"Shall I here seek pleasure, with effeminate good nature, while the king, in spite of his age, exposes himself to all the fatigue of a campaign and the danger of battle? This war of the Bavarian succession is unfortunate, and no one knows whether the German empire will derive any important advantage from our sustaining by force of arms a little duchy. It is a question whether it would not be better to abolish the little principalities, in order to strengthen the greater German powers. The king will support Bavaria, because he envies Austria its possession, and, as he has decided upon war, it becomes his crown prince to yield to his decision without murmuring. Therefore, Wilhelmine, I will today witness to you the oath of fidelity. If God calls me to Him, if I fall in battle, this oath will be your legacy. I have nothing else to leave you, thanks to the parsimony of my noble uncle. I am a very poor crown prince, with many debts and little money, and not in a condition to reward your love and fidelity otherwise than with promises and hopes, and letters of credit for the future. Such a bill of exchange I will write for you--a legacy for my dear Wilhelmine. Give me pen and paper."Wilhelmine hastened to her writing table and brought him paper with writing materials. "There, my Frederick," said she, "there is every thing necessary--only the ink, I fear, may be dried."The prince shook his head, smiling. "Such a lover's oath as I will transcribe for you can be written with no common ink. See, here is my ink!"The prince had suddenly made a slight incision in his arm, and, as the blood gushed out, he dipped his pen in it, and wrote; then handed it to Wilhelmine, saying: "Read it here, in the presence of God and ourselves."Wilhelmine pressed it to her lips, and read, with a solemn voice:
"'By my word of honor as a prince, I will never forsake you, and only death shall separate you from me.--Prince Frederick William of Prussia.'" [Footnote: "Memoires of the Countess Lichtenau." p. 120.]
"By my word of honor as a prince, I will never forsake you, and only death shall separate me from you," repeated the prince, as he bent over Wilhelmine, lifting her in his arms and placing her upon his knee. "Take the paper and guard it carefully," said he. "When I die, and you have closed my eyes, as I trust you will, give this paper to my son and successor, for it is my legacy to you, and I hope my son will honor it and recognize in you the wife of my heart, and care for you.""Oh! speak not of dying, Frederick," cried Wilhelmine, embracing him tenderly; "may they condemn me, and imprison me as a criminal, when you are no more! What matters it to me what befalls me, when I no longer possess you, my beloved one, my master? Not on that account will I preserve the precious paper, but for the love which it has given me, and of which it will one day be a proof to my children.
This paper is my justification and my excuse, my certificate and my declaration of honor. I thank you for it, for it is the most beautiful present that I have ever received.""But will you make me no return, Wilhelmine? Will you not swear to me, as I have sworn to you?"She took the knife from the table without answering, and pointing it to her left arm--"Oh, not there!" cried the prince, as he sought to stay her hand.
"Do not injure your beautiful arm, it would be a sacrilege."Wilhelmine freed herself from him, as he sought to hold her fast, and in the mutual struggle the knife sank deep into her left hand, the blood gushing out. [Footnote: The scar of this wound remained her whole life, as Wilhelmine relates in her memoirs.--See "Memoires of the Countess Lichtenau."]
"Oh, what have you done?" cried the prince, terrified; "You are wounded!"He seized her hand and drew the knife from the wound, screaming with terror as a clear stream of blood flowed over his own. "A physician!
Send quickly for a physician," cried he. "Where are my servants?"Wilhelmine closed his lips at this instant with a kiss, and forced herself to smile in spite of the pain which the wound caused her.
"Dearest, it is nothing," she cried. "I have only prepared a great inkstand--let me write!"She dipped her pen in the blood, which continued to flow, and wrote quickly a few lines, handing them to the prince.
"Read aloud what you have written. I will hear from your own mouth your oath. You shall write it upon my heart with your lips."Wilhelmine read: "By my love, by the heads of my two children, Iswear that I will never forsake you--that I will be faithful to you unto death, and will never separate myself from you; that my friendship and love will endure beyond the grave; that I will ever be contented and happy so long as I may call myself your Wilhelmine Enke.""I accept your oath, dearest," said the prince, pressing her to his heart. "This paper is one of my choicest jewels, and I will never separate myself from it. We have now sealed our love and fidelity with our blood, and I hope that you will never doubt me again.
Remember this hour!"
"I will," she earnestly promised, "and I swear to you never to torment and torture you again with my jealousy. I shall always know, and shall hold fast to it, that you will return to me."A violent knocking on the house door interrupted the stillness of the night. A voice in loud, commanding tones called to the night-watch.
"Here I am!" answered the porter. "Who calls me? And what is the matter?""Open the door," commanded the voice again.
"It is our house," whispered Wilhelmine, who had softly opened the window. "It is so dark, I can only see a black shadow before the door.""Do you belong to the house?" asked the night-watch. "I dare let no one in who does not belong there.""Lift up your lantern, and look at my livery. It is at the king's order!"Wilhelmine withdrew from the window, and hastened to the prince, who had retired to the back part of the room.
"It is Kretzschmar, the king's footman and spy," she whispered.