Chapter VI. - IN RHEINSBERG.

The quiet castle of Rheinsberg was again alive with noise. Its halls resounded with music and laughter; gay and happy faces were everywhere to be seen; bright jests to be heard on every side. The charming days of the past, when Frederick was prince royal, seemed to have returned; the same company now filled the castle; the same sports and amusements were enjoyed. All was the same, yet still, every thing was changed, transformed. Almost all of those who had left Rheinsberg with such proud hopes, such great desires, were again there, but with annihilated hopes. They had all expected to reign; they had claimed for themselves honor and power, but the young king had allowed to none the privilege of mounting the throne by his side. They were all welcome companions, loved friends. But none dared overstep the boundary of dependence and submission which he had drawn around them, and in the centre of which he stood alone, trusting to his own strength and will. They had gained nothing from the crown which rested upon Frederick's noble head; but they had lost nothing. They returned to Rheinsberg not exalted, though not humbled.

But one heart was broken, one heart was bleeding from unseen pain. It was the heart of Elizabeth, the heart of that poor rejected woman who was called the reigning queen, the wife of Frederick.

The king, on returning from his excursion to Strasburg, had reminded her of her promise to follow him with her court to Rheinsberg. And the poor sufferer, though she knew that the presence of the king would be for her a continual torment, an hourly renunciation, could not find strength to resist the desire of her own heart. She had followed her husband, saying to herself with a painful smile: „I will at least see him, and if he does not speak to me I will still hear his voice. My sufferings will be greater, but I shall be near him. The joy will help me to bear the pain. Soffri e taci!“ Elizabeth Christine was right; the king never spoke to her, never fixed those brilliant blue eyes, which possessed for her the depth and immensity of the skies, upon her pale countenance. With a silent bow he welcomed her daily at their meals, but he did not now lead her to the table and sit beside her. The presence of the Margrave and Margravine of Baireuth seemed to impose upon him the duty of honoring his favorite sister, who was his guest more than his wife the queen. He sat, therefore, between his sister and her husband the count, at whose side the queen was placed. He did not speak to her but she saw him, and strengthened her heart by the sight of his proud and noble countenance.

She suffered and was silent. She veiled her pain by a soft smile, she concealed the paleness of her cheek with artificial bloom, she covered the furrows that care already showed in her lovely and youthful face, with black, beauty-spots which were then the fashion. No one should think that she suffered. No one should pity her, not even the king. Elizabeth Christine joined in all the pleasures and amusements at Rheinsberg. She laughed at Bielfeld's jests, at Pollnitz's bright anecdotes; she listened with beaming eyes to Knobelsdorf's plans for beautifying the king's residence; she took part in the preparations for a drama that was to be performed. Voltaire's „Death of Caesar,“ and „The Frenchman in London,“ by Boissy, had been chosen by the king to be played at Rheinsberg, and in each piece she played a prominent role. The young queen, as it seemed, had become an enthusiastic admirer of the theatre; she was never missing at any of the rehearsals, and aided her beautiful maids of honor in the arrangements of their costumes.

The king was now seldom to be seen in the circle of his friends and companions, and the tones of his flute were rarely to be heard. He passed the day in his library, no one dared disturb him, not even Guentz. Madame von Brandt, who had accompanied the court to Rheinsberg, said, in one of her secret meetings with Count Manteuffel: „The king is unfaithful to his last sweetheart, he has abandoned and rejected his flute.“

„But with what does the king occupy himself the entire day?“ asked the count. „What is it that takes him from his friends and fills up all his time?“

„Nothing but scientific studies,“ said Madame von Brandt, shrugging her shoulders. „Fredersdorf told me that he busies himself with maps and plans, is surrounded by his military books, and is occupied like an engineer with astrolabes and land surveyors. You now see that these are very innocent occupations, and that they can have no influence upon our affairs. The king, I promise you, will never be more divorced from his wife than he now is; and concerning the marriage of Prince Augustus William, my plans are so skilfully laid that there is no danger of failure, and poor Laura von Pannewitz will surely be sacrificed. All is well, and we have nothing to fear from the king's innocent studies.“

„Ah, you call these innocent studies?“ said the count; „I assure you that these studies will greatly disturb the Austrian court, and I must at once notify my friend Seckendorf of them.“

„You are making a mountain of a mole hill,“ said Madame von Brandt, laughing. „I assure you, you have nothing to fear. It is true the king passes the day in his study, but he passes his evenings with us, and he is then as gay, as unconstrained, as full of wit and humor as ever. Perhaps he makes use of the solitude of his study to learn his role, for to-morrow, you know, we act the 'Death of Caesar,' and the king is 'Brutus.'„

„Yes, yes,“ said Count Manteuffel, thoughtfully, „it strikes me the king is playing the part of Brutus; to the eye he seems harmless and gay, but who knows what dark thoughts pregnant with mischief are hid in his soul?“

„You are always seeing ghosts,“ said Madame von Brandt, impatiently. „But hear! the court clock is striking six; it is high time for me to return to the castle, for at seven the last rehearsal commences, and I have still to dress.“ And Madame von Brandt hastily took leave of her ally, and ran gayly to the castle.

But she had no need to dress for the rehearsal. The king was not able to act; the strong will was to-day conquered by an enemy who stands in awe of no one, not even of a king--an enemy who can vanquish the most victorious commander. Frederick was ill of a fever, which had tormented him the whole summer, which had kept him from visiting Amsterdam, and which confined him to his bed in the castle of Moyland, while Orttaire was paying his long expected visit, had again taken a powerful hold upon him and made of the king a pale, trembling man, who lay shivering and groaning upon his bed, scoffing at Ellart, his physician, because he could not cure him.

„There is a remedy,“ said Ellart, „but I dare not give it to your majesty.“

„And why not?“ said the king.

„Because its strength must first be tested, to see if it can be used without danger; it must first be tried by a patient upon whose life the happiness of millions does not depend.“

„A human life is always sacred, and if not certain of your remedy, it is as vicious to give it to a beggar as to a king.“

„I believe,“ said Ellart, „as entirely in this remedy as Louis the Fourteenth, who bought it secretly from Talbot, the Englishman, and paid him a hundred Napoleons for a pound. The wife of the King of Spain was cured by it.“

„Give me this remedy,“ said the king, with chattering teeth.

„Pardon me, your majesty, but I dare not, though I have a small quantity with me which was sent by a friend from Paris, and which I brought to show you as a great curiosity. This tiny brown powder is a medicine which was not distilled by the apothecary, but by Nature.“

„Then I have confidence in it,“ said the king; „Nature is the best physician, the best apothecary, and what she brews is full of divine healing power. How is this remedy called?“

„It is the Peruvian bark, or quinine, the bark above all barks which, by a divine Providence, grows in Peru, the land of fevers.“

But the king had not the strength to listen to him. He now lay burning with fever; a dark purple covered his cheek, and his eyes, which, but a few moments before, were dull and lustreless, now sparkled with fire. The king, overpowered by the disease, closed his eyes, and occasionally unconnected, senseless words escaped his dry, burning lips.

Fredersdorf now entered, and through the open door the anxious, inquiring faces of Pollnitz, Bielfeld, Jordan, and Kaiserling could be seen.

On tip-toe Ellart approached the private chamberlain.

„How is the king?“ said he, hastily. „Is he in a condition to hear some important news?“

„Not now. Wait an hour; he will then be free from fever.“

„We will wait,“ said Fredersdorf to the four courtiers who had entered the room, and were now standing around the royal bed.

„Is it bad news? If so, I advise you to wait until tomorrow.“

„Well, I do not believe the king will think it bad,“ said Kaiserling, laughing.

„And I am convinced the king will be well pleased with our news,“ said Bielfeld. „I think so, because the king is a sleeping hero waiting to be roused.“

„If you speak so loud,“ whispered Pollnitz, „it will be you who will wake this hero, and the thunder of his anger will fall upon you.“

„Pollnitz is right,“ said Jordan; „be quiet, and let us await his majesty's waking.“ And the group stood in silence around the couch, with eyes fixed upon the king. He at last awoke, and a smile played upon his lip as he perceived the six cavaliers.

„You stand there like mourners,“ said he; „and to look at you one would think you were undertakers!“

„Ah, sire, fever does not kill like apoplexy,“ said Jordan, approaching his friend and pressing his hand tenderly.

„Your majesty called us undertakers,“ said Pollnitz, laughing. „As usual, the divine prophetic mind of our king is in the right. There is certainly a funeral odor about us.“

„But God forbid that we should mourn,“ said Bielfeld, „we are much better prepared to sound the battlesong.“

All this passed while the physician was feeling the king's pulse, and Fredersdorf was tenderly arranging his pillows. The king looked at him inquiringly. „Listen, Fredersdorf,“ said he, „what meaning have all these mysterious words and looks; why are you all so grave? Is one of my dogs dead? or are you only peevish because this abominable fever has cheated you of the rehearsal?“

„No, your majesty. The dogs are in excellent health.“

„The king's pulse is perfectly quiet,“ said Ellart, „you can communicate your news to him.“ Baron Pollnitz approached the king's couch.

„Sire, one hour ago a courier arrived who was the bearer of important information.“

„Whence came he?“ said the king, calmly.

„From your majesty's ambassador in Vienna, Count Borche.“

„Ah!“ said the king, „is the empress, our noble aunt, suffering?“

„The empress is perfectly well, but her husband, the emperor--“

„Well, why do you not continue?“ said the king, impatiently.

„Would your majesty not wish some restorative first?“ said Fredersdorf; but the king pushed him angrily away.

„I wish your phrase, Pollnitz. What of the Emperor of Austria?“

„Sire, Emperor Charles the Sixth is no more, he died the twentieth of October.“

„Truly,“ said Frederick, leaning back, „it was worth the trouble to make so much to do about such insignificant news. If the emperor is dead, Maria Theresa will be Empress of Germany, that is all. It does not concern us.“ He stopped and closed his eyes.

The physician again felt his pulse. „It is perfectly quiet,“ said he; „this prodigious news has not occasioned the slightest commotion or irregularity.“

„You are right,“ said the king, looking up. „Neither is the death of the Emperor Charles to make the slightest change in our plans, but to execute them I must be perfectly well. It must not be said that a miserable fever changed my intentions and condemned me to idleness; I must have no fever on the day the news of the emperor's death arrives, or the good people of Vienna will believe that I was made ill with fright. Give me that powder, Ellart, I will take it.“

„But I told your majesty that I cannot, dare not give it to you, for I have not tried its effect yet.“

„Then try it on me,“ said the king, positively. „Give me the powder.“

It was in vain that Ellart called upon the cavaliers to support his opinion; in vain that they begged and implored the king not to take the powder, not to put his life in danger.

„My life is in God's hands,“ said the king, earnestly; „and God, who created me, created also this bark. I trust more in God's medicine than in that of man. Quick, give me the powder!“ And as Ellart still hesitated, he continued in a stern voice: „I command you, as your king and master, to give it to me. On my head rests the responsibility.“

„If your majesty commands I must obey, but I take these gentlemen to witness that I but do it on compulsion.“

And amid the breathless silence of the room, the king took the medicine.

„Now your majesty must rest,“ said Ellart; „you must, by no means, return to Berlin; by my holy right of physician, I forbid it.“

„And why should I return to Berlin?“ said the king, laughingly. „Why should our harmless pleasure and amusements be given up? Are we not to act Voltaire's 'Death of Caesar?' No, I will not return to Berlin. A trifle such as the emperor's death should not create such great disturbances. We will remain here and renew our former happy days, and forget that we have any duty but our enjoyment. Now, gentlemen, leave me, I am well. You see, Ellart, I did well to take that medicine; I will dress. Fredersdorf, remain here. Jordan, send me Secretary Eichel. I must dictate a few necessary letters, and then, gentlemen, we will meet in the music room, where I am to play a duet with Quantz. I invite you as audience.“

The king dismissed his friends with a gracious smile, jested gayly with Fredersdorf, and then dictated three letters to his secretary. One was to Marshal von Schwerin, the other to the Prince of Anhalt Dessau, and the third to Ambassador Podrilse. The three held the same words, the same command, telling them to come immediately to Rheinsberg. He then entered the music room, and never was Frederick so gay, so witty, and unconstrained; never did he play on his flute more beautifully than on the day he heard of the death of the Emperor of Germany. The following morning the three gentlemen arrived from Berlin and were at once admitted into the king's library. Frederick met them with a proud, happy smile; his eye beamed with an unusual light; his forehead was smooth and free from care; he seemed inspired.

„The Emperor of Germany is dead,“ said he, after the gentlemen were seated. „The emperor is dead, and I have sent for you to see what benefit we can derive from his death!“

„Oh, your majesty would not think of benefiting by a death which throws a royal house, nearly connected with you, into deep sorrow, and robs the reigning queen of Prussia of an uncle!“ cried the old Prince of Dessau, solemnly.

„Oh, it is well known that you are an imperialist,“ said the king, laughing.

„No, your majesty, but a difficulty with Austria would be a great misfortune for us.“

Frederick shrugged his shoulders, and turned to the other two.

„I also wish for your opinion, gentlemen,“ said he; „you are all men of experience, soldiers, and statesmen, and you must not refuse to advise one of my youth and inexperience.“

With a quiet smile he listened to their wise, peaceful propositions.

„You then doubt my right to Silesia?“ said he, after a pause. „You do not think I am justified in demanding this Silesia, which was dishonestly torn from my ancestors by the Hapsburger?“

„But your ancestors still kept the peace,“ said the Prince of Dessau; „they left Silesia in the undisturbed possession of the Austrians.“

„Yes,“ said the king, in a firm voice,--“and when my ancestors, outwitted by the cunning intrigues of the Austrian court, accommodated themselves to this necessity,--when for rendered services they were rewarded with base ingratitude, with idle, unmeaning promises, then they called upon their descendants to revenge such injustice, such insults to their honor and rights. Frederick William, the great Elector, cried prophetically when the Austrian house deserted him and denied her sworn promises--'A revenger will rise from my ashes;' and my father, when he had witnessed to the full the ingratitude of the Austrian court, felt that there could be no peace between the houses of Austria and Brandenburg, and he intrusted to me the holy mission of punishing and humiliating this proud, conceited court; he pointed me out to his ministers, and said: 'There stands one who will revenge me!' You see that my ancestors call me, my grandfather and father chose me for their champion and revenger; they call upon me to perform that which they, prevented by circumstances, could not accomplish; the hour which my ancestors designated has arrived--the hour of retribution! The time has come when the old political system must undergo an entire change. The stone has broken loose which is to roll upon Nebuchadnezzar's image and crush it. It is time to open the eyes of the Austrians, and to show them that the little Marquis of Brandenburg, whose duty they said it was to hand the emperor after meals the napkin and finger-bowl, has become a king, who will not be humbled by the Austrians, and who acknowledges none but God as his master. Will you help me; will you stand by me in this work with your experience and your advice?“

„We will!“ cried the three, with animation, borne away by the king's noble ardor. „Our life, our blood, belong to our king, our country.“

Frederick laughingly shook hands with them. „I counted upon you,“ said he, „nor will Zithen and Vinterfeldt fail us; we will not go to battle hastily and unprepared. All was foreseen, all prepared, and we have now but to put in execution the plans that have for some time been agitating my brain. Here is the map for our campaign; here are the routes and the plan of attack. We shall at last stand before these Austrians in battle array; and as they dared say of my father, that his gun was ever cocked but the trigger never pulled, we will show them that we are ready to discharge, and thrust down the double eagle from its proud pinnacle. The combat is determined and unalterable; let us be silent and prudent, no one must discover our plans; we will surprise the Austrians. And now, gentlemen, examine these plans, and tell me if there are any changes to be made in them.“