Visits and Sketches at Home and Abroad with Tales and Miscellanies Now First Collected Volume I Part 12

"When my mother gave me her blessing," said she, "I made a vow to G.o.d and my own heart, that I would not return alive without the pardon of my brother. I feared nothing; I had nothing to live for. I had health and strength, and I had not a doubt of my own success, because I was _resolved_ to succeed; but ah! _liebe madame!_ what a fate was mine! and how am I returning to my mother!--my poor old mother!" Here she burst into tears, and threw herself back in the carriage; after a few minutes she resumed her narrative.

She reached the city of Riga without mischance. There she collected the necessary doc.u.ments relative to her brother's character and conduct, with all the circ.u.mstances of his trial, and had them properly attested.

Furnished with these papers, she proceeded to St. Petersburgh, where she arrived safely in the beginning of June, 1833. She had been furnished with several letters of recommendation, and particularly with one to a German ecclesiastic, of whom she spoke with the most grateful enthusiasm, by the t.i.tle of M. le Pasteur. She met with the utmost difficulty in obtaining from the police the official return of her brother's condemnation, place of exile, punishment, &c.; but at length, by almost incredible boldness, perseverance, and address, she was in possession of these, and with the a.s.sistance of her good friend the pastor, she drew up a pet.i.tion to the emperor. With this she waited on the minister of the interior, to whom, with great difficulty, and after many applications, she obtained access.

He treated her with great harshness, and absolutely refused to deliver the pet.i.tion. She threw herself on her knees, and added tears to entreaties; but he was inexorable, and added brutally--"Your brother was a _mauvais sujet_; he _ought_ not to be pardoned, and if I were the emperor I would not pardon him." She rose from her knees, and stretching her arms towards heaven, exclaimed with fervour--"I call G.o.d to witness that my brother was innocent! and I thank G.o.d that you are not the emperor, for I can still hope!" The minister, in a rage, said--"Do you dare to speak thus to me! Do you know who I am?" "Yes," she replied; "you are his excellency the minister C----; but what of that? you are a cruel man! but I put my trust in G.o.d and the emperor; and then," said she, "I left him, without even a curtsey, though he followed me to the door, speaking very loud and very angrily."

Her suit being rejected by all the ministers, (for even those who were most gentle, and who allowed the hards.h.i.+p of the case, still refused to interfere, or deliver her pet.i.tion,) she resolved to do, what she had been dissuaded from attempting in the first instance--to appeal to the emperor in person: but it was in vain she lavished hundreds of dollars in bribes to the inferior officers; in vain she beset the imperial suite, at reviews, at the theatre, on the way to the church: invariably beaten back by the guards, or the attendants, she could not penetrate to the emperor's presence. After spending six weeks in daily ineffectual attempts of this kind, hoping every morning, and almost despairing every evening--threatened by the police, and spurned by the officials--Providence raised her up a friend in one of her own s.e.x. Among some ladies of rank, who became interested in her story, and invited her to their houses, was a Countess Elise, something or other, whose name I am sorry I did not write down. One day, on seeing her young _protegee_ overwhelmed with grief, and almost in despair, she said, with emotion, "I cannot dare to present your pet.i.tion myself, I might be sent off to Siberia, or at least banished the court; but all I can do I will. I will lend you my equipage and servants. I will dress you in one of my robes; you shall drive to the palace the next levee day, and obtain an audience under my name; when once in the presence of the emperor you must manage for yourself. If I risk thus much, will you venture the rest?" "And what," said I, "was your answer?" "Oh!" she replied, "I could not answer; but I threw myself at her feet, and kissed the hem of her gown!" I asked her whether she had not feared to risk the safety of her generous friend? She replied, "That thought did strike me--but what would you have?--I cast it from me. I was _resolved_ to have my brother's pardon--I would have sacrificed my own life to obtain it--and, G.o.d forgive me, I thought little of what it might cost another."

This plan was soon arranged, and at the time appointed my resolute heroine drove up to the palace in a splendid equipage, preceded by a running footman, with three laced laquais in full dress, mounted behind. She was announced as the Countess Elise ----, who supplicated a particular audience of his majesty. The doors flew open, and in a few minutes she was in the presence of the emperor, who advanced one or two steps to meet her, with an air of gallantry, but suddenly started back----

Here I could not help asking her, whether in that moment she did not feel her heart sink?

"No," said she firmly; "on the contrary, I felt my heart beat quicker and higher!--I sprang forward and knelt at his feet, exclaiming, with clasped hands--'Pardon, imperial majesty!--Pardon!'" "Who are you?" said the emperor, astonished; "and what can I do for you?" He spoke gently, more gently than any of his ministers, and overcome, even by my own hopes, I burst into a flood of tears, and said--"May it please your imperial majesty, I am not Countess Elise ----, I am only the sister of the unfortunate Henri Ambos, who has been condemned on false accusation.

O pardon!--pardon! Here are the papers--the proofs. O imperial majesty!--pardon my poor brother!" I held out the pet.i.tion and the papers, and at the same time, prostrate on my knees, I seized the skirt of his embroidered coat, and pressed it to my lips. The emperor said, "Rise--rise!" but I would not rise; I still held out my papers, resolved not to rise till he had taken them. At last the emperor, who seemed much moved, extended one hand towards me, and took the papers with the other, saying--"Rise, mademoiselle--I command you to rise." I ventured to kiss his hand, and said, with tears, "I pray of your majesty to read that paper." He said, "I will read it." I then rose from the ground, and stood watching him while he unfolded the pet.i.tion and read it. His countenance changed, and he exclaimed once or twice, "Is it possible?--This is dreadful!" When he had finished, he folded the paper, and without any observation, said at once--"Mademoiselle Ambos, your brother is pardoned." The words rung in my ears, and I again flung myself at his feet, saying--and yet I scarce know what I said--"Your imperial majesty is a G.o.d upon earth; do you indeed pardon my brother? Your ministers would never suffer me to approach you; and even yet I fear----!" He said, "Fear nothing: you have my promise." He then raised me from the ground, and conducted me himself to the door. I tried to thank and bless him, but could not; he held out his hand for me to kiss, and then bowed his head as I left the room. "Ach ja! the emperor is a good man,--ein schoner, feiner, Mann! but he does not know how cruel his ministers are, and all the evil they do, and all the justice they refuse, in his name!"

I have given you this scene as nearly as possible in her own words.

She not only related it, but almost acted it over again; she imitated alternately, her own and the emperor's voice and manner; and such was the vivacity of her description that I seemed to hear and behold both, and was more profoundly moved than by any scenic representation I can remember.

On her return she received the congratulations of her benefactress, the Countess Elise, and of her good friend the pastor, but both advised her to keep her audience and the emperor's promise a profound secret. She was the more inclined to this; because, after the first burst of joyous emotion, her spirits sank. Recollecting the pains that had been taken to shut her from the emperor's presence, she feared some unforeseen obstacle, or even some knavery on the part of the officers of government. She described her sufferings during the next few days, as fearful; her agitation, her previous fatigues, and the terrible suspense, apparently threw her into a fever, or acted on her excited nerves so as to produce a species of delirium, though, of course, she would not admit this.

After a.s.suring me very gravely that she did not believe in ghosts, she told me that one night, after her interview with the emperor, she was reading in bed, being unable to sleep; and on raising her eyes from her book she saw the figure of her brother, standing at the other end of the room; she exclaimed, "My G.o.d, Henri! is that you!" but without making any reply, the form approached nearer and nearer to the bed, keeping its melancholy eyes fixed on her's, till it came quite close to the bed side, and laid a cold heavy hand upon her.

MEDON.

The night-mare, evidently.

ALDA.

Without doubt; but her own impression was as of a reality. The figure, after looking at her sadly for some minutes, during which she had no power either to move or speak, turned away; she then made a desperate effort to call out to the daughter of her hostess, who slept in the next room--"Luise! Luise!" Luise ran in to her. "Do you not see my brother standing there?" she exclaimed with horror, and pointing to the other end of the room, whither the image, conjured up by her excited fancy and fevered nerves, appeared to have receded. The frightened, staring Luise, answered, "Yes." "You see," said she, appealing to me--"that though I might be cheated by my own senses, I could not doubt those of another. I thought to myself, _then_, my poor Henri is dead, and G.o.d has permitted him to visit me. This idea pursued me all that night, and the next day; but on the following day, which was Monday, just five days after I had seen the Emperor, a _laquais_, in the imperial livery, came to my lodging, and put into my hands a packet, with the "Emperor's _compliments_ to Mademoiselle Ambos." It was the pardon for my brother, with the Emperor's seal and signature: then I forgot every thing but joy!"

Those mean, official animals, who had before spurned her, now pressed upon her with offers of service, and even the Minister C---- offered to expedite the pardon himself to Siberia, _in order to save her trouble_; but she would not suffer the precious paper out of her hands: she determined to carry it herself--to be herself the bearer of glad tidings:--she had resolved that none but herself should take off those fetters, the very description of which had entered her soul; so, having made her arrangements as quickly as possible, she set off for Moscow, where she arrived in three days. According to her description, the town in Siberia, to the governor of which she carried an official recommendation, was nine thousand versts beyond Moscow; and the fortress to which the wretched malefactors were exiled was at a great distance beyond that. I could not well make out the situation of either, and, unluckily, I had no map with me but a road map of Germany, and it was evident that my heroine was no geographer. She told me that, after leaving Moscow, she travelled post seven days and seven nights, only sleeping in the carriage. She then reposed for two days, and then posted on for another seven days and nights.

MEDON.

Alone?

ALDA.

Alone! and wholly unprotected, except by her own innocence and energy, and a few lines of recommendation, which had been given to her at St.

Petersburgh. The roads were every where excellent, the post-houses at regular distances, the travelling rapid; but often, for hundreds of miles,

there were no accommodations of any kind--scarce a human habitation.

She even suffered from hunger, not being prepared to travel for so many hours together without meeting with any food she could touch without disgust. She described, with great truth and eloquence, her own sensations as she was whirled rapidly over those wide, silent, solitary, and apparently endless plains. "Sometimes," said she, "my head seemed to turn--I could not believe that it was a waking reality--I could not believe that it was myself. Alone, in a strange land,--so many hundred leagues from my own home, and driven along as if through the air, with a rapidity so different from any thing I had been used to, that it almost took away my breath."

"Did you ever feel fear?" I asked.

"Ach ja! when I waked sometimes in the carriage, in the middle of the night, wondering at myself, and unable immediately to collect my thoughts.

Never at any other time."

I asked her if she had ever met with insult? She said she had twice met with "wicked men;" but she had felt no alarm--she knew how to protect herself; and as she said this, her countenance a.s.sumed an expression which showed that it was not a mere boast. Altogether, she described her journey as being _grausam_, (horrible,) in the highest degree, and, indeed, even the recollection of it made her shudder; but at the time there was the antic.i.p.ation of an unspeakable happiness, which made all fatigues light, and all dangers indifferent.

At length, in the beginning of August, she arrived at the end of her journey, and was courteously received by the commandant of the fortress.

She presented the pardon with a hand which trembled with impatience and joy, too great to be restrained, almost to be borne. The officer looked very grave, and took, she thought, a long time to read the paper, which consisted only of six or eight lines. At last he stammered out, "I am sorry--but the Henri Ambos mentioned in this paper--_is dead_!" Poor girl! she fell to the earth.

When she reached this part of her story she burst into a fresh flood of tears, wrung her hands, and for some time could utter nothing but pa.s.sionate exclamations of grief. "Ach! lieber Gott! was fur ein schreckliches Schicksal war das meine!" "What a horrible fate was mine!

I had come thus far to find--not my brother--_nur ein Grab_!" (only a grave!) she repeated several times, with an accent of despair. The unfortunate man had died a year before. The fetters in which he worked had caused an ulcer in his leg, which he neglected, and, after some weeks of horrid suffering, death released him. The task-work, for nearly five years, of this accomplished, and even learned man, in the prime of his life and mental powers, had been to break stones upon the road, chained hand and foot, and confounded with the lowest malefactors.

In giving you thus conscientiously, the mere outline of this story, I have spared you all comments. I see, by those indignant strides majestical, that you are making comments to yourself; but sit down and be quiet, if you can: I have not much more to tell!

She found, on inquiry, that some papers and letters, which her unhappy brother had drawn up by stealth, in the hope of being able at some time to convey them to his friends, were in the possession of one of the officers, who readily gave them up to her; and with these she returned, half broken-hearted, to St. Petersburgh. If her former journey, when hope cheered her on the way, had been so fearful, what must have been her return? I was not surprised to hear that, on her arrival, she was seized with a dangerous illness, and was for many weeks confined to her bed.

Her story excited much commiseration; and a very general interest and curiosity was excited about herself. She told me that a great many persons of rank invited her to their houses, and made her rich presents, among which were the splendid shawls and the ring, which had caught my attention, and excited my surprise, in the first instance. The Emperor expressed a wish to see her, and very graciously spoke a few words of condolence. "But they could not bring my brother back to life!" said she, expressively. He even presented her to the Empress. "And what,"

I asked, "did the Empress say to you?" "_Nothing_; but she looked _so_,"--drawing herself up.

On receiving her brother's pardon from the Emperor, she had written home to her family; but she confessed that since that time she had not written--she had not courage to inflict a blow which might possibly affect her mother's life; and yet the idea of being obliged to _tell_ what she dared not write, seemed to strike her with terror.

But the strangest event of this strange story remains to be told; and I will try to give it in her own simple words.

She left Petersburgh in October, and proceeded to Riga, where those who had known her brother received her with interest and kindness, and sympathized in her affliction. "But," said she, "there was one thing I had resolved to do, which yet remained undone. I was resolved to see the woman who had been the original cause of all my poor brother's misfortunes. I thought if once I could say to her, 'Your falsehood has done this!' I should be satisfied; but my brother's friends dissuaded me from this idea. They said it was better not; that it could do my poor Henri no good; that it was wrong; that it was unchristian; and I submitted. I left Riga with a voiturier. I had reached Pojer, on the Prussian frontiers, and there I stopped at the Douane, to have my packages searched. The chief officer looked at the address on my trunk, and exclaimed, with surprise, 'Mademoiselle Ambos! Are you any relation of the Professor Henri Ambos?'--'I am his sister.' 'Good G.o.d! I was the intimate friend of your brother! What has become of him?' I then told him all I have now told you, liebe madame!--and when I came to an end, this good man burst into tears, and for some time we wept together. The kutscher, (driver,) who was standing by, heard all this conversation, and when I turned round, he was crying too. My brother's friend pressed on me offers of service and hospitality, but I could not delay; for, besides that my impatience to reach home increased every hour, I had not much money in my purse. Of three thousand dollars, which I had taken with me to St. Petersburgh, very little remained, so I bade him farewell, and I proceeded. At the next town, where my kutscher stopped to feed his horses, he came to the door of my caleche, and said, 'You have just missed seeing the Jew lady, whom your brother was in love with; that caleche which pa.s.sed us by just now, and changed horses here, contained Mademoiselle S----, her sister, and her sister's husband!'

Good G.o.d! imagine my surprise! I could not believe my fortune: it seemed that Providence had delivered her into my hands, and I was resolved that she should not escape me. I knew they would be delayed at the Custom-house. I ordered the man to turn, and drive back as fast as possible, promising him a reward of a dollar if he overtook them.

On reaching the Custom-house, I saw a caleche standing at a little distance. I felt myself tremble, and my heart beat so--but not with fear. I went up to the caleche--two ladies were sitting in it. I addressed the one who was the most beautiful, and said, 'Are you Mademoiselle Emilie S----?' I suppose I must have looked very strange, and wild, and resolute, for she replied, with a frightened manner--'I am; who are you, and what do you want with me?' I said, 'I am the sister of Henri Ambos, whom you murdered!' She shrieked out; the men came running from the house; but I held fast the carriage-door, and said, 'I am not come to hurt you, but you are the murderess of my brother, Henri Ambos. He loved you, and your falsehood has killed him. May G.o.d punish you for it! May his ghost pursue you to the end of your life!' I remember no more. I was like one mad. I have just a recollection of her ghastly, terrified look, and her eyes wide open, staring at me. I fell into fits; and they carried me into the house of my brother's friend, and laid me on a bed. When I recovered my senses, the caleche and all were gone. When I reached Berlin, all this appeared to me so miraculous--so like a dream--I could not trust to my own recollection, and I wrote to the officer of Customs, to beg he would attest that it was really true, and what I had said when I was out of my senses, and what _she_ had said; and at Leipsic I received his letter, which I will show you." And at Mayence she showed me this letter, and a number of other doc.u.ments; her brother's pardon, with the Emperor's signature; a letter of the Countess Elise ----; a most touching letter from her unfortunate brother; (over this she wept much;) and a variety of other papers, all proving the truth of her story, even to the minutest particulars. The next morning we were to part. I was going down the Rhine, and she was to proceed to Deuxponts, which she expected to reach in two days. As she had travelled from Berlin almost without rest, except the night we had spent at Frankfort, she appeared to me ready to sink with fatigue; but she would not bid me farewell that night, although I told her I should be obliged to set off at six the next morning; but kissing my hand, with many expressions of grat.i.tude, she said she would be awake and visit me in my room to bid me a last adieu. As there was only a very narrow pa.s.sage between the two rooms, she left her door a little open that she might hear me rise. However, on the following morning she did not appear. When dressed, I went on tiptoe into her room, and found her lying in a deep calm sleep, her arm over her head.

I looked at her for some minutes, and thought I had never seen a finer creature. I then turned, with a whispered blessing and adieu, and went on my way.

This is all I can tell you. If at the time I had not been travelling _against_ time, and with a mind most fully and painfully occupied, I believe I should have been tempted to accompany my heroine to Deuxponts--at least I should have retained her narrative more accurately.

Not having made any memoranda till many days afterwards, all the names have escaped my recollection; but if you have any doubts of the general truth of this story, I will at least give you the means of verifying it.

Here is her name, in her own handwriting, on one of the leaves of my pocket-book--you can read the German character;

=Bety Ambos von Zweibruken.=

SKETCHES OF ART, LITERATURE, AND CHARACTER.

PART II.

MEMORANDA AT MUNICH, NUREMBURG, AND DRESDEN.

I.

MEMORANDA AT MUNICH.

SEPT. 28th.--A week at Munich! and nothing done! nothing seen! My first _excursions_ I made to-day--from my bed to the sofa--from the sofa to the window. Every one told me to be prepared against the caprices of the climate, but I did not imagine that it would take a week or a fortnight to be _acclimatee_.

What could induce the princes of Bavaria to plant their capital in the midst of these wide, marshy, bleak, barren plains, and upon this rough unmanageable torrent,--"the Isar rolling rapidly,"--when they might have seated themselves by the majestic Danube? The Tyrolean Alps stretching south and west, either form a barrier against the most genial airs of heaven, or if a stray zephyr find his way from Italy, his poor little wings are frozen to his back among the mountain snows, and he drops s.h.i.+vering among us, wrapt in a misty cloud. I never saw such fogs: they are as dense and as white as a fleece, and look, and feel too, like rarefied snow;--but as no one else complains, I think it must be indisposition which makes me so peevish and so chilly. Sitting at the window being my best amus.e.m.e.nt, I do not like to find the only objects which are to give me a foretaste of the splendour of Munich, quite veiled from sight, and shrouded in mist, even for a few morning hours.