Frederick the Great and His Court Part 5

"We have arrived," said the king, opening the door, and leading in the queen. Suddenly Sophia Dorothea uttered a cry of horror, and fell backwards; behind her stood the curious, astonished, and shocked courtiers, pressing themselves hastily through the door of the saloon.

"Two coffins!" murmured the queen, with horror; her timid glance rested first upon the solemn coffins, then wandered anxiously to the lofty, imposing marble statues of the prince electors, who, in solemn rest, in this chamber of the dead, seemed to hold a watch over the coffins of the living.

"Yes, two coffins," said the king--"our coffins, Sophia; and I resolved in this hour to show them to you and the a.s.sembled court, that this solemn warning might arouse you all from your unholy and sinful l.u.s.ts.

Death must strike at your heart to awaken it from voluptuous sleep and cause you to look within. In these coffins we will soon rest, and all earthly vanity and glory will be at an end. No one will fear my glance or my crutch; no one will compliment the beautiful toilet of the queen, or admire her diamonds; dust will return to dust, and the king and the queen be nothing more than food for worms!"

"Not so," said Sophia, whose n.o.ble and proud heart felt humbled by this pious grovelling of her husband; "not so, we will be more than dust and food for worms. The dust of common mortals will be scattered in every direction by the hand of Time, and over their graves will History walk with destroying feet; but she will remain with us and will gather our dust, and build therewith a monument to our memory; when our bodies of flesh and blood are placed in the vault of our ancestors, our forms will arise again with limbs of marble and bosoms without hearts. Look, my husband, at these statues of your exalted ancestors; they have also gone down into the vaults, but their marble forms have the best places in our splendid rooms; perhaps they listen to our words and behold our deeds."

Whilst the queen spoke, her countenance was illuminated with royal energy and beauty; she was now, indeed, truly imperial, without the aid of diamond coronets. The queen was herself again; she had conquered her womanish fears; she felt herself not only the wife of Frederick, but the sister of the king of England, the mother of the future king.

But Frederick, in what he considered his holy penitential mood, was made angry by her self-possession, her proudly-erected head; he felt that this soul had made itself free from his heavy yoke, and claimed and enjoyed a separate existence; but she should acknowledge him again as her lord, and he bowed down with humble penitence. The queen should become the woman, the obedient wife; had not the Bible said, and "he shall rule over thee"?

"So, then, let our ancestors behold how we try our coffins before them," said the king, placing his hand heavily on the shoulder of the queen; "the world knows that diamonds become you, and that I, in my uniform, am a fine-looking fellow; let us see now how our coffins will clothe us!"

"What do you mean, my king?" said Sophia, fixing her trembling glance upon her husband.

"I mean that we will see if we can take our places with dignity and worthily in our coffins; that we will do to-day in sport what we must hereafter do in solemn earnest."

"This is indeed a cruel jest," said the queen.

"Oh, yes, to the children of this world every thing seems cruel which reminds them of death and the fleeting nature of all earthly joys,"

said the king, "but such a warning is good and healthy to the soul, and if we would accustom ourselves from time to time to leave the ballroom and rest awhile in our coffins, we would, without doubt, lead more holy and earnest lives. Lay yourself, therefore, in your coffin, Sophia; it will be to your soul's advantage, and my eyes will see a picture which, praised be G.o.d, you can never behold. I shall see you in your coffin."

"Oh, you are younger than I, my husband; you will surely see me buried; it is not therefore necessary to put me to this trial."

"Conquer thy soul, and make it quiet and humble," said the king; "we have come hither to try our coffins, and we will try them!"

"The king had a feverish attack of piety to-day. I would not have come if I had known the intentions of your majesty," said the queen.

"You would have come as I willed it," murmured the king, while his cheeks glowed with anger and his eye flashed fire.

Sophia saw these symptoms of a rising storm, and she knew that all restraints would be removed if she resisted longer. She called with a commanding tone to one of her maids of honor, and said proudly:

"Reach me your hand, d.u.c.h.ess; I am weary, and will for awhile rest upon this bed, of a new and uncommon form."

With the appearance and n.o.bility of a truly royal soul, she raised her robe a little, lifted her foot over the edge of the coffin, and placed it firmly in the bottom. She stood in the coffin proudly erect, commanding and majestic to behold; then, with inimitable grace, she stooped and lay down slowly. The coffin creaked and groaned, and amongst the crowd of courtiers a murmur of horror and disgust was heard. The king stood near the coffin, and Sophia Dorothea looked at him so steadily, so piercingly, that he had not the courage to meet her glance, and fixed his eyes upon the ground. The queen stood up quietly.

The Countess Hacke held out her hand to a.s.sist her, but she waved her proudly back.

"No," she said, "kings and queens leave their coffins by their own strength and greatness, and sustained by the hand of History alone."

Sophia then stepped over the edge of the coffin, and, bowing profoundly to the king, she said--

"Your majesty, it is now your turn."

The king was confused. He cast a dark, distrustful glance upon the queen. Her simple words had for him a prophetic meaning, and he shuddered as he drew near the coffin. With a powerful effort he overcame himself, stepped into the coffin, and nodded to some of his courtiers to a.s.sist him in lying down.

"Ah, I rest well upon this couch," said Frederick. "Here will I soon sleep till it shall please G.o.d to wake me at the resurrection!"

"May that time be far removed, my king!" said Sophia earnestly. "Allow me to a.s.sist you."

She reached her hand to the king; he seized it with alacrity, and was in the act of rising, when a wild and unaccustomed sound was heard without--a loud, piercing cry, which was many times repeated, then the sound of hasty steps approaching the room! The pallid and awe-struck courtiers whispered to each other.

"What is it?" cried the king, who was still sitting in his coffin.

No one answered. The courtiers whispered confused and wild words, but no one dared to answer.

"I demand to know what has happened," said the king, as with much difficulty he sought to raise himself up.

The major domo stepped forward. "Your majesty, two soldiers are without who held watch in the corridor; they declare that a long, white figure, with a veiled face and black gloves, pa.s.sed slowly by them the whole length of the corridor, and entered this room; they, believing that some unseemly mask wished to approach your majesty, followed the figure and saw it enter this room. They ran hither to seize the masker, but your majesty knows no such person is here."

"The white lady!" cried the king, and sank powerless and as if broken to pieces in the coffin. "The white lady! veiled and with black gloves!

That signifies my death!"

"The white lady!" murmured the courtiers, withdrawing involuntarily from the door through which the evil-omened white lady should enter.

The queen alone was silent. She looked around with a searching glance upon the marble statues of the prince electors, and her soul was far away with her beloved son Frederick.

CHAPTER VII.

THE MAID OF HONOR, AND THE GARDENER.

It was a lovely day in May. The lilacs were in bloom; the birds were singing their sweetest songs; the swans floating upon the tranquil lake, which, bordered with water lilies and other fragrant plants, was one of the chief ornaments in the garden of the prince royal at Rheinsberg. It was still early; the residents of the palace, which was surrounded by this beautiful garden, were sleeping; the windows were closed and curtained, and you heard none of the sounds which usually arose from this gay and charming place. No music fell on the ear but the melting tones of the nightingale and the morning song of the lark.

The prince royal himself was still asleep, for his flute was silent, and that was a sure sign to all who lived in the palace that the lord of the house was not awake, or at least that he had not yet begun the day.

The music of his flute was the morning sacrifice with which the young prince greeted the day; it, like the pillar of Memnon, which gave forth a sound when touched by the rays of the sun, announced to his flattering courtiers that their sun had arisen.

But the flute was silent; the sun had therefore not arisen, although its beams had long been flooding the park in golden light, and drinking from every flower the dew that had fallen during the past sultry night.

Fritz Wendel, the gardener, was already busy with his watering-pot, and was at the same time anxiously selecting and gathering the most beautiful flowers, and concealing them carefully under the various plants and bushes; perhaps to protect them from the heat of the sun, perhaps to secure them from the curious eyes of some observer. Such eyes were already observing him, and resting upon him with an expression so tender and smiling, that you could see that the young girl to whom they belonged had a special interest in the tall, handsome gardener, who, in his modest, simple dress, and his great and imposing beauty, appeared to realize the truth of the old fables, of the G.o.ds who visited the earth in disguise. He might have been Apollo charmed by some Daphne, and taking this rude dress to approach the shepherdess he loved. Perhaps this charming young girl thought thus, and on that account looked at him so smilingly from behind the lilacs, or perhaps she believed him to be a prince, and waited anxiously for the moment when he would throw off his disguise and declare himself her equal. For she was, although not a princess, maid of honor to one, and of n.o.ble birth.

But youth is indifferent to such things as a genealogical tree, or a coat-of-arms, and what cared this child of thirteen summers whether Fritz Wendel was the son of a prince or a peasant? He pleased her because he was young and handsome, and he had one other great charm, he was her first lover. Every one else called Mademoiselle von Sehwerin a child, and jested with little Louise. The princess royal had begged her from her mother, as a sort, of plaything with which to amuse her lonely hours, and the t.i.tle "maid of honor" was only a jest, which served merely to secure the entrance of the young lady to her royal mistress at any time.

But Louise was only a child in years; she possessed already the heart, the feelings, and the desires of a woman; nothing, therefore, hurt her pride so much as being called a child, and she was never happier than when her beauty and talent caused her youth to be forgotten.

Fritz Wendel, the young gardener, knew nothing of her age. For him she was Mademoiselle von Schwerin, a young lady, the G.o.ddess at whose shrine he wors.h.i.+pped, the fairy under whose glance his flowers bloomed, and his heart beat high. For her alone he tended the flowers and the fruits; for her alone had G.o.d created the earth; was she not its queen, and was it not natural that Fritz Wendel lay at her feet, and called her the star of his existence?

The young lady having watched her silent, dreaming "first lover" long enough, and tired of this unnatural silence, walked forward from her place of concealment, and bade Fritz Wendel good-morning, just as he was gathering a beautiful narcissus.

Poor Fritz trembled, and a deep blush overspread his face; he was so embarra.s.sed that he forgot to return the young girl's greeting, and only bent still lower over the flower which he held in his hand.

"For whom are your flowers intended?" said Louise, "and why have you hidden the most beautiful ones? Will you not place them in the bouquet which you arrange every morning for the princess?"

"I have never been ordered to gather the most beautiful flowers for the princess," said Fritz Wendel, who had not yet dared to glance at the young lady. "The prince royal commanded me to place fresh flowers in the vases every morning; that is all."

"But it seems to me that is not all," said Louise, laughing, "for you are gathering other flowers; for whom are they intended, if not for the princess royal?"