The last ray of the setting sun! The spirits of the past danced and trembled in its luminous course; the days which had been, sparkled and glittered in its last ray, and then expired.
“Ah,” sighed the king, after an interval of silence, “why is the human heart so weak? why does it not retain like the precious stone its brilliant tints and fiery lustre? why do the rainbow hues and fire of love vanish? Why has fate ordained that all things should be subject to change, even love?”
Wilhelmine raised her head—the hour of bitterness was past; she now had courage to face the future, to pass the threshold of the new era. What has the future in store for her? Will it be gloomy? Has the sun set for her whole life, as its last ray has set in the chamber where she now sits, in night and darkness, at the side of the man she once called the sun of her life?
“You no longer love me, Frederick William!”
“I do love you, Wilhelmine; certainly I do, right cordially and sincerely.”
She uttered a loud cry and pressed her hand to her heart. How different was this tame assurance of love to the passionate protestations of former days!
“Speak on, Frederick William, speak on! I am prepared to hear all! You love me right cordially and sincerely, you say?”
“Yes, Wilhelmine, and God is my witness that this is the truth. I desire to do everything to contribute to your happiness?”
“Everything! everything, but love me as heretofore!”
“Ah, Wilhelmine, man is but man after all, and no God! Nothing in his nature is eternal and imperishable, not even love; not that ardent, passionate love which is only crowned by the possession of the loved and adored object. But possession it is, this longed-for possession, that kills love. We are only charmed with that for which we long; when once attained we become accustomed to it, and custom begets indifference. It is heart-rending that it should be so, but it is so! We cannot change human nature, and human we all are!”
“Words, words,” she murmured. “Why not say it all at once. You do not love me? You love another? Answer these two questions; I conjure you, answer them!”
“I will, Wilhelmine. I no longer love you, you say. It is true, I no longer love you as I once loved you, but perhaps more, perhaps better, more purely! I no longer love you, but I entertain for you the dearest and most enduring friendship. Love is like the sun: it shines brightly in the morning, but sets when evening comes. Friendship is like the evening star, ever present, and only obscured at times by the greater brilliancy of the sun. Wilhelmine our sun has at last set after gladdening us with its rays for many long years. And you cannot justly complain of its departure; it was necessary that night should ultimately come. But the evening-star still shines in the heavens, and will ever shine there! I pray you, Wilhelmine, be no weak, no ordinary woman! Do not make useless complaints, but look at matters as they are. Bestrong, and overcome the petty vanity of the woman who feels herself insulted when her lover’s passion cools. I do not love you; and, as I am a man, and as the human heart is always susceptible to a new love, I am also ready to make this admission: I love another! Be composed, do not interrupt me with reproaches. This is unalterable, and we must have the courage to look the truth in the face! Yes, I love another, and love her as ardently as I once loved you, but—I now no longer believe in an eternity of passion; I know that it will decline, and I therefore no longer tell my new love as I once told you. I will love you as long as I live; but I only say, I will love you as long as my heart will permit! I know that a day will come when I will also weary of this love; but never, never will the day come, Wilhelmine, when the friendship I feel for you could grow cold, when I could become indifferent to her I once so passionately loved, and to whom I owe the happiest years of my life! Some day my heart will be callous to all love and all women, but it will ever beat warmly for you; the days of my youth will be reflected from your brow, and the recollections of happy years will bind me more firmly to you, than all the vows of love could bind me to other women. Be as strong, brave, and wise, as you have always been; forgive me this human weakness. Renounce my love, and accept my friendship—my true, lasting, and imperishable friendship.”
“Friendship!” she repeated, with mocking laughter. “The word has a freezing sound. You promised me glowing wine, and now you offer to quench the thirst of my heart with cold water.”
“Of wine we grow weary, Wilhelmine. Heavenly intoxication is followed by highly terrestrial headache; but pure water refreshes and revives without intoxicating; it gives health and tranquillizes the heart.”
“Or turns it to ice,” rejoined Wilhelmine.
“Not so, it gives new warmth! And thus it is with friendship also, Wilhelmine.”
“And all this means,” said she, sobbing, “that you intend to drive me from your side, to banish me? I am to be compelled to yield to a rival?”
“No, that you shall not do!” he cried with vivacity. “No, you are only to consent to be my friend, to elevate yourself above all petty jealousy, and to wisely and discreetly adapt yourself to the unavoidable. If you should not be able to do this, Wilhelmine, if you should attempt to play therôleof the jealous Orsina, instead of that of the discreet friend, then only would I, to my own great sorrow, be compelled to separate from you, to renounce the pleasure of associating with my dear friend, and—”
“No,” she cried in dismay, as she threw her arms around him; “no, I cannot live without you, I will not go into exile with my poor, dear children!”
“With your children!” repeated the king. “Who thinks of sending these children into exile?”
“Do you not consider it possible that you will send me into exile? And where I am, there my children will also be, of course!”
“Where you are, Wilhelmine, there your daughter will be; that is lawful and natural. But the son belongs to the father; and, whatever may divide and separate us, my son Alexander shall not leave me; my bright, handsome boy, remains with his father.”
It had grown dark, and he could not see the light of the bold resolution Wilhelmine had formed, sparkling in her eyes.
She laid her hand on Frederick William’s shoulder. “We are standing on the threshold of a new era,” said she, “my son shall now decide between you and me. I lay my fate in his hands, and will accept it as if it came from God. We will have him called, and he shall choose between his father and his mother. If he decides to leave me and remain with you, I will bow my head in humility, and will remain, and content myself with your friendship. I will stand in darkness, and view from afar my happy rival sunning herself inyour love. But if my son should decide to go with his mother, then, like Hagar, I will wander forth into the desert. But I will not complain, and will not feel unhappy; I will have at my side, my son, the image of his father; the son in whom I love the father!”
“So let it be,” cried the king. “Our son shall decide. Go, and bring him in.”
“No, I will only see him in your presence; you might otherwise suppose I had influenced his decision. Permit me to have him called.”
She rang the bell, and ordered the servant to bring lights, and request his young master to come at once to his majesty’s presence.
“We will soon learn the decision of fate,” said Wilhelmine, when the servant had closed the door. “For fate will speak to me through the mouth of my son!”
THE DECISION.
A few minutes had hardly elapsed before the door of the parlor was opened, and Wilhelmine’s son entered. With flushed cheeks and a displeased expression on his handsome face, the boy walked up to the king, who was gazing at him tenderly.
“My gracious father,” said he, “you promised to join us in the rose-pavilion, down at the river side; and we waited and waited, but all in vain! The sunset was splendid; it was a beautiful sight to see the sun fall into the water all at once; but you would not come to tell the dear sun ‘good-night.’ Why not? I think a king should always keep his word, and you certainly promised to come!”
“Well, my severe young gentleman,” said the king, smiling, “I beg your pardon. But I had to speak with yourmother on matters of importance, and you must have the goodness to excuse me.”
The boy turned and looked inquiringly at the face of his mother. “Was it necessary, mamma?”
The king burst into laughter. “Really,” he cried, “you are a grand inquisitor, my little Alexander. I am almost afraid of you. But you have not yet answered his severity, mamma. Excuse me to this young gentleman by assuring him that we had matters of the gravest importance to discuss.”
“Alexander knows that what the king says and does is above all blame,” replied Wilhelmine, gravely; “and I beg that he may be excused for losing sight of the king and thinking only of the indulgent father. But now hear why your father sent for you, my son; and answer his questions as your little head and heart shall prompt.”
“Shall I state the question?” asked the king, in some embarrassment. “I had rather you did it, Wilhelmine. However,” he continued, as she shook her head in dissent, “ it shall be as you desire. Listen, my little Alexander. Your mother thinks of going on a journey, and of leaving here for a few years. I intend to give your mother several estates in Prussia as a remembrance of this day, and she may conclude to make them her home for some years. Although such a life may be pleasant for ladies, it is very quiet and lonely, and not at all suitable for a young man who still has a great deal to learn, and who is ambitious of becoming a soldier, which he could not well accomplish in the country. I therefore, very naturally, desire that you should separate yourself from your mother for a few years, and remain with me, your father, who certainly loves you as much as she does. But we have determined to leave the decision to you, although you are still so young, and I now ask you, my son, will you go with your mother, or will you remain with your father? Do not reply at once, my child, but take time for consideration.”
“Oh, my dear papa,” said the boy, quickly, “there isnothing to consider, I know at once what I ought to do. My dear mamma has always remained with me, she has never deserted me. And when I had the measles, a short time ago, she sat at my bedside, day and night, and played with me, and told me such beautiful stories. And I would never have got well if my mamma had not nursed me. Whenever she left my bed, if only for a few minutes, I grew worse and suffered much more, and when she returned I always felt relieved at once. And how could I now desert the dear mamma, who never deserted me?”
“Oh, my child, my darling child,” cried Wilhelmine, her eyes filling with tears, “God bless you for these words! But yet this shall not be a decision. You must take some time for consideration, my son. I am going to live on my estates, as your father told you. It will be very quiet and lonely in the country; there will be no soldiers, no beautiful houses, no amusements, and no boys to play with. But if you remain here with your father, you will have all this, and be honored and respected as a prince. You will live with your tutor, in a splendid house, in the beautiful city of Berlin, you will take delightful rides and drives, and see the soldier’s drill every day. Your father will give you all you desire.”
“Then let him give me my mamma,” cried the boy eagerly. “Yes, my papa, if I can live with my dear mamma in a fine house in Berlin, and if you will come right often to see us, I will have all I desire.”
“But your mother will not remain in Berlin, Alexander, and, therefore, you must decide whether you will go with her, or stay here with your father.”
“Well, then,” said Alexander, gravely, “if I must choose between you, I will go with mamma, of course. To be sure, I am very sorry to leave my papa, but I cannot live without my mamma; she is so good to me and loves me so dearly, I am always afraid when she is not with me.”
Speechless with emotion, Wilhelmine sank on her knees, her countenance radiant with delight, and extended her armstoward her son, who threw himself on her breast with a loving cry.
The king turned away, his heart filled with unutterable sadness. He covered his eyes with his hands, and stood in the middle of the chamber, isolated and deserted in his grief, while he could hear the kisses, sobs, and whispered words of tenderness of the mother and her son. Suddenly he felt a light touch on his shoulder and heard a mournful, trembling voice murmur his name. The king withdrew his hands from his countenance, and his eyes met Wilhelmine’s. She stood before the king, her right hand resting on the boy’s shoulder, who had thrown his arm around her waist and nestled closely to her side.
“Farewell, Frederick William!” said she in a loud and solemn voice. “Hagar is going forth into the desert of life! The estates and treasures which you offer me, I reject; my children must not suffer want, however, and the little that has heretofore been mine, I will retain. As soon as I find a place where I wish to remain, you will be informed of it, and I desire that the furniture of this house be sent to me there. The house shall be sold, and the proceeds will constitute my fortune and the inheritance of my children. I leave here with my children to-night. My thoughts and blessings will, however, remain with the father of my children. Farewell, your majesty, and may your happiness be complete! Farewell!” She bowed her head in a last greeting, and then turned and walked slowly through the room, supported by her son.
The king looked after her in breathless suspense; with every step she took his anxiety increased. And when she opened the door, and mother and son were about to pass the threshold, without even once turning to look at him, whose eyes were filled with tears, and who was regarding them with such fondness and such agony, he uttered a cry of dismay, rushed after them, seized Wilhelmine’s arm, and thrust her back into the room with such violence that she fell helplessly to the floor, and her son burst into tears.
His sobs seemed to arouse Wilhelmine from her insensibility. She arose, and turned with proud composure to the king, who stood before her almost breathless with passion.
“Send him out of the room,” she murmured. “He should not see your majesty in this condition.”
The king made no reply, but took the boy by the hand, kissed him tenderly, and then led him to the door, and locked it behind him. He then returned to Wilhelmine, who awaited him with pallid cheeks, although her manner was perfectly composed.
“Wilhelmine,” said he, uttering each word with difficulty, “Wilhelmine, it is not possible. You cannot leave me. If you go, my youth, my happiness, my good star go with you! Have pity on me! See how I suffer! Be great, be good, be merciful! Stay with me!”
“Thou hearest him, O God,” cried Wilhelmine, raising her arms toward heaven. “Thou hearest him, and Thou seest what I suffer! I have loved him from my youth. I have been true to him in every thought, with every breath of life. I have borne for his sake shame and disgrace, and the contempt of the world. I have bestowed upon him all the treasures of my soul and heart; and yet my sacrifices have not been great enough, I have not yet been sufficiently humiliated. He demands of the mother of his children a still greater sacrifice: that I renounce his love, and stand by and see him give to another the love he swore should be mine! O Thou Great, Thou Almighty God, have pity on me! Send down a flash of lightning to kill and save me! I cannot live without him, and I may not live with him.”
“Wilhelmine,” said the king, in a hollow voice, “you will not make this sacrifice? You will not remain with me as my best and dearest friend—the friend to whom I will give my whole confidence, who shall share my thoughts as my sister soul, and from whom I will conceal no secrets?”
She slowly shook her head. What did Cleopatra determine to do, rather than grace the triumph of her faithless loverand her hated rival, and pass under the yoke? She determined to die; she let loose the serpent which had been gnawing at her heart, that it might take her life. “I prefer to die like Cleopatra, rather than live like the Marquise de Pompadour.”
“Well, then,” said Frederick William, his voice trembling with emotion, and looking tenderly at Wilhelmine, “I will prove to you that the friendship I entertain for you is stronger than the love I have given to another. I sacrifice to you, the beloved of my youth and the friend of my soul, all the wishes and hopes of my heart. I will renounce my love for the maid of honor, Julie von Voss, and will see her no more. She shall leave the court, and I will never seek to recall her. Are you now contented, Wilhelmine? Will you remain with me, and not deprive me of my dear son, who was about to leave me on your account? Wilhelmine, will you try to forget, and—” The king’s voice faltered, and tears rushed to his eyes, but with an effort he steadied his voice and continued: “and will you sincerely endeavor to compensate me for what I sacrifice?”
With a cry of joy, Wilhelmine threw her arms around the king’s neck, and pressed a long and fervent kiss on his quivering lips.
“I thank you, Frederick William, I thank you! You promised me when you came that you would to-day reward me for my love and fidelity during the long years which have been. You have kept your promise, my beloved; you have rewarded me. You have made the greatest sacrifice one human being can make for another. You have sacrificed the passion of your heart, and are ready to keep the faith which you sealed with your blood. See here, Frederick William, see this scar on my hand! This wound I gave myself, in order that I might write for you in my own blood my vow of love and fidelity. You kissed the wound and drank of my blood, swearing that you would always love, and never desert me. You have kept your oath, Frederick William. Youhave conquered yourself; you have now sealed your faith with the greatest human sacrifice.”
The king suppressed the sigh which trembled on his lips, and pressed Wilhelmine’s head to his bosom. “Now you will remain, Wilhelmine? Now you will not go?”
She raised her head quickly, and looked at him with beaming eyes. “I will remain with you, Frederick William; I will remain. And, stronger in my love than Cleopatra was, I will pass under the yoke, and march quietly in the triumphal procession of my rival. Sacrifice for sacrifice! You were ready to sacrifice your passion, I will sacrifice to you my woman’s pride and vanity! I, the discarded woman, will walk without murmuring behind your new love and be her trainbearer. Go, Frederick William, and woo this beautiful young lady; wed her, if your priests will permit; be happy with her, and love her as long as you can, and then return to your friend, who can never cease to love you—whose affection for you is the breath of her life.”
“Oh, Wilhelmine, my dear, my generous Wilhelmine,” cried the king, pressing her to his heart, “I can never forget this noble-hearted generosity; I can never cease to be grateful! I have told you already, and I now repeat it: the human heart is inconstant, and every love must at last die; but friendship lives forever. No earthly desires dim the pure flame of its holy affection. Oh, Wilhelmine, I will never desert you; never shall your enemies and rivals succeed in estranging my heart from you, my friend.”
“Swear that they shall not!” cried Wilhelmine, raising her right hand. “Lay your fingers on this scar on my hand, and swear that you will be my dear friend throughout my whole life, that nothing shall separate us, and that nothing shall induce you to drive me from your side, but that I shall live where you live, and ever be your friend, your confidante, and your sister soul.”
The king laid the fingers of his right hand on the scar, repeated the words she had spoken, and swore that he would beher true and devoted friend until death, that he would never drive her from his side, but that she should live where he lived, and remain with him as his friend and confidante for all time.[25]
“And now that we have come to an understanding,” said he with a joyous smile, “I may perhaps be permitted to reward my dear friend, and shed a ray of my newly-acquired royalty on this humble dwelling! You said some time ago that you desired to sell this house and live on the proceeds of its sale. I approve of your plan. I will purchase this house of you for five hundred thousand dollars. You will endeavor to live on the interest of this sum; if there should be a hitch now and then, and debts should arise, you need only inform me of the fact and they shall be paid.”
“Oh, my dear, my generous friend,” cried Wilhelmine, “how can I thank you, how—”
“Be still,” said the king, interrupting her, “I have not yet quite finished. The house is now mine; and the price agreed upon shall be paid you to-morrow out of the royal fund. As I can do what I please with my own property, I intend to make a present of it to the mother of the Count and Countess von der Mark. And it will be my first care to have it enlarged and elegantly furnished, in order that it may be a suitable dwelling for the Count and Countess von der Mark, and particularly for their noble and beautiful mother!”
“The Count and Countess von der Mark?” repeated Wilhelmine with astonishment. “Who are they? Who is their mother? I never heard of them!”
“You shall soon become acquainted with them, only wait,” said the king smiling; and he went to the door, unlocked it, and gave the bell-rope which hung beside it a violent pull.
“Where are the children?” asked the king, of the servant who rushed forward to answer his summons.
“Your majesty, my young master and mistress are in the dining-room.”
“Send them to me immediately,” said the king; and he remained standing at the door awaiting them. When they came running into the parlor with anxious, inquiring looks, the king took them by the hand and conducted them to their mother.
“Madame,” said he, gravely, “I have the honor to introduce to you Countess Mariane and Count Alexander von der Mark.”
“Count Alexander von der Mark?” repeated the boy, looking up wonderingly at his father. “Who is that?”
“That you are, my son,” said the king, as he stooped down and raised the boy up in his arms. “You are the Count von der Mark, and your sister is the countess; and you shall have the Prussian eagle in your coat of arms, and shall be honored at my court as my dear, handsome son. All the proud courtiers shall bow their heads before you and your sister. The Count and Countess von der Mark shall have the precedence at my court over all the noble families; and their place shall immediately be behind the royal princesses.”
“And that will be my dear mamma’s place, too?” said Alexander. “She will always be where we are?”
“Yes,” said the king hastily, “she will always remain with her dear children. Yes, and (as the young count once remarked that, if he could live in a splendid house ‘under the Linden-trees’[26]with his mother, and if I would go to see them right often, he would have all he desired), I will make him a present of the most magnificent house ‘under the Linden-trees’ in Berlin, and the young count shall live there, and I will visit him right often in his new home.”
“That will be splendid,” cried the boy clapping his hands. “You are delighted, too, are you not, Mariane?”
“Certainly I am,” replied his sister, smiling, “and I thank his majesty for the great honor he confers in giving us such grand titles.”
“I am glad to hear that you are pleased with your title, mydear daughter; but, as names and titles do not sustain life, a sufficient amount will be set apart for your use as pin-money. And when a suitable and agreeable gentleman demands your hand in marriage, you shall have a dowry of two hundred thousand dollars. When this becomes known you will certainly not fail to have a vast number of admirers from which to make your selection. No more thanks, if you please! We will now go to dinner. Count von der Mark, give your mother your arm, I will escort the young countess.”
“Your majesty,” announced the servant, who entered at this moment, “Colonel von Bischofswerder and Privy-Chamberlain von Wöllner have just arrived, and beg to be admitted to your majesty’s presence!”
“True, indeed,” murmured the king, “I had altogether forgotten them. Madame, you will please excuse me for withdrawing from your society. I must not keep these gentlemen waiting, as I directed them to meet me here on important business. When this business is transacted I must however return to Potsdam. Farewell, and await me at breakfast to-morrow morning.”
THE INVOCATION.
“You have then really come, my friends,” said the king. “You have really determined to attempt to invoke the Invisible?”
“God is mighty in the weak,” said Wöllner, folding his hands piously; “and we men are merely the vessels into which He pours His anger and His love, and in which He makes Himself manifest. By fasting and prayer I have made myself worthy to commune with spirits.”
“The longing after the Invisible Fathers throbs in my heart and brain; and, if in the heat of this longing I invokethem, they will lend an ear to my entreaties, and approach to answer the questions of your majesty, their best-beloved son.”
“Nor have I a doubt on the subject,” said Bischofswerder, complacently. “I will entreat the spirit of the grand-kophta with the whole strength of my soul, and with all the means which the holy secret sciences place at my disposal. The hour has come in which will be determined whether the immortal spirit controls the mortal body, compelling it to obey its behests in spite of time and space.”
“Then you really consider it possible, my friend? You are yet of the opinion that the grand-kophta will appear in answer to your invocations?”
“Yes, sire, I am of that opinion!”
“That is to say, his spirit will come amongst us in some intangible shape. You cannot be in earnest when you assert that he will answer your call in the body, as I have already told you that the grand-kophta is in London. Our ambassador not only saw him there, but spoke with him the very day he dispatched the courier, who arrived here yesterday.”
“Your majesty, the secret sciences teach me that the spirit controls the body; and we will now test the truth of this lesson. If the grand-kophta does not appear in flesh and blood, and give to your majesty, with his own hand, the elixir of life for which your soul thirsts, science lies, and the sublime spirits consider me unworthy of their confidence! In that event, I will renounce my right to enter the inner temple; it will be evident that I am not one of the enlightened. I will bow submissively to the anger and contempt of the Invisible, and return voluntarily to the outer temple to begin my apprenticeship anew.”
The king shook his head thoughtfully. “Your faith is heroic; and I only hope you are not doomed to be disappointed. And now, let us begin our work!”
“His majesty’s will be done,” replied the two Rosicrucians, respectfully. “Will your majesty permit us to go to the laboratory in order to make our preparations?”
“I will accompany you, and render assistance as an inferior brother. You know that no one besides us three is permitted to enter this laboratory; and I therefore keep the key in a secret drawer of my writing-desk, which I alone can open!”
“Permit us to withdraw, in order that we may not see from what place your majesty takes the key.”
The two Rosicrucians walked toward the door, and turned their faces so that they could not see what was done behind them.
“I have the key,” said the king, after a short interval. “Come, my brothers. I am now ready!”
He walked rapidly to the door, unlocked it, and entered the laboratory, followed by Bischofswerder and Wöllner.
But hardly had the king stepped into the room before he uttered a cry of terror, and staggered back, pale with fright.
“The Invisibles! the Invisibles!” he murmured. “See! See! They knew we were coming, and have made all the preparations!”
“All hail, the Invisible Fathers,” cried Wöllner, with enthusiasm. “They have prepared the altar.”
“The Invisibles are awaiting us; they approve of our purpose,” shouted Bischofswerder, exultingly. “Oh, behold, my king! Oh, see, my brother!”
He drew the king eagerly to the large furnace which occupied one entire side of the laboratory; and it really looked as if invisible hands had been at work in this chamber. A bright fire was burning in the furnace, jets of flame darted forth through the openings, and licked the pans and retorts in which liquids and mixtures of various colors boiled and simmered.
“All is prepared,” said Bischofswerder, who had been examining the retorts closely. “It seems the Invisibles are concocting a secret mixture. But my eyes are blinded, and my brain is still in darkness; these substances and elixirs are unknown to me; I only feel that their fragrance fills me with wondrous delight. Oh, come, your majesty, and inhale this blessed aroma—this atmosphere of invisible worlds!”
The king timidly stepped up close to the furnace, and inclined his head over the retort pointed out by Bischofswerder. Dense vapors arose from the bubbling mass and enveloped the king’s head.
“It is true,” said the king, inhaling deep draughts of the vapor. “It creates a wondrous sensation of delight and ecstasy!”
“It is the fragrance of the spirit-world,” said Wöllner, impressively.—“Oh, I feel, I know that my prayers have been heard. They are coming! Lo, the Invisibles are approaching! Look, my king, look up there!”
The king turned eagerly to Wöllner, whose right arm was raised, and pointed to the opposite wall.
“See, see these heavenly forms waving their hands and greeting us!”
“I see nothing,” murmured the king, sadly. “The visions which bless the eye of the anointed are invisible to me. I see nothing!”
No, the king saw nothing! To him the chamber was empty. He saw no spirits, nor did he see Bischofswerder throw a handful of white powder into the large retort at this moment. But he saw the white clouds which now ascended from the furnace; he saw the flames which burst forth from the retorts, and, in the explosions and detonations which ensued, he heard the roar of invisible musketry.
“The Invisibles are contending fiercely,” exclaimed Wöllner. “The good and bad spirits are warring with each other, and struggling for the possession of our noble king. The holy ones and the Rosicrucians are battling with the freethinkers and scoffers, and the so-called enlightened. Give the former the victory, Almighty God! Incline Thyself to the believers and Rosicrucians, and deal out destruction to the unbelievers and scoffers! On my knees I entreat thee, Thou Ruler of all things! have pity on the king, have pity on us, and—”
A loud and fearful detonation—a whistling, howling roar—drownedhis voice. Dense white clouds, through which tongues of flame darted in every direction, ascended from the furnace and gradually filled the room.
The king had staggered back, and would have fallen to the ground, but for Bischofswerder, who had supported him and conducted him to an arm-chair, into which he sank back helplessly. His eyes closed, and for a few moments he was in an unconscious condition.
Suddenly the king’s name resounded in his ear and aroused him from this trance. “Awake, Frederick William, awake! Ours is the victory! The holy cross of love and of roses is victorious! The evil spirits have flown! Awake, Frederick William, awake! The Invisibles are ready to answer your questions!”
The king opened his eyes and looked around. He saw nothing at first but the clouds which encircled him. But suddenly a face seemed to arise in their midst—a face of deathly pallor? Long brown hair fell down on either side of the broad, but low forehead. Its widely-opened glassy eyes seemed to stare at the king, who shuddered, and would have turned away had not some invisible power compelled him to continue gazing at this death-like countenance. By degrees the vision grew more distinct, and stood out from the surrounding vapor in bolder relief. The neck and shoulders now appeared, and gradually the entire body of a man of a powerful build was disclosed. He wore a tightly-fitting jerkin of leather; his neck was encircled with a broad, double lace collar. A golden star glittered on his breast, and a richly-embroidered velvet mantle, bordered with ermine, hung down over his broad shoulders. This mighty, princely figure stood immovable in the midst of the white clouds, which enveloped it like a winding-sheet. But its large, proud eyes seemed fixed on Frederick William with a cold, hard look. The king shuddered, and uttered low entreaties for mercy.
“Fear nothing, Frederick William,” said the vision, which spoke without opening its lips. These tones struck on theking’s ear like a voice from the grave. “Fear nothing, Frederick William; I have not come to alarm, but to console you. The Invisibles have sent me to soothe your heart, and give peace and consolation to your soul. Do you not know who I am, Frederick William?”
“No,” replied the king, in a low voice, “I do not.”
“I am Philip of Hesse,” rejoined the closed lips. “Philip of Hesse, called, by foolish and short-sighted men, ‘The Magnanimous.’”
“Ah, now I know who you are, my prince,” cried the king. “You, it was, who overthrew the rebellious peasants in battle, who overcame Franz von Sickingen, and introduced the reformation into Germany. You were the prince who submitted to the Emperor Charles the Fifth, after the unfortunate battle of Mühlberg; were taken prisoner by him, and held in captivity until released by the treaty of Passau. Tell me, sublime spirit, are you not the spirit of that noble prince, of Philip the Magnanimous?”
“I am! My whole life was a struggle, and I had many enemies to contend with. But my most formidable enemy was my own heart. This enemy was love, passionate love. Wedded since my sixteenth year with Christina of Saxony, selected as my wife for state reasons; my heart became inflamed with love for the beautiful Margaret von Saale, and my one great desire was to win her and call her my wife. But her virtue withstood my entreaties; and, although she loved me, she was nevertheless determined to fly from me unless our union could be consummated by the blessing of a priest. It was in vain that I besought her to become mine. These were days of agony, and this struggle was harder than any I had maintained on the field of battle. I then suffered and wept as though I were a puling boy, and not a warrior and prince.”
“You are recounting the history of my own sufferings,” murmured the king, in a low voice. “You are describing my own struggles!”
“I know it,” replied the apparition. “My eye sees your heart, and your sufferings, and therefore have I come to console you, to tell you that I have suffered as you suffer, and that your wounds shall be healed as mine were. The maiden you love is as virtuous as Margaret von Saale was. Like Margaret von Saale she demands that she be made your wedded wife. In my distress and misery I addressed myself to the great reformer, whom I had patronized with pious zeal. I asked Luther if the church could bless a marriage of the left hand, when a marriage of the right hand already existed; and Luther, the man of justice and of truth, replied: ‘It stands in the Bible that the left hand shall not know what the right does; and, consequently, it is not necessary that the right hand should know what the left does. The wife of the left hand has nothing to do with the wife of the right, forced upon you for reasons of state. The former is the wife of the prince, the latter will be the wife of the man. And, as two persons are united in you, the prince and the man, these persons can contract two marriages, the one for the prince and the other for the man, and the blessing of the church is admissible for both.’ But the sensitive conscience of my beautiful Margaret was not yet satisfied. I now turned to Philip Melanchthon, the great scholar, the strictly moral and virtuous man, and demanded his opinion, telling him that the decision should rest in his hands. But Philip Melanchthon decided as Luther had done, and proved by Holy Writ that such a marriage was possible and admissible. He, however, added the condition that the consent of the wife of the right hand must be obtained before the marriage of the left hand could be consummated. My generous wife gave her consent. Margaret von Saale became my wedded wife, and the mother of seven children, who were the joy and pride of their parents. To tell you this, I left the peaceful grave. Such were the commands of the sublime spirits, who are greater than I, and who rule over the living and the dead. Learn by my example how virtue can be reconciled to love. Put awayfrom you the unchaste woman with whom you live; turn your countenance from her forever—and seek and find your happiness at the side of the noble young woman to whom you shall be united by priestly blessings. Farewell! My time has expired, I must go.”
The apparition seemed to melt away; it grew darker and fainter. For a while its dim and uncertain outlines could be seen when the clouds lifted, and then it disappeared entirely. The clouds also slowly vanished; and now they were gone, the fire could once more be seen burning brightly in the furnace. The king looked around, and observed his two friends kneeling and praying on either side of his chair.
“Have you been listening, my friends? Did you hear the utterances of the blessed spirits?”
“We have heard nothing but mutterings and shrieks, and therefore we have been entreating the sublime spirits to mitigate their anger,” said Wöllner, shaking his head. “But I saw a vision, a heavenly vision,” cried Bischofswerder. “I saw my beloved king and master, standing between two noblewomen. They both regarded him tenderly. They stood, the one on the right, the other on the left hand; on the extended right hand of both glittered a golden ring, the precious symbol of marriage. The countenance of my royal master was radiant with delight; and above him shone the star of pure and chaste love. And it seemed to me that I heard a heavenly voice cry: ‘Find your happiness at the side of the noble young woman to whom you will be joined by priestly blessings.’”
“These were the last words of the sublime spirit that appeared to me,” said the king, joyfully. “You heard them, my faithful friend, while wrestling in prayer at my side. Oh, I thank you both; and while I live, I will reward your fidelity. But, alas,” continued the king, with a deep-drawn sigh, “I only fear that my life will be of short duration! I feel weak and exhausted, and upon you and your influence, my friend, I depend for the life-restoring elixir.”
“I will procure it, you shall have it,” cried Bischofswerder, rising from his knees with youthful vivacity, in spite of his corpulence. “The invocation shall now begin. I will command my spirit to leave the body, and fly through time and space to the grand-kophta, to entreat him to give to the doubting, unbelieving king a visible sign of his heavenly power, to convince him that the mind rules over the body.”
“Do not attempt it, my dear friend; do not, I solemnly conjure you,” implored Wöllner. “It is tempting God, to seek to set at naught the laws of Nature. It is possible that your mighty spirit has power to tear itself from the body, and transport itself from place to place with the rapidity of thought; but consider the difficulty of returning, consider whether the cold, dead body can be a fitting receptacle and abode for the spirit on its return.”
“I know that this is the great danger to which I shall be exposed,” replied Bischofswerder. “But I will dare all for my king, and no danger shall terrify me when his health and happiness are at stake.—Be still, my king! No thanks whatever! I love you! That suffices, that explains all! And now let me take my departure! Now let me invoke the grand-kophta, the dispenser of life and health!—But listen, Wöllner, listen to these last words! If the Invisibles assist me, and enable my spirit to leave its earthly tenement, my body will grow cold and assume a death-like appearance. But this must not lead you to suppose that I am dead. Only when this condition shall have lasted more than half an hour, I beg that you will kneel down beside my body and entreat the Invisibles to command my spirit to return to its earthly abode. Truly I would not wish to remain in a bodiless state, when the king needs my services. And now, my king and master, permit me to kiss your hand before I go.”
“No, my true, my generous friend, come to my heart!” cried the king, as he embraced Bischofswerder, and pressed a kiss on his forehead.
“And now, hear me, ye Invisibles! Lend an ear to myprayer! Give wings to my spirit that it may fly through time and space!—Here, Wöllner! hold my body!”
Wöllner rushed forward in answer to this call, and caught Bischofswerder in his arms as he was on the point of falling to the floor. He rested the head on his breast, covered the face with his hand, and gently stroked his cheeks and brow. The king, who stood behind him in breathless suspense, did not comprehend what was going on, and did not see the little bottle which Wöllner held under his friend’s nose, nor did he see him slip it adroitly into his coat-sleeve when he arose. But when Wöllner stepped back, and pointed solemnly to the tranquil body, the king saw that Bischofswerder’s spirit had flown. He saw that the pallid, inanimate object, which lay in the chair, was nothing more than the empty tenement, once the abode of Bischofswerder’s spirit. Of this, the widely-extended, glassy eyes, and the stiffened features, were sufficient evidence.
The king shuddered, and turned away. “It is fearful to look upon the lifeless body of a friend who dies in an endeavor to save and prolong our life. How fearful, if death should be the stronger, and prevent the spirit from returning to its dwelling! Not only would we mourn the loss of a friend, but his death would have been in vain, and the elixir of life unattained! We must observe the time closely and count the minutes, in order that the prayers may begin when the half-hour has elapsed.” With trembling hands the king drew his richly-jewelled watch from his pocket, and watched the creeping hands in breathless anxiety. His alarm increased as time progressed, and now, when only five minutes were wanting to complete the half-hour, the king turned pale and trembled with terror. “Only one minute more, then—”
“He moves,” whispered Wöllner. “See, your majesty! Oh, see! There is life in his eye, his month closes, the hue of life returns to his cheek. A miracle, a miracle has taken place! The spirit has returned to the earthly tabernacle!”
Bischofswerder is once more among the living; he arises.His eyes seek the king and find him. With unsteady gait, a smile on his lips, he approached the king. “Sire, my spirit greets you, my heart shouts for joy. I bring you glad tidings! The grand-kophta has yielded to my entreaties. He approaches to give my king life and health, and above all things to remove his unbelief!”
“He is then really coming? He approaches?” cried the king, joyfully.
“Call him, your majesty! Call the grand-kophta, but do so with a believing and confident heart.”
“Grand-kophta! Sublimest of the sublime! Lend an ear to my entreaties! Appear Divo Cagliostro! Appear, my lord and master!”
A flash, a detonation, proceeding from the furnace, near which Wöllner stands, and all is once more concealed by the clouds of vapor which fill the room. When they at last rise and pass away, a tall figure, enveloped in a long black mantle, is seen standing in the middle of the room. The head only is uncovered, and this head is surrounded with waving black hair, in the midst of which a precious stone shines and sparkles with the lustre of a star. And the large black eyes, which are fastened on the king’s countenance, with a mild and tender look, also shine like stars.
Carried away with rapture and enthusiasm, the king falls on his knees, and raises his hands in adoration.
But the grand-kophta advanced noiselessly to the kneeling king, begged him to rise, and helped him to do so with his own hand. “Yes, you are really my sublime master,” cried the enraptured king. “I feel the warm, living body, the loving pressure of the blessing-dispensing hand. Hail, master! hail Cagliostro!”
“You appealed to me for assistance,” said Cagliostro, in solemn tones. “I heard the call of the noble messenger you sent me as I was about to enter the St. James’s Palace in London. King George of England had received another visitation from the demons who confuse his brain and darken hisintellect. I was sent for and urged to come at once and drive out the demons from the head of the sick king. But it is of more importance that the healthy should not become sick, than that the sick man’s condition should be somewhat improved. The spirit Althotas cried out to me, saying: ‘Hasten to King Frederick William of Prussia; without your assistance he must languish and die. Hasten to preserve his health and strengthen his noble soul with the breath of immortality.’ At first I was uncertain of whom Althotas spoke, for I had not yet heard of king Frederick’s death. But before my eyes there suddenly arose the vision of an old man reclining in an arm-chair. He was on the threshold of the grave; his lips quivered and his eye grew dim, and the blood refused to flow from the open vein. Two weeping servants stood at his side; a greyhound lay at his feet. Above him in the air I saw the demons of unbelief struggling for the soul which had just left the body; but the good angels turned away in anger. And I interpreted this vision aright; I now knew that the unbelieving king was dead, and that Frederick William, the favorite of the Invisible Fathers, was now king of Prussia. Althotas then cried out, for the second time: ‘Hasten, Frederick William needs you sorely. Hasten, that he may not die. I impart to the mortal the strength of immortality!’ I turned my back on St. James’s Palace, and immediately repaired to the holy laboratory of the spirits, to procure the necessary remedies. I then arose and flew to my suffering king on the wings of the Invisible.”
“It is then true, it is really possible!” cried the enraptured king. “You are really the great Cagliostro! You have accomplished this miracle, have compelled the body to subject itself to the will of the spirit, and fly through time and space at its command! Oh, let me fall down and embrace your knees! Infuse the heavenly breath of thy lips into my enfeebled body!”
And he sank on his knees before the grand-kophta, and looked up to him in supplication.
“Arise, Frederick William; favorite of the Invisible, arise from your knees! I have not come to humble you, but to raise you up. The king who rules over millions of human beings, must not bend the knee to mortal man, and worship that which is visible and perishable. Humble your immortal spirit before the immortal, and lift up your soul in adoration to the unseen and imperishable. Be the ruler of men, and the humble subject of the Invisible. Arise, Frederick William, and listen to what I have to say, for my time is short, and Althotas awaits me on the threshold of St James’s Palace, in London.”
In obedience to this command the king arose from his knees, and stood before the magician, whose luminous eyes were still fixed intently on his countenance.
“You are not ill, Frederick William,” said he, “nor are you well; your spirit lacks buoyancy, its wings are drooping, and your pulse is feeble. Death is slowly but surely approaching, and you would languish and die, if there were no means of driving off this grim monster.”
“Oh, have pity on me! Give me the life-preserving elixir! Save me! I swear that my gratitude shall be unbounded, and that I am ready to bestow any reward that the Invisible Fathers may demand.”
“They, indeed, demand no sacrifice and accept no reward, as men do. Their actions are influenced by higher laws. Love, honor, and obedience, are the rewards they exact.”
“And from the depths of my heart, I promise them love, honor, and obedience.”
“The Invisibles know you to be an obedient servant, and therefore am I here to restore health and strength to your body. But hear me, Frederick William, and lay my words to heart! In order that death may obtain no power over you, your heart must regain its joyousness, and your soul its buoyancy. A passionate love, which you are too weak to overcome, has filled your heart, and therefore its joyousness is dimmed. Then, gratify this passion, Frederick William!The Invisibles give their consent! Let your whole being be imbued with this pure, this noble love; renounce all ignoble passions and desires. Make the fair maiden you love your wife, and peace, joy, and tranquillity, will once more abide in your heart, and your spirit will regain its buoyancy, and bear you aloft to the heights of enthusiasm. But your body shall also be restored to health; we will drive from it all weakness and disease. I bring you the elixir of life, of health, and of strength!”
“Oh, thanks, unspeakable thanks!” cried Frederick William, seizing the little bottle which Cagliostro held in his hand, and carrying it eagerly to his lips.
“Let me drink, sublime master! Let me drink of this heavenly elixir at once!”
“No! Save this precious medicine for a time when you will need it, when I will no longer be with you. For the present I am here, and I will infuse strength and health into your body! Receive these blessings, Frederick William! In the name of the Invisible, I anoint you king of the world and of life!”
As he uttered these words, he poured a few drops of some fluid on the king’s head from a bottle which he held in his hand. A delicious fragrance instantly filled the room. The king raised his head with an exclamation of delight, and inhaled, in long draughts, the fragrant atmosphere.
“A wondrous sensation thrills my being; I feel so happy, so buoyant! I am leaving earth; and now I seem to see the portals of Paradise!”
“Take this, and these portals will open to your view,” said Cagliostro, handing the king a little pill of some grayish substance. “Eat this, and all the bliss of Paradise will be yours!”
The king took the pill from Cagliostro’s extended hand, carried it to his lips, and slowly swallowed it. Instantly a tremor seized his whole body, his cheeks turned deathly pale; he tottered and sank back into the chair which Wöllner had noiselessly rolled forward.
Cagliostro stooped down over him, and regarded the shadows which passed across and darkened the king’s countenance. By degrees these shadows disappeared. His features brightened, and at last his countenance shone with joy and happiness, and was radiant with smiles.
“He is in Paradise,” said Cagliostro, stepping back from the chair. “His spirit revels in heavenly delights. An hour will elapse before he returns from Paradise to this earth, and the remembrance of what he has seen and enjoyed in this hour will be a sunbeam in his existence for a long time to come. He will long for a renewal of this bliss, and you must console him with the promise, that I will either appear to him in person, or else send him, by a messenger, at the expiration of each year, one of these wonderful pills, which condenses the delights of a whole life into one hour, provided he is an humble and obedient servant, and does the will of the Invisible in all things. His soul is lost in rapture, and his ear is closed to all earthly sounds!—And now, my friends, come nearer, and listen to my words.”
The two Rosicrucians, Wöllner and Bischofswerder, approached, in obedience to his command; and when Cagliostro laid his hands on their shoulders, their countenances beamed with delight.
“Speak to us, sublime master! Your utterances fall on our souls like heavenly dew. Speak, and command your servants to do your will!”
“You must continue the course marked out for you by the Fathers through me. You must aid in building up the kingdom of the Church and the Invisible on this earth. The Invisible Church, and her visible priests and representatives, shall alone rule on earth in the future, and, therefore, thrones must be overturned, crowns trodden in the dust, and the names of the kings and princes of earth uprooted like weeds and cast in the oven. An era of terror is drawing nigh when the sword and firebrand will go hand in hand through the land, and rapine and slaughter be the order of the day. Thedemons of insurrection and rebellion are already at work, threatening princes, and greeting the people with these words of promise: Liberty and Fraternity. We, the Invisible, the Sacred Fathers of the holy Church, have sent them out to carry terror to the hearts of princes. The king who has just died devoted his whole life to the enfranchisement of the spirit of the people; our chief endeavor must be to fetter this spirit, and restore the people and their rulers to their former humility and submission. They must do penance in sackcloth and ashes, and be made aware that the priests of the holy Church and the pious brothers of the order, can alone save them, and reduce their rebellious subjects to obedience and submission. The knife and burning fire are sometimes necessary to heal wounds and diseases. And these remedies we will apply. The revolution can be made a mighty and sublime weapon in the hands of the Invisible, and the bloodiest paths may lead to the greatest good! Alas, that we should be compelled to tread such paths!”
“Alas! alas!” cried the two Rosicrucians, pale with terror. The countenance of the slumbering king, however, still wore the same enraptured expression.
“But,” continued Cagliostro, “of these evils, good will come. The proud flesh shall be cut out with the knife, and the wound burned with fire, in order that it may heal the more rapidly. The storm of the revolution will shake the earth. Thrones will tremble, and princes fall down in the dust. The people will be lashed to fury, like the waves of the storm-tossed sea. But the holy Church will be the little vessel that bids the sea be still, and stems the tide of the people’s wrath by leading them back to humility and belief. Anger makes blind, and in their blindness they can the more readily be fettered. We, the Invisible Fathers, use the people to terrify the rulers. In all parts of Europe, the fathers and brothers of our order are preparing this work of destruction and overthrow, in order that the noble and sublime may be built up anew out of the débris. Oh, my brothers, performdiligently your allotted task! In the name of the Invisible Fathers, I deliver over to you this kingdom and this king! Govern him, and make him serviceable to the holy order and the holy Church. You shall rule in Prussia. Build up the good, destroy the evil! But the greatest good is, belief; the greatest evil, unbelief! Root out the king’s unbelief! You will be justified in using any means, for the end sanctifies the means; and even that which is in itself vile, becomes a holy weapon in the hands of the chosen!—And now, my brothers, I bid you a final adieu; my time has expired, I must go!”
“Oh, master, do not leave us!” cried Bischofswerder. “Stay with us, and promote our holy ends.”
“Stay with us, and assist us in leading the king back to the right path,” exclaimed Wöllner.
“You can accomplish it without my assistance. Your will is strong, and his resistance will be but feeble! You shall be the kings of Prussia; you shall reign in the land! But do not forget that as rulers you will still be servants!”
“That we will never forget! We will ever obey the commands of the Invisibles, and faithfully execute their will as announced to us by your sublime lips!”
“Who knows that my lips will never speak to you again,” said Cagliostro, in a sad voice. “I wander through the world on the verge of an abyss, and the storm and revolution are my companions. From the murder and bloodshed of the revolution, the Church will blossom afresh. Remember these words, ye brothers of the cross and of the roses! Remember them, and farewell forever!”
THE WILL.
The solemn ceremony was over. The body of the great king had been borne forth from the apartments in which he had governed Prussia for so many years; from the housewhich had been his chief delight on earth, and which was thenceforth to stand as a monument of his life. But the deceased king’s commands and wishes were disregarded in the very beginning. And it was made manifest to the world that his successor did not intend to walk in his footsteps, and did not share his independent views on religious subjects, and his freedom from all prejudices. Frederick had caused a burial vault to be built for himself on the terraces. He desired that his body should find a last resting-place in the garden which he had made, and near the house in which he had lived with his friends, and in which he had been so happy!
But his successor considered such a resting-place, in the temple of Nature, and under the dome erected by the hand of the Almighty, an unfit abode for the remains of a king. He considered the temple of brick and mortar erected by the hand of man a far more worthy receptacle for the dead monarch.
The philosopher of Sans-Souci had not attended church for many years; and now, as if to proclaim to the world that a revolution had taken place in Prussia, the king’s body was deposited in the church. To the Garrison Church in Potsdam, where the plain and unadorned coffin of King Frederick William the First had been placed in the vault under the altar, the gloomy funeral procession of the dead ruler wended its way on the evening of the eighteenth of August. His generals and officers, the magistrate of Potsdam, and the members of his household, followed the funeral car. But his successor, King Frederick William, and the princes and princesses, were not present. In solitude, as he had lived, King Frederick descended into the dark vault in which the coffin of his father awaited him. In life, they had kept at a distance from each other; death now brought them together, and their mortal remains lay side by side in peace and tranquillity. Death reconciles all things; in his hands even kings are but as the dust of the earth.
On the morning after Frederick’s interment, King FrederickWilliam repaired to Sans-Souci, where the opening and reading of the monarch’s will was to take place. The royal princes, who had not accompanied the king’s body to its last resting-place, were by no means absent on this momentous occasion, and Princes Henry and Ferdinand, and even the Princess Amelia, Frederick’s sister, who was decrepit from age, and deformed by the mental and bodily anguish she had undergone, had come to Sans-Souci to be present at the reading of the will. These three were standing in an alcove, conversing eagerly, but in an undertone. Their manner was expressive of resentment and anger, and the glances which they from time to time cast toward the door through which the king was expected to enter, were full of hatred and derision.
“Bischofswerder has been made colonel; and Wöllner, privy-councillor,” murmured Prince Henry, bitterly; “even that abominable fellow, Rietz, has received a title. But he never thought of his family; for us there are no favors.”
“And how could there be?” rejoined Princess Amelia, in her sharp, scornful voice. “The favorites stand where the golden shower falls, and you do not desire that we should do likewise, I hope? I, for my part, shall certainly decline the honor of standing at Wilhelmine Enke’s side; nor have I any desire to share the royal favor with the king’s new flame, the maid of honor, Von Voss.”
“She will soon hold an important position,” whispered Prince Ferdinand. “The king intends to make her his wife.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed the hoarse voice of the princess. “That is, unless our dear nephew first manages to put his legitimate wife out of the way with the aid of his sorcerers.”
“Perhaps he intends to take King Solomon as his model,” said Prince Henry, derisively. “He also was an arch-profligate, although he was accounted a most holy and worthy king.”
“Let him pronounce a Solomon’s judgment on himself,” screeched the princess; “let him cut himself in three pieces:one for the queen, a second for Wilhelmine Enke, and the third for the new favorite.”
“The last must, however, be spoken of with the greatest deference,” whispered Prince Ferdinand. “The king will have it so. The maid of honor, Von Voss, is exceedingly virtuous, and insists on a marriage. The king had an interview with the young lady on the day of Frederick’s death; and she then imposed three conditions: She demands that the queen’s consent be first obtained, then a church marriage, and finally the king’s separation from Madame Rietz.”
“The queen will not give her consent,” said Princess Amelia.
“She has already done so! The Privy-Chamberlain Rietz accomplished this masterpiece of diplomacy. The king pays his wife’s debts, and doubles her pin-money; and for this consideration she consents to the marriage of the left hand.”[27]
“They are all mercenary creatures, these women,” muttered Prince Henry. “They are like dissembling cats, that are always ready to scratch and betray their best friends. In this respect a queen is no better than a beggar-woman! For money, a queen compromises her honor and her rights; and permits a virtuous mantle to be thrown over vice. But this time it will be of no avail, since no priest can be found to consummate this unlawful marriage.”
“You are mistaken, my dear brother,” said Prince Ferdinand, smiling. “One has already been found. The king asked advice of his newly-appointed Privy-Councillor Wöllner. This fellow was formerly a preacher, as you well know, and is therefore well acquainted with priestly stratagems. He proved to the king, by historical references, that such double marriages were possible, and that even Luther had permitted the landgrave Philip to contract a marriage of this kind. Moreover, he called the king’s attention to the fact, that he was an ordained preacher himself, and, as such, entitled to exercise the functions of that calling, and offered to perform the ceremony himself.”
“They are all mercenary creatures, these men,” said Princess Amelia, with a malicious side glance at her brother, Prince Henry.
“I am surprised to hear that, my dear sister,” remarked Prince Henry. “It seems you have changed your opinion of men very materially.”
“No,” she rejoined, angrily, “no, I have always known that men were miserable creatures. There were only two exceptions: the one was my brother Frederick, and the other was the man whom even the great King Frederick could not keep in fetters—he who broke the heaviest bars and strongest chains with the strength of his invincible spirit, and liberated himself in defiance of all kings and jailers. I thank you, Henry, for reminding me of him! My heart has been envenomed by mankind, and is old and withered, but it grows warm and young again when I think of him for whom I suffered so much, and who made of me the old hag I now am.—But here comes the king, our dear nephew.” And Amelia, whose countenance had been illumined for a moment with a ray of youth, resumed her spiteful and gloomy look, and hobbled toward her dear nephew, who was just entering the chamber, followed by Count von Herzberg and the newly-appointed minister of state, Von Voss. “How handsome your majesty looks!” cried Princess Amelia, in her hoarse voice; “how young and handsome! If it were not for the thin hair, the embonpoint, and the dear wife, one might take your majesty for a youthful Adonis, going a wooing, and—”
“And who has the misfortune to meet a bad fairy[28]on the road. But it makes no difference, custom has robbed your evil glance of its terrors, and we will never cease to love and esteem you. I beg leave to assure my dear aunt Amelia, as well as my two uncles, that I will always remain their affectionate and devoted nephew, and that it will afford me the greatest pleasure to gratify their wishes. However, we will speak of this hereafter, but now let us consider the gravepurpose for which we have come together. Count von Herzberg, I beg you to conduct the ambassador of the Duke of Brunswick to our presence.”
The king seated himself on the sofa which stood in the middle of the room. Princess Amelia and the two princes seated themselves in chairs, in his immediate vicinity. In front of them, and near the window, stood a table covered with green cloth, and beside it three elegantly carved chairs. This was Frederick the Great’s writing-desk, the desk at which he had thought and labored so much for the welfare and honor of his kingdom and subjects.
“Baron von Hardenberg, minister, and extraordinary ambassador of his highness, the Duke of Brunswick,” cried Count Herzberg as he entered and presented this gentleman to the king. Baron von Hardenberg bowed with the grace of a courtier and an elegant man of the world, and then looked up at the king, expectantly, with an air of perfect ease and composure.
“Speak, Baron von Hardenberg,” said the king, with some little embarrassment, after a short pause. “My uncle, the Duke of Brunswick, sends you. What message does the baron bring?”
“Sir, I bring, at the command of my gracious master, the duke, the last will and testament of King Frederick the second, of blessed memory—with unbroken seals, and in exactly the same condition as when years ago delivered by his deceased majesty to the duke, and by him deposited in the state archives at Brunswick, where it has remained until now.”
The baron handed the sealed document to the king, and begged him, and the princes, and ministers, to examine the seals, to assure themselves that they had not been tampered with, and requested his majesty to break them, and open the will, after having satisfied himself of that fact. After this had been done, and after Herzberg had testified to Frederick’s handwriting, the king returned the document to Baron von Hardenberg.