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.
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.