Frederick the Great and His Court Part 24

The queen, with the a.s.sistance of her astonished maids, attires herself for the first time in one of the charming negligees recently sent by the Empress of Austria; for the first time she dons her prettily-worked and coquettish little cap, and encloses her tiny feet in gold-embroidered white satin slippers. This neglige? is really charming, and the queen's waiting-maids a.s.sure her that she never looked better, and was never more becomingly attired. But the queen desires to a.s.sure herself of this fact, and stepping forward to the mirror, she examines her dress with the careful eye of a connoisseur; then bending down, she regards her face attentively, and an expression of satisfaction flits over her features. Elizabeth sees that she is young and pretty, and for the first time rejoices in her beauty. The maids regarded with astonishment these unusual preparations. Why was Elizabeth now so much rejoiced at the beauty of which she had never before seemed conscious?

The toilet is at an end; the queen seats herself on the light blue sofa, and dismisses her maids with a mute gesture. But when the first maid approaches the door, and as usual drew the key from the lock in order to secure it from the outside, Elizabeth awakes from her dreamy state and arises from her reclining position; a glowing color suffuses her cheek, and a happy smile plays around her lips.

"Do not lock the door to-day," said she, with emotion; "I await the king."

As if astonished at her new happiness, she sinks back on the cus.h.i.+ons, and covers her glowing face with her handkerchief, as if to shut out the dazzling light. The waiting-maids courtesy respectfully, and leave the room. In the ante-chamber this respectful expression vanishes from their features, and they turn to each other with mocking and derisive laughter.

"Poor queen! she wishes to make us believe that the king, while he altogether neglects her in public, sometimes pays her a secret visit.

She wishes to make us believe that she is really the wife of the handsome young king; and we all know--yes, we all know--"

And all three shrugged their shoulders derisively, and hurried off to their a.s.sociates, to gossip with them about the poor, despised, neglected queen.

But what was that? Did they not hear a carriage driving into the inner court, and the guard presenting arms amid the rolling of drums? Could it be as the queen had said? was the king really coming to his wife?

The waiting-maids stood and listened; they heard steps on the grand staircase. Yes, it was the king, who, preceded by his pages, carrying silver candelabras with wax candles, walked hastily down the corridor to his chambers, and from thence to those of the queen.

What the queen had said was therefore true. He did not despise her; perhaps he loved her! The astonished waiting-maids hurried off to inform their friends that the king loved his wife pa.s.sionately, and the royal pair was the happiest couple on earth. Elizabeth Christine also heard the equipages drive in to the court. With a cry of delight she sprang from her seat and listened. A fervent glow of happiness shot through her veins. She pressed her hands to her heart to still its rapid beating; her countenance was illumined with joy. But these feelings were so novel they almost terrified her, and filled her heart with tremulous anxiety.

"My G.o.d," murmured she, "give me strength to bear this happiness, as I have borne misery!"

But her prayer died on her lips, for she heard the door of the corridor open. She was no longer the queen, no longer the resigned and timid wife; she was now the happy and joyful woman hurrying to meet the husband of her love. And with uplifted head and proud satisfaction she might now confess without shame that she loved him; for he loved her also. He had requested a rendezvous, and was coming as a lover-her first love meeting. She will not be shy and silent to-day, now that she knows he loves her; her tongue will no longer be chained; she will have courage to confess all, to tell him how ardently she loves him, and how long and vainly she has struggled with her heart; how the flames had ever broken out anew; how his glances had ever renewed the ardor of her love.

There--he knocked at the door--she could scarcely breathe; she could scarcely bid him enter; she could not move, and stood transfixed in the middle of the room; she could only stretch out her arms longingly, and welcome him with her smiles and tearful glances.

The door opened; now he entered. The light of the wax candles fell on his face. It was handsome as ever, but his eye was cold, and his lips uttered no loving greeting. He walked forward a few steps, stood still, and bowed in a stiff and formal manner. A chill of horror crept over Elizabeth; her arms sank down, and the smile vanished from her pallid face.

"Madame," said the king, and his voice sounded harsher and colder than she had ever before heard it--"madame, I must first beg your pardon for having disturbed you at so unseemly a time, and for having robbed you of an hour's sleep. But you see that I am a repentant sinner, and you will forgive me when I a.s.sure you that, as this is my first, it shall also be my last violation of your retirement!"

The queen uttered a low cry, and pressed her hand to her heart. She felt as if a sword had pierced her breast, as if she were dying.

The king raised his large blue eyes with a surprised look to the pale, trembling face of his wife.

"You are pale, you are ill," said he, "and my presence is undoubtedly annoying; I will retire and send your waiting-maids to your a.s.sistance."

While he was speaking the queen prayed to G.o.d for courage and strength; she called her womanly pride to her a.s.sistance, and struggled against her tears and her despair. The king, who in vain had waited for an answer, now hastily approached the door, murmuring a few impatient words.

But Elizabeth's courage had now returned, she had conquered her heart.

"Remain, sire," she said; "I beg you to remain; I feel well again. It was only a pa.s.sing spasm from which I often suffer, and for which I crave your indulgence."

"If I may then remain," said the king, smiling, "permit me to conduct you to a seat."

She accepted the king's proffered arm and followed him to the sofa on which she had awaited him with such blissful antic.i.p.ations, and on which he was now about to put her heart to the torture.

The king did not seat himself by her side, but rolling an arm-chair forward, seated himself at some distance in front of her.

"Madame," said he, "is it credible that we two have been married for seven long years, and still have never been as man and wife to each other? Our lips were forced to p.r.o.nounce vows of which our hearts knew nothing. Having been forced into this marriage, you must have hated me.

You can never have forgiven me for having led you to the altar. At the foot of the altar we did not vow eternal love to each other, but eternal coldness and indifference; and to this hour, madame, you, at least, have faithfully kept this vow."

The queen sank back, murmuring a few incomprehensible words, and her head fell wearily upon her breast.

The king continued: "I come to-day to solicit your forgiveness for the involuntary injustice which I committed. I have made you unhappy, for you were forced to give your hand to an unloved man, of whom you knew that he loved you not. Madame, it is unfortunately true, an abyss lies between us, and this abyss is filled with the blood of the dearest friend of my youth. Oh, madame, forgive me this wrong, for the sake of what I have suffered! I then had a soft and tender heart, but it was trodden under foot, and has become hardened. I placed full confidence in the world, and it has deceived me terribly. I have suffered more than the poorest beggar; I was forced to regard my own father as a cruel enemy, who watched me unceasingly, awaiting a favorable moment to give me a death-blow. It was necessary that I should be continually on my guard, for the smallest fault, the slightest thoughtlessness, a trifle, a mere nothing, was sufficient to condemn me. Oh, if you knew with what vermin I have been publicly calumniated and accused! After doing their utmost to make me odious to the world, and fearing they might perhaps still fail, they resorted to another expedient to compa.s.s my ruin, and endeavored to kill me with their ridicule. Soffri e taci, this Italian proverb was then the motto of my life. And believe me, it is hard to obey this seemingly so dry maxim; it has a grand significance."[12]

[12] The king's own words. See Oeuvres, etc., tom. xvi., p. 161.

The king, oppressed as it were by these reminiscences, leaned back in his chair and breathed heavily. With downcast eyes and in silence the queen still sat before him, charmed by the music of his words, which found an echo in her heart like the dying wail of her youth.

"I do not tell you this," continued the king, after a pause, "in order to play the role of a martyr in your sight, but because I wish you to understand by what means my spirit was at last broken, and my will made subservient to that of my father. I purchased my freedom, madam, by chaining you to myself. But in doing this, I vowed you should no longer be bound when it should be in my power to release you. This moment has come, and true to my vow, I am here. I know that you do not, cannot love me, madame. The question arises, is your aversion to me so great that you insist on a separation?"

The queen raised her head and looked wonderingly into the mild and sorrowful countenance of her husband. She could no longer restrain the cry which trembled on her lips, no longer stem the tide of tears which gushed in torrents from her eyes.

"My G.o.d! my G.o.d!" she exclaimed, with a plaintive wail, "he asks me if I hate him!"

There was something in the tone of her voice, in this despairing cry of her soul, which ought to have betrayed the long-hidden secret of her love to the king. But perhaps he knew it already, and did not wish to understand. Perhaps, in the n.o.bility and native delicacy of his soul, he wished to represent the indifference and coldness which he experienced for his wife, as coming from herself. However, the king did not seem to notice her tears.

"No, madame," said he, "I did not ask if you hated me, for I well know that your n.o.ble and womanly heart is not capable of this pa.s.sion. I merely asked if your aversion to me was so great that it demanded a separation. I pray you to give me a short and decisive answer."

But Elizabeth Christine had lost the power of speech; tears rained down her cheeks, and she could only give a mute a.s.sent.

"You are, then, willing to be my wife before the world?" asked the king. "You are willing to remain Queen of Prussia, and nominally the wife of the king? You do not demand that my reign shall be inaugurated with the exposure of our domestic misfortunes, and that your chaste and virtuous name shall be branded about with mine before the calumniating world?"

"No," said the queen, with feverish haste, for she feared her strength might fail her. "No, I do not demand it; I desire no separation!"

"I thank you for this word," said the king, gravely. "It is worthy of a queen. You then feel with me that we princes have not even the right to cast off the burden which weighs us down, but must bear it patiently if it serve to secure the stability of our throne. Enviable are those who dare complain of their sufferings, and show their scars. But it becomes us to wrap ourselves in silence, and not to show to the miserable, pitiful, and drivelling world, which envies and abuses, even while applauding us, that a king can also suffer. I thank you, madame, and from this hour you will find in me a true friend, a well-meaning brother, ever ready to serve you. Give me your hand to this contract, which shall be more lasting and holier than that blessed by priests, to which our hearts did not say amen."

In his proffered hand Elizabeth laid her own slowly and solemnly. But when he clasped it in his own with a firm pressure, Elizabeth started and a cry escaped her lips. She hastily withdrew her hand, and sinking back on the sofa, burst into tears. Frederick allowed her tears to flow, regarding her with a look of deep sympathy.

"You weep, madame," said he, after a long and painful pause. "I honor your tears; you weep for your lost youth; you weep because you are a queen, and because reason has conquered your heart and forbids you to make yourself free as any other woman except a princess might do. Weep on, madame, I cannot dry your tears, for like yourself I have been cheated of my happiness; like yourself I am well aware of the sacrifice which we are both making to our royal standing. Ah, madame, if we were only private individuals, if we were not the rulers of Prussia, but her subjects, we might now be happy. Feeling our own unhappiness, and desiring to save our subjects from a like misfortune, I have made a divorce more easily attainable."

Elizabeth arose from her reclining position and regarded the king with a mournful smile.

"I thank your majesty," said she. "It is n.o.ble in you to alleviate that misfortune for others, which you have determined to endure."

"Ah, madame," exclaimed the king, smiling, "you forget that I have in you a n.o.ble friend and sister at my side, who will help me to bear this evil. And then we are not altogether unhappy; if we do not love, neither do we hate each other. We are brother and sister, not by blood, but united by the word of the priest. But never fear, madame, I will regard you only as a sister, and I promise you never to violate the respect due to your virtue!"

"I believe you," murmured the queen, blus.h.i.+ng, and inwardly ashamed of the charming and coquettish negligee in which she had received the king.

"Before the world we are still married, but I promise that this chain shall gall you as little as possible. In your private life you will only be reminded that you are still my wife, when it is absolutely unavoidable. At the coronation I must request your presence at my side.

When this is over you will be as free and independent as circ.u.mstances will admit. You will have a court of your own, a summer and a winter residence, in which I shall never intrude."

"I shall then never see you again!" said the queen, in the sad voice of resignation, which is often produced by an excess of pain.

"Oh, I pray you, madame, to permit me to meet you at times when etiquette demands it; but I shall take care that these meetings take place on official and neutral ground, and not in our private houses. I will never enter your house without your permission, and then only on particular fete days--your birthday for instance; and I trust that you will not refuse to receive me on such occasions."

"No, I will not refuse," replied the queen, regarding her husband with a sad and reproachful look. But Frederick did not see this look, or would not see it.

"I beg," said the king, smiling, "that you will permit me to present you with the castle of Schonhausen, as a reminiscence of the hour in which you found a faithful brother, and I a n.o.ble sister. Accept this little gift as an earnest of our new bond of friends.h.i.+p. It has been fitted up and prepared as a summer residence for your use, and you can retire to it immediately after the coronation, if you are so inclined."

"I thank you," said the queen in so low a voice that her words could scarcely be distinguished. "I thank you, and I will go there on the day after the coronation;" a sigh, almost a sob, escaped her breast.