"Yes," cried they all eagerly, "what are you? Are you minister of State or minister of Church affairs?"
"What am I?" cried Jordan, laughing. "I will tell you, my friends. I am not minister of Church affairs; I am not minister of State. I am—ah, you will never guess what I am—I belong to the police! I must remove the beggars from the streets of Berlin, and found a workhouse for them. Now, dear friends, am I not enviable?" For a moment all were silent; then every eye was fixed upon Wartensleben.
"And you, dear duke, are you made happy? You have cut open the golden apple; you have the longed-for portfolio."
"I!" cried the duke, half angry, half merry. "I have nothing, and will receive nothing. I will tell you what the king said to me. He assured me earnestly and solemnly that I was rich enough, and would never receive a dollar from him."
At this announcement they all broke out in uproarious laughter. "Let us confess," said Bielfeld, "that we have played to-day a rare comedy—a farce which Moliere might have written, and which must bear the title of La Journee des Dupes. Now, as we have none of us become distinguished, let us all be joyful and love each other dearly. But listen! the king plays the flute; how soft, how melting is the sound!"
Yes, the king played the flute; he cast out with those melodious strains the evil spirit of ennui which the tiresome etiquette of the day had brought upon him. He played the flute to recover himself—to regain his cheerful spirit and a clear brow. Soon he laid it aside, and his eye rested upon the unopened letters and papers with which the table was covered. Yes, he must open all these letters, and answer them himself, he alone. Nobody should do his work; all should work only through him; no one should decree or command in Prussia but the king. Every thing should flow from him. He would be the heart and soul of his country.
Frederick opened and read the letters, and wrote the answer on the margin of the paper, leaving it to the secretary to copy. And now the work was almost done; the paper with the great seal, which he now opened, was the last.
This was a declaration from the Church department, which announced that, through the influence of the Catholic schools in Berlin, many Protestants had become Catholics. Did not his majesty think it best to close these schools? A pitiful smile played upon the lips of Frederick as he read. "And they say they believe in one God, and their priests and ministers preach Christian forbearance and Christian love, while they know nothing of either. They have not God, but the Church, always before their eyes; they are intolerant in their hearts, imperious, and full of cunning. I will bend them, and break down their assumed power. My whole life will be a battle with priests; they will mock at me, and call me a heretic. Let the Church be ever against me, if my own conscience absolves me. Now I will begin the war, and what I now write will be a signal of alarm in the tents of all the pious priests."
He took up the paper again and wrote on the margin, "All religions shall be tolerated. The magistrates must have their eyes open, and see that no sect imposes on another. In Prussia each man shall be saved in his own way."[9]
[9] Busching. The king's words.