony with a visit;
he had come to Dresden to spend a few days in the family circle of
Frederick Augustus, whom he flatteringly called his "cher papa." He
had also come to embrace his father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria,
before setting out for Russia, and to shake hands with his ally the
King of Prussia; and, finally, to gather around him again his
vassals, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, and, in the
face of Europe, to receive the homage of kings, emperors, and
princes.

Amid the ringing of bells and the light of torches, Napoleon and
Maria Louisa made their entry into Dresden. The late hour of the
night, when the imperial couple arrived, prevented the population
from greeting them with cheers. But the good people of the Saxon
capital were not to be deprived of the happiness of bidding Napoleon
welcome, and seeing his beautiful young empress. The court,
therefore, arranged a drive in open calashes on the day after; and
everywhere on the streets through which the procession passed the
people stood in vast crowds. The windows of the houses were opened,
and beautiful ladies looked out of them. The imperial and royal
carriages made but slow headway, for thousands of excited spectators
preceded them, and thousands more surrounding the carriages looked
up with inquisitive eyes to the distinguished persons who, greeting
and smiling, bowed to them on all sides. But the multitude were
silent; not a cheer resounded--not a "Vive l'empereur"--and the
praise of Napoleon, that was uttered by the lips of princes, lacked
the wonted accompaniment of popular enthusiasm.

Good-natured King Frederick Augustus felt all this as a rebuke
administered to himself, as a reflection on his hospitality, and he
looked with an expression full of uneasiness and affection at the
emperor, who was sitting beside him. But Napoleon's countenance was
as calm and cold as it always was. Not a flash of inward anger was
seen in those unfathomable eyes. He conversed quietly and almost
smilingly with his consort, the Empress Maria Louisa, and did not
even seem to notice that the people received him in silence.

"Well, he shall have a most gratifying compensation at the theatre
to-night," said Frederick Augustus to himself. "The audience will
there at least receive the great Napoleon with enthusiastic cheers;
and when, on his return, he sees all Dresden glittering in the
illumination that is to take place, he will have to admit, after
all, that my good Saxons, like their king, love and admire him."

King Frederick Augustus was not mistaken.--The vast and brilliant
audience, that in the evening assembled at the royal theatre,
received the members of the court, on their appearance, with
deafening cheers; all rose from their seats and shouted with
constantly recurring enthusiasm, "Long live Napoleon: Long live the
Emperor Francis! Long live our dear King Frederick Augustus!" The
band accompanied these cheers, the ladies waved their bouquets, and
the gentlemen their hats and handkerchiefs, and when this outburst
subsided, hundreds of eyes were fixed on the royal box, to watch
every motion of Napoleon's countenance, and admire him in the circle
of his family; for this large gathering of princes and kings were
now his family, and the son of the Corsican lawyer was its head.
There was the Emperor Francis of Austria, who had arrived but a few
hours before, to greet his beloved son-in-law, whom he had not seen
since the battle of Austerlitz. The emperor was accompanied by his
young consort, the Empress Ludovica. Every one knew that she hated
Napoleon; that her proud heart never could forgive him the
humiliations which he had inflicted on Austria, and that she had
consented only with the utmost reluctance, and with bitter tears, to
the marriage of her step-daughter, the Archduchess Maria Louisa,
with the conqueror of Austria. And yet, notwithstanding her hatred,
grief, and humiliated pride, the Empress Ludovica had likewise come
to Dresden to witness the triumph of Napoleon, to be the second lady
at this court, and the first in the suite of the Empress Maria
Louisa. There were the King and Queen of Westphalia, sister-in-law
of Napoleon and daughter of the King of Wurtemberg, who deemed
himself happy that Napoleon was a relative of his. There were,
besides, the Grand-Duke of Wurzburg, brother of the Emperor Francis,
and now uncle of Bonaparte; the Grand-Duke of Baden, Napoleon's
nephew, and the King of Saxony, the cher papa of Napoleon; and
finally, the crowd of the petty German princes of the Confederation
of the Rhine, who had eagerly hurried to Dresden in order to do
homage to their protector, and seek after new gifts of territories
and titles from the all-powerful master of Germany. But these
personages formed only part of the suite; no one paid attention to
them; they stood humbly and modestly in the background, and only the
two emperors and empresses, the Queens of Saxony and Westphalia, and
the King of Saxony, occupied front seats. The King of Saxony
conducted Napoleon to the first gilded easy-chair on the right side;
to him belonged the seat of honor here as everywhere. He was first
in the line of emperors and kings. By his side sat Maria Louisa,
sparkling with diamonds, which covered her head, neck, arms, and the
golden belt around her slender waist. Her countenance was joyful,
and never had she feasted her eyes on her husband with more heart-
felt pride than during this evening, when, sitting beside him, she
eclipsed her imperial step-mother in the magnificence of her toilet
and the splendor of her rank. It was only when Napoleon had taken
his seat that the Emperor and Empress of Austria, and all the other
kings and princes, followed his example. The band immediately
commenced the overture, and the festive cantata began. On the stage
was seen the radiant temple of the sun, surrounded by the
brilliantly-adorned crowd of priests and priestesses. They raised
their arms, not to the temple of the sun, but toward Napoleon's box,
and, amid their soul-stirring chorus, the high-priest stepped forth
from the temple. Advancing to the edge of the stage, he bowed to the
imperial sun, and commenced singing in a powerful voice, "The sun
rises gloriously on the firmament, illuminating and heating the
world; but thou, his greater brother, thou conquerest him, and he
drives back his car, acknowledging that, since thou art here, the
world needs no other sun." While the high-priest sang these words
the temple on the stage suddenly paled, and over its entrance the
following words appeared in large letters of gold: "Di Lui men
grande e men chiaro il Sole." [Footnote: "Less great and brilliant
than he is the sun." The author of this cantata, performed in honor
of Napoleon, was Orlandi, an Italian; Morlacchi bad composed the
music.]

At this sight, cheers burst from all sides of the brilliantly
decorated house; the audience rose from their seats and turned
toward the imperial box to salute Napoleon; the Emperor of Austria,
the King of Saxony, and the princes of the Confederation of the
Rhine, joined in the applause. But Napoleon, to whom these cheers
were addressed, did not even seem to notice them. He had suddenly
risen and turned his back to the stage, regardless of the high-
priest and his emphatic words. Heedless of the cheers and applause,
he left his place and hastened to the Emperor Francis, who was
sitting on the left side, close to the two empresses. "Sire," said
Napoleon, "I request your majesty to exchange seats with me, and
pardon me for erroneously taking the chair that was intended for
you."

"No, no; it is no mistake at all," exclaimed the Emperor Francis,
hastily. "It is all right as it is, and your majesty must stay
there, for that easy-chair is the seat of honor."

"That is precisely the reason why it should be occupied by your
majesty, the august Emperor of Austria, my beloved and revered
father-in-law," said Napoleon, bowing his head lower than he had
ever before done to any prince in the world. "Come, sire, permit me
to conduct you to the seat that is due to you alone." With gentle
violence he took the emperor's hand and conducted him to the seat at
the right side of Maria Louisa.

"My dear Louisa," he said, turning to his consort, "I renounce the
happiness of sitting beside you, because this seat is due to the
head of our family, the father of my consort, the grandfather of my
son. You may embrace the opportunity to tell our dear papa all about
the little King of Rome." He greeted Maria Louisa with a beaming
smile, and then repaired to the seat which the Emperor Francis had
occupied, at the left side of the Empress Ludovica. The smile was
still on his face; he sat down on this chair, and, turning to the
empress, his mother-in-law, asked her, almost humbly, if she would
grant him the happiness of sitting by her side.

Ludovica felt flattered; the gentle, suppliant voice of the emperor,
his smile, and flashing eyes, exerted their wonted charm upon her.
She had armed her heart against the arrogant master of the world,
but, before the kind and almost humble bearing of Napoleon, her arms
sank to the ground, and she who had hitherto felt nothing but hatred
against him, regarded him now with mingled astonishment and
admiration.

Napoleon seemed to have read the depths of her heart, for his face
grew even milder, and his smile more fascinating. "Your majesty has
hated me intensely, I suppose?" he asked, in a low voice. "Oh, do
not deny it; I have been portrayed to you in very repulsive colors?"

Ludovica looked at him admiringly. "I must confess, sire," she said,
"that not one of the portraits of your majesty which I have seen, is
like you."

"Oh, I believe so," exclaimed Napoleon, hastily; "they have always
painted me too dark, and the portraits shown to your majesty
doubtless have been of that description; but before you, madame, the
Moor would like to wash his face, and I wish you could see me
painted less repulsively."

"Sire," said the empress, smiling, "did we not see but a few minutes
since that your image is even more radiant than the sun?"

"Ah, those are silly coups de theatre," exclaimed Napoleon. "It is
no great honor, indeed, to surpass the splendor of a sun made out of
paper. If the lamplighter had approached too close to it it would
have burned, while I think that I can stand in fire without running
the risk of perishing. However, the fire of anger flashing from your
eyes, madame, would annihilate me, and I pray you, therefore, to
have mercy on me. Pray, let us be frank. Why do you hate me?" He
looked at the empress with so mild and smiling an expression, that
she felt confused by it, and a faint blush suffused her beautiful
face.

"No," she said, in a low voice, "who tells you that? How would it be
possible to hate the man to whom all Europe bows in admiration?"

"I have put my foot on the neck of Europe; I have tamed the wild
horse, and it acknowledges me as its master," said Napoleon,
proudly. "But is that a reason why you should hate me? Let all lie
in the dust before me, but Austria shall stand erect by my side, for
the Emperor of Austria is my father-in-law, and though I do not
venture to say that the beautiful young Empress of Austria is my
mother-in-law, I may be allowed to say that she is the mother of my
consort, and that I admire and esteem her with all my heart. Austria
has nothing to fear, so long as she is friendly toward me. She shall
share my triumphs; and, when at last all Europe is prostrate, the
Emperors of France and Austria will stand side by side, and divide
the world between them."

"And one will take his Herculaneum, and the other his Pompeii," said
the empress, sarcastically.

"Ah, you mean to say that the world we shall have conquered will
consist only of ruined cities and dead subjects?" asked Napoleon,
gloomily.

"Sire," said Ludovica, gently, "I mean that when Vesuvius shows
itself to the wondering world in its whole majesty and beauty, it
cannot prevent the molten lava, which rises from its crater, as a
natural consequence, from rushing down its sides, and spreading
everywhere death and destruction."

"Well," exclaimed Napoleon, smiling, "if your simile is correct, the
molten lava will soon inundate Russia, and carry terror, death, and
destruction into the empire of the arrogant czar."

"Ah, sire," said Ludovica, gravely, "Russia is so very cold that I
believe even the fires of Vesuvius would be extinguished there, the
molten lava would freeze, or, flowing back, injure Vesuvius itself."

"Oh, no, madame," exclaimed Napoleon, hastily, "Vesuvius will not be
extinguished, for divine fire is burning in its heart."

"And Russia will not thaw, for it is a divine frost that freezes
every thing approaching her," said Ludovica, gently.

Napoleon cast on her one of his quick, angry glances. "Madame," he
said, "I--"

At this moment the whole audience burst into loud and enthusiastic
cheers, and shouted, "Long live the emperor! Long live the hero who
conquers the world!"

Napoleon interrupted himself, and turned his eyes toward the stage.
The temple of the sun was still dark, but a new brilliant light was
beaming over it; in its middle was the word "Napoleon" in large
flaming letters, which illumined the whole scene. In this sight the
audience were unable to restrain their delight, and burst into the
deafening cheers which had interrupted Napoleon's words.

The King of Saxony was evidently pleased with this outburst of
enthusiasm. "Now," he thought, "the great Napoleon will forget the
disagreeable scene of this morning. The people then were silent, and
admired, but to-night they have recovered their speech; and when we
leave the theatre, and behold the whole city in a flood of light,
Napoleon will feel convinced that my subjects love him sincerely.--
But what is that? The emperor rises. Does he intend already to leave
the theatre?" And he hastened to Napoleon, who advanced toward him.
"Let us leave, sire," he said. "These flatteries are more than
enough. You see the sun has set here."

"But he is still among us, sire," said Frederick Augustus. "And if
it has grown dark on the stage, the reason is simply, that all the
light now fills the streets of Dresden, to prove to the great
Napoleon that there is no night where he is--that his presence turns
darkness into light, and night into day."

"Ah," said Napoleon, in a tired, wearied tone, "an illumination then
has been arranged?"

"Sire, my people, as well as I, cannot find words to utter to your
majesty the transports with which your visit has filled our hearts,
and I hope you will see this in the lights shining at every window.
I request your majesty not to return directly to the palace, but
first ride through the city."

Napoleon nodded assent. "Let us do so, cher papa," he said; "let us
take a look at your illumination!" He offered his arm to Maria
Louisa, and left the box with her. The crowd of kings, dukes, and
princes, followed him in haste.

As the King of Saxony descended the staircase with his consort,
Chamberlain von Planitz met him with a pale and frightened face.

"Well," asked the king, "I suppose the illumination has already
commenced? It must be a splendid spectacle!"

"Your majesty," said the chamberlain, in a low voice, "the royal
palace and the public buildings are brilliantly lit up, but the
houses of the citizens are dark, and the streets are deserted."

"But," exclaimed the king, in dismay, "did not the police command
the citizens to illuminate their houses?"

"Yes, your majesty, the police have done their duty."

"And yet--"

"And yet, sire, all the houses are dark. It is as if the whole
population had conspired to disobey the order. The police have again
given orders; they received everywhere the same reply, that neither
oil nor candles were to be had any where."

"The stubborn people ought to have been told that they would be
punished for this."

"The police tried this, too, your majesty, threatening that every
citizen who did not obey should be fined a dollar, and all declared
their readiness to pay rather than illuminate."

"That is open rebellion," said the king, sighing. "The streets,
then, are dark?"

"Yes, sire."

"Then we must not take the intended ride through the city,"
exclaimed the king, anxiously. "Make haste, baron, countermand the
ride, and--"

At this moment the first carriage rolled from the portal. "It is too
late," groaned the king. "The emperor has already started. He will
witness our humiliation."

"Possibly, he may drive immediately to the palace," said the queen.
"He seemed tired and exhausted--"

"No, no," said the king, "he consented to see the illumination, and
the outriders are instructed accordingly. I myself marked out the
route. But, an expedient occurs to me. Quick, Baron von Planitz! Go
to the outrider of my carriage. Tell him to follow the imperial
carriage as fast as he can ride. He must overtake it, though his
horse die under him. He must order the driver to turn and pass down
Augustus Street to the Linden, and then slowly across the square, to
the palace. Make haste!" The chamberlain hastened to carry out the
king's orders.

"And we?" asked the queen--"shall we also follow him?"

"No, we return to the palace, and will wait for him there. The
others, of course, will follow the imperial carriage, and I hope we
shall soon see the two emperors again." Profoundly sighing, the king
conducted his consort to the carriage, and drove with her toward the
palace. A flood of light beamed upon them in the palace square. Huge
pillars, covered with festoons of colored lamps, stood in front of
the long palace bridge, and were connected with each other by
brilliant girandoles. Four similar pillars were in front of the main
portal of the Catholic church at the entrance of Augustus Street.
Around the square altars were erected, on which naphtha was burning.
On the royal palace the Austrian and French coats-of-arms displayed
all their colors with heraldic accuracy. It was a dazzling
spectacle, and even the king himself rejoiced at the beautiful and
imposing effect. "I think," he said, pointing to the pillars, "I
think this will be agreeable to him."

"Yes, but I am afraid that will be disagreeable to him," said the
queen, pointing to the Neustadt, lying dark on the other side of the
Elbe.

"Heaven grant that he may not see it!" said the king, sighing; he
then leaned back and closed his eyes until they halted in front of
the portal. "I shall remain here until the emperors arrive," he
added, bowing to his consort. With anxious eyes he gazed upon the
place, and listened in suspense to any distant noise. After waiting
fifteen minutes, the roll of approaching wheels was heard, and now
they thundered across the square and entered the palace portal. King
Frederick Augustus, hat in hand, stepped up with a most submissive
air to the first carriage, the door of which was just opened by
lackeys in gorgeous liveries. He lifted the young empress Maria
Louisa out, and then offered his hand almost timidly to Napoleon to
assist him also. With a quick wave of his hand he refused
assistance, and alighted. Anger was burning in his eyes.

"We left the theatre at an earlier hour than the citizens expected,"
said the king, timidly, "and that is the reason why the illumination
has not yet generally commenced."

"Oh, no," said Napoleon, in a petulant voice; "YOUR illumination is
magnificent; as to the inhabitants of Dresden, it seems to me, they
are the children of the sun that we saw at the theatre--their lights
have gone out." And the emperor, coldly bowing to the king, and
offering his arm to his consort, walked with her into the palace.

"He is not in good humor," muttered Frederick Augustus, in dismay.
"Oh, he is incensed at me!"

At this moment the Emperor Francis, with his consort, met him. "A
very pretty idea," said the emperor, with a laughing face, "to unite
the coats-of-arms of Austria and France in such a blaze of
variegated light! It gladdens one's heart to behold them. I thank
your majesty for having thus exhibited my coat-of-arms. It looks
admirably by the side of that of France."




CHAPTER V.

NAPOLEON'S HIGH-BORN ANCESTORS.


A new guest had arrived at Dresden to do homage to Napoleon--the
King of Prussia, accompanied by the young crown prince, and
Chancellor von Hardenberg. The two inimical friends, the Emperor of
France and the King of Prussia, met for the first time at the rooms
of the Queen of Saxony, and shook hands with forced kindness. They
exchanged but a few words, when Napoleon withdrew, inviting the king
to participate in the gala dinner and ball to take place that day.
The king accepted the invitation with a bow, without replying a
word, and repaired to the Marcolini palace, where quarters had been
provided for him and his suite. Not a member of the royal family
deemed it necessary to accompany him. He went away quietly and
alone. His arrival had not been greeted, like that of Napoleon and
the Emperor of Austria, with ringing of bells and cannon salutes,
nor had the soldiers formed in line on both sides of the streets
through which he passed on entering the city. The court had not
shown any attention to him, but allowed him to make his entry into
Dresden without any display whatever.

But if the court thought they might with impunity violate the rules
of etiquette because Frederick William was unfortunate, the people
indemnified him for this neglect, and honored him. Thousands hurried
out of the gate to cheer him on his arrival, and escorted him amid
the most enthusiastic acclamations to the royal palace. When he left
it again, the crowd followed him to the Marcolini palace, and
cheered so long in front of it that the king appeared on the
balcony. It is true, the anterooms of the king were deserted; no
smiling courtiers' faces, no chamberlains adorned with glittering
orders, no dignitaries, no marshals, princes, or dukes, were there;
but below in the street was his real anteroom--there his devoted
courtiers were waiting for their royal master, looking up to his
windows, and longing for his coming. The smiles with which they
greeted Frederick William were no parasites' smiles, and the love
beaming from those countless eyes was faithful and true.

Beneath the residence of Napoleon the people did not stand, as
usual, in silent curiosity staring at the windows, behind which from
time to time the pale face of the emperor showed itself. The street
was empty--those who formerly stood there were now joyously
thronging in front of the King of Prussia's quarters; they had
recovered their voices, and often cheered in honor of Frederick
William III.

The anterooms of Napoleon indeed presented an animated spectacle. A
brilliant crowd filled them at an early hour; there were generals
and marshals, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, the
dukes, princes, and kings of Germany, whom Napoleon had newly
created--all longing for an audience, in order to wrest from
Napoleon's munificence a province belonging to a neighbor, a title,
or a prominent office. Germany was in the hands of Napoleon, and to
bow the lower to him was to be raised the higher. In these rooms of
the emperor there was the unwonted spectacle of German sovereigns
soliciting instead of granting favors; and, instead of being
surrounded by, were themselves courtiers, who, in the most
submissive manner, sought the intercession of adjutants and
chamberlains, to procure admission to the imperial presence and
favor.

And all these courtiers gave vent to their love and admiration for
Napoleon in terms of the most extravagant praise. They spoke with
prophetic ecstasy of the fresh laurels that Napoleon was to bind
upon his brow, and of Alexander's madness to resist a conqueror
destined to make new triumphs for the glory of France and the
humiliation of Russia. Yet, when two or three of these expectant
gentlemen stood in some window-niche, and believed themselves beyond
the reach of indiscreet ears, they dared to ask each other, in a low
and anxious tone, whether all this splendor would not soon vanish as
a meteor--whether one might not see the aurora of a new day dawning-
-whether the battles into which Napoleon was about to plunge so
recklessly would not result in the downfall of him whom they
publicly extolled, but secretly cursed. But, to these whispered
questions the brilliant anterooms, the marshals of the empire,
crowned with victory, the dukes and princes, the court of Napoleon,
composed of the sovereigns of Germany, made a triumphant reply.
Secret hope could hardly survive in the recollection of the
greatness and invariable good fortune of Napoleon, and they who
desired the humiliation of the conqueror yielded to submission.
Returning to the crowd of princely courtiers, they renewed their
enthusiasm, and joined in the plaudits of Napoleon's admirers.

When the emperor, with Maria Louisa, entered the room, all pressed
forward, anxious to receive a glance, a smile, or a pleasant
salutation. Rank and etiquette were overlooked; there was but one
master, one sovereign, to whom all were doing homage. Rushing toward
him, each one tried to outstrip the other; and many a high
dignitary, prime minister, prince, duke, or king, was pushed aside
by an inferior. Napoleon stood in the centre of the room, uttering
words of condescending affability to the fortunate men nearest him.

Suddenly cheers resounded in the streets, rattling the window-panes.
Napoleon looked in the direction of the windows. "What is that?" he
asked, turning to the Duke de Bassano.

"Sire," said the duke, "the good people of Dresden are impatient to
see their imperial majesties of France, and pay them their
respects."

More deafening shouts were heard. Napoleon smiled, and hastily
walking with his consort through the circle of the courtiers stepped
to the open window. He frowned as he looked down. An immense crowd
had gathered below, but their faces were not turned toward the
windows of the royal palace, and their cheers were not intended for
the emperor. The multitude crossed the square, and in their midst
drove slowly an open carriage surrounded by the enthusiastic people.
In this carriage sat the King of Prussia, to whom were given the
loud greetings mistaken by Napoleon. He understood it at a glance,
and, stepping back from the window with the empress, turned to
Grand-Marshal Duroc, who was standing by his side. "See that the
populace go home," he said, hastily, "and that they no longer
disturb the people of the city by indecent and riotous proceedings.
I do not wish to hear any more yelling near the palace!"

Duroc bowed, and withdrew to instruct the police officers not to
tolerate any similar conduct on the part of the citizens. The
emperor meanwhile turned to Duke Augustus of Gotha, who had just
succeeded in penetrating through the ranks of courtiers, with his
broad shoulders and colossal form.

"Ah, you are back again, duke?" asked the emperor, kindly. "Did you
attend thoroughly to your government affairs?"

"I did, sire," said the duke, nearly bowing to the ground, and then
seizing the emperor's hand to press it to his lips.

"Well, I must confess that you accomplished your task with great
rapidity. Was it not three days since you took leave of us to go to
Gotha?"

"Yes, sire, I set out three days ago."

"And you are back already! You performed the trip and your official
business in so short a time! How large is your duchy, then?"

"Sire," said the Duke of Gotha, quickly, "it is as large as your
majesty commands it to be." [Footnote: This reply is historical]

Napoleon's smile was reflected in the faces of those seeking his
favors.

At this moment the doors of the outer anteroom opened, and on the
threshold appeared the grave and dignified form of King Frederick
William. The courtiers, with an impatient expression, receded
anxiously, as though afraid of contact with this unfortunate man,
who had no territories, no riches, no honors to offer them, but had
come as a vassal to pacify the wrath of Napoleon, and save at least
a remnant of his kingdom. But the king did not come with craven
heart; he did not hasten his approach to the emperor with fawning
submissiveness, but slowly, with his head proudly erect, and a grave
air.

Napoleon received him with a haughty nod. "Your majesty, you must
have had a troublesome drive from your quarters to the royal
palace," he said harshly. "I noticed that the gaping crowd were
thronging about your carriage and annoying you."

"Pardon me, sire," said the king, "the people did not annoy me. They
did me the honor of bidding me welcome, and this was the more
generous, as I am not one of those who are favored by Fortune. But
the German people yield sometimes to generous impulse, and show
thereby how little they know of the etiquette and sagacity of
courtiers."

While uttering these words, the king glanced with his clear, calm
eyes--in which a slightly sarcastic expression was to be seen--at
the multitude of brilliantly adorned and distinguished gentlemen who
tried to get as far as possible from him. Napoleon smiled. He
himself despised sycophancy sufficiently to be pleased with this
rebuke. But his severe look returned, and he gazed with some
indignation upon the tall form of the King of Prussia. He noticed
that, while himself appeared in silk stockings and buckled shoes,
the king had come in long trousers and boots.

"Your majesty, doubtless, was not informed that there would be a
ball after the banquet?" asked Napoleon, pointing to the king's
boots.

"I was, sire, but since the death of my consort I have not danced."

"But etiquette," exclaimed Napoleon, vehemently, "etiquette is--"

"Sire," interrupted the king, in a calm and dignified tone,
"etiquette is intended for parasites and people of the court, and it
is very proper for them to adhere to it. But a sovereign king, I
should think, has a right to disregard it, and follow the promptings
of his own inclinations."

The door of the anteroom opened again, and the grand marshal
appeared to announce dinner. The emperor offered his arm to Maria
Louisa, preceded by the high dignitaries and the officers of his
household, and followed by the swarm of princes and gentlemen of the
courts. The King of Prussia, taking the place to which his rank
entitled him, walked on the other side of the empress, and entered
the dining-hall at the same time with Napoleon, amid the notes of
the imperial band. Napoleon walked with his consort to his guests,
who were waiting for him in the centre of the hall--the Emperor and
Empress of Austria, and the King and Queen of Saxony.

The banquet was a distinguished one, and the French cooks of
Napoleon's household had displayed all their culinary skill to
satisfy the palate of even the most fastidious epicures. Napoleon,
as usual, gave his guests but little time to revel in the delicacies
prepared for them. Scarcely half an hour had elapsed since the
commencement of the dinner, when he rose, and thereby gave the
signal that the gala-dinner was at an end.

The Emperor Francis, who was almost always in good humor, could not
refrain from frowning, and, after offering his arm to his consort to
conduct her to the saloon, where coffee was to be served, he
muttered, "I do not know, but it seems to me that the Emperor
Napoleon eats too little."

"And yet he has so hearty an appetite, that he is able to swallow
and digest the territories of sovereigns," whispered the Empress
Ludovica, with a sneer. "He is now as satisfied as an anaconda after
devouring an ox."

"Yes, but we poor mortals are still hungry," said Francis,
thoughtfully. "It does not do us any good that his appetite is
satisfied."

"There will be a day when our hunger shall be appeased, and he
starve," said the empress.

"Hush!" whispered Francis, "not a word against him! He is my son-in-
law, Ludovica. And, besides, he has an appetite strong enough yet to
swallow another ox."

"He will get it in Russia, I suppose?" said Ludovica, quickly.

"Yes," said Francis. "He explained his whole plan to me and
Metternich for over an hour to-day, and proved to us that four weeks
hence there would be no Russian emperor; that Russia would fall to
ruins and decay. He dwelt on a great many other things, and told us
of gigantic schemes, which, to tell the truth, I did not comprehend
very well. Let me confess to you," he whispered, standing near the
door of the reception-room, "that his words almost frightened me.
His heart may be all right, but as to his head, I am afraid there is
something wrong about it." [Footnote: The emperor's own words,--Vide
Hormayer's "Lebensbilder," vol. iii.]

Ludovica smiled. "Do you believe, then, my husband, that he has
really a heart?" she asked. "But as to his head, the princes and
nations of Europe, I hope, will soon find an opportunity to set it
right."

"Hush!" said Francis again; "he is my son-in-law."

"And because he is your son-in-law, your majesty should hesitate no
longer to deliver to him, or rather to his consort, the precious
gift which you ordered for her, and which arrived to-day."

"It is true," exclaimed Francis. "Let us at once present the gift to
Maria Louisa."

He entered the saloon and hastily approached his daughter, who stood
with Napoleon in the centre of the room, and was just handing him a
cup of coffee, to which she herself had added sugar and cream.
[Footnote: The Empress Josephine, in her tender care for Napoleon,
who frequently forgot to take his coffee, was in the habit of
preparing a cup for him after dinner, and presenting it to him,
Maria Louisa had adopted Josephine's habit.]

"Louisa," said Francis, kindly nodding as he approached her, "I have
a little gift for you, which I hope will be acceptable. I ordered it
several months since, but when we set out from Vienna it was not
ready. To-day, however, it has arrived, and, as we are now in a
family circle, I may as well present it to you. That is to say,"
added the emperor, bowing to Napoleon, "if your majesty permits me
to do so."

"Your majesty was right in saying that we are here a family circle,"
said Napoleon, smiling; "and as the father is always the head and
master, I have nothing to permit, but only to pray that your majesty
may make what present your love has chosen for her."

"And I assure you, father," exclaimed Maria Louisa, smiling, "I am
as anxious to know what you have for me as I was at the time when I
was a little archduchess, and when your majesty promised me a
surprise. Let me, therefore, see your gift."

Francis smiled, and, walking to the open door of the adjoining room
(where the dukes, who did not belong to the imperial family, the
princes, the marshals, and courtiers, were assembled), made a sign
to one of the gentlemen, who stood near the door. The latter
immediately left the room, and returned after a few minutes with an
oblong, narrow something, carefully wrapped in a piece of gold
brocatel, which he presented to the emperor with a respectful bow.
Francis took it hastily, and approached Maria Louisa with a solemn
air. "Here, Louisa," he said, kindly, "here is my present. It will
show you what, it is true, every day proves to admiring Europe,
namely, that genuine royal blood is flowing in the veins of your
husband."

Maria Louisa opened the covering with inquisitive impatience, and
there appeared under it a golden box, ornamented with diamonds and
pearls. "What magnificent diamonds!" she exclaimed. "What skilful
work!" said Napoleon, smiling.

"The box was made by Benvenuto Cellini," said Francis; "it was
highly prized by my lamented father, the Emperor Leopold, who
brought it from Florence to Vienna. But that is not the principal
thing--the contents are more important. Here is the key, Louisa;
open the box!" He handed her a golden key, and Maria Louisa applied
it to the key-hole, adorned with large oriental turquoises. Around
her stood the Emperor and Empress of Austria, the King and Queen of
Saxony, the King of Prussia, and the Grand-duke of Wurzburg;
Napoleon was close beside her. All eyes were expressive of curiosity
and suspense. Nothing was there but a roll of parchment. Maria
Louisa unfolded it. "A pedigree!" she exclaimed, wonderingly.

"Yes, a pedigree," said the Emperor Francis, merrily, "but a very
precious and beautiful one, which you may put into the cradle of the
little King of Rome, and from which he may learn his letters. Sire,"
he then added, turning to Napoleon, "your majesty must allow me to
add another jewel to your imperial crown. I mean, this pedigree. It
proves irrefutably that your majesty is the descendant of a glorious
old sovereign family, which ruled over Treviso during the middle
ages. Signor Giacamonte, the most renowned genealogist in all Italy,
devoted himself, at my request, for a whole year to this study, and
succeeded in proving that the Bonaparte family is of ancient and
sovereign origin."

"That is a splendid discovery," exclaimed Maria Louisa, with
delight; "my little King of Rome, consequently, has a very
respectable number of distinguished ancestors?"

"More than fifty!" exclaimed her father, proudly. "Look here; this
is the founder of the whole family, the Duca di Buon et Malaparte;
he lived in the twelfth century."

He pointed to the genealogical trunk of the beautifully painted and
ornamented pedigree, of which Maria Louisa held the lower end, while
the King and Queen of Saxony obligingly took hold of the upper end.
The King of Prussia stood beside them and witnessed this strange
scene with a scarcely perceptible smile, while the Empress Ludovica
looked with undisguised scorn into the joy-excited countenance of
her step-daughter. Napoleon surveyed the faces of all present with a
rapid glance, and an expression of sublime pride overspread his
countenance.

"Look," exclaimed the Emperor Francis, bending over the pedigree,
"there is his name! There is the founder of Napoleon's family."

At this moment Napoleon laid his hand gently on his shoulder. "Oh,
no," he said, "the founder of that family stands here."

"Where, then?" asked Francis, eagerly, still bending over and
looking for the name.

"If your majesty desires to see him, you must be so kind as to avert
your eyes from that piece of parchment, and turn them toward me,"
said Napoleon, raising his voice.

Francis looked up and gazed wonderingly upon his son-in-law.
Napoleon smiled; it was a triumphant smile. "I, and I alone, am the
founder of Napoleon's family," he said, slowly and solemnly. "I am
the ancestor of those who bear my name. The King of Rome needs no
other, unless it be that your majesty should count every victory
which his father gained an ancestor, and compose his pedigree from
the laurels I have obtained in Europe and Africa. My son has a right
to despise ancestors invisible in the darkness of by-gone centuries,
whom history does not mention, while the vainest genealogy can
scarcely discover that they lived and died. My grandsons and great-
grandsons need not seek the name of the founder of their family on
decayed parchments and confused pedigrees; they only need read the
pages of history. They will also find it at night in the marshalled
host of heaven, where twinkles a star which science names Napoleon.
I think, sire, that star will never set; it will illuminate the path
of your grandson better than the lamp flickering in the tombs of
mouldering ancestors."

Maria Louisa at the first words of Napoleon withdrew her hands from
the pedigree, and stood half sullen and ashamed by the side of her
husband. The royal couple of Saxony hastened to roll up the pedigree
as quickly as possible, and put it back into the golden box.

Napoleon offered his arm to his consort. "Come, madame," he said,
"let us go to the ball-room." While he was walking away with her,
the Emperor Francis turned to Ludovica, and, tapping his forehead,
whispered cautiously, "I was right! There is something wrong in
Napoleon's head."




CHAPTER VI.

NAPOLEON'S DEPARTURE FROM DRESDEN.


The brilliant court ball ended, and Napoleon retired to his cabinet.
He seemed more careworn than he had ever allowed any of his
attendants to notice. He was slowly walking his room, casting an
occasional glance on the map marked with the positions of the
various corps now near the frontiers of Russia. "Narbonne has not
yet arrived," he muttered to himself. "Alexander seems really to
hesitate whether to make peace or not. My four hundred thousand men,
who have reached the Niemen, will frighten him, and he will submit
as all the others. He will not dare to bid me defiance! He will
yield! He--" Suddenly Napoleon paused and stepped hastily to the
window on which he had happened to fix his eyes. A strange spectacle
presented itself. The large square directly in front of his windows,
which on the day of his arrival had been so splendidly lit up, was
dark and silent; but, on the other side of the river, the Neustadt
was now in a flood of light, and it seemed to him as if he heard
cheers. He opened the window, and, leaning out, saw the houses
illuminated--even the residences of the neighboring Palace Street.
These houses, like those in the other parts of the city, had given
previously no token of joy, and remained in darkness. The emperor
shut the window angrily and rang the bell. "Tell the grand marshal I
wish to see him," he said to the footman.

A few minutes afterward Duroc entered. "Duroc," exclaimed the
emperor, in an angry voice, and pointing his arm at the window,
"what is the meaning of that illumination? In whose honor is it?"

"Sire," said Duroc, slowly, "I suppose it is in honor of the King of
Prussia, who arrived to-day."

The emperor stamped on the floor, and his eyes flashed. "The
inhabitants of Dresden are rebels, and ought to be brought to their
senses by bomb-shells!" he shouted, in a thundering voice. "What
does the King of Prussia concern them? And why do they show him this
honor?"

"Sire," said Duroc, smiling, "the people, as the King of Prussia
said to-day, know but little of etiquette, and are not so wise as
courtiers."

"'People!'" growled Napoleon. "There are no 'people;' there are only
subjects, and they ought to be punished with fire and sword if they
think of playing the part of 'the people.' Did I not issue orders
to-day to the effect that all demonstrations should be prohibited?
Why were my orders disobeyed?"

"Sire, they were obeyed so far as it was in our power. The police
managed to prevent the populace from gathering and shouting in the
street, but they are unable forcibly to enter the houses, because
the inmates, without making any further demonstration, placed a few
lights at their windows. Our agents, nevertheless, went to the
proprietors of some of the houses, and asked for the reason of this
sudden and unexpected demonstration. They replied that it was in
honor of the Emperor Napoleon, the guest of their king."

"The villains! They dare to falsify!" exclaimed Napoleon. "The facts
are against them. On the day when they were to illuminate in honor
of my arrival, all the houses were gloomy as the grave, on account
of hostility to me. The same feeling is the reason of to-day's
illumination. It seems, then, that the king of Prussia is
exceedingly popular in Saxony?"

"Yes, sire. The king, as I positively know, had instructed the
inhabitants of the Prussian places through which he had to pass on
his journey to Dresden, not to receive him in any formal manner
whatever; but, of course, he was unable to issue such orders in
regard to the cities and villages of Saxony. Well, so soon as he
crossed the Saxon frontier, he was everywhere received in the most
ardent manner. All the bells were rung in the towns of Juterbogk and
Grossenhayn on his arrival, and the whole population, headed by the
municipal authorities, and all the other functionaries, came to meet
him on the outskirts of the towns, and cheered him in the most
jubilant manner."

"And how did he receive these honors?"

"He thanked the citizens, in plain and simple words, for the
disinterested respect they were good enough to pay to a German
prince."

"A German prince?" repeated Napoleon, vehemently; "ah, this little
King of Prussia still braves me! I was too generous at Tilsit! I
must cut his wings still shorter! I will show him what the French
emperor can do with a German prince, when he dares to bid me
defiance!"

"Sire," said Duroc, in a suppliant voice, "I beseech your majesty
not to go too far! The King of Prussia is backed by the sympathies
of the whole German nation. His misfortunes cause the people to look
on him as a martyr. They also believe that he participates but
reluctantly in this Russian war, and this increases the love with
which they regard him, for I venture to say to your majesty that
this nation is opposed to the war."

"I have not appointed the German nation my secretary of war,"
exclaimed Napoleon, "and I have not asked my grand marshal to give
me his advice. Carry out my orders, and do your duty. Tell Berthier
to come to me!"

Duroc hung his head mournfully, and turned toward the door. The
flaming eyes of Napoleon followed him. Just as the grand marshal
opened the door, he heard the emperor calling him. "Sire?" he asked,
turning, and standing at the door. There was now beaming so much
love and mildness in the emperor's face, that Duroc was unable to
resist, and. as if attracted by a magnetic power, returned.

"Duroc, my old friend," said Napoleon, offering him his hand, "I
thank you for your good advice, for, though I did not ask it, it was
well meant. I know full well that the so-called German people, as
well as their princes, however they may cajole me, are opposed to
this war. Oh, I know those treacherous princes! I know that those
who flatter me today in the most abject manner, are only watching
for an opportunity to avenge themselves for their sycophancy; but I
have chained them to me with iron bands, and extracted their teeth,
so that they are unable to bite--their teeth, that is to say, their
soldiers, whom I am taking with me into this last and decisive war.
For I tell you, Duroc, it will be our last campaign. On the ruins of
Moscow I will compel Alexander to submit, and then peace will bo
restored to Europe for years to come. And who knows, it may not be
necessary to go so far? Perhaps it may be sufficient for me to march
my army as far as the Niemen, to awaken Alexander from his reveries,
and bring him to his senses."

"Alas, sire!" said Duroc, sighing, "Alexander has loved your majesty
too tenderly not to feel irritated in the highest degree."

"Is it I, then, who broke this friendship?" exclaimed Napoleon,
vehemently. "Is it I who brought about this war? Have I not rather
resorted to all means in order to avoid it? Have I not twice sent
Lauriston to Alexander, and offered him peace in case he should
fulfil my conditions: to shut his ports against British ships, to
lay an embargo upon British goods, and give up commercial
intercourse with England? But, emboldened by his victories over the
Turks, the Emperor of Russia takes the liberty of dictating
conditions to me! He asks me to give him an indemnity for
confiscating the states of his brother-in-law, the Prince of
Oldenburg; he demands that I should not engage to reestablish the
kingdom of Poland! He wants to impose on me the terms by which peace
is to be maintained! Conditions! I am the man to make them, but not
to accept any! That would be a humiliation I could not submit to!
You see, therefore, Duroc, I have been compelled to enter upon this
war; I did not seek it, but I cannot avoid it. You see the justice
of it, do you not? You know that I desired, and am still desiring
peace, and that it is with a heavy heart I shed the blood of my
brave soldiers."

"Sire," said Duroc, with a faint smile, "I see at least that it is
too late now to speak of peace, inasmuch as an army of four hundred
thousand men is waiting on the Niemen for the arrival of your
majesty."

"Let Alexander speak; let him accept my terms, and it will not be
too late," exclaimed Napoleon. "I am looking for Narbonne, who may
arrive at any moment. He will bring us either peace or war, for he
will have Alexander's final reply. As soon as he arrives he must be
admitted, no matter whether I am asleep or awake. Go, now, Duroc!
Tell Berthier to come to me!"

When Berthier entered, the emperor was standing at the window, and
looking over to the Neustadt, which was still in a blaze of light.
The marshal remained respectfully at the door, waiting to be
addressed. A long pause ensued. Suddenly Napoleon turned his pale
countenance to Berthier, and exclaimed: "Berthier, you will set out
immediately. Go to Berlin, and convey my order to the Duke de
Belluno. Tell him that I recommend the utmost vigilance, and that it
is his task to maintain order in Prussia. The population of that
country are very seditious. They are constantly ready to conspire
and rise in rebellion, and who knows whether Frederick William will
not make common cause with the insurgents? This ought to be
prevented by all means; war is at hand; hence we must redouble our
firmness and vigilance, that no revolution may annoy us in our rear.
You will repeat all this to the duke, and take him my instructions."

"Sire," said Berthier, "if your majesty has no further orders, I
shall set out immediately."

"You will tell the Duke de Belluno that it is my will that no
Prussian general or officer shall command at Berlin, and that the
French general alone must give all necessary orders. Sit down; I
will dictate to you the other instructions."

Berthier took a seat at the desk, and waited, pen in hand, for the
emperor's words. Casting again a glance on the city honoring the
King of Prussia, he dictated: "Special care is to be taken that
neither at Berlin nor in its vicinity shall there be a depot of
small-arms or cannon, which the populace might take possession of.
No Prussian troops whatever shall be left at Berlin, and what few
regular soldiers remain at the capital shall exclusively perform the
military service at the palace. The French troops at Berlin shall
not be lodged with the citizens, but take up their quarters at the
barracks, and, if these should be insufficient for their
accommodation, encamp in the open field. You will constantly keep
some field-pieces ready for immediate use, in order to suppress any
seditious movements that might take place. Every insult heaped upon
a Frenchman will be punished by a court-martial according to the
laws of war. Besides, it is necessary that the governor-general of
Berlin should organize a secret police, that he may know what is
going on, and have a vigilant eye on all dangerous attempts at
disturbing the public peace. You will inform the Duke de Belluno
that the administration of the country will be entirely left to the
king's ministers, but that the surveillance of the newspapers, as
well as all other publications, and the whole organization of the
police, must be in the duke's hands, that nothing may give a
dangerous impulse to the people, and that they may have no
opportunities of entering into a rebellion. Prussia must be kept
down by all means at our command. You will tell the Duke de Belluno
that I have given orders that three or four well-informed French
officers should stay at Colberg and Graudenz. The right of having a
Prussian garrison was reserved only to Colberg, and Potsdam is the
only city through which the French troops are not allowed to pass;
but the inhabitants of Potsdam should be accustomed to see many
French officers in their midst. The latter must frequently stop
there overnight on the pretext of seeing the city, and, if their own
curiosity should not impel them to do so, their commander should
induce them to pursue the course I have indicated. The duke shall,
under all circumstances, show the greatest deference to the King of
Prussia, and even to affectation at festivals and on all public
occasions. He shall, besides, frequently invite to his table the
Prussian ministers, and what few Prussian officers will be left at
Berlin, and always treat them in the most polite and obliging
manner. But at all hours a vigilant eye must be had on the king as
well as on the authorities and the people, and the duke ought always
to be ready to put down the slightest demonstration or disorder. I
have done," said Napoleon. "Go, Berthier, and comply carefully with
my instructions. No confidence can be reposed in Frederick William
or in his people. We have subjugated Prussia, but it may perhaps be
necessary to crush her. At the slightest provocation this must be
done; if she will not be an honest ally, I will prove to her that I
am an honest enemy, and, to give her this proof, put an end to her
existence. Go, Berthier; set out immediately."

Berthier withdrew, while Napoleon returned to the window with a
triumphant air. "Ah, my little King of Prussia," he said,
scornfully, "they kindle lights here under my eyes in honor of your
petty majesty, but my breath can extinguish them and leave you in a
profound darkness. Another such provocation, and your throne breaks
down. Another--"

The door of the antechamber was hastily opened, and Roustan
appeared. "Sire," he said, "his excellency Count de Narbonne
requests an audience."

"Narbonne!" ejaculated Napoleon, joyously. "Come in, Narbonne, come
in!" And he hastened to meet the count, who entered the cabinet,
and, as an experienced cavalier of the court of Louis XVI., made his
bows in strict accordance with etiquette.

"Omit these unnecessary ceremonies," said Napoleon, quivering with
impatience and anxiety. "I have been looking for you a long time.
What results do you bring me?"

"Sire," said the count, with his imperturbable, diplomatic smile, "I
am afraid the result of my mission will be war."

"What!" exclaimed Napoleon, eagerly, and, for a moment, a faint
blush tinged his cheeks. "What! The Emperor Alexander will not
yield? He refuses to comply with my conditions?"

"Sire, your majesty will permit me to repeat to you the emperor's
own words," said the count, with composure. "When I had laid your
propositions before his majesty, and told him that if the czar
should shut his ports against British ships, continue the war with
England, lay an embargo on all British goods, and give up all direct
and indirect commercial intercourse with England, your majesty then
would make peace with Russia, the Emperor Alexander exclaimed
vehemently, 'Such a peace I would accept only after having been
forced into the interior of Siberia!'" [Footnote: Alexander's own
words.--Vide "Memoires d'un Homme d'Etat," vol. xiii., p. 375.]

"Ah," exclaimed Napoleon, "I will give him the pleasure of that
journey. He will become acquainted with Siberia, and there I mean to
dictate terms of peace, unless I prefer to leave him there forever.
Did you bring any other dispatches?"

"I did, sire. Here is the official reply of Minister Count Romanzoff
to the letter of the Duke de Bassano, of which I was the bearer. It
is nothing but a repetition of the phrases which the Russian
ambassador at Paris made to us up to the day of his departure. Here
is Romanzoff's letter. Will your majesty be so gracious as to read
it?"

Napoleon took the paper and glanced over it. "You are right," he
said, flinging the paper contemptuously on the table. "Nothing but
the same phrase: 'Alexander wants peace, but is unable to fulfil my
conditions.' Well, then, he shall have war! The first shot
discharged at my soldiers will be answered by a thousand cannon, and
they will announce to the world that Napoleon is expelling the
barbarians from Europe."

"Sire," said Narbonne, smiling, "if your majesty intends to wait
until the Russians fire the first gun, there will be no war, and may
it be so! The Emperor Alexander has made up his mind not to take the
initiative. Only when the armies of your majesty have crossed the
frontier of Russia, when you have forcibly entered his states, will
Alexander look upon the war as begun, but he will not carry it
beyond the boundaries of his country: he will not meet the enemy,
whom he would still like so much to call his friend, outside the
frontiers of his empire."

"Ah, I knew well that Alexander is hesitating," exclaimed Napoleon,
triumphantly. "He dares not attack me, and his vacillation will give
me time to complete my preparations, and surround him so closely
that he cannot escape. While he is still dreaming at the Kremlin of
the possibility of peace, I shall be at the gates, and ask him in
the thunder of my cannon whether he will submit, or bury himself
beneath the ruins of his throne."

"He will choose the latter," exclaimed Narbonne, quickly.

"He will not!" said Napoleon, proudly. "He will submit! A terrible
blow struck in the heart of the empire, Moscow--holy Moscow--
delivers Russia into my hands. I know Alexander; I exerted formerly
great influence over him. I must dazzle his imagination by boldness
and energy, and he will return to my friendship."

"Heaven grant that it may be so!" said Narbonne, sighing.

"It is so!" said Napoleon, confidently, walking with rapid steps and
proud head; "yes, it is so! Fate has intrusted me with the mission
of ridding Europe of the barbarians. The logic of events
necessitates this war, and even family ties, such as we proposed to
form at our interview at Erfurt, would not have prevented it. The
barbarism of Russia is threatening the whole of Europe. Think of
Suwarrow and his Tartars in Italy! Our reply ought to be, to hurl
them back beyond Moscow; and when would Europe be able to do so,
unless now and through me." [Footnote: Napoleon's own words.--Vide
"Souvenirs du Comte Villemain," vol. i., p. 168]  "But, sire,
Europe, in the madness of her hatred, would prefer to make common
cause with Russia. Suppose she should offer her hand to the Tartars
and Cossacks, to deliver herself from the yoke which the glory and
greatness of Napoleon have imposed upon her neck? Sire, at this
decisive hour you must permit me to tell you the truth: I am afraid
the hatred, the cunning malice and rage of your enemies, will this
time be stronger than the military skill of your majesty, and the
bravery of the hundreds of thousands who have followed you with such
enthusiasm. Your majesty says that Alexander is hesitating, and that
may, perhaps, be true; but his people are the more resolute, and so
is the emperor's suite. They are bent on having war, and with the
whole strength of mortal hatred and patriotic fanaticism. The
people, instigated by their venomous and impassioned priests, regard
this as a holy war, commanded by God Himself. Their priests have
told them that the Emperor of the French is coming with his armies
to devastate Russia, to destroy the altars and images of the saints,
and to dethrone the czar, in order to place himself on the throne.
The Russian people, who, in their childlike innocence, believe to be
true whatever their priests tell them, feel themselves profoundly
wounded in their most sacred sympathies: love for the fatherland,
the church, and the czar, and they are rising to a man to save them.
Sire, this war which your majesty is about to commence is no
ordinary war: the enemy will not oppose you in the open field; like
the Parthian, he will seemingly flee from his pursuer; he will decoy
you forward, but in the thicket or ravine he will conceal himself,
and when you pass by will have you at an advantage. He will never
allow you to fight him in a pitched battle, but every village and
cottage will be an obstacle, a rampart obstructing your route. Every
peasant will regard himself a soldier, and believe it his bounden
duty to fight, however sure he may be to die. Sire, the terrible
scenes in Spain may be renewed in Russia, for all Russia will be a
vast Saragossa; women, children, and old men, will participate in
this struggle; they will die eating poisoned bread with the enemy,
rather than give him wholesome food."

"You are exaggerating!" exclaimed Napoleon, sneeringly. "In truth,
it is mere imagination to compare the Russian serf--the blood in
whose veins is frozen by Siberian cold, and whose back is cut up and
bowed by the knout--with the Spaniard, passionate and free beneath a
torrid sun, and who in his rags still feels himself noble and a
grandee. But these exaggerations shall not influence me! The die is
cast: I cannot recede! Great Heaven! this tedious old Europe! I will
bring from Russia the keys to unlock a new world. Or do you believe,
you short-sighted little men, that I have undertaken, merely for the
sake of Russia, this greatest expedition that military history will
ever engrave upon its tablets? No; Moscow is to me but the gate of
Asia! My route to India passes that way. Alexander the Great had as
long a route to the Ganges as I shall have from Moscow, and yet he
reached his destination. Should I shrink from what he succeeded in
accomplishing? Since the days of St. Jean d'Acre I have thought of
this scheme; if it had not been for the discontinuance of the siege
and the plague, I should at that time have conquered one-half of
Asia, and have thence returned to Europe for the thrones of Germany
and Italy. Do not look at me so wonderingly, Narbonne. I tell you
nothing but my real schemes. They shall be carried into effect, and
then you and the world will have to acknowledge that my words are
oracles, my actions miracles, and every day a new one! [Footnote:
Napoleon's own words.--Vide Villemain, "Souvenirs," vol. i, p. 180.]
In the morning I set out early and repair to the headquarters of my
army. Do not say a word, Narbonne! I leave Dresden early in the
morning. The fate of Russia is decided! Go!" He waved his hand
toward the door, and turned his back to Narbonne.

The count left the imperial cabinet with a sigh. In the corridor
outside he met Berthier and Duroc, who seemed to await him. "Well,"
both of them asked eagerly, "were your representations successful?
Will the emperor, at the eleventh hour, make peace?"

Narbonne shook his head sadly. "It was all in vain," he replied. "He
wishes war, and you do not even dream how far he means to carry it.
When listening to him, one believes him to be either a demigod, to
whom temples should be built, or a lunatic, who should be sent to
Bedlam!" [Footnote: Count Louis de Narbonne's own words.--Vide
"Souvenir," vol. i.]




THE LAST DAYS OF 1812


CHAPTER VII.

THE CONSPIRATORS OF HELGOLAND.


The storm was howling over the ocean, revealing its depths, and
hurling its foaming waves to the sky. They dashed wildly against
yonder lofty rock that calmly overlooked the anger of the tempest.
It was the rock of Helgoland. In times of old, it towered even more
proudly above the unruly element surrounding it. It was then a
terror to seafaring nations, and when the ships of the rich
merchants of Hamburg, Bremen, Holland, and Denmark, passed it at as
great a distance as possible, the masters made the sign of the
cross, and prayed God would deliver them from this imminent danger.
In ancient days Helgoland was ten times larger than it its now, and
on this old rocky island, which had been the last aslyum of the gods
of northern paganism, lived a warlike people, who knew no other laws
than those, of their own will, no other toil than piracy, and who
submitted to no other master than the chieftain chosen from among
their most colossal fellows. The pirates of Helgoland were desperate
men, who had selected for themselves as a coat of arms a wheel and a
gallows, which they wore embroidered on the sleeves of their
jackets: and their last chieftain, who especially terrified the
hearts of sea-captains passing the island, called himself: "I, by my
own grace, and not that of God, Long Peter, Murderer of the Dutch,
Destroyer of the Hamburgers, Chastiser of the Danes, and Scourge of
the Bremen Ships." But Long Peter, "by his own grace, and not that
of God," had at length fallen a victim to the vicissitudes of life.
The women of Helgoland, revolting against his cruelty, baseness, and
tyranny, surrendered the island, the seat of the ancient gods, to
Admiral Paulsen, of the Danish navy. This occurred in 1684, and
since then Helgoland remained under the authority of the Danish
crown until 1807. The conflagration of Copenhagen melted the chains
that fastened the old gray rock to Denmark, and England, that
triumphantly conveyed the whole Danish fleet to her own shores,
annexed Helgoland.

The island had become much smaller ever since Long Peter, its last
chieftain, died. The storms had swept over it, tearing rocky masses
from its shores, and flinging them far into the sea, which had
undermined the foundations of Helgoland, and hidden the conquest
beneath the waves. Although small, it was the beacon of Europe. In
the last days of 1812 the eyes of all German patriots were fixed
longingly and hopefully upon that lonely rock in the North Sea. It
was British territory--the first advance which England had made to
the shores of suffering Germany, and, her proud flag waving over it,
made it the asylum of persecuted patriots and members of the secret
leagues. To the red rock, in the midst of the sea, came no French
spies; there were no traitors' ears, for the pilot at the light-
house kept a good lookout, and no suspicious ship was permitted to
anchor; no one was allowed to land without having given a good
account of himself, and satisfying the authorities that confidence
might be reposed in him. Those allowed to disembark were heartily
welcomed, for, by setting foot on the rocky island, they had become
members of the vast family of Napoleon's enemies--of the brethren
who had united against his power--of the conspirators whose sworn
duty it was to oppose Napoleon with the weapons of cunning as well
as force--of intrigue creeping in the dark, or of brave and manly
defiance.

In Helgoland the swarms of smugglers sheltered, who had taken upon
themselves the risk of trading English goods, against which
Napoleon's hatred tried to shut the entire continent. There came the
crowd of foreign merchants, to purchase of English dealers the goods
which Napoleon's decrees had prohibited in his own dominions, as
well as in those of his allies. Every British manufacturer and
wholesale dealer had his counting-house and depot at Helgoland. Vast
warehouses, resembling palaces, rose on the plateau of the island,
and approaching ships beheld them from afar. In these warehouses
were stored all the articles which British industry was able to
offer to the rest of Europe, and which the people of the whole
continent desired the more ardently, the more rigorously they were
forbidden to purchase them. A very large commercial firm of London
and Manchester had branches of their business on the island; every
wealthy banker had an office there, and people were justified in
calling Helgoland "Little London." You would have thought yourself
in the city of London, when passing through the narrow streets of
the island, lined on both sides with vast warehouses, and reading on
each the names of the most celebrated London firms. You would almost
have fancied you were in the gigantic harbor of the Thames, when
looking at the forest of masts, the animated crowds, the ships and
boats, where from three to four hundred vessels cleared and entered
every day.

Not only merchants and smugglers, adventurers and speculators,
flocked to Helgoland, but diplomatists, politicians, and patriots
found on the rocky island a refuge and convenient point, where they
might meet their brethren and reunite kindred hearts. The members of
the great secret league hastened from the north and the south of
Europe to Helgoland, to hold meetings there, concert plans, and
communicate to each other what they had succeeded in accomplishing.

On one of the last days in September, 1812, an unusual commotion
prevailed on the island. It was noon, and yet more than two hundred
ships had arrived and cast anchor. All the stores were open and the
goods displayed; brokers and speculators elbowed themselves in busy
haste through the multitude of merchants, owners of ships,
smugglers, and sailors, that filled the whole upper part of the
island, offering goods for sale in all languages; and among them
were to be seen the beautiful girls of Helgoland, dressed in their
strange costume, and carrying in baskets and on plates all sorts of
delicacies, for which they sought purchasers.

At a distance from the throng stood three men, who paid but little
attention to the merry, excited crowd. They were closely wrapped in
cloaks, with their hats drawn over their foreheads, and looked
steadfastly upon the sea. Far on the horizon there appeared another
small dark speck, which gradually assumed a definite shape.

"A ship!" ejaculated one of the three men, eagerly.

"Yes, a ship," repeated his two companions. They paused, looking
eagerly at the vessel, which rapidly darted across the waves, and
could now be discerned by the unaided eye.

"Look," said one of the three, "she is a man-of-war. I see the port-
holes."

"But I do not see her flag," said one of his companions.

"I do," exclaimed the third, who had hitherto looked at the ship
through a large telescope. "Yellow and blue, the Swedish colors."

"At length!" exclaimed the first speaker, joyously. "I hope it is
he!"

"There is another ship," said the second speaker, pointing his hand
to a different part of the horizon. "How she is dashing along!--her
keel cuts the waves so that their foaming crests sweep like a silver
chain behind her. Oh, I like that ship! it seems to me as though she
brings us glad tidings, and comes for our sake, and not for
commercial purposes."

"Now she unfurls her flag!" exclaimed the third speaker. "It is the
union jack! Oh, you are right, she comes for our sake, and I hope
some friend is on board. But we are forgetting the Swedish vessel.
Where is she?"

"There! The little fish has become a whale. And see, the English
ship, too, is much larger, and is dancing along like a beauty. Both
are very fast, and in half an hour they will be at anchor in the
harbor."

"Heaven grant that the friends for whom we are looking may be on
board!" said his two companions, sighing.

"Your wish will be granted," said their friend. "God is with us and
blesses our league. Has He not already for twelve days bidden the
sea be calm, and not detain us or one of ours by adverse winds? Have
we not all arrived to-day, as we had agreed to, from three different
parts of the world? Why should the other brethren of our league not
be able to do the same?"

"Yes, you are right," said the first speaker, smiling. "Heaven does
seem to be with us, and it is apparently for our sake that this rock
emerged from the waves as a snug little boudoir for our European
rendezvous. Bonaparte may often enough cast angry glances in this
direction, but the lightning of his eyes and the thunder of his
words do not reach our sea-girt asylum, which God Himself has built
and furnished for us. Grim Bonaparte cannot hurt us here, but we
will try to hurt him, and one day he will find out what we are doing
at the political boudoir of Helgoland."

"Look," exclaimed his friend, "the two ships have reached the island
at the same time, and are now anchoring."

"They are lowering their boats," exclaimed the third speaker. "The
passengers are going ashore."

"Let us go to the place agreed upon, and see whether they are the
brethren we are looking for," said the first speaker.

"Yes, let us go," exclaimed his two companions.

Without exchanging another word, they turned and walked hastily
through the busy crowds to the staircase leading from the upper part
of the island to the lower shore. Here they passed through the
streets of small, neat fishermen's huts, and then entered the last
building. A footman in a gorgeous livery received them in the small
hall, and opened with reverential politeness the door leading into
the only room of the hut. The three men walked in, and locked the
door carefully. One of them took off his hat and cloak, and now
stood before his two companions in splendid uniform, his breast
covered with orders. "Permit me, gentlemen," he said, smiling--
"permit me to greet you here as guests of mine, for you are now at
my house. I have bought this building for the purpose of holding the
meetings of the members of our league. Up to this time we have
recognized each other as friends only by the signs and passwords
that had been agreed on; but now, if you please, we will drop our
incognito. I am Count Munster, minister of the Elector of Hanover
and the King of England."

"And I," said the second gentleman, taking off his cloak--"I have
the honor of introducing myself to your excellency as the chief of
the Berlin police, who was proscribed and exiled by Bonaparte. My
name is Justus Gruner."

"A name that I have known a long time, though I was not acquainted
with the man himself," said Count Munster, kindly offering him his
hand. "Let me bid you welcome as a faithful and zealous adherent of
the good cause--as a noble patriot in whom Germany confides and
hopes."

"It is my turn now to unmask," said the third, whose countenance had
hitherto been almost entirely invisible, so closely had he muffled
himself. Taking off his cloak and hat and bowing to his companions,
he said, "My name is Frederick William of Brunswick."

"I had the honor to recognize your highness when you were yet in the
boat, and I stood on the shore," said Count Munster, smiling and
bowing respectfully.

"And why did you not tell me so?" asked the duke, eagerly.

"Because I respected your incognito, your highness," said the count.

The duke shook his head, which was covered with dark, curly hair.
"No etiquette, count," he said, almost indignantly. "I am nothing
but a poor soldier, who scarcely knows where to lay his head, whom
grief is tormenting, and whose hunger for vengeance is not
appeased."

"There will be a time when all those who are hungry, like your
highness, will be satisfied," said Justus Gruner, solemnly.

"If you speak the truth, my friend," exclaimed the duke, with
emphasis, "the eyes of my blind father, who died in despair, will
reopen, and he will look down with blissful tears upon the delivered
world. And they will blot out his last dying words, that are burning
like fire in my heart. 'Oh, what a disgrace! what a disgrace!' were
the last words my father uttered. I hear them night and day; they
are always resounding in my ears like the death-knell of Germany;
they are ever smarting in my heart like an open wound. Germany is
groaning and lamenting, for Napoleon's foot is still on her neck,
and, mortally wounded and blinded like my father, we are all crying,
'Oh, what a disgrace! what a disgrace!'"

"But the time will soon come when our wounds will heal," said Count
Munster, gravely. "Our night is passing, the morning dawns, and the
star of Bonaparte will fade forever."

"I do not think it," said the duke, sighing. "It is still shining
over our heads--he is rather like a threatening meteor, and its
eccentric course is over the snow-fields of Russia. But hush!
footsteps are approaching." The duke was not mistaken. They heard
the door of the hut violently open and close, and shortly after some
one rapped at the locked door.

"The password!" shouted Count Munster, putting his hand on the key.

"Il est temps de finir!" replied a sonorous voice outside.

Count Munster opened the door. A gentleman of imposing stature
entered the room. "Count Nugent," exclaimed Count Munster, joyously,
offering both his hands to the friend whom he had known for many
years. "Was it you who arrived on the last English ship?"

"Yes," said the count, saluting the other gentlemen. "But I believe
there will be more guests here directly. I saw close behind me two
men wrapped in cloaks, who were also moving hither. Ah, they are
passing the window at this moment."

"And now they are entering the house," said the count, listening.

Another rapping was heard, and the call for the password was
answered again by the shout of "Il est temps de finir!"

"They are the passengers from the Swedish vessel, as I hoped they
would be," said Count Munster, opening the door. Two men in cloaks
entered, and bowed silently to the others.

"Gneisenau! My dear Gneisenau!" exclaimed Count Munster, tenderly
embracing the gentleman who had entered last. "Then, you have really
kept your word! You have come in spite of all dangers! I thank you
in the name of Germany!"

"You will thank me only after having learned what new ally I have
enlisted for our holy cause," said Gneisenau, smiling, and pointing
to his companion, who, still closely muffled, was standing by his
side silent and motionless.

"You come from Stockholm," said Count Munster, joyously, "you bring
us a delegate of the crown prince of Sweden, the noble Bernadotte,
do you not? My heart does not deceive me--I am sure!"

"No, your heart does not deceive you," said Gneisenau, smiling.
"This gentleman is an envoy of the crown prince of Sweden, who
promises us his friendship and assistance."

"No," said the stranger, slowly and solemnly. "At this hour there
must be truth between us. I am not an envoy of the crown prince of
Sweden, I am he himself, I am Bernadotte!" He took off his hat and
cloak, and bowed to the astonished gentlemen. "I wish to prove to
you, and to those whom you are representing, that I am in earnest,"
said Bernadotte, in the most dignified manner. "My French heart had
to undergo a long and painful struggle, but the crown prince of
Sweden conquered it. I must think no longer of the blood that is
flowing in my veins, but remember only that, by the decree of the
noble Swedish nation, I have been destined to become its king, and
that, therefore, the interests of Sweden must be more important and
sacred to me than my own heart. The Emperor of the French has
offered me an alliance. But Russia and Prussia are urging me to
espouse their cause. The interest of Sweden requires me to ally
myself with those who have justice, strength, and honor on their
side; I shall, therefore, side with Russia, England, and Prussia.
This is the reply which I made to the Russian ambassadors, and
likewise to the Prussian General Gneisenau here. But, at the same
time, I asked opportunity to complete my preparations, and until
that can be done, I have requested the ambassadors to keep secret my
accession to the northern alliance. It seemed to me as though this
request of mine were looked upon as a proof of my vacillation, and
as a want of candor, and as though doubts were entertained as to my
ultimate decision. Hence I wished to manifest my true spirit by
coming myself to you instead of sending a delegate. Now, you have
heard my political confession. Are you content with it, and may I
participate in your deliberations?" And the crown prince of Sweden,
uttering the last words, turned with a winning smile to Count
Munster, and sank his head as a prisoner waiting for sentence.

"I pray your royal highness, in the name of my friends present, to
remain and participate in our discussions," said Count Munster. "We
are now waiting for no further arrivals--all the invited guests have
come. Let us take our seats. Let the conference commence. But first
permit me to introduce the gentlemen to each other."




CHAPTER VIII.

THE EUROPEAN CONSPIRACY.


The six gentlemen sat down on chairs placed around the table
standing in the middle of the room. Count Munster bowed to them. "As
it was I who invited you to attend this conference," he said, "I
must take the liberty of addressing you first. I must justify myself
for having called upon you in the name of Germany, in the name of
Europe, to come hither notwithstanding the dangers and hardships of
the journey. Yes, gentlemen, Germany stands in need of our
assistance. But not only Germany--Spain, drenched in the blood of
her patriots; poor, enslaved Italy; Holland, ruthlessly annexed to
France; in short, all the states that are groaning under the
tyrant's yoke; yea, France herself!--all are crying for deliverance
from slavery. But whence is help to come when every one shuts his
eyes against the despairing wail of Europe; when every one idly
folds his hands and waits for some one else to be bold enough to
call upon the people to take up arms? Every individual must be
animated with this courage; must regard himself as chosen by
Providence to commence the task of liberation. Each one must act as
though it were he who is to set the world in motion, and were the
head of the great and holy conspiracy by which mankind is to be
delivered from the tyrant. I told myself so when I saw all Germany
sinking; I repeat it to myself every day, and it is my excuse now
for having ventured to invite thither men who are my superiors in
every respect. But to Germany alone we shall give an account of what
we have hitherto done for her liberation; for her let us deliberate
as to what we further ought to do, and what plans we should pursue.
The world lies prostrate, but we must raise it again; the nations
are manacled, but we must be the files that imperceptibly cut
through the fetters, and we must then tell the people that it is
easy for them to gain their independence; that it is only necessary
to take the sword, and prove by deeds that they feel themselves
free--then they will be free. This is our task--the task of all
generous patriots. Every one has been conscious of this, but also,
that there should be a bond connecting all the members of this
secret league, to which every patriot belongs. That was the idea
which caused several friends and myself to unite our efforts. We did
so, and this union made us feel doubly strong; we conferred as to
our duties and schemes, and by doing so they became clearer to us,
and better matured. We made ourselves emissaries of the sacred cause
of the fatherland, and went into the world to enlist soldiers, to
create a new nation, awaken the sleepers, enlighten the ignorant,
bring back the faithless, undeceive the deceived, and console the
despairing. For this purpose I have struggled for years, and so have
all my friends, and so do all good and faithful patriots, without
perhaps being fully conscious of it. But it is necessary, too, that
those who, like us, are fully alive to their duty, should from time
to time give each other an account of what they have accomplished,
that they may agree upon new plans for the future. I, therefore,
requested my friends Count Nugent and General Gneisenau, to come
hither; I wrote to Minister von Stein, who is now at Prague, either
to come himself, or send a reliable representative, and I requested
another in Northern Germany to send one of his intimate friends.
Four months ago I dispatched my invitations; the meeting was to take
place to-day, and we have all promptly responded to the call. My
friend in Northern Germany induced the noblest and most faithful
soldier of the fatherland, Duke Frederick William of Brunswick, to
go to Helgoland. Minister von Stein, who, in the mean time, was
obliged to go to Russia, sends us a noble representative in the
person of Justus Gruner, and the magnanimous crown prince of Sweden
offers us, by his voluntary appearance in our midst, a new guaranty
for the success of our schemes. We know now what has called us
hither. Let us communicate to each other what we have hitherto done,
in order to attain the object for which we are striving, and what
plans we shall adopt. In this respect, the two noble princes now in
our midst are especially able to make valuable suggestions, and it
is to them principally that we shall apply. The former question,
however, concerns chiefly ourselves, who have for years been members
of the league, and have jointly tried to promote its objects. In
order to know what we should do, we must be informed exactly of what
we have already done. To be able to conceive plans for the future,
we must carefully weigh, and render ourselves perfectly familiar
with, the present political situation, and communicate our
observations and adventures to each other. Let us do so now. Let the
gentleman who arrived last speak first. General Gneisenau, tell us,
therefore, what hopes do you entertain in regard to Prussia? What
are the sentiments of the king? What has Germany or Prussia to hope
from the ministers of Frederick William? What is the spirit of the
people and the soldiers?"

"You ask a great deal," said Gneisenau, sighing, "and I have but
little to reply. I have no hopes whatever in regard to Prussia. That
is the result of the observations during my present journey. Every
thing is in about the same condition as it was in 1811; the same men
are still ruling, and the same state of affairs, on account of which
I left the Prussian service at that time, is still prevailing. The
king is the noblest and best-meaning man, but his indecision and
distrust in his own abilities are his own curse, as well as that of
his country. When, in 1808, we heard at Konigsberg the news of the
events of Bayonne, the king said, 'Bonaparte will assuredly not
catch me in such a manner!' and now he has delivered himself into
the hands of his most relentless enemy, who, if Russia should be
defeated, would dethrone him, or, if Bonaparte should not be
successful, keep him as a hostage. [Footnote: Gneisenau's own
words.--Vide "Lebensbilder," vol. i., p. 261.] The friends of the
French, the timid, and the cowards, are still besieging the king's
ears, and enjoying his confidence to a greater extent than
Hardenberg does. Hardenberg is all right, but he intends, after the
fashion of diplomatists, to attain the great object slowly and
cautiously, instead of struggling for it boldly, and sword in hand.
He is secretly on our side; he hates Napoleon and curses the chains
that are fettering Prussia; he is always planning as to the best
means of breaking them, but publicly he negotiates with the
diplomatists of Napoleon to bring about a marriage between the crown
prince and one of Napoleon's nieces. There can be no question of any
army in Prussia, for the forty thousand men whom Napoleon permitted
the King of Prussia still to retain under arms, had either to
accompany the French army to Russia, or are at least stationed, as
Napoleon's reserves, on the extreme frontiers. Berlin, as well as
all larger cities, and the fortresses, are garrisoned by French
troops, keeping down the national spirit of the population, and
rendering any attempt at insurrection an utter impossibility, even
though the people should intend to strike. But they think no longer
of rising. They are exhausted in their misery, and have lost their
energy. They feel only that they are suffering, but they inquire no
more for the cause. And thus Prussia will perish, unless some
powerful impetus from abroad, some dispensation of Providence,
should arouse her from her lethargy, and restore her to the
consciousness of her disgrace and her strength. I hope that this
will occur; for only this and England's energy will be able to save
us. But other hopes I do not entertain. I, therefore, shall leave
Prussia again and accompany you to England, Count Minister, when you
return thither."

"I shall set out for England this day, as soon as our conference is
at an end," said Count Munster, "and you will be a most welcome and
agreeable companion. It is only now that I perceive how necessary a
personal interview was, and how good it is that we are here
assembled. Many things, which cannot be explained in the longest
letters, may be perfectly understood after an interview of fifteen
minutes. I believe and hope, my friend, that your view of the
present state of affairs is by far too gloomy. You are hoping for an
impetus from abroad; but that will scarcely be needed to arouse the
nations from their lethargy. A new spirit is animating Germany, and
it is Spain, with her heroic victories, that has awakened this
spirit. The immortal defence of Saragossa has passed like a magic
song throughout Europe, and has told the oppressed and enslaved
nations that Bonaparte is not invincible, and that a nation which
will not suffer itself to be enslaved has the strength to defend
itself against the most powerful tyrant. Looking upon Spain, the
nations recollect these noble words of Tacitus: 'It is not the
tyrants who make nations slaves, but the nations degrading
themselves voluntarily to the abject position of slaves make
tyrants.' And the nations will have no more tyrants, but are
determined to annihilate him who has put his foot upon their neck.
Tell us, Count Nugent--you who, in the service of holy liberty, have
been wandering about the world for the last two years--tell us
whether I am not justified in asserting that the nations are about
to awake?"

"Yes, I believe so," said Count Nugent, joyously. "For the third
time during two years I have finished a journey through Europe. From
Vienna I went by way of Trieste, Corfu, and Malta, to the British
generals in Sicily, Spain, and Portugal, thence to England, and from
England I returned to Vienna under an assumed name and all sorts of
disguises. During my first two journeys I saw everywhere only that
the nations submitted unhesitatingly, as though Bonaparte were the
scourge which God Himself had sent to chastise them, and against
whom they were not allowed to revolt, although rivers of blood were
spilled. But I saw no prince who had the strength or courage, or
even the wish to rule as a free and independent sovereign over a
free people. The princes were everywhere content with being the
vassals of France; they deemed themselves happy to have secured by
their humiliation at least a title; they were striving to obtain by
base sycophancy additional territories and orders, and betraying
their own country and their own people in order to serve the Emperor
of France. It was a terrible, heart-rending spectacle presented by
Germany during these last years, and which could not but fill the
heart of every patriot with shame and despair. And yet this period
of degradation was necessary and even salutary, for it blinded
Napoleon by the glaring sunshine of his power; it rendered him
overbearing and reckless; he dared every thing, because he believed
he would succeed in every thing, and that the world had utterly
succumbed to his power. He dared all, trampled on every feeling of
justice, and thereby finally goaded the nations to resist him. In
1810 he exclaimed triumphantly, 'Three years yet, and I shall be
master of the world!' And when he lately took the field against
Russia, he said, 'After humiliating Russia and reducing her to an
Asiatic power, I shall establish at Paris a universal European court
and universal archives!' He believes himself to be the master of the
world; he thinks the thunderbolts of heaven are in his hands, and
his arrogance will drive him to destruction, for 'the gods first
blind him whom they intend to destroy.' And Napoleon is blind, for
he does not see the wrath of the nations; he is deaf, for he does
not hear the imprecations which all nations, from the Mediterranean
to the North Sea and the Baltic, are uttering against him. Yes, the
morning is dawning, and the nations are awaking; Napoleon has
already passed the zenith of his glory; his star does not now dazzle
mankind; they have commenced to doubt the stability of his power. I
saw a curious instance of this last year in Vienna at Metternich's
saloon. When the courier who brought the news of the birth of the
King of Rome, still exhausted by the rapid ride from Nancy, entered
and held up Champagny's letter containing nothing but these words,
'Eh bien, le Roi de Rome est arrive!' every one cried, 'Is not the
hand of God there? The wonderful man has the son he wished for.
Whither will the madmen and demagogues direct their hopes now?' But
a courageous and merry native of Vienna exclaimed in the midst of
the diplomatists, 'Oh! ten years hence this King of Rome will be a
poor little student in this city!'[Footnote: Historical.--Vide
"Lebensbilder." vol. i., p. 80.] The diplomatists were silent; the
former ambassador of Hanover, however, Count Hardenberg, brother of
the chancellor of state, burst into loud laughter. These words were
circulated among the people, and the Viennese say now smilingly,
though as yet in a low tone, 'The King of Rome will come as a poor
student to Vienna.' And the same words are repeated more boldly by
the faithful Tyrolese, the guardians of the fires of patriotism. The
Italians are whetting their swords, and France herself is preparing
for the possibility of a new state of affairs. The military ardor of
her marshals is exhausted; like the whole country, they are longing
for repose; they begin to curse him whom they have hitherto
idolized; they want peace, and are determined to compel Napoleon to
comply with their demands."

"And is our friend. Baron von Stein, also of this opinion?" asked
Count Munster, turning to Justus Gruner.

"Yes, he is," said Gruner. "When the Emperor Alexander invited him
to come to St. Petersburg, he went thither not so much because he
needed an asylum, but because he believed he could serve the cause
of Germany in a more efficacious manner in Russia than anywhere
else, and was convinced that Alexander needed a firm and energetic
adviser to fan his hostility to Napoleon, and keep all pacific
influences away from him. Nothing but a crushing defeat of Napoleon
in Russia can deliver Germany; Stein feels convinced of it, and
therefore he stands as an immovable rock by the side of Alexander,
and never ceases to influence the emperor by soul-stirring and
courageous advice. Here is a letter which Stein requested me to
deliver to Count Munster."

Count Munster took the letter and quickly glanced over it. "Ah," he
exclaimed, joyously, "Stein, too, believes the day to be at hand
when Germany will and must rise; he, too, prophesies that Napoleon
will speedily fall. It is, therefore, time for us to think of the
future, and agree as to the steps to be taken. And now I take the
liberty of asking the crown prince of Sweden what assistance he
offers us, and what the nations enslaved by Napoleon may hope from
him?"

"All the assistance which I and my country are able to offer," said
the crown prince, ardently. "The king has authorized me to take all
necessary measures for an active campaign. Already I have chartered
transports; the troops which are to participate in the campaign have
been concentrated in their camps, and will soon march to the various
points of embarkation. When the German powers call me--when it is
sure that England entertains honest intentions toward us, and will
stand faithfully by us, I shall be ready to embark with my troops
and participate in the great struggle, provided that the annexation
of Norway to Sweden be guaranteed."

"I am authorized to do so in the name of England," exclaimed Count
Munster.

"In that case the Swedes will regard this campaign as a national
affair," said Bernadotte, "and will joyously rally round the banner
of their crown prince, who, on his part, longs for nothing more than
to follow the footsteps of the great Gustavus Adolphus, and give
Sweden fresh claims to her ancient glory and the gratitude of the
nations. [Footnote: Bernadotte's own words.--Vide "Memoires d'un
Homme d'Etat," vol. xi] I am waiting for the call of the allied
powers to hasten to the point where I may do good service."

"And so am I," said the Duke of Brunswick, eagerly. "I have nothing
to offer to Germany but my hatred against Napoleon, my burning
thirst for vengeance, my name, and my sword."

"But those will be the dragon's teeth, from which, in due time, will
spring up mail-clad warriors," exclaimed Munster--"warriors who,
with the most ardent enthusiasm, will follow the hero whose
audacious expedition from the forests of Bohemia to the Weser will
never be forgotten by the patriots of Germany. Let us prepare every
thing as secretly as possible; let us enlist soldiers for the great
and holy army; its chieftains are ready; Gneisenau, Frederick
William of Brunswick, the crown prince of Sweden, and, in due time,
Blucher, Schwarzenberg, and Wellington, will join them."

"Yes, let us prepare for the great task of the future," exclaimed
Gneisenau. "I feel now reanimated with hope, patience, and courage.
I go to London, but not to brood over my fate; I go to enlist an
English legion for Germany; to tell the English ministers that the
British government can take no step more conducive to the liberation
of the nations and the safety of Great Britain than make Germany the
principal seat of war, and transfer thither Wellington, with all the
troops in Spain, and those which can be spared from the islands of
the United Kingdom. Let them consider me a visionary; the future
will, perhaps, prove to them that I was right. Oh, a victory over
Napoleon in Germany would loosen the fetters of all governments,
throw the most determined efforts of many millions of people into
the scales of Great Britain, and deliver us, perhaps forever, from
the monster equally terrible in his strength and in his poison."
[Footnote: Gneisenau's own words.--Vide "Lebensbilder," vol. i., p.
274.]

"And I go to Vienna to influence, together with my friends, the
patriotic impulses of the emperor," said Count Nugent. "I go to
Austria to tell the noble Archdukes John and Charles that they ought
to hold themselves in readiness, and to inform the Tyrolese that the
war of liberation is at hand."

"Baron von Stein has sent me to Germany to enlist there an
intellectual army, and set in motion for Germany not only swords but
pens," said Justus Gruner, smiling. "Stein says the sword will only
do its work when the mind has paved the way for it. The mind and the
free word, these are the generals that must precede the sword, and,
before raising an army of soldiers, we must raise an army of ideas
and minds to take the field. And there can be no better mental
chieftain than noble Baron von Stein. He has placed a worthy
adjutant at his side; I refer to Ernst Moritz Arndt, whom Stein has
called to St. Petersburg, and who is thence to send his patriotic
songs into the world, and by his soul-stirring writings kindle the
ardor of the Germans. I have brought with me some of Arndt's
pamphlets that have been printed in St. Petersburg, and his
catechism for German soldiers, which gives instructions as to what a
Christian warrior ought to be, and has been circulated, in spite of
Napoleon's power, in all the German divisions of his army. To
influence public opinion in Germany is the task which Stein and the
Emperor Alexander have intrusted to me. I am to report about every
thing that takes place in the rear of the French army, and try to
obtain correct information concerning its reinforcements and the
condition of the fortresses. My principal task, however, will be to
direct public opinion, exasperate the people against their
oppressors, and the accomplices of the latter, support isolated
risings, and organize flying corps for the purpose of intercepting
the couriers." [Footnote: Pertz, "Life of Baron von Stein," vol.
iii., p. 117.]

"That is a plan strictly in accordance with the indomitable spirit
of Baron von Stein. However, the influence and power of one person
will not suffice to carry it into effect."

"I am, therefore, authorized to enlist agents whom the Emperor of
Russia will pay," said Gruner. "Hired observers and spies must be
spread all over Germany. I must everywhere have my confidants--my
agents and instruments. Such I have already engaged in some forty
cities. I furnish them instructions, telling them what to do, in
order to participate in the liberation of Germany; they have to send
me weekly reports, written of course in cipher and with chemical
ink, and, on my part, I address reports to the Emperor Alexander and
Baron von Stein, which I forward every week by special couriers to
Russia. My agents, as well as myself, will endeavor to hold
intercourse with all prominent patriots, and our noble Stein has
referred me especially to the eminent gentlemen here assembled.
General Scharnhorst, too, is aware of our enterprise; President von
Vinke supports it in the most enthusiastic and active manner, and we
find everywhere friends, assistance, and advice. Already the net-
work is spread over the country; this will every day become more
impenetrable--a fatal trap in which, if it please God, we shall one
day catch Bonaparte."

"But beware of traitors," exclaimed Count Nugent, anxiously. "All
your agents are not reticent, for, to tell you the truth, I have
already heard of your bold scheme, and Austria is highly indignant.
Count Metternich, a few days since, addressed a complaint to the
Prussian cabinet about what he calls your revolutionary intrigues,
and the Prussian Minister von Bulow, who is friendly to France, is
greatly exasperated against Justus Gruner and his guerilla warfare.
Be on your guard, sir, that, while weaving this net-work of
conspiracy, you may not yourself fall into the snares of the
insidious police."

"And if I do, what matters it if one dies, provided the cause he
served lives?" exclaimed Justus Gruner, enthusiastically. "This
sacred cause cannot die; it is strong enough to succeed, even
without me. It is spreading everywhere, and will remain, though the
little spider that wove it should be crushed. There is but one part
of Germany in which my work still lacks the necessary points where I
might secure it."

"You allude to Austria, do you not?"

"I do; there my agents are distrustfully turned away from the
frontier, and I have so far been unable to enlist special and active
allies. I pray you, therefore, give me the names of some reliable,
honest, and faithful men to whom I may apply; for I must go to
Austria."

"That is to say," exclaimed Count Nugent, "you are going to prison.
Let me warn you, do not go to Austria; Metternich's spies have keen
eyes, and if they catch you, you are lost."

"I must go to Austria," said Gruner, smiling; "the cause of the
fatherland demands it. Dangers will not deter me, and if the
Austrian police are on the lookout for me--well, I have been myself
a police-officer, and may outwit them. In the first place, however,
I shall go to Leipsig, to have the second volume of Arndt's
excellent work, 'The Spirit of the Times,' secretly printed, and
cause a printing-office to be established on the Saxon frontier for
the purpose of issuing the war bulletins which I am to receive from
Russia. But then I shall go to Prague and Vienna."

"And may God grant success to your enterprise!" said Count Munster.
"We shall all, I am satisfied of it, help in carrying out your
schemes wherever we can. We will try to liberate you if you are
imprisoned, and avenge you if killed. Shall we not?"

"We shall!" exclaimed Gneisenau and Bernadotte, Nugent, and
Frederick William of Brunswick, and all four offered their hands to
Gruner.

"Henceforth we all act for one, and one for all," exclaimed the Duke
of Brunswick, enthusiastically, "and my noble father is looking down
and blessing us. Oh, may the hour of liberation soon strike! We have
our hands on our swords, and wait for Germany to call us."

"We are ready, and wait for our country to call us," they said,
shaking hands with determined eyes and smiling lips.

"And now, if the gentlemen have no objection, I will adjourn the
conference," said Count Munster, after a pause. "We well know each
other, and what we have to do. Here is the cipher in which we may
write to each other whenever important communications are to be
made. Justus Gruner will see to it that his agents will promptly
forward the letters to us."

"I will," said Justus Gruner, "and as long as I am not in prison, or
dead, you may be sure that your letters will not fall into the hands
of enemies or traitors." [Footnote: The predictions and
apprehensions of Count Nugent were fulfilled but too soon. Gruner
went as far as Prague, but there he was arrested in the last days of
October, at the special request of the Prussian police, deprived of
his papers and his funds, and sent to an Austrian fortress. The
Emperor of Russia succeeded only nine months afterward in obtaining
his release.--Vide Pertz's "Life of Baron von Stein," vol. iii, p.
181.]

"And now let us go. God save us and Germany!"




CHAPTER IX.

GEBHARD LEBERECHT BLUCHER.


It was a cold and unpleasant morning in December. The dreary sky
hung like a pall over the oppressed world. How beautiful and
fragrant had been the summer park of the estate of Kunzendorf! now
it was bereft of its flowers, and the cold gray trees were moaning
in the winter blasts. How bright had been this large room on the
lower floor of the mansion of Kunzendorf, when the summer morning
flung its beams into the windows, while a merry company were
chatting and laughing there! But, on this day, no guests were
assembled in it. It contained but two persons, an old gentleman and
lady. The gentleman was sitting at the window and looking out
mournfully into the cold; he seemed to count the snow-flakes slowly
falling. A large military cloak enveloped his tall, powerful form;
his right leg, encased in a heavy cavalry-boot, rested on a cushion;
his head was leaning against

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