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 assembled to take the oath of allegiance,
and the nobles 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 nobility, 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 worshipped king. All were gay and joyous, all
were eager to greet the new king with shouts of gladness. The people
were ready to worship 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 worship God 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 classes! What a costly festal life would now
become the fashion in Berlin and what a rich harvest would the
manufacturers and tradesmen reap! Not only the people dreamed of a
golden era, but the noblemen 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 balls, 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 impassioned 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 passionate 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
abasement. 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. God had marked
him with elevated kingly thoughts, and the star which was wanting on
his breast was replaced by the lustre 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, impassive, 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 passion
only gives she forced her way amongst the wild multitude, 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 God'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 passing 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
assembled nobles. 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 nobles 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 nobility waiting
while he stood gazing at a dirty mass 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 assembly, 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 wishing 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 passed 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 God, 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 passed
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? God 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."