Adelaide of Brunswick/Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
"I don't believe, Milady, that we are in safety in this place," said Bathilda. "I don't know whether my misfortunes have taught me to mistrust men, but I don't find much frankness in this one. Let's examine his dwelling while he is absent."
"Wouldn't it be better for us to flee?" said Adelaide. "There is the route; we have money; let's go to Frankfort. There without being obliged to depend on anybody, we will provide ourselves with clothes suitable to our sex, and we can then continue our projects."
But while Adelaide was speaking, Bathilda was searching and finally uttered a cry of surprise and fright.
"You say we have some money, Milady? We have none left."
"Heavens," cried the princess after looking frantically in her own clothes, "everything is gone. We have nothing more. Death and misery become our lot. The hermit is a thief, and he has robbed us during our sleep. What is going to become of us?"
The unfortunate women, in despair, fell in tears on their straw beds where they had passed the night.
"Let's take up what I suggested a few minutes ago," said Bathilda. "Let's inspect this hut and perhaps we will find all our riches."
Behind the spot where the hermit had slept they saw a little door which the bed hid completely. They pulled the bed away and opened the door. Still guided by the hope of finding what they had lost, they went down six steps which took them to a subterranean passage. When they saw the long dark tunnel, they decided to return to the hut, but the door had shut, and they were unable to open it. Gropingly they made their way along the passageway in the darkness. They had gone about two hundred steps, when they heard some groans.
"Heavens, where are we?" they said to each other. "Is this the place where the victims are sacrificed? What hope do we have of ever getting out of here alive?"
Adelaide stopped at one of the walls in the hope of questioning one of the victims, but she could not make herself heard; the wall was too thick.
They were so frightened by now that they almost ran along the passage. At the end of what seemed like hours, but which was only a few minutes they could see a light in the distance and a ray of hope mixed with terror came to them. They hurried their steps; but at the end of the passageway they found an iron gate. The noise they made shaking it brought a man who opened it and then locked it again. But who was this man? They trembled with fright on recognizing him. It was Stolbach. It was this monster who had delivered them from Schinders for money only to have them caught in a new trap.
"Place these women in the dungeons," he said to a man who turned out to be the hermit. "They have come to be judged by the secret court." In a few seconds they were both locked in dungeons.
The place where Adelaide and Bathilda were at that moment was one of those secret courts in Germany which had grown up during the tyranny of the small sovereigns who had used the courts to accomplish their purposes and to second them in despotism.
The two women had not been long in their cells when Stolbach, who had become their guardian again, came to tell them to prepare themselves to be judged.
"You have cruelly deceived us," said Adelaide to him. "You helped us in order to have us fall again into a trap."
"Certainly," said the man, "the first imprisonment was only temporary. We can have you die legally only in this one."
"And by what reason," asked Bathilda, "have you made us pay so dearly for liberty which we do not have?"
"Oh, all the abuses of power are usual things for us. Do you think that we would exercise such a vile trade, in trying to get at the truth without doing some evil things at times? But I am here to tell you that you are going to be judged, thus prepare your answers."
"But," said Bathilda, "what have we done to be judged? What are our crimes? We must know in order to be able to answer."
"But you were told when you were taken by Schinders. Goodbye," said the cruel jailer, "you will see all that when you go there. I have fulfilled my mission and I cannot say more."
The two prisoners remained plunged in the bitterness of the blackest reflections.
Is there ever a situation more frightful than that of oppressed innocence? Justice is so necessary to man, so inherent in his character that when one violates it, he is plunged into despair. There is not a sigh which he gives which is not devoted to regretting existence; there is not a beat of his heart which does not reject his pride at being a man and of which he was so proud when there was justice. He who likes order in all things despises it when it oppresses him. In this moment he forgets his duties, to the point of preferring evil which is rewarded to the good which is punished. Thus judges, inept, criminal or ignorant, you have by such a conduct propagated crime instead of honoring virtue.
Let's leave the Princess of Saxony in her terrible predicament and return to Hamburg where Frederick was preparing with the count to try new adventures in order to find his wife whom so many hands were keeping far away from him.
"My friend," said Frederick to Mersburg, as soon as they were armed again, and they had been joined by Pitreman, their squire, "I confess to you that what we have seen at the necromancer's caused me much uneasiness. 'She is here.' the inscription said and it was a tower. Who then would take upon himself the right to shut up my wife, and what did she do to be shut up?"
"But, remember," said Mersburg, "that this same man, to whom you accord so much confidence, has shown you also that the princess had escaped."
"Well then, we have no fixed point from which to work, and so we will have to seek blindly."
"My Prince," said the count, "wouldn't it be better to return to your states, to publish her innocence and to request in the same proclamation all those who have any news of her to let you know at once."
"This means would hurt her reputation in giving too much publicity to her faults. Let's not do anything like that. Secret searches will cause less talk."
"Let's keep on then," said Mersburg calmly.
Our two knights decided to travel over Swabia and Franconia since they had not yet visited these two provinces.
They were near Frankfort on the Main when they discovered on the right a castle belonging to the Emperor. Although he was not on good terms with this prince, Frederick thought that because of his disguise he would not run any risk on entering. He decided to take this chance, since he was encouraged by the hope of finding his wife, having in mind that she was linked to towers and chateaux. He presented himself with the title of Knight and Protector of the Order of the Fair Sex and asked if he might have safety there. The soldiers went to speak to the commander of the chateau who, in a hospitable manner, went to greet the two men and to bring them into the main hall of the chateau. Soon, according to the custom, some squires came to unarm the two guests and at the time of dinner, the commander came personally to invite them to eat with him. During the dinner, the conversation was concerned mostly with the troubles and fatigue of the noble profession of the two illustrious knights who had come to honor the castle with their presence. That evening, they were established in an apartment by the same squires who had received them so well when they arrived.
"I don't believe," said Mersburg to the prince, "that we will learn anything about Adelaide in this place."
"I think you are right," answered the prince. "It doesn't matter, let's spend a few days with this good soldier; we will discover, perhaps, something which may interest us."
The next day the guests were treated with all the respect which had been accorded them at first and in the afternoon, the prince and Mersburg began talking about political events in Germany.
"Henry's weakness is fatal to the princes of Germany," said Frederick. "He became emperor without having any of the qualifications and he has succeeded in causing all the princes to join together against him."
"Yes," responded the commander, "but his courage is greater than his luck."
"He should have joined to his courage a better behavior," said Mersburg, "and not take along with him a crowd of mistresses who only weaken his moral and physical strength."
"It is rare," said the officer, "that a ruler, no matter how important it may be for him to set an example, have other morals than those of his century. You know what kind we have in this century. To give you an example, the Emperor in trying to control the election of the Pope, succeeded in stimulating the jealousy of Alexander II who had his competitor removed. You will admit that the rules of morality suffer from such a procedure."
"Princes should not have anything to do with the affairs of the Church," said Frederick, "except to prevent the Church from usurping the authority of the state; and that is precisely what Henry has not done and what has caused so many wars in all parts of Germany. Saxony especially which has just come from a state of paganism should not be forced to accept what comes from the priests and you will admit that this country has been interfered with too much."
"There is one thing bad in all governments," said the officer, "It is that it is very rare that politics are in harmony with the fundamental principles of custom and religion."
"Do you know why?" asked Frederick.
"I am trying to find the reason."
"It is," responded the prince, "because the rules of politics are perpetually in opposition with the customs and religion. As a result of this, the sovereign whose policy is to try to make his subjects happy, finds that he is obliged to go against his first instincts of honor. The government of Henry furnishes a very good example of this. This ruler offends the morals by leaving his wife, the daughter of the Marquis of Ferrare, by whom he has had no children. He takes with him some mistresses who will give him what he needs to keep the throne in his house and in that way assure a continual succession which helps to maintain the happiness of the people. Thus you see customs in opposition to politics. Then he brought about a schism in the Church by having a Pope set up who was not the one the Church had selected. He was in opposition to the Church by following the laws of politics. By doing this he was able to assure peace within his own states. In how many centuries and under how many rulers we will find similar examples. But this almost perpetual opposition between politics, customs and religion, which leaves to the princes the duty of bringing about the tranquility of their people, does not excuse them from imposing the necessary restraints to keep order."
"Do you know what the princes of Germany need?" asked the commander. "They need a courageous and wise prince whose reputation for success brings respect and whose genius in recognizing the value of men cause him to surround himself with good lieutenants. Then he should destroy all these little authorities whose perpetual dissensions trouble our lives and should unite all the smaller states into one large one, and this great man should then become the terror and at the same time the hope of the people. Oh, Prince, come quickly to settle with your strong arm the difficulties which besiege us. Hasten to show them your radiant face and the signs of universal domination so that your name repeated by posterity will go from age to age and be associated with glory and will write in gold on the temple of immortality the most august epoch of the centuries. Over these smaller thrones will rise then a wise federation which will set the standard for governments to come. The man who can accomplish all this will be likened to the saint of saints who may come from the banks of the Jordan River to reign over the universe."
"You are right," said Frederick. "Perhaps I should not be of your opinion, but it is wise, and I agree with you."
"This happiness, which I evoke, will be enjoyed one day by Germany," said the officer, "in the meantime, I find that Henry has shown himself to be weak in his treatment of Saxony."
"How is that?" asked Frederick.
"Does it not show weakness to retire from the frontiers just because of a letter which Frederick sent him? It would have been better to have entered into his states rather than to retire because of a simple letter. And then on top of that he gave some orders which will never be executed."
"What are those orders?" asked Mersburg.
"All the commanders of castles have the order to arrest Frederick on sight. I have my orders as all the others."
"Sir," said Frederick rising with pride, "do not compromise your position by not obeying your orders. I am Prince Frederick of Saxony and I am your prisoner."
"Milord," said the commander, "do you believe me capable of abusing to that point the laws of hospitality? You came here as a guest and you will enjoy all the rights and privileges of being one. The first virtues of a military man are frankness and loyalty. I would be blamed by the Emperor himself if I acted in a different way. But it is not a question of the emperor in this matter; it is a question of the heart. The obeying of such orders would be a betrayal for which I would blush for the rest of my life. That is what we were talking about a little while ago, the conflict between politics and morality; I shall not desert the latter, and so be free. Be free as long as you wish. I will tell my master what I have done and he is too just not to approve my conduct. If that is not true then I shall leave his service."
"Sir," said Frederick, "I could not accept this noble act of generosity if I did not consider myself useful to my country. But I shall always consider myself as your prisoner, and if your master ever blames you, I shall come to you in order that you may carry out your orders."
Frederick wanted to leave the castle at once, but the commander would not let him.
"To beg you to do me the honor of staying with me, Prince, is the only portion of my duty that I want to exercise. Accord me this favor, or you will make me believe that you do not believe in my sincerity."
"My fine fellow," said Frederick shaking the hand of this generous man, "I would lack sincerity myself if I did not believe in yours. I want to be your friend eternally and I hope you will be mine."
The prince having consented to spend several days at the castle of this honest knight, he told him his troubles and asked for his advice on the search he had to make to find a wife whose loss he had never felt so much until he had been unjustly cruel with her.
"My Prince, will you permit me to talk on that subject?" said the commander. "I do not believe that it is ever wise to use force with women. This gentle and sensitive sex does not want to be led with anything except chains of flowers. Think about the power this sex has on us by using gentleness and charms. Is it not unjust to want to punish a person who oppresses us only by her favors? I cannot stand vice in women, but on the other hand, I do not wish to punish them for their weaknesses; for these weaknesses are virtues for us. Don't we gain more by them than we lose? Why then should we punish them for what makes our happiness. Look closely at their faults and you will see that they are very similar to our own. If you are in agreement on this point, then you will also agree that the punishment we impose on them is only an injustice. In that case we are like the women in that injustice is a weakness. I ask you, then, if indulgence is not due because of these faults which we ourselves have."
Frederick agreed with everything he said and a few tears came to his eyes when he saw someone render justice to a sex which he had oppressed with so little cause.
"Be indulgent, yourself," said Frederick, "and do not reproach me for my wrongs. The more my heart is broken in blaming myself for my actions, the more I want to find the one who can cure my heart by having her once more."
"If your wife flees from you, thinking you guilty towards her, it will be difficult for you to find her."
"Don't you think, Sir," asked Mersburg, "that the best thing the prince could do is to go back to his states?"
"Yes, but he will not find his wife there, and it is this wife who is so dear to him and whom he has hurt that he needs. He will be isolated in his palace if he does not share it with the one he loves. The searches he is now making help to keep his heart satisfied and make his mind tranquil. I think he should continue them until he is satisfied that he cannot find the one he loves. The first happiness of a prince should be that of his subjects. He fails in this duty when he is too busy with his own happiness. It is not for the happiness of a single man that Heaven has put the sceptre in the hand of this person, it is for the satisfaction of all; and not to create the happiness of the people is so close to the misfortune which negligence can create that it is necessary to keep it in mind always."
"Well," said Frederick, "I shall continue my searches for some time and if I continue to be unsuccessful in finding the one I seek then I will return sadly to my throne which will be a bed of thorns for me. All the days of my life will become days of grief when I shall no longer see the one who used to share them with me."
When they were making their way to their apartment for the night, Frederick was surprised to see the respectful homages which all the soldiers and servants gave him. He turned to protest this to his host.
"Milord, I can see only a sovereign in you, as you are not my prisoner, but my guest. I owe all the possible respects to you because of your position, and because of your misfortune it would be a great blessing to me to be your friend. Ah, Milord, a smile from a suffering being is better than all the caresses of fortune."
Our knights left the next day, and both agreed that it is rare to find in a military man of that century so much feeling and sincerity.
The Prince of Saxony, on leaving the chateau, went toward Trier, and while he is on his way let's return to the prisons of the secret court where the unfortunate Adelaide is made even more unhappy by the fact that they refused to bring her the clothes of her sex.
"It is absolutely necessary," Stolbach said to her, "that you appear before your judges in the same clothes which you wore on arriving in this prison. That becomes one of the essential pieces of evidence in the case."
Time passed without anything happening to quiet the mortal uneasiness of these two women, when Stolbach appeared finally to take them before the judge. Adelaide asked for women's clothes again, but they were refused. She had to accept the situation and submit. What humiliation for the proudest of princesses!
The judge was seated when the prisoners arrived, and by his orders all the doors of the court were closed and everybody was to leave the place. When the princess saw this man, she almost fainted with surprise and astonishment. It was Major Kreutzer, the father of Bathilda, and former commander of Torgau. Too moved to explain anything at first, Kreutzer took his daughter into his arms, and then he quickly sent them back to their prison, whispering to them that he would come to them as soon as he could.
Finally after a few hours, he appeared.
"We have time to talk now," he said. "Under the pretext of being extremely severe, I have given order that you be left in solitary confinement. I should tell you first, that it was the Count of Mersburg who was responsible for your escape from Torgau.
"Yes, we know that," said Adelaide.
"Certainly," said Bathilda, "what he did must have had a good motive."
"Does the count know where you are now?" asked the Major.
"No … But," added the princess, "who has been pursuing us ever since we got out of Torgau? Who had us put in the tower of Schinders and then later in this place? For what reason were we brought here and why are we kept here?"
"All that is unknown to me," answered Kreutzer. "I know only that you were brought before me on the charge of murder. I do not doubt the falsity of the accusations and that all the evidence was forged; but that is usually the case in such courts where one only seeks punishment. It is certain that there is a powerful hand in all this, but the judges never know who these secret agents are. I could have declared you innocent when I judged you, but that would not have saved you. I am going to use another method which should succeed better. In the meantime, is it impossible for you to guess who is back of all this?"
"Absolutely."
"We will know one day, Milady," said Bathilda. "But let's take advantage of this moment to find out from my father how it is that we find him in this place."
"The Prince of Saxony," said the Major, "in forcing me to leave my castle, sent me to command some troops, and since I was in disgrace, I was not happy there. Since I had studied law in my youth, I went into practice and in a few months I was asked to take this position—and it was very fortunate for you and for me since I find again my princess and my daughter.
At this point Bathilda told her father of the desire she had of staying with him, but the good Kreutzer persuaded his daughter that, since the princess was in such an unhappy situation, it was her duty to stay with her and to do all she could to help her. He then turned to the question of their escape.
"If I were freer myself," he said, "I could simply open the doors and let you go. But you cannot realize the severity of this court. I would be put in your place immediately, if I did anything like that. I can only get you out of here secretly, and without being able to get any other clothes for you. I do have four hundred florins which should help you to get to Dresden where I advise you, Milady, to take up again your position in the world."
"Do you suppose that I would return to the man who has had me locked up and whose rage even pursues me in this court? No. I would never do that!"
"Who assures you," said Kreutzer, "that his feelings have not changed and that he is doing the impossible to get you back. It is certain that he is looking for you."
"In order to kill me."
"Ah," said the father of Bathilda, "don't be so harsh toward him."
"My dear Kreutzer, I do not love him, and I cannot be near a man from whom I have so much to fear."
"But will you spend your life running over Germany? Does this role suit the Princess of Saxony?"
"No, I agree, my duty calls me near the one whom my heart rejects. I will wait to see what time brings. When I am convinced that my husband is no longer after me, I will retire to some obscure place and await events."
"So be it," said Kreutzer, "since that is your fate, may Heaven make these events favorable to you. If you ever become happy again, as I hope you will, do not forget the man who will always think that it is his duty to serve you."
With these words, the good Kreutzer embraced the two women and left them with the promise that soon he would send a man to release them, and, as soon as it was dark, a man they had never seen took them through the passageway into the hut where they had spent the night with the hermit. This time the hermit was not there and they spent the night protected by the man whom Kreutzer had sent. At daybreak, they told the man goodbye and started out on the road to Trier.
"Why did you not claim the things which had been stolen from us?" asked Bathilda.
"I was very careful not to do that," answered Adelaide. "That rascal of a hermit and Stolbach might have interfered with our escape and we might have been assassinated. I believe my prudence in not claiming our property may have saved our lives."
Our two travelers were talking thus of events when after they had gone only about two miles, they saw coming toward them five or six men of very evil appearance.
"There they are," said one of them. "There are those tramps who have escaped from our court. Let's seize them so that they may be judged immediately."
In saying this the men seized the two women and bound them with ropes and were just about to drag them away when suddenly two knights and a squire appeared.
"Where are you taking these young men?" cried one of the knights with his lance held in a threatening position and his visor lowered to battle position.
"Where we should take you, too," answered one of the brigands in an insolent tone.
"By the very God that you insult," answered the knight, "you will let these two young men loose or I will flood the ground with your blood."
At this the other knight and the squire came running up with their swords held high and the brigands ran away in fright.
"I don't want to know who these individuals are," said the knight. "They seem to be honest young men. Let's not try to claim any gratitude."
The two knights started off again leaving the squire behind.
"Pitreman," said one of the knights, "take these two young men on the back of your horse to the first inn where you can be sure they will be in safety and then join us at the Golden Florin in Trier. If these two young men ask you questions about us, be as discreet as we are concerning who they are. The most profound mystery is one of the laws of the noble professions which we exercise."
The squire left with the two women and the two knights kept on their way. After having put them safely in an inn on the road to Frankfort, he bowed and left without telling them who their savior had been and he did not ask them their names.
All this intrigued our two travelers very much.
"How is it," asked Adelaide, "that these people come to take us prisoner after having given us our liberty? That happened when we left the tower, and then it happened again when we left this other place. If I were not sure of your father, I could not keep from suspecting him of some treason."
"Ah, Milady, my father could not do a thing like that."
"I know it, and so I am more confused than ever."
"I think I can explain it. You saw how careful my father was to have us move only when it was dark and to hide us in the hermit's hut, well our pursuit is the work of those who brought us to the place. As soon as they found that we had escaped they ran after us."
"That is certainly the simplest explanation. But tell me, what do you think of those two brave knights who have so generously snatched us from the hands of those who wanted to take us back. We owe them our lives."
"There is no doubt of it, Milady."
"If only our liberator had been the Marquis of Thuringia," said Adelaide, "how sweet it would be to unite in my heart the feeling of gratitude to that of the sincerest love. But why didn't they make themselves known? It seems to me, however, that the voice of the knight who spoke was one which I have heard before. I have heard it before, but it was so muffled in the helmet that I couldn't recognize it exactly. When one knows how to win hearts as those two knights did, they should not reject the gratitude that we feel."
"That grandeur of soul is worthy of you, Milady."
"I no longer feel any pride, Bathilda. Beaten down by misfortune and injustice, I feel closer to evil than I do to good; those are the effects of tyranny and iniquity. I can see now why criminals become worse in prison. They will be abolished in my states if I ever have anything to do with ruling again. The misfortune of being a prisoner myself has made me realize that they are not a good thing. In order to bring men back to a state of virtue, it will not be by offering them a disgusting picture of all the inconveniences of vice; it is to the hurt of men that it is necessary to shut men up in order to prevent them from doing any harm. It is certain that this procedure causes a feeling of revenge and it is only with the greatest precautions that one should use such a gross means."[1]
"Don't you see, Milady," said Bathilda, "that it is easier to shut them up than it is to convince them that the easiest road is the one which foolishness traces. In any case, Milady, your misfortunes will at least have given to rulers some reflections on the importance of weighing carefully before sending a man to prison."
"Unfortunately, I can feel the danger of sending men to prison, but I cannot undo the harm it has already done me. I have become a victim of the prison system. My soul is no longer the same. Misfortune has changed me. I am no longer a person who takes things in a good-humored fashion; the least contradiction has become intolerable for me … But let's hurry to get away from here. We are still too close to the place where we have been in such danger. We should prefer Frankfort to Trier and should get there as soon as possible. The large size of the former town, the confusion of the large fair which is being held there at this moment will favor our hiding. Once there we will see what we have to do and what the circumstances will suggest."
They were fortunate enough to find in the inn where they had taken refuge a very rickety carriage which was pulled by an old horse. The owner of the inn offered to take them to Frankfort in this vehicle, and they accepted at once.
Once arrived in this big city, already famous for its commerce and the riches of its merchants, they immediately bought suitable clothes. In a few hours they had found rooms and were resting, and for the first time in a long while they felt fairly safe.
Through an indefinable presentiment, Adelaide kept thinking about the two knights who had saved her life, and the princess was hoping all the time that one of them might have been the one who was so cherished in her heart. But since there was nothing about the two men which would cause her to believe that one was her beloved, her attention went to plans for the future. While she is making these plans, let's return to Frederick and Mersburg.
These two gentlemen went towards Trier where they awaited their squire, the faithful Pitreman.
"Well," they said when he had joined them at the inn, "what did those two young people say about the services which we gave them?"
"They were full of gratitude, Milord," said the squire, "but if you will permit me to say so, I believe that those two individuals were not of our sex, and if you had permitted me to be a little more curious, I would know even more."
"I suspected that they were women," said Mersburg.
"Perhaps they are women who consort with the bandits who frequent these woods," suggested the squire.
"I am convinced that they were women," said Frederick, "but I don't think you are right concerning their morals, from the way they acted, I feel sure that they were women of a higher type. I am sorry now I didn't speak to them."
They were discussing this case when the mail from Dresden arrived. Frederick was always careful to inform the marquis of his address in order that he could receive news from time to time. Frederick learned that the Emperor was renewing his attempts to subdue Saxony and that he was marching with a big army on Dresden, which obliged the marquis to raise an army from the provinces in order to be able to warn off such a serious threat. He asked Frederick to return at once in order to take command of this army.
"My Prince," said Mersburg, "you are now in a position to choose between love and glory; but I imagine that a Prince of Saxony will always choose the latter. Do not let the wagging tongues accuse you of a weakness which would dishonor your name forever. Love is the recreation of a sovereign, but glory should be his only thought. Posterity, which will judge you, will not pardon you for having wavered."
"I shall not waver, my friend," said Frederick quickly, "and to prove it to you, we will leave instantly."
Frederick and Mersburg rode as fast as they could toward Dresden, but at some distance from this city they learned that the troops of the Emperor were between him and the city and that if he tried to go through, he might be taken prisoner. Frederick was not to be stopped in his attempt to make his way through and as he advanced, a detachment of the Emperor's army captured him and took him to the castle.
Frederick was instantly recognized and taken to the closest captivity where he did not even have the pleasure of having the company of Mersburg. The latter had succeeded in escaping. He left a letter for Frederick in which he told him that he would join the troops which were defending Dresden.
Frederick thanked Heaven for the brave people in his states and waited for his delivery from prison. Leaving him in his solitary confinement, we can now return to Frankfort where Adelaide and Bathilda are preparing for a new life.
- ↑ The Marquis de Sade wrote this novel at Charenton where he had been imprisoned by Napoleon. In all, he spent about twenty-eight years in prison.