His Court was in many respects a model of order and pleasing display. By all who surrounded him he was considered a distinguished man; and contrived--which is most difficult for a prince--that those who daily associated with him should always have a feeling of his superiority. He had never been a military man, and he did not refrain from sarcastic remarks on the warlike propensities of other princes. His Court long remained free from the military influence that prevailed in neighboring capitals. Gradually, indeed, he made some concessions to the fashion, and his aides-de-camp became important members of the royal household; but he was not on a comfortable footing with the officers of his household, and, in spite of his quiet manner, was always feared by these gentlemen. There were hours when it appeared that his reserved character was not only accompanied by severity, but by something quite anomalous, in addition: at such moments, cynical jests or brusque and irritative remarks fell from his lips, and he lost all consideration for the claims of those about him. But the young noblemen and aides-de-camp bore the secret thorn of their position without being subjected to the loud criticism which is often expressed by the courtiers of ruling princes, for the Sovereign understood how to treat them with respect before strangers. He held strictly to etiquette, even on their behalf, and cleverly took care of their interests in the presentation of favors--orders and decorations--which foreign princes visiting his Court were bound to bestow; he never called upon them for anything contrary to the dignity of their office, and knew how to maintain his own and that of his Court in intercourse with strangers.
His wife had died early, and the inhabitants of the capital always preserved a grateful recollection of that pale and delicate lady. It was said that the marriage had not been a happy one; yet the sorrow of the Sovereign was strong and lasting. He always spoke with great tenderness of the departed, and every year, on the anniversary of her death, fastened a garland in her mausoleum.
He had two children. The eldest, the Princess, had returned to Court after the death of her husband; and the Sovereign, in the eyes of the Court and the people, treated her with especial regard. He had opened his whole heart to the Court chaplain about her. "I should like to see her married again; she has a right to look forward to a brilliant life,--her heart is warm, her nature energetic; and from my experience, I consider a long state of widowhood a bad thing for the Princess. But I fear she will resist. I have perhaps, always been a weak father to this child. You know, venerable sir, how dear she has been to me."
Thereupon the pious gentleman, with folded hands, exclaimed: "I know it, and I know how warmly the heart of her Serene Highness is attached to her father." The people also remarked that the Sovereign was a good father. On every birthday a great Court fête was arranged for the daughter; and when the Sovereign once happened to be travelling at this time, he appeared suddenly, contrary to all expectation, on the evening of the birthday, in his travelling dress, at the Princess's opera-box, kissed her on the forehead before all the people, and said that he had hastened his return in order to wish her joy upon her fête day. Besides this, he neglected no opportunity of showing her the little attentions which in every father gave an impression of amiable gallantry, and which in every ruling Sovereign are doubly appreciated. Before every ball he sent his daughter a nosegay, and every time had it brought by the head gardener into the castle to inspect it himself. He was glad when distinguished travellers caused their arrival to be announced to the Princess, and always observed accurately whether she was well entertained during their reception. But, in spite of the great trouble the father took to give a good appearance to his relations with the Princess, it was thought that he had a secret dislike for her. It may be possible for a prince to be incomprehensible to those who are in daily intercourse with him in certain important concerns, but it is almost impossible to deceive them constantly.
The relations of the father to his son were very different. The latter, a sickly, shy boy, had been deprived of self-confidence by the way in which his father had watched over his education. The boy had not the capacity to assert himself; it was still a difficult task for him to overcome his shyness in his intercourse with strangers. When the list of persons invited was handed to him, and he considered what he was to say to individuals, apt questions seldom occurred to him, and what he did bring out was so awkwardly done that it was very evident that he had been coached. Even to the persons of the Court the young Prince was silent and indifferent; the ladies and gentlemen were therefore inclined to assume that he was a little weak-minded. His father treated him with contempt, and his tone towards his son sometimes sounded short and harsh, as if it were not worth his while to conceal his disdain for him.
In this respect, however, injustice was done to the father. A reigning sovereign is easily led to consider his son as a young rival. The son will be his successor, and will, in the next generation, expose his father before all the world, upset all his arrangements, and be reconciled to all who have been discontented and his opponents. When he has become sovereign, it is impossible that he should not discover something under the former Government that has been wrong, and everything will be brought before him in which his father has failed and done evil. This would have been reason enough for the Sovereign to treat his son with coldness and reserve. Now he was nobody, a powerless slave who was indebted to his father for every penny he had; but some day he would be everything. But his son was in his eyes insignificant; he moved in the prescribed track as if possessed of no will of his own; he had never defied him, was content with everything, and had yielded silently and respectfully to every command; it was not to be supposed that he could really govern himself, still less would he put his father in the shade. Thus by degrees was added to the father's quiet feeling of contempt, one of almost compassionate kindness. The timid submissiveness of the Prince was very satisfactory to his father; it was very agreeable to him to provide, as he was well able, a support for the weak reed which was to carry on the future of his family. To him he showed himself as he was: what he did for him was done with the feeling that he was benefiting another, not himself.
But just now, when he had been taking pains to procure a pleasure for the Hereditary Prince, the latter fell ill!
Ilse went with Gabriel through the rooms, trying to arrange them to please herself; she moved the tables about, examined the curtains, and looked doubtfully at the porcelain vases.
"I am surprised," said Gabriel, "that amongst this beautiful furniture one thing should be wanting, a cuckoo-clock. That would be very suitable: it gives life, when it opens its door, and makes profound obeisances as they do at Court. For they are very polite here, however deceitful they may be at heart. I have no confidence in the lackey; he asks me too many questions. How would it be taken if we got rid of him? I could manage to do the housekeeping alone, with the maid. No cooking can be done here, for there is no kitchen; every drop of warm water must be brought from the cellar over there where the white jackets work like so many ghosts."