XI.—MEETING AND PARTING.
"Be kind enough to come in, dear sister," said the Elector, standing in the doorway and smilingly greeting the Princess, who now entered the apartment.
"I have come at your bidding, Frederick," said the Princess, accepting her brother's proffered hand, and looking up at him with a sweet, affectionate smile.
In the window niche stood John Adolphus Schwarzenberg, and the fires of passion and resentment burned in the glance which he fixed upon the Princess, whom he now saw for the first time after a lapse of three years. How much pain and mortification had he not suffered during these three years on her account? The only change wrought in the Princess by the flight of time was a more perfect development of beauty and of grace of carriage. The count heaved a deep, painful sigh, and the rage of despair took possession of his soul at the sight of that noble, tranquil countenance.
"She has not suffered," he said to himself. "She never loved me, and will now despise me!"
"Forgive me, sister, for troubling you to come to me," said Frederick William, nodding affectionately to the Princess. "I ought indeed to have come to you, but I wished to speak with you on a matter strictly confidential, which I did not wish our mother and sister to know anything about."
"Is it really a secret, then?" asked Charlotte Louise—"no bad secret, I hope, Frederick?"
"It at least touches very grave matters," replied the Elector. "Look yonder at that window niche."
The Princess turned quickly, and looked in the direction indicated. A low scream escaped her lips, and she sank trembling upon a seat.
"Adolphus!" murmured her quivering lips.
This single utterance spoke more eloquently to both men than the most elaborate arrangement of sentences could have done. It told them that years of separation had not estranged the Princess from Count Schwarzenberg; that her heart still called him by the familiar name accorded him by love; that with the count, Charlotte Louise was not the proud Princess, but only the humble, loving maiden. The Elector understood this, and a cloud overshadowed his brow.
The count understood it, too, and his dark countenance brightened. With uplifted head he rushed from the window niche to the Princess, and, kneeling before her, seized her hand to press it to his lips. But this touching of her hand seemed to restore to the Princess her strength and self-possession. By a hasty movement she released her hand and rose.
"Brother," she said, "is it customary to greet princesses in this style? Be pleased to tell me, for you know I have been but little in the world, and am, therefore, but little conversant with its forms."
"No, Louise, it is not customary," replied Frederick William, breathing more freely; "but Count Schwarzenberg seems to suppose, that as your favored lover he need not regard the laws of ceremony."
"As my favored lover?" asked the Princess, a blush suddenly suffusing her brow and neck, while her blue eyes, usually so soft, sparkled with indignation. "Did I hear aright? Did you actually say that to me, brother, to your sister? Did you call this or any other man my favored lover?"
"I only repeated the words made use of by Count John Adolphus von Schwarzenberg in suing for your hand, sister. This gentleman affirms that you have granted him more favor than was seemly in a modest maiden. And when I doubted it he replied that he could prove it, for he possessed a note, written with your own hand, in which you invited him to a rendezvous by night."
"He said that!" cried the Princess. "He said that, and you did not kill him on the spot?"
"I did not kill him," answered the Elector gravely and solemnly, "because no one should die for the truth. And he maintains that he speaks the truth: that by means of this letter of yours he can dishonor you and my house in the eyes of the whole world. Say then, Louise, is it true; does he actually possess such a letter?"
Charlotte Louise shuddered and tottered backward.
"Yes!" she breathed—"yes, he speaks the truth—he does possess such a letter!"
"No!" cried the count, "he did not speak the truth! Oh, forgive me, Princess, forgive me this slander, which my lips uttered, uttered in the delirium of pain, love, and despair! I lied, Princess, you never wrote to me, never! I said that in order to force your brother to give me your hand, because I love you, Princess, you know not how dearly! Ah! you little imagine with what fervor of devotion my soul clung to you, and what you did that time when you mocked and betrayed me, treating me like a despised beggar! That hour wrought a change in my whole nature! The most sacred blossoms of my love had been crushed by you, and I trampled them under foot and strove to bury my despair in mirth and pleasure. I did not succeed. The sacred old song of the buried love was forever making itself heard in low, sweet strains. I would not listen, I tried to drown it. I became a conspirator, a rebel, for I longed to take vengeance upon you and your house. Fate was against me; my revenge constituting my punishment. I must flee, I must leave as a fugitive the land in which you live. The Emperor received me graciously, giving me rank and titles, and bestowing upon me marks of favor and regard, thus opening to the ambitious heart a career of fame, dignity, and honor. All was in vain, though. I felt too late that love, not ambition, had urged me into the dangerous paths of insurrection and revolt. I could not forget you. Like a radiant star, you ever shone upon the midnight darkness of my soul. I must see you again, to obtain from your own lips my sentence of pardon or condemnation. I despised all danger, even the order of arrest issued against me, and obtained the Emperor's leave to accompany his ambassador here. I came and suffered the severest mortification that a man can suffer. I subjected myself to your brother's scorn and contempt. Then at last my heart rebelled, and when he scornfully refused your hand to me, I claimed it as my right, by virtue of the love you once vowed to me. The Elector disputed your love for me, and then, in the rage of my heart, I boasted of a favor which I never received, boasted of having received from you a letter, and an invitation to a rendezvous. Oh, forgive the madman who kneels here at your feet and suffers the agony of death. He has no right to claim anything, he only implores from you an act of grace!"
While the count thus spoke in passionate excitement, the Elector had slowly retired, and, standing apart with folded arms, gazed upon the couple with melancholy eyes. In the beginning the Princess had sunk upon a chair, with bowed head and hanging arms, pale as a drooping lily. But the glowing words which fell upon her ear seemed to find an echo, a painful echo, in her heart. Slowly she raised her head, and breathlessly listened to his words, while the color once more mounted to her cheek. When the count stopped, she slowly rose and proudly and indignantly drew herself erect.
"You speak falsely now, Count Schwarzenberg," she said, "for what you told my brother was true. Yes, three years ago, in the childish folly of my heart, I granted you a favor unseemly for a modest maiden. Yes, I wrote you a note with my own hand, inviting you to a rendezvous in the castle at nine o'clock in the evening. Brother, I confess this, although I know that I am thereby forever forfeiting your esteem. But this man has accused me, and I honor the past of my heart, while I acknowledge the fault of which he accuses me. Yes, I have loved him, warmly, inexpressibly, and have wept and lamented him in a manner little becoming a princess, but in my love I was only a poor simple maiden, who wanted nothing in the whole world but his heart. Well I know that I sinned grievously against my mother and the laws of virtue and propriety in carrying on a clandestine love affair, in allowing my heart to be deceived by his ardent protestations of love and even in my delusion going so far as to grant him a rendezvous—nay, even to ask for one."
"Did you really do that, sister?"
"I did, and have repented it for three long years. That I confess this, that I reveal my secret, should prove to you that I now speak the truth. And therefore you will believe me, Frederick William, when I affirm that this is the only favor of which the count can boast. I have to blush before you, but not before him."
"Not before me either, Louise," said the Elector. "I know love, and in my own heart have battled with all its follies and illusions. I know what you suffer, by remembering my own experiences. It is a bitter grief to be obliged to admit that you have wasted the holiest feelings of your heart upon an unworthy object."
"Yes indeed, it is a bitter grief," sighed the Princess.
"O Princess! spare yourself this grief!" cried the count, still kneeling before her. "You have freely owned that you love me. Why, then, will you turn away from me? Accept me as your husband, and I will love you, serve you, obey you, ask nothing but the privilege of looking upon you, and basking in your presence."
She gave him a long, cold look. "And if I decline your hand, you will revenge yourself, will you not, by displaying my note to the Emperor and the whole world, you will defame me and all my house? Was not that your threat?"
"I spoke in frenzy, in despair. But you shall see that I will ask nothing from you for fear, but all for love. See, here is the note. I have hitherto preserved it as my most precious jewel; my father bade me do so, and told me that this paper might save me in the hour of greatest peril. This hour is now at hand, but I will not have it save me. Here is the note; I offer it to you. Take it, tear it up, and then decide!"
With outstretched hands he held out the paper, but she took it not, and quickly stepped back.
"Keep the paper," she said. "Why should I ask whether you will turn it into a weapon against me? I will accept no favor or advantage from you. Only let it be known at the imperial court, to the whole world, that I loved you; show this paper everywhere, and all will turn from you, all women will despise you, and all men blush for the traitor to love!"
"No one shall despise me, no one shall turn, from me!" cried the count, springing to his feet. With trembling hands he tore the paper into little bits, and threw them on the floor.
"There lies the secret, Princess! Now I am entirely in your power! Now I have no weapon of defense. Call Burgsdorf, your highness, have me arrested, if it seems good to you, I renounce the Emperor's safe conduct, as I just now renounced your sister's letter."
"We accept no act of generosity or renunciation from you," replied the Elector with dignity. "The Emperor's safe conduct I shall respect, and as I allowed you to speak quietly to my sister, although you misrepresented much and put matters in a false light, so I will allow you to depart unmolested. As regards the love letter, your excuse for demanding my sister's hand, the fragments testify as strongly against you as the letter itself. My sister alone has to reply to your offer."
"I have no answer to give this man, for he dare not ask anything more of me," said the Princess proudly. "He who can betray the secrets of the heart degrades himself. The man who boasts of a favor received is unworthy of it, and every woman will despise him. Not merely now, in the hour of danger, have you bethought yourself of my letter, Count Adolphus Schwarzenberg, but you had spoken of it previously to your father. You have turned a young girl's letter into a political bond, which, as a cunning merchant, was to be redeemed and converted into money. Now you have redeemed it; there lies the letter! I give you for it my contempt."
"I think you have now received my sister's answer," said the Elector, "and we have nothing more to say to one another, for the courts must settle other subjects of dispute between us. Go, Count Schwarzenberg, return home to Vienna, for your mission is ended. You are dismissed."
The count answered not a word. One long glance of grief and rage he cast upon the Princess, who stood loftily erect at her brother's side. Then, with a slight bow of salutation, he turned and strode through the room.
Not a sound interrupted the solemn silence save the count's footsteps as he advanced to the door. There he once more paused and turned back his livid, wrathful countenance. The Princess still stood erect, calm, and unmoved, beside the Elector. Schwarzenberg cast down his eyes and left the room. The Princess heard the door shut, and a heavy sigh escaped her breast. "He has gone," she murmured softly, "he has gone; I shall never see him again."
She leaned her head upon her brother's shoulder and wept bitterly.
"You loved him very dearly, then?" asked the Elector gently, throwing his arms around her neck.
"Yes," she whispered softly, "I loved him dearly, and I am afraid I love him still, and will mourn for him forever. No one on earth has mortified me so deeply as he, and yet I shall never love another as I have loved him."
"Poor child," said Frederick William sadly, "you love him still, although you despise him!"
With folded arms he walked several times to and fro, while his sister dropped into a chair, covered her face with her hands, and quietly wept. The Elector stopped in front of her and gently drew her hands from before her face.
"Sister," he said tenderly, "I will dry your tears, for I may do so, and in this hour of most sacred confidence not the shadow of an untruth shall lie between us. When you wrote that billet to the count three years ago he did not come to the rendezvous, did he?"
"No!" cried the Princess; "he dared to let me expect him in vain, to decline the interview which I had granted him. O Frederick! when I think of this I could die for very shame, so much do I hate him who humiliated me so deeply, so much do I despise myself for having incurred and merited this humiliation."
"Louise," said the Elector softly, "if that is your only reason for hating him, then you can love him again, for this is probably the only fault of which he is innocent. Lift up your head, sister, for I can relieve you from this humiliation. It was Count Schwarzenberg's wish to keep the appointment. He stood for two hours before a locked door seeking admission. I, however, stood on the other side of the door, guarding it, and did not depart until he had gone away in despair."
"You, brother?" asked the Princess, whose cheeks grew suddenly crimson.
"You knew about it? You prevented the interview?"
"I wanted to guard my sister against her own indiscretion; I wanted to preserve her from error."
"You knew it and kept silence, magnanimously kept my secret from my mother? Oh, and he is innocent? He did not scorn and insult me? I can think of him without anger, without—No, no; forgive me, brother, I—"
"Hear me, Louise," said he softly. "I will prove to you how much I have your happiness at heart, and how gladly I would promote it. If in spite of all that you have learned to-day, in spite of his mode of wooing, you still love Count Schwarzenberg—so love him that for his sake you can forever—mark well my words, forever—give up mother, brother and sister, home, country, yea, religion itself, sundering all the ties which bind you here—if you so love him that he is family, home, everything to you, then tell me so, sister, and I will overcome my repugnance and have the count recalled, will accept his offer, and bestow you upon him in marriage. Only you must choose between him and us. In that hour, when I join your hands, we have seen each other for the last time, and never will your return home be possible. But if you really love him, go, for well I know that love only finds its home in the heart of the beloved one. Choose then, sister. Will you follow him? Speak, I shall not reproach you—speak, and I will have him recalled!"
She flung her arms around his neck and gently laid her head upon his breast. "No," she said softly—"no, do not call him back. He has betrayed and desecrated love. My heart revolts from him and turns with deep affection to you. Thank you, brother, for acquainting me with the truth and taking that weight of humiliation from my soul. Now I shall be comforted, now I can hold up my head again. I am not the rejected, but the rejecter. Yes, brother, I have renounced love and happiness. The golden morning dream is over, and I am awake! Let me weep, Frederick, my last tears for a lost love!"
The Elector bent over her and imprinted a kiss upon her brow. "Weep, sister, weep," he said softly. "And if it can in any degree console you, know that I have wept and suffered as you do now."
[Illustration: Wladislaus IV, King of Poland]
XII.—THE INVESTITURE AT WARSAW.
At last all matters of dispute were settled, all difficulties smoothed over. King Wladislaus of Poland had declared himself ready to receive the oath of allegiance from his vassal the Elector of Brandenburg, and to invest him with the duchy of Prussia. Hard conditions, truly, were those imposed upon the young Elector, and heavy the sacrifices which the King and, more pressingly yet, the members of the Polish Diet required. That the Elector should pay a yearly tribute of thirty thousand florins, besides a hundred thousand florins from the naval taxes, was a condition to which he had agreed without a struggle; but much severer and more humbling compliances he had to make.
They wished to make him feel that the King of Poland was still lord paramount of Prussia, and that the Elector must give way to him. The nobility of Prussia were therefore to have the right, in all civil and difficult cases, to appeal from the decision of the Elector to that of the King. On the other hand, the Elector was not, without the King's express permission, to occupy a neutral position with regard to any enemy of Poland; he was to receive the King's commissioners whenever it pleased the latter to send them to inspect the fortresses of Memel and Pillau. But the hardest thing was, that the Elector must pledge himself to protect and exalt the Roman Catholic worship in Prussia with all his might, and to do nothing for the further spread of the Reformed Church in Prussia. He was to build up the decaying Catholic Church at Königsberg, and, besides that, have a new one built. The Catholics were to be protected in the free exercise of their worship, and guarded against every attack of the Protestant preachers.
Hard and degrading were these conditions, but the Elector had accepted them. He had bowed his proud heart and constrained it to be humble. Tears of indignation had stood in his eyes as they handed him the document on which were inscribed all these conditions; his hand had trembled when he took the pen, but still he had appended his signature, and none but Burgsdorf had seen the tears which fell from Frederick William's eyes upon his hand as he signed.
"Burgsdorf," he said, pointing to his signature, "do you know what I have written there?"
"No, your highness, that I do not. I am not stupid enough to give myself much trouble deciphering the scratches of a pen. But I know and have read what is written upon your face, sir."
"Well, and what stands written there, old friend?"
"Most gracious sir, it is written there that you suffer now, but will be revenged hereafter. It says that you now in a submissive manner offer your hand to the insolent, cursed Pole, but that on some future day you will shake your fist in his face, and amply requite his haughty arrogance."
"Well done; you have read correctly," exclaimed the Elector, laughing.
"You have divined my most secret thoughts."
"And may a good God only deign to grant me this one favor, that I may live long enough to see your thoughts put in action, gracious sir! May he preserve me from gout and paralysis, that I too, may have a hand in the deeds of that blessed day, and strike a few well-aimed blows."
"Well, it is to hoped that not many years will elapse ere the dawning of that day," said the Elector. "I shall not know ease or rest until it is here, and I can have my revenge. Let us think of this, old friend, and be meekly patient and wear a placid mien on our way to Warsaw, to humble ourselves. You know a man must sometimes swallow bitter medicine when he is sick and faint, and the bitterest will appear sweet if he drinks it in order to imbibe new life and health. My poor country is, indeed, sick unto death, and therefore I go to Warsaw to swallow a bitter pill for the health and salvation of my land. But we go on crutches, two hard crutches."
"I know the names of those crutches, your highness," said Burgsdorf. "One crutch is called 'Imperial,' the other 'Polish.'"
"You have guessed correctly, old friend," answered the Elector. "But some day we will throw aside the crutches on which we must now lean, and Prussia shall be the sword which we shall unsheathe and draw against all our foes. I must now submit to having a lord over me, but the time will come when the Prussian black eagle will feel itself strong enough to do battle against the white eagle of Poland, and soar aloft on bold, strong wing. Once more I tell you, old friend, think of that, if we do go now to Warsaw! You are to accompany me, and when you ride into Warsaw at the head of my soldiers, as their colonel and chief, show a smiling visage to the fair Polish women and enchant them by your grace."
"I will so enchant them, your highness," laughed Burgsdorf, "that for rapture at sight of me they will not look at you, and not even make an attempt to win your heart."
"My heart, Burgsdorf?" said the Elector. "I have no heart, at least no personal one. My thoughts and feelings belong only to my country, my ambition, and my future. I now go to Warsaw and bow my head in the dust, that at a later period I may lift it up the more proudly and independently."
And on the 7th of October, 1641, Elector Frederick William of Brandenburg made his entry into Warsaw. At the head of his splendidly equipped regiment rode old Conrad von Burgsdorf, his broad, bloated face flushed crimson, and, as he stroked his long, light moustache, he bowed right and left, saluting the fair ladies, who looked down upon the glittering procession from windows hung with tapestry and decorated with flowers and ribbons. But the fair ladies took but little notice of old Burgsdorf. Their bright eyes were all turned to the handsome young nobleman, who, quite alone, followed the regiment of soldiers. Behind him was seen a brilliant array of gentlemen in handsome uniforms; but all this vanished unnoticed. Only upon him, yon youth who rides his horse so proudly and so gracefully, upon him alone were all eyes fixed. How finely his figure was outlined in that closely fitted velvet coat, trimmed with golden "Brandenburgs," and crossed by the golden shoulder belt from which hung his German broadsword. How gracefully fell his long brown hair over his shoulders, how boldly sat upon his head the cocked felt hat, with its crest of black and white ostrich plumes! How fiery and penetrating the glance of those dark-blue eyes, and how sweet and captivating the smile of those full, fresh lips.
Oh, King's daughter, King's daughter, shield your heart, lest it glow with love for the handsome stranger who now draws near, and whom they call the young Elector of Brandenburg! He looks not at you, he thinks not of you. But you—you look at him and think of him. They have told you that they will wed you to him, that the little Elector will esteem it a great honor to become the husband of a daughter of the King of Poland. Why, she is a princess of imperial blood, for her mother is an archduchess of Austria, a daughter of Emperor Ferdinand I! It will, indeed, be a great honor to the little Elector, if they bestow upon him the hand of a king's daughter, an emperor's grandchild, and happy will he be to be allowed to receive it, and to become great by means of his great connections!
Look closely at him, Princess Hildegarde; look at him with your heart and soul, rejoice in his youth, beauty, and proud bearing, for he is to be your husband! Your father will do him the honor to receive him as his son-in-law, and the Emperor will condescendingly admit him to his relationship! See now he has approached quite near the throne which has been erected upon the square fronting the palace. On the throne sits King Wladislaus in the rich national costume. Beside him stands his brother, Prince Casimir, while to the right and left on the steps of the throne stand the magnates with their insignia of rank, the bishops and prelates. Close behind the throne is the kingly palace, and there, upon a balcony hung with gold brocade, stands the Queen; to the right and left of her the two royal Princesses, both so lovely to look upon in their picturesque Polish garb, their raven tresses surmounted by the Polish cap with its heron's plumes.
Oh, King's daughter, King's daughter, you need not fear, you are so charming, so attractive; surely you will win his heart, and he will woo you not merely from political motives, but from love!
Does he see you, and is he looking up at you? No, he only looks up at the King as he now stands at the foot of the throne, beside that magnificent cushion studded with emeralds and pearls. His knights and bodyguard range themselves to the right and left of the throne, and reserve a small open space in the midst of the broad square, which is densely thronged by masses of people behind the closed ranks of the soldiers. In this small vacant space stands he, the young Elector of Brandenburg!
High is his head, radiant the glance which he now lifts higher than the King's throne. Looks he at you, Princess Hildegarde, gazes he upon you, fair maiden of a royal line?
No, his glance mounts higher; to heaven itself he raises both eye and thought! He communes with God and the forefathers of his house, who once, like him, stood at the foot of that throne. And he vows before God and his ancestors that he will be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bend the knee as vassal to the Polish King. He will free his land and crown, and be the vassal of none but God alone!
So swore the Elector Frederick William as he stood at the foot of the throne on which sat the Polish King, resplendent with his crown and scepter, and this oath made his countenance beam with joy and his eyes flame with energy and spirit.
Now is heard the flourish of trumpets and kettledrums, and the bell of every tower in Warsaw rings, for the solemn act begins: the Duke of Prussia is to swear allegiance to the King of Poland!
Three cannon thunder from the ramparts! The bells grow dumb, the trumpets and drums are silent! A breathless stillness pervades that spacious square. The people with dark, flashing eyes gaze curiously upon the heretic, the unbeliever, who is to swear fealty to his Catholic Majesty. The Polish deputies look threateningly upon the bold duke, who dared to enter upon the government of Prussia before he had given his oath of allegiance; the papal nuncio turns his head aside with sorrowful looks, and can not bear to see a heretic, an apostate, invested with authority over a Catholic country.
The King, however, smiles good-naturedly, and the ladies from the balcony in the rear kindly incline their heads and blushingly greet the young Elector, who, doffing his plumed hat, gracefully salutes them.
Three senators approach the Elector. One holds out to him the red feudal banner, which the Elector grasps firmly in his right hand. The second offers him the Juramentum fidelitatis (oath of fidelity), on which the young Prince is to lay his hands and swear. The third holds in his hand the parchment on which is inscribed the feudal oath. The high chancellor now descends from the steps of the throne and takes the parchment out of the senator's hands. The Elector bends his knee upon the richly embroidered cushion, a crimson glow flushes his cheeks, and deep in his soul he repeats: "I shall be the last Hohenzollern to submit to such humiliation and bow in the dust before another Prince. I shall make my Prussia and Brandenburg great. I shall free them from Emperor and King, and shall own no superior but God! To that end, O Lord, grant me thy blessing, and hear the vow my heart utters while my lips are speaking other words!"
The King waves his golden scepter and the lord chancellor begins with resonant voice to read off the oath of allegiance couched in the Latin tongue.
Loud and clearly the Elector speaks each word after him, loud and clearly his lips pronounce words of which his heart knows nothing. To be a submissive vassal, his lips swear—to fulfill faithfully and obediently all the obligations due from him as Duke of Prussia to the King, as is written in the oath of fealty subscribed by him. How full and strong is his voice, sounding distinctly over all the square, and yet how sweet and harmonious every tone!
Oh, King's daughter, King's daughter, shield your heart! Look not down upon his lustrous eyes, heed not his voice, though it ring like music in your ear! Beware of loving him, for you know not whether his heart inclines toward you!
God be praised! The formula of the oath is ended. The Elector may rise from his knees, and, as he does so, he says to himself: "Never again shall this knee bend to man! Never again shall I endure what I have endured to-day!"
But his countenance betrays nothing of the emotions of his soul, and with a smile upon his lips he ascends the steps of the throne, and takes his place upon a seat at the left hand of the King.
And again are heard the ringing of bells and nourishing of trumpets, as they announce to the city of Warsaw, that the Elector Frederick William has just sworn allegiance to the King of Poland. The solemnity is over, and the King, the Elector, and the nobles of his realm, repair to the palace to partake of a banquet which has been prepared there for them.
A sumptuous banquet! The tables glitter with gold and silver plate, around which are ranged the nobles in their striking national costumes. The Brandenburg officers are arrayed in gold-laced uniforms, and between them sit the beautiful Polish ladies, richly adorned with flowers and sparkling gems, themselves the fairest flowers and their eyes the most brilliant gems. Between the King and Queen sits the young Elector, opposite him the two Princesses.
Oh, King's daughter, shield your heart. He talks with you, indeed, and
smiles upon you, and sweet words flutter like butterflies across!
Butterflies take speedy flight, sweet words are scattered to the wind!
Nothing remains of them but a painful memory! If it should be so with you,
King's daughter!
The Elector is no longer the humble vassal with serious face and melancholy mien; he is the young ruler, the hero of the future. His eyes glisten, his lips smile, witticisms drop from his mouth, his countenance beams with merriment and youthful joy. Not merely are the ladies delighted with him, but the men also, and the royal pair are glad of heart, for well pleased are they to present such a husband to their amiable daughter.
Not until late at night is the fête concluded, and when the Elector goes home to the Brandenburg Palace, all the nobility attend him with torches in their hands—a long procession of five thousand torches! Like a golden flood it streams through the streets of Warsaw, flashes in at all the windows, and inscribes on every wall in shining characters, "The Elector of Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia, has given the oath of vassalage to the King of Poland!"
The fête is over, but the next morning ushers in new festivities! To-day the Elector gives a splendid entertainment to the royal family and the chief nobility. At table the Queen sits on his right hand, on his left Princess Hildegarde, the King's daughter.
The Elector is cheerful and unembarrassed in manner; she is thoughtful, reserved, and silent. She is wont to be so lively and talkative in her girlish innocence. The Elector, however, knows not that her manner is changed. His heart is a stranger to her, and his glances say no more to her than to all other pretty women! In the evening he dances with her at the Queen's ball—that is to say, the Elector dances with the King's daughter, but not the young man with the beautiful young girl.
Will he not propose? The Queen hints at the great honor which they destine for him; the King says tenderly to him that he would esteem himself happy, if he could call so noble a young Prince his son. But the Elector understands neither the Queen nor the King, he is silent and does not propose. He is so modest and diffident—perhaps he dare not. They must wait awhile. If he has not declared himself on the last day of his visit, they must take the initiative and woo him, since he will not woo.
On this last day it is the Princesses who give a ball to the Elector—a splendid masquerade, for which they have been preparing three months, arranging costumes and practicing dances. A half mask is to-day well chosen for the Princess Hildegarde, for it conceals her agitated features, her anxious countenance. She knows that to-day her fate is to be decided! She knows that at the close of this fête she is to be betrothed to the Elector of Brandenburg.
Yes, since he will not woo, he must be wooed! The King's daughter, the Emperor's grandchild, is exalted so high over the little Elector, the powerless duke, that he actually can not venture to sue for her hand, but must have his good fortune announced to him.
Count Gerhard von Dönhof is selected by the King to execute this delicate commission, and doubts not that his proposition will be auspiciously received.
He requests of the Elector an interview in the little Chinese pavilion near the conservatory, and with smiling, free, and cordial manner tells him how much the Queen and King love him.
"And I reciprocate their feelings with all my heart," answers the Elector. "These delightful days, like brilliant stars, will ever live in my remembrance. Tell their Majesties so."
"Your highness should carry home with you a lasting memento of these days," whispered the courtier.
"What mean you, Count Dönhof?"
"I believe that if you were to ask the hand of Princess Hildegarde, their Majesties would cheerfully grant you their consent and bestow upon you a royal bride."
Gravely the Elector shook his head. "No," he said solemnly—"no, Count Dönhof, so long as I can not govern my land in peace, I dare seek no other bride than my own good sword." [54]
And smilingly, as if he had heard nothing, as if nothing uncommon had happened, the Elector returns to the conservatory.
The Princess Hildegarde also smiles, looks cheerful and happy, and dances with all the cavaliers. But not with the Elector! He does not approach her again.
She seems not to perceive this, and maintains her cheerfulness, even when at last he approaches the Princesses to take leave of them.
"Farewell, Sir Elector! May you have a prosperous journey home and be happy!" So say her lips. What says her heart?
That nobody knows. The Princess has a tender but proud heart! Only at night was heard a low sobbing and wailing in the Princess's chamber. When morning broke though it was hushed. That is the deepest grief which must shun the light of day, and only find vent and expression in the curtained darkness of night.
Poor Hildegarde! Poor King's daughter! Scorned! The Emperor's grandchild scorned by the little Elector of Brandenburg!
He has returned home; he has shaken from his feet the dust of that humbling pilgrimage. The States of the duchy of Prussia had long delayed swearing allegiance to the Elector, feeling that they had been aggrieved as to their rights and privileges. Now at last all difficulties had been adjusted and the deputies of Prussia were ready to do homage to their Duke. Upon an open tribune before the palace stood the Elector, with bared head and radiant countenance, and in front of him at the foot of the throne the deputies from his duchy. They swore faithfulness and devotion, and, as in Warsaw, so in Königsberg the bells rang, and trumpets and drums sent forth triumphant sounds. The roar of cannon announced to Königsberg and all Prussia that to-day the Duke and his States were joined in a compact of concord, love, and unity!
"Leuchtmar," said the Elector, inclining toward the friend whom he had summoned from Sweden, on purpose to be present at this festivity—"Leuchtmar, in this hour the first germ of my future has put forth buds!"
"And a great forest will grow therefrom, a forest of myrtle and laurel, your highness!"
"Leave the myrtle to grow and bloom, Leuchtmar. I care not for that! But I want a rapid growth of laurel! I long for action; and one thing I will tell you, friend: to-day marks a new era of my life. Until now I have been forced to bear and temporize, to bow my head, and patiently accommodate myself to the arrogance and caprices of others. I was so small and all about me so great. I was nothing, they were everything! I must become a diplomatist in order to gain even ground enough on which to stand."
"And now you have gained ground. One title, at least, you have substantiated, and may now claim to be veritably Duke of Prussia. You have now won your position; and my Elector never recedes—he always moves forward!"
"Yes, from this day he moves forward!" cried the Elector, with enthusiasm. "Forward in the path of glory and renown! Hear you the ringing of bells and thundering of cannon! God bless Prussia, my Prussia of the future—my great, strong, mighty Prussia, as I feel she will become. To her I dedicate my life. Not in pride and vain ambition, but in genuine humility and devotion to my duty and my calling. I will have nothing for myself, all for my people, for the honor of my God and the good of my country! In the discharge of my princely functions I shall be ever mindful that I guard not my own, but my people's interests. And this thought will give me strength and joy! This be the device of my whole future: Pro deo et populo!—For God and the people!"
"God save our Duke!" cried and shouted the people, as the Elector now descended the steps of the throne in order to return to the palace. "Blessings on our Duke!" cried also the representatives and deputies from the Prussian towns and provinces.
The Elector bowed to right and left, smilingly acknowledging their salutations. His heart swelled with joy and love as he saw all these glad, happy faces, the faces of his own people; and in the recesses of his soul he repeated his oath, to devote his whole life and being to his country—"Pro deo et populo!—For God and the people!"