The Emperor’s Death
“The days of our years are threescore and ten years; and if by reason of
strength they be fourscore, yet is their strength labor and sorrow.” So
sings the Psalmist, and thus it was with the life of Emperor William,—a
ceaseless round of toil and weariness, of care and struggle, that
reached its climax in those astounding victories that strengthened the
throne of Prussia and brought about the unification of Germany. Even in
his old age he was not permitted to end his days quietly, as we have
seen, but still devoted his whole time and strength to the welfare of
the Fatherland, nobly striving to maintain peace both at home and
abroad. He had lived to see Germany a free and united Empire once more,
with a position among the nations of the earth she had never before
attained, and might well say with Simeon, “Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace,” were it not for the war clouds that still hung
about the horizon, and had the Crown Prince stood beside him in all his
old health and vigor, ready to take the reins of government from his
hands. This was the great sorrow that clouded his declining years and
caused him painful anxiety as to the future in view of his own death,
which could not now be far distant. The Emperor naturally possessed a
powerful constitution, strengthened by the regular life he led and his
freedom from early excesses of all kinds. An occasional cold, or attack
of a painful but not at all serious ailment to which he had been subject
for many years, would confine him to his room or bed for a short time,
but except for this he had enjoyed excellent health. But having reached
an age far beyond that usually allotted to mortals, it was not strange
that during his latter years, whenever it was announced that His Majesty
was ill, the physicians’ daily reports were anxiously awaited, or that
when the aged monarch again appeared at the familiar corner window of
his palace he was greeted with cheers by the assembled crowds, while the
solemn tones of the “Heil Dir, im Siegerkranz,” swelled up into the sky.
It was on Friday, March 2, 1888, that the Emperor drove out for the last
time. There was an icy north wind blowing in Berlin that day, and he
contracted a cold which, in his already somewhat enfeebled health, he
was unable to throw off. His physical condition was aggravated, too, by
anxiety over the political situation and his son’s illness; and when in
addition to this news was received of the sudden death of a favorite
grandson, Prince Louis of Baden, the shock was too great for the old man
to recover from. On Monday, March 5, his condition was far from
encouraging, and on the following day it became even more critical. A
sleepless night greatly reduced the patient’s strength, and on Thursday,
toward evening, he sank into a death-like stupor, from which, except for
one or two brief intervals of consciousness, he never rallied. At
half-past eight the following morning, March 9, the soul of the aged
hero, the father of the Fatherland, passed quietly away into the land of
eternal peace.
During the Emperor’s last hours the members of his family, together with
some of the highest court officials, were gathered round his bedside. On
Thursday afternoon, at the suggestion of Prince William, the dying man
was asked if he would like to see the Court Chaplain, Dr. Kögel, and on
his assenting the divine was sent for. After a few words of greeting to
his royal master, in which he expressed the sympathy of the whole
people, he recited some passages of Scripture, and at the sick man’s
request a few verses of some of his favorite hymns, followed by a
prayer, the Emperor now and then responding clearly, with an expression
of satisfaction or assent. From seven till ten o’clock that evening
there seemed a marked improvement, during which the august patient
conversed cheerfully with Prince William. The greater part of the
family, feeling much encouraged, permitted themselves a few hours of
sleep. Toward four o’clock in the morning, however, symptoms of collapse
showed themselves. He became unconscious again, and it was evident that
death was near. The family and watchers were hastily summoned and Dr.
Kögel again sent for. He recited the Lord’s Prayer, Her Majesty the
Empress joining in, and then read the twenty-seventh Psalm, beginning
“The Lord is my light and my salvation.” When he had finished, the Grand
Duchess of Baden, who had hastened to her father’s bedside at the first
news of his illness, leaned over and asked: “Did you understand, Papa?”
The Emperor answered clearly, “It was beautiful.”
She then asked: “Do you know that Mamma is sitting here beside you,
holding your hand?”
The dying man’s eyes opened and he looked long at the Empress, then
closed them for the last time. His parting look was for her, but his
last sigh for the beloved son, stricken unto death and in a foreign
land, as was evident from the touching cry, “Alas, my poor Fritz!”
When life was extinct, all present knelt while Dr. Kögel offered a
prayer, concluding with the supplication, “O Lord, have mercy on our
royal house, our people, and our country, and in the death of the
Emperor may Thy words be fulfilled, ‘I will bless thee, and thou shalt
prove a blessing.’ Amen.”
The excitement throughout the country at the news of Emperor William’s
death was tremendous. Bells were tolled from every church spire, flags
hung at half mast or were wrapped in crape, while hundreds of sad-faced
people wandered into the churches to pray or seek comfort in the words
of the priests.
[Illustration: _The Emperor’s deathbed_]
On the night of March 11 the earthly remains of the deceased Emperor
were taken from the palace to the cathedral, where they were to lie in
state. In spite of a heavy wind and snowstorm the Unter den Linden was
so thronged with people that progress was impossible, and the police had
hard work to keep the way clear, yet the most solemn stillness
prevailed. At five minutes before twelve the regular tramp of marching
troops was heard and torchbearers were seen issuing from the palace. The
soldiers took their places, Colonel von Bredow with a squadron of the
body-guard being in charge of the arrangements, and formed a solid wall
on both sides of the street from the palace to the cathedral, long crape
streamers falling from the plumes on their helmets.
At midnight the bells of the cathedral began to toll, and an hour later
the head of the procession appeared, advancing slowly between a double
line of torches, led by the first division of the body-guard under
Colonel von Bredow. Behind these at some distance was a battalion of
foot guards, followed by all the Emperor’s servants in a body, including
his own coachman, _jäger_, and valet. Then came thirty non-commissioned
officers with snow-white plumes, bearing on their shoulders the coffin
of the deceased Emperor, covered with a plain black pall. Immediately
behind it rode the Crown Prince and Prince Henry, followed by all the
generals and foreign military _attachés_, among them Count Moltke. Then
another division of mounted body-guards clattered by, and the procession
ended in a long line of carriages.
The interior of the cathedral was an impressive sight. The chancel had
been converted into a grove of palms and laurels, in the centre of
which, on a black catafalque, rested the casket of purple velvet heavily
decorated with gold. On either side stood huge candelabra from which
countless tapers shed their soft radiance, while close beside were
placed white satin stools embroidered in gold. At the foot of the coffin
were laid the rarest and costliest wreaths. After it had been lifted on
to the catafalque the Emperor’s own valet, who had always attended to
His Majesty’s personal wants during his lifetime, approached and lifted
the pall. Even in death the monarch’s features wore the same expression
of noble serenity that had characterized them in life. Upon the
venerable head was placed the military forage cap. The body was clothed
in the uniform of the First Foot Guards, the historic gray cloak drawn
carefully about the shoulders. His only decorations were the Star of the
Order of the Black Eagle, the collar of the Order of Merit, and the
Grand Cross of the Order of the Iron Cross. At his feet lay a single
wreath of green laurel. Keeping watch on the right side of the bier
stood two of the palace guards with arms lowered, on the left two
artillerymen with raised arms, this honorary service being shared in
turn by all the guard regiments. From this time until the day of the
funeral the cathedral became the centre of attraction, not only to the
people of Berlin but to the thousands of strangers who thronged the
capital anxious to obtain one more last look at the beloved Emperor.
From early morning till far into the night a vast multitude surrounded
the cathedral, waiting and hoping to gain entrance; but although an
average of seventy-five hundred people passed through the edifice every
hour, there were still hundreds left outside, unable to gratify their
desire.
Meanwhile Unter den Linden, through which the funeral procession was to
pass on its way to the mausoleum at Charlottenburg, had been transformed
into a street of mourning. Art and patriotism combined to achieve the
highest results of the decorator’s skill, and the wide thoroughfare
presented an appearance of gloomy magnificence impossible to describe
here in detail. All the public buildings were draped in black and
elaborately decorated; the streets were lined with Venetian masts
connected with festoons of black and surmounted by the royal golden
eagle, while many ornamental structures of various kinds had been
erected, some enclosing statues of allegorical figures. The Brandenburg
Gate was most imposing, and well might it be, for the sovereign who had
entered it so often as a conqueror was now to pass out of it for the
last time. All along the Siegesallee also were displayed signs of
mourning, while at Charlottenburg the public grief found touching
expression in the crape-wreathed banners and sable-hung houses and
monuments.
The funeral obsequies were held on Friday, March 16. On the stroke of
eleven the brazen tongues of the cathedral bells gave the signal, which
was answered by those of all the churches in Berlin tolling at intervals
all during the ceremonies. At the same time the doors of the cathedral
were opened; the various officers took their appointed places at the
head and foot of the coffin. The Minister of State and the Lord
Chamberlain stepped behind the tabourets on which lay the imperial
insignia,—crown, sword, orb, sceptre, etc.,—the generals and military
deputies present grouping themselves on the lower step of the estrade.
The invited guests, knights of the Black Eagle, members of the
diplomatic corps, heads of noble houses, and others who had assembled in
the outer part of the church, were then shown to their places, and last
of all the Empress Victoria, Queen Elizabeth of Roumania, and the royal
princesses entered and took the seats placed for them in a semicircle
before the altar, the other foreign princesses occupying an enclosure to
the left. The foreign ambassadors had places reserved for them in the
body of the church immediately behind the most illustrious guests.
The funeral services, which at the Emperor’s own request were conducted
by the Court Chaplain, Dr. Kögel, assisted by the cathedral clergy,
began shortly after noon. While the mourners were assembling the
organist had been playing soft preludes into which Emperor William’s
favorite tunes were skilfully woven, but when all had arrived its deep
tones died away and the service began with the reading of portions of
the ninetieth Psalm and of the eleventh chapter of the Epistle of Saint
John. Then came the singing of “I know that my Redeemer liveth” by the
cathedral choir and the funeral sermon by Dr. Kögel. He had chosen as
his text the verses from Saint Luke, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant
depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation,” and the
trembling tones of the great preacher betrayed his deep emotion as he
spoke of the dead monarch, to whom, as spiritual adviser, he had stood
so close. After a short prayer, followed by other selections from the
choir, the congregation joined in singing a hymn, and the service
concluded with the pronouncing of a benediction over the departed
Emperor.
It was a quarter before two when a salvo of artillery announced that the
funeral procession was about to start. First came a squad of mounted
police trotting briskly through the centre of the Linden, followed in a
moment by another. Then through the cold snow-laden air sounded the
strains of Beethoven’s Funeral March and the trumpeters of the First
Hussars appeared on their white horses, leading the musicians. In
seemingly endless array followed squadrons of the First and Second
Dragoons, the First, Second, and Third Uhlans, the body-guard in their
gorgeous uniforms, and cuirassiers; then six battalions of infantry and
regiment after regiment of artillery, all with crape-wound banners and
muffled drums. The mournful strains of the funeral marches with the slow
tramp of the marching columns was unspeakably melancholy and impressive
in its effect, and the vast throng of spectators, held back by a barrier
formed of seventeen thousand members of Berlin guilds and societies,
stood in awed silence, not a voice raised or a sign of impatience
visible all during the hour that the procession required in passing.
Behind the troops, at a short distance, came a group of twelve divines
headed by Dr. Kögel; then a long line of court officials,
gentlemen-in-waiting, and pages, their brilliant costumes forming a
startling contrast to the prevailing gloom. Following these, and
uniformed in accordance with their military rank, were the Emperor’s two
physicians, Dr. Leutbold and Dr. Tiemann, Dr. von Lauer having been kept
away by illness. The gorgeously embroidered uniforms of the chamberlains
and gentlemen of the bedchamber next appeared, and behind them the
ministers, bearing the imperial insignia on purple velvet cushions,
preceded by four marshals whose hereditary titles recalled the days of
Germany’s ancient splendor,—the Lord High Cup Bearer Prince Hatzfeld,
the Grand Master of the Hunt Prince Pless, the Grand Master of the
Kitchens Prince Putbus, and the Lord High Marshal Prince Salm.
Then came the imperial hearse, a sort of catafalque on wheels, drawn by
eight horses, each led by a staff officer, and over it a yellow silk
canopy adorned with the eagle and emblems of mourning, supported by
twelve major-generals. The ends of the purple velvet pall that covered
the bier were held by Generals von Blumenthal, von der Goltz, von
Treskow, and von Oberwitz, and on either side of it walked the twelve
officers who served as pallbearers. Immediately following the hearse was
the deceased Emperor’s favorite saddle horse, with bridle and housings
of black, led by an equerry.
And now appeared an array of princes and dignitaries such as the world
has seldom seen assembled. General Pape, flanked by Count Lehndorff and
Prince Radziwill, bore the imperial standard in advance of the Crown
Prince William, who walked alone, wrapped in a military cloak and deeply
affected. About five paces behind him followed the Kings of Saxony,
Belgium, and Roumania, then Princes Henry, Leopold, George, and
Alexander with the Hereditary Prince of Saxe-Meiningen, and after them
fully a hundred illustrious mourners walking four, six, and even eight
abreast, Russian grand dukes, Austrian archdukes, royal representatives
from Italy, England, Portugal, Spain, Greece, Denmark,—princes from all
the sovereign houses of Europe, reigning or deposed, envoys and deputies
from every State and Republic in the world.
But there was no attempt at display; enveloped for the most part in
cloaks and furs they quietly and humbly followed the earthly remains of
him who in life had been the greatest of them all, and behind them came
the military deputies of foreign powers,—generals from France, pashas
from the Golden Horn, princes from the north and the south, even the
venerable Cardinal Galimberti, representing Pope Leo Thirteen.
Conspicuous by their absence from this assembly, however, were the two
pillars of the Empire, Prince Bismarck and Count von Moltke, whom the
inclement weather and their state of health had kept at home. Following
these personages was a vast number of mourners of all ranks, while two
battalions of infantry brought up the rear.
On arriving at the Siegesallee, the procession halted while the princes
and dignitaries walking behind the bier entered the equipages that were
waiting to convey them to Charlottenburg, and the royal insignia was
taken back to the palace in Berlin by eight officers under escort of the
bodyguard. The cortege then resumed its march to Charlottenburg, where
from the window of the palace the Emperor Frederick watched with
streaming eyes his beloved father’s last royal progress.
At the Luisenplatz another halt was made to permit the mourners to
descend from the carriages and escort the remains to the mausoleum,
where the Emperor’s own company of the First Foot Guards was waiting to
receive them. The coffin was borne in and placed temporarily between the
two stone slabs that mark the resting place of Frederick William Third
“The Just,” as he was called by his people, and his wife, Queen Louise
of blessed memory. The court chaplain offered a short prayer, a parting
salute of a hundred and one guns was fired, and the last solemn rites
were ended. Under the cypress boughs that shade the national sanctuary,
at the feet of the parents he had honored all his life with so childlike
a devotion, the remains of the heroic sovereign were laid to their
eternal rest.
Appendix
The following is a chronological statement of the principal events in
German history connected with the narrative:
1797 Birth of William First.
1807 Received officer’s patent.
1813 Appointed Captain.
1814-1815 Served in Napoleonic campaign.
1829 Married Augusta of Saxe-Weimar.
1840 Heir presumptive.
1848 German revolution.
1849 Suppressed the insurrection in Baden and the Palatinate.
1854 Field Marshal and Governor at Mainz.
1858 Regency for his brother Frederick William.
1861 Ascended the throne of Prussia.
1862 Appointed Bismarck Minister of Foreign Affairs.
1864 War with Denmark.
1866 Austro-Prussian War.
1867 President of the North German Confederation.
1870-1871 Franco-Prussian War.
1871 Proclaimed German Emperor at Versailles.
1871 Returned with the army to Berlin.
1888 Died at Berlin.
LIFE STORIES FOR YOUNG PEOPLE
_Translated from the German by_
GEORGE P. UPTON
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Barbarossa
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The Maid of Orleans
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Marie Antoinette’s Youth
The Duke of Brittany
Louise, Queen of Prussia
The Youth of the Great Elector
Emperor William First
Elizabeth, Empress Of Austria
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The Nibelungs
William Tell
Arnold of Winkelried
Undine
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