Tales and Novels Volume I Part 11

"You would now be in Saxony," resumed Laniska; "but forget Saxony, and you will be happy at Berlin."

"I cannot forget Saxony, sir," answered the young woman, with modest firmness; "I cannot forget a father and mother whom I love, who are old and infirm, and who depended on me for their support. I cannot forget every thing--every body that I have ever loved: I wish I could."

"Sir," whispered a Prussian workman, who stood by--"sir, she has a lover in Saxony, to whom she was just going to be married, when she was carried off from her cottage, and brought hither."

"Cannot her lover follow her?" said Laniska.

"He is in Berlin, in concealment," replied the workman, in a whisper; "you won't betray him, I am sure."

"Not I," said Laniska; "I never betrayed any one, and I never shall--much less the unfortunate. But why is her lover in concealment?"

"Because it is the king's pleasure," replied the Prussian, "that she should no longer consider him as her lover. You know, sir, several of these Saxon women have been compelled, since their arrival at Berlin, to marry Prussians. Sophia Mansfeld has fallen to the lot of a Prussian soldier, who swears that if she delays another month to marry him, he will complain to the king of her obstinacy. Our overseer, too, threatens to complain of her idleness. She is ruined if she go on in this way: we tell her so, but she seems to have lost all sense; for she sits as she does now, like one stupified, half the day, let us say what we will to her. We pity her; but the king knows best: the king must be obeyed."

"Slave!" exclaimed Laniska, bursting into a sudden transport of indignation, "slave! you are fit to live only under a tyrant. The king knows best! the king must be obeyed! What! when his commands are contrary to reason, to justice, to humanity?" Laniska stopped short, but not before the high tone of his voice, and the boldness of the words he uttered, had astonished and dismayed all present,--all except Sophia Mansfeld: her whole countenance became suddenly illuminated; she started up, rushed forwards, threw herself at the feet of Laniska, and exclaimed, "Save me! you can save me! you have courage; and you are a powerful lord, and you can speak to the king. Save me from this detested marriage!"

The party of gentlemen who had been in the next chamber now entered the room, curious to know what had drawn thither such a crowd of workmen. On seeing them enter, Sophia, recollecting herself, rose, and returned to her work quietly; whilst Laniska, much agitated, seized hold of the Englishman's arm, and hurried out of the manufactory.

"You are right, you are right," cried he, "Frederick is a tyrant! But how can I save his victim?"

"Not by violence, my Augustus; not by violence!" replied a young man of the name of Albert, who followed Laniska, anxious to restrain the impetuosity of his friend's temper, with which he was well acquainted.

"By imprudence," said he, "you will but expose yourself to danger; you will save, you will serve no one."

"Tame prudence will neither save nor serve any one, however it may prevent its possessor from exposing _himself_ to danger," retorted Laniska, casting upon Albert a look of contemptuous reproach. "Prudence be your virtue,--courage mine."

"Are they incompatible?" said Albert, calmly.

"I know not," replied Laniska; "but this I know, that I am in no humour to reason that point, or any other, according to all those cursed forms of logic, which, I believe, you love better than any thing else."

"Not better than I love you, as I prove by allowing you to curse them as much and as often as you think proper," replied Albert, with a smile, which could not, however, force one from his angry friend.

"You are right to practise logic and rhetoric," resumed Laniska, "as much and as often as you can, since in your profession you are to make your bread by your tongue and your pen. I am a soldier, or soon to be a soldier, and have other arms and other feelings."

"I will not dispute the superiority of your arms," replied Albert; "I will only beg of you to remember, that mine will be at your service whenever you want or wish for them."

This temperate and friendly reply entirely calmed Laniska. "What would become of Augustus Laniska," said he, giving Albert his hand, "if he had not such a friend as you are? My mother may well say this, as she does ten times a-day; but now take it in your sober manner, what can we do for this poor woman? for something must be done."

After some consideration, Albert and Laniska determined to draw up a pet.i.tion for Sophia, and to present it to the king, who was known to pay ready and minute attention to every application made to him in writing, even by the meanest of his subjects. The pet.i.tion was presented, and an answer anxiously expected. Frederick, when at Potzdam, often honoured the Countess Laniska with a visit. She was a woman of considerable information and literature, acquirements not common amongst the Polish or Prussian ladies; and the king distinguished the countess by his approbation, in order to excite some emulation amongst his female subjects. She held a sort of _conversazione_ at her house, which was frequented by all foreigners of distinction, and especially by some of the French literati, who were at this time at Frederick's court.

One evening--it was a few days after Sophia Mansfeld's pet.i.tion had been presented--the king was at the Countess Laniska's, and the company were conversing upon some literary subject, when Frederick, who had been unusually silent, suddenly turned to the English traveller, who was one of the company, and asked him whether his countryman, Mr. Wedgewood, had not made a beautiful imitation of the Barberini, or Portland Vase?

The Englishman replied, that the imitation was so exquisite, as scarcely to be known by the best judges from the original: and he went on, with much eagerness, to give a description of the vase, that he might afterward, for the honour of his country, repeat some lines written upon the subject by an English poet[3]. Frederick was himself a poet, and a judge of poetry; he listened to the lines with attention; and, as soon as the Englishman had finished speaking, he exclaimed, "I will write a description of the Prussian vase myself."

[Footnote 3: Darwin.--See his description of the Barberini vase in the Botanic Garden. We hope our readers will pardon this anachronism.]

"The Prussian Vase!" said the English traveller: "I hope I may have the honour of seeing it before I leave Berlin."

"If you prolong your stay another month, your curiosity will probably be gratified," replied Frederick. "The Prussian Vase is not yet in being; but I have this day determined to offer a reward, that I know will produce a vase worthy of Prussia. Those who have the command of motives, and know their power, have also the command of all that the arts, or what is called a _genius_ for the arts, can produce. The human mind, and human fingers, are much the same in Italy, in England, and in Prussia.

Then, why should not we have a Prussian as as well as a Wedgewood's or a Barberini Vase? We shall see. I do not understand _mon metier de roi_, if I cannot call forth talents where I know them to exist. There is,"

continued the king, fixing his eyes full upon Laniska, "there is, in my porcelain manufactory at Berlin, a woman of considerable talents, who is extremely anxious to return, along with some lovers of hers, to Saxony.

Like all other _prisoners of war_, she must purchase her liberty from the conqueror; and if she cannot pay her ransom in gold, let her pay it by her talents. I do not give premiums to idleness or obstinacy. _The king must be obeyed, whether he knows how to command or not: let all the world, who are able to judge, decide._" Frederick, as soon as he had finished this speech, which he p.r.o.nounced in a peremptory tone, left the room; and Laniska's friend, who perceived that the imprudent words he had uttered in Berlin had reached the king's ear, gave the young man up for lost. To their surprise, however, the king took no further notice of what had happened, but received Laniska the next day at Sans Souci with all his usual kindness. Laniska, who was of an open, generous temper, was touched by this conduct; and, throwing himself at Frederick's feet, he exclaimed:--

"My king! forgive me, if in a moment of indignation I called you a _tyrant_."

"My friend, you are yet a child, and I let children and fools speak of me as they please," replied Frederick. "When you are an older man, you will judge more wisely, or, at least, you will speak with more discretion within twenty miles of a _tyrant's_ palace. Here is my answer to your Sophia Mansfeld's pet.i.tion," added he, giving Laniska the paper, which Albert had drawn up; at the bottom of which was written, in the king's own hand, these words:--

"I will permit the artist who shall produce, before this day month, the most beautiful vase of Berlin china, to marry or not to marry, whomsoever he or she shall think proper, and to return to Saxony with all imaginable expedition. If the successful artist choose to remain at Berlin, I will add a reward of 500 crowns. The artist's name shall be inscribed on the vase, which shall be called the Prussian Vase." No sooner had Sophia Mansfeld read these words, than she seemed animated with new life and energy. She was likely to have many compet.i.tors; for, the moment the king's intentions were made known in the manufactory, all hands and heads were at work. Some were excited by the hope of regaining their liberty; others stimulated by the mention of 500 crowns; and some were fired with ambition to have their name inscribed on the Prussian Vase. But none had so strong a motive for exertion as Sophia. She was indefatigable. The compet.i.tors consulted the persons whom they believed to have the best taste in Berlin and Potzdam. Sophia's designs were shown, as soon as they were sketched, to the Countess Laniska, whose advice was of material use to her.

At length, the day which was to decide her fate arrived. The vases were all ranged, by the king's order, in his gallery of paintings at Sans Souci; and in the evening, when Frederick had finished the business of the day, he went thither to examine them. Laniska and some others were permitted to accompany him: no one spoke, whilst Frederick was comparing the works of the different compet.i.tors.

"Let this be the Prussian Vase," said the king. It was Sophia Mansfeld's. Laniska just stayed to show her name, which was written underneath the foot of the vase, and then he hurried away to communicate the happy news to Sophia, who was waiting, with her lover, at the house of the Countess Laniska, in Potzdam, impatient to hear her fate.

She heard it with inexpressible joy; and Laniska's generous heart sympathized in her happiness. It was settled that she should the next morning be married to her lover, and return with him to her father and mother in Saxony. The happy couple were just taking leave of the young count and his mother, when they were alarmed by the sound of many voices on the great staircase. Some persons seemed to be disputing with the countess's servants for admittance. Laniska went out to inquire into the cause of the disturbance. The hall was filled with soldiers.

"Are you the young Count Laniska?" said an officer to him, the moment he appeared.

"I _am_ the young Count Laniska," replied he, in a firm tone. "What do you want with me? and why this disturbance in my mother's house at this unseasonable hour?"

"We come here by the king's orders," replied the soldier. "Is not there in this house a woman of the name of Sophia Mansfeld?"

"Yes," replied Laniska: "what do you want with her?"

"She must come with us; and you are our prisoner, count," replied the soldier.

It was in vain to ask for further explanation. The soldiers could give none; they knew nothing, but that their orders were to convey Sophia Mansfeld immediately to Meissen in Saxony, and to lodge Count Laniska in the castle of Spandau, a state prison.

"I must know my crime before I submit to punishment," cried Laniska, in a pa.s.sionate voice; but he restrained the natural violence of his temper, on seeing his mother appear, and, at her request, yielded himself up a prisoner without resistance, and without a murmur. "I depend on your innocence, my son, and on the justice of the king," said the countess; and she took leave of him without shedding a tear. The next day, even before the king arrived at Potzdam, she went to the palace, determined to wait there till she could see him, that she might hear from his own lips the cause of her son's imprisonment. She waited a considerable time--for, without alighting from horseback, Frederick proceeded to the parade, where he was occupied for some hours; at length he alighted, and the first person he saw, on entering his palace, was the Countess Laniska.

"I am willing to believe, madam," said he, "that you have no share in your son's folly and ingrat.i.tude."

"My son is, I hope, incapable of ingrat.i.tude, sir," answered the countess, with an air of placid dignity. "I am well aware that he may have been guilty of great imprudence."

"At six o'clock this evening let me see you, madam," replied the king, "at Sans Souci, in the gallery of paintings, and you shall know of what your son is accused."

At the appointed hour she was in the gallery of paintings at Sans Souci.

No one was there. She waited quietly for some time, then walked up and down the gallery with extreme impatience and agitation; at last, she heard the king's voice and his step; the door opened, and Frederick appeared. It was an awful moment to the mother of Laniska. She stood in silent expectation.

"I see, madam," said the king, after fixing his penetrating eye for some moments on her countenance, "I see that you are, as I believe you to be, wholly ignorant of your son's folly." As he spoke, Frederick put his hand upon the vase made by Sophia Mansfeld, which was placed on a small stand in the middle of the gallery. The countess, absorbed by her own reflections, had not noticed it.

"You have seen this vase before," said the king; "and you have probably seen the lines which are inscribed on the foot of it."

"Yes," said the countess, "they are my son's writing."

"And they are written by his own hand," said the king.

"They are. The poor Saxon woman who draws so admirably cannot write; and my son wrote the inscription for her."

"The lines are in a high strain of _panegyric_," said the king; and he laid a severe emphasis on the word _panegyric_.

"Whatever may be my son's faults," said the countess, "your majesty cannot suspect him of being a base flatterer. Scarcely a month has elapsed since his unguarded openness exposed him to your displeasure.