Thus Frederick William concluded peace, losing his most important territories, and having his ten millions of subjects reduced to five millions. The genius of Prussia, Queen Louisa, veiled her head and wept!
BOOK IV.
[CHAPTER XXXI.]
BARON VON STEIN.
Profound sadness reigned for several weeks at the house of Baron Charles von Stein. Tears were in the eyes of his children, and whenever their mother came from her husband's room and joined them for a moment, they seemed in her only to seek comfort and hope. But the anxious face of the baroness became more sorrowful, and the family physician, who visited the house several times a day, was more taciturn and grave. Baron von Stein was ill, and his disease was one of those which baffle the skill of the physician, because their seat is to be sought less in the body than in the mind. Prussia's misfortunes had prostrated Stein. Sick at heart, and utterly broken down, at the commencement of 1807, after the violent scene with King Frederick William, he left Königsberg, and travelled slowly toward Nassau. There he met his family, and ever since lived in retirement. Never in his grief had he uttered a complaint, or manifested any loss of temper, but his face had become paler, his gait slower, and indicative of increasing weakness and exhaustion. He yielded at last to the tears of his wife, and the repeated remonstrances of his physician, to submit to medical treatment.
But medicine did not restore him; his strength decreased, and the fever wrecking his body grew more violent. The disease had recently, however, assumed a definite character; the news of the disaster of Friedland, and of the humiliating treaty of Tilsit, had violently shaken his constitution, and the physician was now able to discern the true character of the malady and give it a name. It was the tertian fever which alternately reddened and paled the baron's cheeks, at times paralyzing his clear, powerful mind, or moving his lips to utter unmeaning words, the signs of his delirium.
Baron von Stein had just undergone another attack of his dangerous disease. All night long his devoted wife had watched at his bedside, and listened despondingly to his groans, his fantastic expressions, his laughter and lamentations. In the morning the sufferer had grown calmer; consciousness had returned, and his eyes sparkled again with intelligence. The fever had left him, but he was utterly prostrated. The physician had just paid him a visit, and examined his condition in silence. "Dear doctor," whispered the baroness, as he was departing, "you find my husband very ill, I suppose? Oh, I read it in your face; I perceive from your emotion that you have not much hope of his recovery!" And the tears she knew how to conceal in the sick-room fell without restraint.
"He is very ill," said the physician, thoughtfully, "but I do not believe his case to be entirely hopeless; for an unforeseen circumstance may come to our assistance and give his mind some energy, when it will favorably influence the body. If the body alone were suffering, science would suggest ways and means to cure a disease which, in itself, is easily overcome. The tertain fever belongs neither to the dangerous acute diseases nor to any graver class. But, in this case, it is only the external eruption of a disease seated in the patient's mind."