Goethe and Schiller. L. Muhlbach

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ He also was fully aware that he was entering upon a new future, and he swore that it should not only be a brilliant but also a profitable one. He smiled complacently when he considered the pleasures and happiness life had in store for him. Did not the king love him, and, still better, did not the king love his wife, the soi-disant Madame Rietz?

      “A plain madame she will not remain much longer,” said he to himself. “She is ambitious; I will place her at the head of the department of titles and orders, but I will superintend the department of finance and material profits. When such a good-natured couple as we are harness ourselves to a wagon, it will be strange indeed if we do not manage to pull it through the mire of life, and if it does not ultimately become transformed into a right regal equipage.” At this moment the carriage turned the corner of the avenue, and there lay Sans-Souci, illumined by the first rays of the rising sun, bright and beautiful to look upon, although the corpse of a king lay within—the corpse of one, who but yesterday was the master and ruler of millions, to-day inanimate clay, a handful of dust from the dust of humanity.

      The carriage halted, and, as no one came forward to open the door, Rietz reluctantly opened it himself. The king’s house was the scene of confusion and sorrow, and could no longer be called the house Sans-Souci, “the house without care,” since its royal occupant had closed his eyes.

      The king entered the antechamber, and greeted with a kindly smile the two valets who stood near the door. Tears rushed to their eyes, and disregarding etiquette in their grief, they neglected to open the door that led to the inner apartments. Rietz hastened forward and opened it, and then followed the king and minister into the reception-room, which was still empty, as the princes and princesses, and the courtiers, had not yet been informed of the king’s death.

      “Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!” They will soon come with one weeping and one laughing eye; with a reluctant tear for the departed, and a fascinating smile for the living king, who had awakened this morning to find a crown on his brow, and a kingdom at his feet!

      “Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!”

      How desolate is the antechamber of the departed king to-day! Not a sound is heard! The portrait of the Marquise de Pompadour, which she had given Frederick as a mark of her favor, hangs on the wall, and smiles down upon this scene with its coquettish beauty. The king and the minister do not observe it, but Rietz, who follows close behind, looks up at the picture with a complacent smile, and thinks to himself that his wife will certainly become quite as celebrated and honored as the French king’s flame. Why should not an empress also write to her some day—to her, the adored of the King of Prussia, and call her “ma cousine?” Why not?

      It is only with the greatest difficulty that the valet can suppress his inclination to burst into laughter, when this thought occurs to him. As he follows his master into the king’s study, he covers his face with his hand, and assumes an air of deep dejection. There are people in this room, and there might be observant eyes there also.

      But no, there are no observant eyes in the king’s study to-day. The men who are present are thinking only of their trouble and grief. There are no tears of etiquette and no sighs of assumed sorrow there. The king’s four cabinet counsellors alone are present. In accordance with his request of the day before, they had come to his study at four o’clock in the morning, the accustomed hour. On the preceding day they had been admitted to his presence, and he had given them his instructions in a weak voice, and had even steadied his trembling hand sufficiently to affix his signature to a state document. To-day they had come, as usual, with the rising sun, but they now saw that their sun had set—nothing remained for them but to weep. The king did not see them, or did not seem to see them, but walked rapidly toward the open door, and the mourning group who had assembled in the adjoining apartment. On a blood-stained pillow in an arm-chair lay the countenance which was yesterday that of a king. A day had transformed it into a marble bust; it lay there with closed eyes, in peaceful serenity—a smile on the lips that had yesterday cried out to the sun, “Soon I will be with you!”

      The great king was with the sun; that which lay in the chair was only the worthless casket of the flown soul.

      Beside the body stood the physician Sello, in deep dejection. Behind the chair were the two lackeys, who had faithfully watched at the king’s bedside during the preceding night; they were weeping bitterly, weeping because he had gone from them.

      Deep silence reigned; and there was something in this silence which inspired even the valet Rietz with awe. He held his breath, and approached noiselessly to look at the corpse of King Frederick, whom he had never had an opportunity of viewing in such close proximity during his lifetime.

      As the king approached the body, the servants sobbed audibly. The physician bowed his head deeper, to salute the rising star. The greyhound, which had remained quiet and motionless at the king’s feet until now, jumped up, raised its slender head, and howled piteously, and then returned to its former position.

      Deeply moved, his eyes filled with tears, the king stooped over the dead body, raised the cold hand to his lips, and kissed it; and then he laid his warm hand on the brow that had worn a crown, and had so often been entwined with laurel-wreaths.

      “Give me, O God, Thy blessing, that I may be a worthy successor of this great king,” said Frederick William, in a low voice, while tears trickled down his cheeks.—“You, my predecessor, made Prussia great; God grant that it may never be made weak through my instrumentality! Farewell, my king and uncle, and peace be with us all!”

      “Amen!” said Herzberg, in a firm voice. “Last evening, when the shades of death were already gathering on his brow, his majesty King Frederick sent for me, and whispered these words, in faltering tones: ‘On the morrow you will present my salutations to my successor beside my body.’ Your majesty, King Frederick greets you through me!”

      Frederick William inclined his head in response. “You were with the king when he died, were you not, my dear Sello?”

      “Yes, sire, I was.”

      “At what hour did the king die?”

      Sello raised his hand, and pointed solemnly to the large clock which stood against the wall on a marble stand. “Your majesty, the hands of that clock stopped the moment the king breathed his last sigh. Sire, behold the first monument erected to the memory of our great king!”

      Frederick William looked both astonished and pleased. “This is truly wonderful,” he observed, in an undertone. “They were then right! We are surrounded by wonders. The hand of a mysterious agency is visible in all things!”

      He walked up to the clock, and a feeling of awe crept over him as he regarded the dial. To him the hands were ghostly fingers pointing to the moment at which the king had died.

      “Twenty minutes past two,” said the king, softly. “Strange, passing strange!”

      He turned and beckoned to his valet to approach.

      “Rietz, at what time did I call you last night, when I was awakened by some fearful anxiety?”

      “It was exactly twenty minutes past two, your majesty! I am certain of it, because you commanded me to consult your watch at the time.”

      “Yes, that was the exact time,” murmured the king to himself. “The spirits woke me, that I might greet the new day that was dawning for me.”

      “Le roi est mort! Vive le roi!” The king, who gave enlightenment and freedom of thought to his people, is dead! King Frederick is dead! A shadow darkens the sun of this first СКАЧАТЬ