Frederick the Great and His Court Part 25

The king regarded with a clear and penetrating glance the meek woman who sat before him, who accepted her joyless and gloomy future with such heroic resignation. Her mute anguish excited his compa.s.sion. He wished to throw a sunbeam into her dark future, to warm her heart with a ray of happiness.

"Well," said he, "I am on the point of making a little journey incognito, in the meanwhile you can go to Schonhausen; but when I return I desire to spend a few weeks in Rheinsberg in my family circle, and, as a matter of course, madame, you are a member of my family. I beg, therefore, that you will accompany me to Rheinsberg."

Elizabeth's countenance was illumined with so beautiful and radiant a smile that even the king saw it and admired her beauty. She held out both her hands and greeted him with a loving glance, but her trembling lips refused to utter the words which her heart prompted.

The king arose. "I must no longer deprive you of your repose, and I also need rest. We must both keep ourselves well and strong for the sake of our country and our subjects, for we both have a grand task to accomplish. You will administer consolation to the miserable and suffering; you will diffuse happiness and reap blessings; you will s.h.i.+ne as a model of n.o.bility and feminine virtue before all other women, and through your example will give n.o.ble wives and mothers to Prussia's sons! And I," continued the king, a ray of enthusiasm lighting up his handsome face, "I will make my people great; my country shall have a place in the counsels of mighty nations. I will enlarge Prussia and make her strong and powerful. My name shall be engraven in golden letters in the book of history. As fate has destined me to be a king, and will not permit me to spend my days in retirement and philosophic tranquillity like other and happier mortals, I will at least endeavor to accomplish my mission with honor to myself and advantage to my people. You will be a ministering angel to the needy and suffering of our subjects, and I will extend the boundaries of Prussia and diffuse prosperity throughout the land! Farewell, Elizabeth! our paths will seldom meet, but if I were so fortunate as to believe in a hereafter, and your n.o.ble and gentle nature would almost persuade me to do so, I would say: 'In heaven we will perhaps meet oftener, and understand each other better.' Pray to G.o.d in my behalf. I believe in G.o.d and in the efficacy of the prayers of the good and pious. Farewell!"

He bowed deeply. He did not see the deathly pallor and convulsive trembling of the queen. He did not see how she, after he had turned from her and was advancing toward the door, hardly knowing what she did, stretched out her arms after him, and whispered his name in a plaintive and imploring tone. He hurried on, and without once turning left the room. On the outside he stood still for a moment, and drew a long breath of relief.

"Poor woman! unfortunate queen!" he murmured, returning slowly to his chambers. "But why pity her? Is not her lot mine, and that of all princes? A glittering misery--nothing else!"

A few minutes later and the royal equipage again drove through the court yard.

The king was returning to his summer residence at Charlottenburg. The queen, who was on her knees, crying and sobbing, heard the carriage as it drove off. "Gone! he is gone!" she exclaimed, with a cry of anguish; "he has deserted me, and I am a poor discarded woman! He despises me, and I--I love him!" And wringing her hands, she sobbed aloud. For a while she was tranquil and prayed, and then again burst into tears. Her soul, which had suffered so long in silence, once mora rebelled. The voice of her youth made itself heard, and demanded in heart-rending accents a little suns.h.i.+ne, a little of the joy and happiness promised to mankind.

She was at last quieted; she accepted her destiny, and bowed her head in humility and patience. Morning was already dawning when Elizabeth Christine arose from her knees, pale and trembling, but resigned.

"Soffri e taci!" said she, sadly. "This was the motto of his youth, and this shall be the motto of my whole life! Soffri e taci! how sad, and yet how grave are these words! Oh! Frederick, Frederick! why do you condemn me to such torture; why has your heart no pity with me, no pity with my love? But no!" she exclaimed, firmly, "I will weep no more. He shall not despise me. I have accepted my destiny, and will bear it as beseems a queen. Be still, my heart, be still. Soffri e taci!"

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CORONATION.

Berlin was resplendent; the streets were filled with happy faces and gayly-dressed people, and the houses garlanded with flowers. To-day was the young king's coronation festival.

The citizens of Berlin were a.s.sembled to take the oath of allegiance, and the n.o.bles and officials to do homage to Frederick as their king.

Crowds were moving toward the castle; all were anxious to see the king in his coronation uniform, to see him step upon the balcony to greet the people with the queen at his side, the young and lovely lady with the sweet smile and cloudless brow; all wished to see the rich equipages of the n.o.bility, and, if possible, to collect some of the coins which, according to an old and time-honored custom, were to be showered amongst the people. Thousands were standing before the castle, gazing intently upon the balcony where the king would soon appear. The windows of the surrounding houses were filled with lovely women richly dressed, holding wreaths and bouquets of fragrant flowers with which to greet their young and wors.h.i.+pped king. All were gay and joyous, all were eager to greet the new king with shouts of gladness. The people were ready to wors.h.i.+p him who, during a few weeks of his reign, had done so much for them; had showered upon them so many blessings; had opened the granaries, diminished the taxes, and abolished the torture; who had recalled the religious sect so lately driven with derision from Berlin, and declared that every man in Prussia should wors.h.i.+p G.o.d and seek his salvation in his own way. Yes, all wished to greet this high-minded, high-souled king, who, being himself a philosopher and a writer, knew how to reward and appreciate the scholars and poets of his own land. Frederick had recalled the celebrated philosopher Wolf, punished some time before by Frederick William. He had organized the Academy of Science, and filled it with learned and scientific men of the day. All this had been done in a few weeks. How much could still be hoped for?

The king loved pomp and splendor; this would promote the industry of the people. How much money would be conveyed through him and his gay court to the working cla.s.ses! What a costly festal life would now become the fas.h.i.+on in Berlin and what a rich harvest would the manufacturers and tradesmen reap! Not only the people dreamed of a golden era, but the n.o.blemen and high officials, who now crowded the palace, were hopeful and expectant, and saw a rare future of costly feasts and intoxicating pleasures. The stupid and frugal entertainments of Frederick William would give place to royal fetes worthy of the Arabian Nights.

Pollnitz, the Grand Chamberlain, was in his element; he was commissioned with the arrangements for all the court b.a.l.l.s, was empowered to order every thing according to his own judgment and taste, and he resolved to lavish money with a liberal hand. Pollnitz wished to realize his great ideal; and he wished to see embodied in Frederick the picture he had drawn, for the benefit of the old king, of a true cavalier. The king had given him the power and he was resolved to use it. He thought and dreamed of nothing, now that the court mourning was drawing to a close, but the costly feasts which he would give. Pollnitz was ever searching, with an experienced and critical eye, amongst the ladies and maids of honor for the fascinating beauty who should charm the heart of the young king, and draw him into the golden net of pleasure--the net Pollnitz was so anxious to secure for him.

That the king did not love his wife was no longer a secret at court.

Who, then, would win the love of this impa.s.sioned young monarch? This was the great question with Pollnitz. There was the lovely Madame Wreeckie, who had shown so much kindness to the prince during his imprisonment. Madame Wreeckie was still young, still bewitching; perhaps it was only necessary to bring them together in order to rekindle the old flame. There was Madame Morien, "Le Tourbillon," who had so often charmed the prince during his minority, and for whom he had manifested a pa.s.sionate preference. To be sure, since his coronation he had not noticed her, she had not received a single invitation to court. Then Dorris Ritter, the poor innocent young girl who had been flogged through the streets of Berlin, her only fault being that she was the first love of the crown prince. Would the king, now that he was free to act, remember poor Dorris and what she had suffered for him; her sorrow, her shame, and her despair? Would not Dorris Ritter now rise to power and influence, be prayed to as a lovely saint, her shame being covered with a martyr's crown? Pollnitz determined to keep an eye on Dorris Ritter, and if the king showed no special interest in any other woman, to draw her from her exile and abas.e.m.e.nt. But, alas! the coronation threw no light upon this torturing subject. Pollnitz had hoped in vain that a round of intoxicating pleasures would begin with this day; in vain did he suggest to the king that a court ball should crown the solemnities of the day.

"No," said Frederick, "this shall be no day of thoughtless joy; it brings me sad retrospective thoughts and the consciousness of weighty duties. On this day my father seems to me to die anew. Dismiss, therefore, your extravagant fancies to a more fitting time. I cannot trust you, Pollnitz, with the decorations of the throne, your taste is too oriental for this occasion; I will therefore place this affair in the hands of M. Costellan, who will order the simple decorations which I deem most fitting."

The grand chamberlain could only shrug his shoulders contemptuously, and rejoice that he was not compromised by these contemptible arrangements; he grumbled to himself, and said scornfully: "This pitiful saloon, with no gilded furniture, no paintings, no works of art, with faded, shabby silk curtains: and that black, uncouth structure, is that really a throne--the throne of a young king? A long platform covered with cloth; an old arm-chair, black, worn, and rusty; a canopy covered with black cloth; faugh! it looks like a crow with his wings spread. Can this be the throne of a king who receives for the first time the homage of his subjects?" A contemptuous mocking smile was on the lips of Pollnitz as he saw the king and his three brothers enter the room.

Pollnitz could hardly suppress a cry of horror, as he looked at the king. What, no embroidered coat, no ermine mantle, no crown, nothing but the simple uniform of the guard, no decorations--not even the star upon his breast, to distinguish him from the generals and officials who surrounded him! Nevertheless, as Frederick stood upon that miserable platform with the princes and generals at his side, there was no one that could be compared with him; he seemed, indeed, to stand alone, his bearing was right royal; his countenance beamed with a higher majesty than was ever that lent by a kingly crown; the fire of genius was seen in the flashes of his piercing eye; proud and fearless thoughts were engraved upon his brow, and an indescribable grace played around his finely-formed mouth. There stood, indeed, "Frederick the Great;" he did not need the purple mantle, or the star upon his breast. G.o.d had marked him with elevated kingly thoughts, and the star which was wanting on his breast was replaced by the l.u.s.tre of his eye.

The solemn address of the minister of state, and the reply of President Gorner, were scarcely listened to. Frederick, though silent, had said more than these two ministers, with all their rounded periods; his glance had reached the heart of every one who looked upon him, and said, "I am thy king and thy superior;" they bowed reverently before him, not because chance had made him their sovereign, they were subdued by the power of intellect and will. The oath of allegiance was taken with alacrity. The king stood motionless upon his throne, betraying no emotion, calm, impa.s.sive, unapproachable, receiving the homage of his subjects, not haughtily but with the composed serenity of a great spirit accepting the tribute due to him, and not dazzled by the offering.

The coronation was at an end. Frederick stepped from the throne, and nodded to his brothers to follow him; the servants hastily opened the doors which led to the balcony, and carried out the bags filled with the gold and silver coins. The air resounded with the shouts of the populace. The king drew near to the iron railing, and greeted his subjects with a cordial smile. "You are my children," he said, "you have a right to demand of your father love, sympathy, and protection, and you shall have them." Then taking a handful of coin he scattered it amongst the crowd. Shouts of merriment and a fearful scuffling and scrambling was seen and heard below; each one wished to secure a coin thrown by the king himself, and they scarcely noticed the silver and gold which the young princes were scattering with liberal hands; all these were worthless, as long as it was possible to secure one piece which had been touched by Frederick. The king saw this, and, much flattered by this disinterested mark of love, he again scattered the coin far and wide.

While the men were struggling roughly and angrily for this last treasure, a weak, pallid woman sprang boldly into the thickest of the surging crowd. Until now she had been cold and indifferent; the coins thrown by the young princes, and which had fallen at her feet, she had cast from her with disdain; now, however, as the king once more cast the coins in the midst of the gaping crowd, with a power which pa.s.sion only gives she forced her way amongst the wild mult.i.tude, and with outstretched arms she shrieked out, "Oh! give me one of these small coins, only a silver one, give it to me as a keepsake! Oh! for G.o.d's sake, give me one!" Suddenly strange murmurs and whispers were heard from amongst those who now recognized this poor outcast; they looked askance at her, they shrank from her as from a leper; and she who a moment before had sued to them so humbly, now stood in their midst like an enraged lioness.

"It is she!--it is she!" they whispered; "she has come to see the king, for whom she suffered so much; for his sake she had been covered with shame; she has been driven from amongst the poor and innocent, and now she dares to come amongst us!" cried a harsh and pitiless voice.

"We know how cruelly she was insulted and abused," said another, "but we all know that she was innocent; my heart is full of pity for her, and she has a right to a coin touched by the king." The last speaker approached the poor woman, and offered both a gold and silver coin.

"Take these coins, I beg you, and may they be to you an earnest of a better and happier future."

She gazed with a hard and tearless eye upon the good-natured, kindly face. "No, there is no happy future for me--nothing but want, and misery, and despair; but I thank you for your pity, and I accept these coins as a memento of this hour." She took them and laid them in her tattered dress, walked erect through the circle which gathered around, and was soon lost in the crowd.

She was soon forgotten. The king with his brilliant suite was still upon the balcony, they had not noticed the scene pa.s.sing amongst the people below; none of them remarked this poor creature, who, having made her way through the crowd, now leaned against one of the pillars of the spire, and gazed earnestly upon the king. The money was exhausted, the king had shown himself to the people sufficiently, and now, according to etiquette, he must leave the balcony and make the grand tour of the saloons, greeting with kind and gracious words the a.s.sembled n.o.bles. He motioned, however, to his followers to leave him, he wished to remain a few moments alone, and look thoughtfully upon this sea of upturned faces. Frederick gazed eagerly below. That was no inanimate and pulseless creation moved to and fro by the wind, which he now looked upon, but a living, thinking, immortal people; with hearts to hate or love, with lips to bless or curse, their verdict would one day decide the great question as to his fame and glory as a monarch, or his neglect of holy duty, and the eternal shame which follows. They seemed to Frederick to be pleading with him; they demanded but little--a little shade to rest in when weary with their daily labor; prompt justice and kindly protection, the right to live in peace, bearing the burden and sorrow of their lives patiently; pity for their necessities, forbearance for their weakness and folly. What did he, their king, demand of them? That alone, which a million of people, his people, could bestow, immortal fame!--they must give him the laurel of the hero, and crown him with the civic wreath; he would make his subjects strong, healthy, and happy--they must make his greatness known to all the world, and future ages.

Such were the thoughts of the king as he stood alone upon the balcony.

His eye often wandered across to the spire, and as often as it did the wretched woman who was leaning against the pillar trembled fearfully, and her lips and cheeks became deadly pale. The king did not see her; he saw nothing of the outer world, his eye was turned within, reading the secrets of his own heart.

In the grand saloons the n.o.bles stood waiting in grim and angry silence the return of Frederick; a cloud rested upon every brow; even Pollnitz could no longer retain his gracious and stereotyped smile; he felt it to be a bitter grievance that the king should keep the n.o.bility waiting while he stood gazing at a dirty ma.s.s of insignificant creatures called human beings! Looking around the circle, Pollnitz saw displeasure marked upon every face but three. "Ah," said he to himself, "there are the three Wreeckies; no doubt they have come to be rewarded for services rendered the crown prince; they were doubtless dangerous rivals for us all; they suffered much for the prince, and were banished seven years from court on his account. The king must indemnify them for all this, and who knows, perhaps he may give them the house in Jager Street, the house I am in the habit of calling mine! Well, I must draw near them and hear all the king promises." So saying, Pollnitz drew quietly near the Messieurs Wreeckie. At this moment there was a movement in the vast a.s.sembly, and all bowed low; as the king stepped into the saloon he commenced the grand tour of the room; he had a kind and friendly word for all; at last he reached the Messieurs Wreeckie, and remained standing before them. All glances were now directed to this group; all held their breath, not wis.h.i.+ng to lose a word which Frederick should say to these formidable rivals.

The king stood before them, his eye was severe, and his brow clouded.

"Gentlemen," he said, "it has been a long time since I have seen you at the court of the King of Prussia. I suppose you seek the prince royal; I do not think you will find him here. At this court you will only find a king who demands, above all things, that his majesty should be respected; that you subjugate yourselves to him in silent obedience; even when his orders appear harsh and cruel they must not be questioned for a moment; he who opposes the will of the king deserves punishment; I will not bear opposition at my court. There is but one will, but one law; that is the will and law of the king!" And, without further greetings, he pa.s.sed on.

The Wreeckies stood pale and trembling, and the face of Pollnitz was radiant with contentment. "Well, those poor fellows will not receive my house in Jager Street," he said to himself, "they have fallen into disgrace; it appears the king wants to punish all those who rendered good service to the prince royal. Louis the Fourteenth said: 'It is most unworthy of a French king to punish any wrong done to the crown prince;' here the rule is reversed--the King of Prussia deems it unworthy to reward the services rendered the prince royal. But what is the meaning of that crowd over there?" he exclaimed, interrupting himself, "why is the lord marshal approaching his majesty with such an eager, joyful air? I must know what is going on." Again Pollnitz made his way through the courtiers and arrived safely, right behind the king, just as my lord marshal was saying in an excited voice: "Your majesty, there is a young man in the next room who begs your highness to allow him to throw himself at your feet and take the oath of allegiance; he has come from America to greet you as king. So soon as he heard of the illness of your father, he left his asylum and has travelled night and day; he has finished his journey at a most fortunate moment."

The eye of the king rested coldly, unmoved on the speaker; and even after he ceased speaking, regarded him sternly. "What is the name of this young man, for whom you show so lively an interest?" said the king, after a pause.

The lord marshal looked perplexed and frightened; he thought the king's heart should have told him who stood without; who it was that had left his asylum in America and longed to greet the new king. "Sire," he said, hesitatingly, "your majesty demands to know the name of this young man?"

"I demand it."

The lord marshal breathed quickly. "Well, your majesty, it is my nephew; it is Lieutenant Keith, who has come from America to throw himself at your majesty's feet."

Not a muscle of the king's countenance moved. "I know no Lieutenant Keith," he said, sternly; "he who was once known to me by that name was stricken from the officers' roll with the stigma of disgrace and shame, and was hung by the hangman in effigy, upon the gallows. If Mr. Keith is still living, I advise him to remain in America, where no one knows of his crime, or of his ignominious punishment."

"Your majesty will not receive him, then?" said the lord marshal, with a trembling voice.

"You may thank G.o.d, sir, that I do not receive him--above all, that I ignore his being here; if I should know that he still lived, I should be forced to execute the sentence to which he was condemned by the court-martial." Slightly nodding to the lord marshal, the king pa.s.sed on and spoke a few indifferent words to some gentlemen standing near.

"Well, Mr. Keith will not get my house in the Jager Street," said Pollnitz, laughing slightly. "What is the matter with this king, he seems to have lost his memory? G.o.d grant he may not forget who it was that induced Frederick William to pay the debts of the prince royal, and to present him with the Trakener stud."

CHAPTER IX.

DORRIS RITTER.

When the king had left the balcony, a poor young woman, who had been sitting on the steps of the cathedral, arose and looked fearfully around her. The sight of the king had carried her far away, she had been dreaming of the blissful days of the past. His disappearance brought her back to the present--the sad, comfortless present. The king had left the balcony. What had she to do in this mob, that might again mock, insult, or commiserate her! she could stand neither their sneers nor their pity, she must flee from both.

With a hasty movement she drew her shawl tighter around her poor slender figure, and hurried through the crowd. She came at last to a miserable small house. The low narrow door seemed unfriendly, inhospitable, as if it would permit no one to pa.s.s its threshold and enter its dreary, deserted rooms, from which no sound of life proceeded. But this small, quiet dwelling ought to have been a house of labor and occupation, and would not have been so poor and pitiful looking if the large iron bell hanging over the door had been oftener in motion, and filled the silent s.p.a.ce with its cheerful sound.

Behind this door there was a shop, but the bell was generally silent, and purchasers rarely came to buy in this miserable little store the articles which could be purchased more reasonably in one of the large shops belonging to wealthy merchants. The house seemed to have seen better days. It had some claims to comfort and respectability. In the windows were placed bright sh.e.l.ls and cocoanuts; there were the large blue china pots, in which the costly ginger is brought; there were quant.i.ties of almonds, raisons, citron, and lemons in gla.s.s sh.e.l.ls; neat paper bags for coffee, and small Chinese chests that had held real Chinese tea. But these bags and chests were empty; the lemons and fruits were dried and hard; the ginger-pots held no more of their strengthening contents; even the dusty, faded sign over the door, which presented a wonderfully-ornamented negro engaged in unrolling dried tobacco leaves, was but a reminiscence of the past, for the tobacco had long since disappeared from the chests, and the little that was left had fallen to dust. The store contained but a few unimportant things: chicory for the poor, who could not pay for coffee; matches, and small home-made penny lights, with which poverty illuminated her misery and want; on the table, in gla.s.s cans, a few hardened, broken bits of candy; a large cask of old herring, and a smaller one of syrup. This was the inventory of the shop, these the possessions of this family, who alone occupied this house with their misery, their want, and their despair; whose head and only stay was the poor young woman now leaning wearily against the steps, dreading to enter her house of woe and wretchedness. She arose at length and hastily entered. The bells'

hoa.r.s.e creaking ring was heard, and a poor, pale boy hastened forward to inquire the comer's wants. He stopped and looked angrily at the poor woman who had entered.