Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

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For the second time he approached the door of the bedroom, but
suddenly recoiled and stood with dilated eyes. In front of it
appeared a tall female figure, her arms spread out before the door,
as if she wished to prevent the emperor from passing out. A long
white dress covered her slender form, a black veil concealed her
bosom and her erect head; but behind the transparent tissue of the
veil was a pale, beautiful face, the eyes of which were flashing
like swords' points. Breathless with horror, he fixed his eyes
steadfastly on the apparition, that approached him now with uplifted
arms. Trembling in spite of himself, he drew back, and, putting his
hand on the back of the easy-chair, gazed searchingly at the
approaching figure.

"You dare set your foot into the house of the Hohenzollerns?" asked
the spectre in a hollow, menacing voice. "You come hither to disturb
the repose of the dead? Flee, audacious man--flee, for destruction
is pursuing you; it will seize and destroy you! Your last hour has
come! Prepare to stand before your Judge!"

"Ay, you will kill me, then, beautiful lady?" asked Napoleon,
sneeringly. "You will revenge the defeats I have inflicted on the
descendants of Burgrave Albert the Handsome, on the battle-fields of
Jena, Eylau, and Friedland? In truth, I should have thought that
beautiful Cunigunda of Orlamunde would rather welcome me as a
friend, for was it not I who avenged her on the faithless house of
Hohenzollern?"

"You try to mock me," said the spectre, "for your heart is filled
with doubt, and your soul with pride. But beware, Bonaparte--beware,
I tell you for the last time--your hour has come, and every step you
advance is a step toward your ruin. Turn back, Bonaparte, if you
intend to be saved, for ruin awaits you on the battle-fields of
Russia! Turn back, for the souls of your victims cry to God for
vengeance, and demand your blood for theirs--your punishment for the
ruthlessly destroyed happiness of whole nations! Bonaparte, escape
from the soil of Germany, and dare no longer to set foot upon it,
for disgraceful defeats are in store for you! Return to France, and
endeavor to conciliate those who are cursing you as a perjurer and
renegade!"

"Who are they who dare call me a perjurer and renegade?" asked
Napoleon, hastily.

"Who are they?" repeated the spectre, advancing a step toward the
emperor and fixing her menacing eyes upon him. "The men to whom you
once vowed eternal fidelity, and whom you called your brethren--
Philadelphians!"

The emperor started in terror, and his cheeks turned livid. His
features, which had hitherto had a sneering, scornful air, were now
gloomy, and he stared with an expression of undisguised fear at the
lady who stood before him in an imposing attitude, with her arm
lifted in a menacing manner.

"The Philadelphians?" asked Napoleon, timidly. "I do not know them."

"You do!" said the spectre, solemnly. "You do know that the
invisible ones are watching you, and will punish you because you
have broken your oath!"

"I know of no oath!"

"Woe to you if you have forgotten it. I will repeat it to you! It
was in 1789, at the forest of Fontainebleau, that you appeared at
the meeting of the brethren and requested to be initiated. The
Philadelphians admitted you into their league and received your
oath. Shall I repeat this oath to you?"

"Do so if you can!"

"You swore that never again should a freeman obey kings, and that
death to tyrants under all titles and in all governments is
justifiable."

"That was the formality of the oath of every club and secret society
at that time," exclaimed Napoleon, contemptuously.

"But the Philadelphians demanded still another written oath of you.
It read as follows: 'I consent that my life be taken if I ever
become reconciled to royalty. In order to contribute to its
eradication in Europe, I will make use of fire and sword, and, when
the society to which I belong asks me to do so, sacrifice even what
is most precious to me.' You wrote this and affixed your name to it
with your blood." [Footnote: "Le Normand" vol. ii., p. 516.]

"It is true, I did!" muttered Napoleon. "I was a fool, dreaming,
like all the others, of the possibility of a republic."

"You were a believer, and have become a renegade," exclaimed the
spectre, in a threatening voice. "The invisible ones will judge and
punish you, unless you make haste to conciliate them. You have
forgotten that you stand under the yoke of the Philadelphians. The
Emperor Napoleon believes that he has power to blot out with the
blood of subjugated nations the words of the sacred oath which
Lieutenant Bonaparte swore to the Philadelphians in the forest of
Fontainebleau."

"And I HAVE the power to do so!" exclaimed Napoleon, proudly. "I
stretch out my arm over Europe, and she bows before me."

"But the Philadelphians will break your arm, and convert your crowns
into dust, unless you make haste to conciliate them," exclaimed the
spectre. "Turn back, for it is yet time. Return to France, renounce
conquests: France wants no more wars; she is cursing the tyrant who
refuses peace to her and to Europe. There has been bloodshed enough.
Take an oath at this hour that you will renounce your ambition, and
no longer pursue a career of crime and blood! Swear that you will
return to France to-morrow!"

"Never!" ejaculated Napoleon, vehemently, and coloring with anger.

"Swear that you will return, or I will kill you!" cried the spectre.
"I will kill you as a wolf. Swear that you will return!"

"Never!"

"Ah, you will not swear--you prefer to die, then," and at a bound
she was by the Emperor's side, grasped him with iron hands, and
threw him down on the easy-chair. "You prefer to die!" she repeated
wildly, tearing the black veil from her head and showing her face
unveiled. It was livid as that of a corpse, the bloodless lips
quivering, and her red eyes flaming with rage.

"You prefer to die!" exclaimed the spectre, for the third time.
"Well, die!" And her arms encircled Napoleon's breast like iron
rings, her glance seemed to pierce his face, her lips opened and
exhibited terrible teeth, as if ready to tear his breast. The
emperor was unable to breathe; he felt his strength giving way, and,
with a last effort, he uttered a shrill cry calling for help.

"Sire, sire, awake!" cried an anxious voice by his side. Napoleon
started up, and violently pushed back the hand which touched his
arm. "Who is there?" he asked, angrily.

"Sire, it is I--Constant!" said the faithful valet de chambre. "I
heard in the antechamber your majesty's groans and cries; I rushed
in and saw you writhing on the easy-chair. A bad dream seemed to
torment your majesty, and I therefore ventured to awaken you."

"And I am glad you did, Constant," said the emperor. "Ah, my friend,
what a terrible dream it was! The White Lady was here; she threw
herself upon me like a tigress; she wanted to tear me and drink my
heart's blood."

"Your majesty had once before a similar dream," said Constant,
smiling.

"Where--where was it?" asked Napoleon, hastily, wiping the cold
sweat from his brow.

"Sire, it was at Erfurt, when the Emperor Alexander was there."
[Footnote: Constant, "Memoires," vol. iv., p. 79.]

"Yes, I remember," said the emperor, in a low voice. "It seems this
bad dream returns as soon as I approach Alexander. Does Fate intend
to warn me? Is he to be the wolf that will one day lacerate my
breast? Ah, it was an awful dream, indeed, and even now it seems to
me as really seen and heard." He glanced around the gloomy room.
Every thing was in precisely the same condition as when he had
entered it. The maps lay undisturbed on the table before him; the
colored pins stood in long rows like little armies, and opposite
each other, drawn up in line of battle. But the tapers had burned,
down, and the fire was nearly extinguished. Napoleon rose
shudderingly from his easy-chair. "I will go to rest," he said.

Constant, taking a candlestick, preceded the emperor, and opened the
door of the adjoining room. Fifteen minutes afterward Napoleon was
in bed, and Constant and Roustan had withdrawn into the antechamber.

But this sleep was not to be of long duration. A loud cry, uttered
by his master, awakened Constant, and caused him to rush into the
bedroom. The emperor had raised himself in bed. "Constant," he said,
"it was no dream this time. The White Lady was here--I saw her
distinctly--I had not fallen asleep, my eyes and all my senses were
awake. I saw the tall, white figure, her head covered with the black
veil, at the wall there, as though she had grown from the ground. At
a bound she was at my bedside, and raised her hands. I quickly
seized her and called for you. She then glided from my fingers and
disappeared. Like General d'Espagne, I say there must he a trap-door
somewhere in this room. Call Roustan, take lights, and examine the
walls and the floor."

The valet de chambre hastened to fetch Roustan: they took lights and
made a thorough examination, but in vain. The oaken planks of the
floor were firmly joined, and the dark velvet hangings glued to the
walls.

"Well, then, the White Lady has fooled me in another dream," said
the emperor. "Go! Let us sleep." The two servants withdrew.

About an hour had elapsed, when another cry, uttered by the emperor,
called Constant back into the bedroom. Seized with dismay, he halted
at the door. The bed was in the middle of the room; the table which
stood beside it was upset, and the night-lamp lay thrown on the
floor.

"I hope that no accident has befallen your majesty," said Constant,
rushing toward the emperor.

"No," said Napoleon. "But this accursed white spectre was here
again. It wanted to treat me like General d'Espagne; to upset my bed
and throttle me. I awoke just when this horrible monster of a woman
pushed the bed with the strength of a giant into the middle of the
room. I called for you, and she disappeared. As the White Lady
apparently does not like several persons to be in the room, you and
Roustan must remain here to-night."

"And, with your majesty's leave, each of us will hold a pistol in
his hand, that we may fire at the apparition if it return."

"Ah, my friend, you know little of the power of spectres," said
Napoleon, smiling. "When you have fired at them, they laugh
scornfully, throw the bullet back to you and pass on entirely
uninjured. That is their fashion. But you may take your pistols, and
if she has still a human heart in her breast, she will feel some
respect for it."

And the White Lady really seemed to have a human heart. Constant and
Roustan, who sat on the floor beside the emperor's bed with cocked
pistols, waited in vain for the return of the apparition. Every
thing remained quiet; nothing stirred in the room, where the
emperor, guarded by his faithful servants, now at last enjoyed
repose.

When he rose on the following morning, his face was even paler and
gloomier than usual. He who generally on being dressed conversed in
an affable manner with his servants, remained silent and grave that
day, and muttered only occasionally, "The accursed palace! The
miserable spectre-hole!" [Footnote: Historical.--Vide Minutoli, "The
White Lady," p. 17.]

Constant and Roustan, having finished the emperor's toilet, were
about leaving the room, when he called them back by a gesture. "You
will not mention any thing about what happened here last night!" he
said, imperiously. "If I find out that you disobey my order, I shall
be very angry. Go!" And the emperor went into the Gallery of Palms
in order to receive the reports of his suite and give the usual
audiences. With a nod and a dismal look he greeted Count Munster,
who inquired, with the fawning smile of a true courtier, whether his
majesty had passed an agreeable night.

"Your castellan, then, has not informed you of the horrible noise
last night in the palace?" asked Napoleon, angrily. "You ought to
get better nails, count, to hang up paintings, so that they do not
fall down. He who wants to hang anybody or any thing, even though it
be but a painting, ought to have at least a substantial gallows."

"Sire," faltered Count Munster, "I do not comprehend--this palace--"

"Is not even fit to be a gallows, for it drops those who have been
hung in it," exclaimed Napoleon, vehemently. "It is an accursed
place, and the air in it as sultry and oppressive as in a rat-hole.
Have the carriages brought to the door. Let us depart!" He did not
deign the count another glance, and returned into the adjoining
room, whither none but the grand marshal and his adjutants were
permitted to follow.

Fifteen minutes afterward, the emperor, with his numerous suite,
left the palace of Baireuth and set out for Plauen, where he
intended to join the Empress Maria Louisa, who had stopped there
over night, and continue with her the journey to Dresden. The
streets of Baireuth, which had presented so animated a spectacle the
day before, were at this early hour quiet and deserted; all the
windows were closed; only here and there a wondering, inquisitive
face appeared behind the panes and looked at the carriages that
rolled through the streets, and at the melancholy countenance of the
emperor, who sat in his open calash. When out of the gate, he turned
again, and cast an angry glance on the palace, whose high gray walls
were brightened by the morning sun. "An accursed old palace!" he
muttered to himself. "I shall never spend there another night."
[Footnote: Napoleon's own words.--Vide Minotoli, p. 17.] And leaning
back in a corner of the carriage he gazed in silence at the sky.

Count Munster, however, stood inside the palace of Baireuth, at the
window of the Gallery of Palms, and looked anxiously after the
emperor. The carriages disappeared at a bend in the road behind the
green willows, and the count turned to Castellan Schluter, who was
standing behind him.

"But tell me, for Heaven's sake, Schluter," exclaimed the count,
"what did the emperor refer to? What happened to him last night?"

"There happened to him what will happen to all those who dare
disquiet the White Lady of Baireuth or defy her power," said
Schluter, solemnly.

"You really believe, then, that she appeared to him?" asked the
count, in terror.

"The emperor sent for me late last night, and again this morning.
Shall I tell your excellency what it was for? The portrait of the
White Lady, which I had put yesterday into the cabinet adjoining the
audience-hall in the other wing of the palace, had walked over to
this side, and, in the room directly above the emperor, had thrown
itself down with so much violence, that the noise resounded through
the whole building."

"But that is altogether impossible," exclaimed Count Munster, in
dismay. "Why, you told me that the portrait was standing in the
other wing of the palace, and that you had carefully locked all the
doors."

"But I told your excellency also that locks and bolts are unable to
impede her progress, and that, when she intends to wander, the walls
open to her, and that all obstructions give way. The air wafted her
over to the enemy of her house, and, by the thunder of her wrath,
she awakened him from his slumber."

"And that was the reason why the emperor sent for you last night?"

"Yes, I had the honor of narrating to him the history of the White
Lady," said Schluter, laughing scornfully. "I did so, and told him
also what happened here to General d'Espagne."

"But did you not say the emperor has sent for you again this
morning?"

The castellan nodded.

"Well, what did he want again?"

"I had to describe to him the costume in which the White Lady is in
the habit of walking--her dress, her veil, her countenance--in
short, I had to tell him all about her appearance. I proposed at
last that I would have the portrait brought to him, that he might
himself look at it; but, when I did so, he cast a furious glance on
me, and said in an angry voice, 'No, no, I do not want to see it!
Let me alone with your doomed portrait!'[Footnote: Historical.--Vide
Minutoli, p. 17.] In truth, I believe the all-powerful emperor was
frightened, and the White Lady had paid him a visit. In fact, he
turned quite pale!" And Schluter burst into loud and scornful
laughter.

Count Munster shook his head gravely, and hastened to leave the
Gallery of Palms and the haunted palace.

The castellan remained there and listened until the count's
footsteps died away. He then hurried to the rooms which the emperor
had occupied. When he arrived at Napoleon's bedroom, he pushed the
bed aside, and stooped down to the floor, at which he looked with
searching eyes. "It is all right! Nothing is to be seen!" he
muttered to himself. "The White Lady will yet be able often to walk
here!" He burst into loud laughter and left the imperial apartments
to return to his own rooms, which were situated on the ground-floor.
"I will now put away my dear treasures, that no uninitiated eye may
behold them," he said, carefully locking the door. "Come, my
mysterious treasures! Come!" He drew from his bed a long white
dress, a small cloak trimmed with fur, and a long black veil,
[Footnote: These articles, belonging to the toilet of the White
Lady, were found in Schluter's trunk when he died, in 1880.--Vide
Minutoli, p. 17.] and while carefully folding up these articles,
which he locked in a trunk standing under the bed, He sang in a loud
and merry voice:

[Footnote: A comic song, sung in Germany in 1812.]
"Ein Korsl, Ihr kennt den Namen schon,
Seit vierzehn Jahr und druber,
Spricht allen Nationen Hohn,
Giebt Fursten--Nasenstuber,
Sturzt Throne wie ein Kartenhaus
Und treibt das Wesen gar zu Kraus,
Nicht Bona--Malaparte!"

[Footnote:
A Corsican--you know his name--
For more than fourteen years
Has scorned the nations, to their shame,
And pulled their princes' ears.
He plays sad tricks upon his toes,
And, marching with his guards,
He casts down kingdoms as he goes
Like houses made of cards,
A better name for him would be
Not BONA, but MALA-parte]

CHAPTER IV.

NAPOLEON AT DRESDEN.

Joy, happiness, and love, reigned at the court of the King of
Saxony, Napoleon had honored the royal house of Saxony with a visit;
he had come to Dresden to spend a few days in the family circle of
Frederick Augustus, whom he flatteringly called his "cher papa." He
had also come to embrace his father-in-law, the Emperor of Austria,
before setting out for Russia, and to shake hands with his ally the
King of Prussia; and, finally, to gather around him again his
vassals, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine, and, in the
face of Europe, to receive the homage of kings, emperors, and
princes.

Amid the ringing of bells and the light of torches, Napoleon and
Maria Louisa made their entry into Dresden. The late hour of the
night, when the imperial couple arrived, prevented the population
from greeting them with cheers. But the good people of the Saxon
capital were not to be deprived of the happiness of bidding Napoleon
welcome, and seeing his beautiful young empress. The court,
therefore, arranged a drive in open calashes on the day after; and
everywhere on the streets through which the procession passed the
people stood in vast crowds. The windows of the houses were opened,
and beautiful ladies looked out of them. The imperial and royal
carriages made but slow headway, for thousands of excited spectators
preceded them, and thousands more surrounding the carriages looked
up with inquisitive eyes to the distinguished persons who, greeting
and smiling, bowed to them on all sides. But the multitude were
silent; not a cheer resounded--not a "Vive l'empereur"--and the
praise of Napoleon, that was uttered by the lips of princes, lacked
the wonted accompaniment of popular enthusiasm.

Good-natured King Frederick Augustus felt all this as a rebuke
administered to himself, as a reflection on his hospitality, and he
looked with an expression full of uneasiness and affection at the
emperor, who was sitting beside him. But Napoleon's countenance was
as calm and cold as it always was. Not a flash of inward anger was
seen in those unfathomable eyes. He conversed quietly and almost
smilingly with his consort, the Empress Maria Louisa, and did not
even seem to notice that the people received him in silence.

"Well, he shall have a most gratifying compensation at the theatre
to-night," said Frederick Augustus to himself. "The audience will
there at least receive the great Napoleon with enthusiastic cheers;
and when, on his return, he sees all Dresden glittering in the
illumination that is to take place, he will have to admit, after
all, that my good Saxons, like their king, love and admire him."

King Frederick Augustus was not mistaken.--The vast and brilliant
audience, that in the evening assembled at the royal theatre,
received the members of the court, on their appearance, with
deafening cheers; all rose from their seats and shouted with
constantly recurring enthusiasm, "Long live Napoleon: Long live the
Emperor Francis! Long live our dear King Frederick Augustus!" The
band accompanied these cheers, the ladies waved their bouquets, and
the gentlemen their hats and handkerchiefs, and when this outburst
subsided, hundreds of eyes were fixed on the royal box, to watch
every motion of Napoleon's countenance, and admire him in the circle
of his family; for this large gathering of princes and kings were
now his family, and the son of the Corsican lawyer was its head.
There was the Emperor Francis of Austria, who had arrived but a few
hours before, to greet his beloved son-in-law, whom he had not seen
since the battle of Austerlitz. The emperor was accompanied by his
young consort, the Empress Ludovica. Every one knew that she hated
Napoleon; that her proud heart never could forgive him the
humiliations which he had inflicted on Austria, and that she had
consented only with the utmost reluctance, and with bitter tears, to
the marriage of her step-daughter, the Archduchess Maria Louisa,
with the conqueror of Austria. And yet, notwithstanding her hatred,
grief, and humiliated pride, the Empress Ludovica had likewise come
to Dresden to witness the triumph of Napoleon, to be the second lady
at this court, and the first in the suite of the Empress Maria
Louisa. There were the King and Queen of Westphalia, sister-in-law
of Napoleon and daughter of the King of Wurtemberg, who deemed
himself happy that Napoleon was a relative of his. There were,
besides, the Grand-Duke of Wurzburg, brother of the Emperor Francis,
and now uncle of Bonaparte; the Grand-Duke of Baden, Napoleon's
nephew, and the King of Saxony, the cher papa of Napoleon; and
finally, the crowd of the petty German princes of the Confederation
of the Rhine, who had eagerly hurried to Dresden in order to do
homage to their protector, and seek after new gifts of territories
and titles from the all-powerful master of Germany. But these
personages formed only part of the suite; no one paid attention to
them; they stood humbly and modestly in the background, and only the
two emperors and empresses, the Queens of Saxony and Westphalia, and
the King of Saxony, occupied front seats. The King of Saxony
conducted Napoleon to the first gilded easy-chair on the right side;
to him belonged the seat of honor here as everywhere. He was first
in the line of emperors and kings. By his side sat Maria Louisa,
sparkling with diamonds, which covered her head, neck, arms, and the
golden belt around her slender waist. Her countenance was joyful,
and never had she feasted her eyes on her husband with more heart-
felt pride than during this evening, when, sitting beside him, she
eclipsed her imperial step-mother in the magnificence of her toilet
and the splendor of her rank. It was only when Napoleon had taken
his seat that the Emperor and Empress of Austria, and all the other
kings and princes, followed his example. The band immediately
commenced the overture, and the festive cantata began. On the stage
was seen the radiant temple of the sun, surrounded by the
brilliantly-adorned crowd of priests and priestesses. They raised
their arms, not to the temple of the sun, but toward Napoleon's box,
and, amid their soul-stirring chorus, the high-priest stepped forth
from the temple. Advancing to the edge of the stage, he bowed to the
imperial sun, and commenced singing in a powerful voice, "The sun
rises gloriously on the firmament, illuminating and heating the
world; but thou, his greater brother, thou conquerest him, and he
drives back his car, acknowledging that, since thou art here, the
world needs no other sun." While the high-priest sang these words
the temple on the stage suddenly paled, and over its entrance the
following words appeared in large letters of gold: "Di Lui men
grande e men chiaro il Sole." [Footnote: "Less great and brilliant
than he is the sun." The author of this cantata, performed in honor
of Napoleon, was Orlandi, an Italian; Morlacchi bad composed the
music.]

At this sight, cheers burst from all sides of the brilliantly
decorated house; the audience rose from their seats and turned
toward the imperial box to salute Napoleon; the Emperor of Austria,
the King of Saxony, and the princes of the Confederation of the
Rhine, joined in the applause. But Napoleon, to whom these cheers
were addressed, did not even seem to notice them. He had suddenly
risen and turned his back to the stage, regardless of the high-
priest and his emphatic words. Heedless of the cheers and applause,
he left his place and hastened to the Emperor Francis, who was
sitting on the left side, close to the two empresses. "Sire," said
Napoleon, "I request your majesty to exchange seats with me, and
pardon me for erroneously taking the chair that was intended for
you."