History of Friedrich II of Prussia, vol 8 | Page 8

to see that the negotiation is extinct there. Grumkow
himself, so over-victorious in his late task, is now heeling towards
England; "sincere in his wish to be well with us," thinks Dickens:
Grumkow solaces her Majesty with delusive hopes in the English
quarter: "Be firm, child; trust in my management; only swear to me, on
your eternal salvation, that never, on any compulsion, will you marry
another than the Prince of Wales;--give me that oath!" [Wilhelmina, i.
314.] Such was Queen Sophie's last proposal to Wilhelmina,-- night of
the 27th of January, 1731, as is computable,--her Majesty to leave for
Potsdam on the morrow. They wept much together that night, but
Wilhelmina dexterously evaded the oath, on a religious ground. Prince
of Baireuth, whom Papa may like or may not like, has never yet
personally made appearance: who or what will make appearance, or
how things can or will turn, except a bad road, is terribly a mystery to
Wilhelmina.
What with chagrin and confinement, what with bad diet (for the very
diet is bad, quality and quantity alike unspeakable), Wilhelmina sees
herself "reduced to a skeleton;" no company but her faithful Sonsfeld,
no employment but her Books and Music;-- struggles, however, still to
keep heart. One day, it is in February, 1731, as I compute, they are
sitting, her Sonsfeld and she, at their sad mess of so-called dinner, in
their remote upper story of the Berlin Schloss, tramp of sentries the one
thing audible; and were "looking mournfully at one another, with
nothing to eat but a soup of salt and water, and a ragout of old bones

full of hairs and slopperies [nothing else; that was its real quality,
whatever fine name they might give it, says the vehement Princess], we
heard a sharp tapping at the window; and started up in surprise, to see
what it could be. It was a raven, carrying in its beak a bit of bread,
which it left on the window-sill, and flew away." [Ib. i. 316.]
"Tears came into our eyes at this adventure." Are we become as
Hebrew Elijahs, then; so that the wild ravens have to bring us food?
Truth is, there was nothing miraculous, as Wilhelmina found by and by.
It was a tame raven,--not the soul of old George I., which lives at
Isleworth on good pensions; but the pet raven of a certain Margravine,
which lost its way among the intricate roofs here. But the incident was
touching. "Well," exclaimed Wilhelmina, "in the Roman Histories I am
now reading, it is often said those creatures betoken good luck." All
Berlin, such the appetite for gossip, and such the famine of it in Berlin
at present, talked of this minute event: and the French Colony--old
Protestant Colony, practical considerate people--were so struck by it,
they brought baskets of comfortable things to us, and left them daily, as
if by accident, on some neutral ground, where the maid could pick them
up, sentries refusing to see unless compelled. Which fine procedure has
attached Wilhelmina to the French nation ever since, as a dexterous
useful people, and has given her a disposition to help them where she
could.
The omen of the raven did not at once bring good luck: however, it did
chance to be the turning-point, solstice of this long Greenland winter;
after which, amid storms and alarms, daylight came steadily nearer.
Storms and alarms: for there came rumors of quarrels out at Potsdam,
quarrels on the old score between the Royal Spouses there; and
frightful messages, through one Eversmann, an insolent royal lackey,
about wedding Weissenfels, about imprisonment for life and other hard
things; through all which Wilhelmina studied to keep her poor head
steady, and answer with dignity yet discreetly. On the other hand, her
Sisters are permitted to visit her, and perceptible assuagements come.
At length, on the 11th of May, there came solemn Deputation, Borck,
Grumkow, Thulmeyer in it, old real friends aud pretended new; which
set poor Wilhelmina wringing her hands (having had a Letter from

Mamma overnight); but did bring about a solution. It was Friday, 11th
of May; a day of crisis in Wilhelmina's history; Queen commanding
one thing, King another, and the hour of decision come.
Entering, announcing themselves, with dreadful solemnity, these
gentlemen, Grumkow the spokesman, in soft phrase, but with strict
clearness, made it apparent to her, That marry she must,--the Hereditary
Prince of Baireuth,--and without the consent of both her parents, which
was unattainable at present, but peremptorily under the command of
one of them, whose vote was the supreme. Do this (or even say that you
will do it, whisper some of the well-affected), his Majesty's paternal
favor will return upon you like pent waters;--and the Queen will surely
reconcile herself (or perhaps turn it all