Old Fritz and the New Era

e heart. Her little daughter of seven years tried in vain to win a smile from her mamma with her gentle caresses. In vain she begged her to sing to her and smile as she was wont to do

ther; the foolish, wicked father, who never ceased his constant exercise of the bugle, except to take repeated draughts of brandy, or scold the children. Then she saw in this joyless dwelling, in which she crouched with her little sisters, a young girl enter, and greet them smilingly. She wore a robe glittering with gold, with transparent wings upon her shoulders. This young girl was Wilhelmine's older sister, Sophie, who had just returned from the Italian oper

the crackling wings. She implored her sister to take her with her, while the tears ran in streams down her cheeks. "You know that I love you," she cried, "and my only pleasure is to see you every day. Tak

as you, and your simple style of arranging it suits me better than any

s the queen of the feasts and the balls. Many rich and fine gentlemen came there, and the beautiful Sophie, the dancer, the affianced of Count Matuschko, received their homage. No one observed the sad little waiting-maid, in her dark stuff dress, with her face bound up in bla

future countess. Every rough touch was resented with harsh words, blows, and ill-treatment. The smiling fairy of the drawing-room, was the harsh, grim mistress for her sister, whose every mistake w

e! She lived over again the day when it rose up like a sun before her wondering, admiring gaze, and yet it was a stormy day for her. Sophie was very angry with he

he poor child. The sister had not remarked him in her paroxysm of rage; had never heard him enter. He had been a witness to Wilhelmine's ill-treatment. He now defended her, blaming her sister for her cruelty to her, a

hat I have taken your part. Come, I will take you to your parents, and provide for you. You shall be as beau

d her when, with the delight of youth and happiness, she had given herself up to pleasure. She had followed him quietly, devotedly, as a little dog follows his master. He had kept his word; he had had her instructed during three years, and then sent her to Paris, in order to give her the last polish

ever know of her existence, and in his just anger sever the unlawful tie which bound her to the Prince of Prussia. [Footnote: "Memoirs of the Countess Lichtenau," p. 80.] Wilhelmine recalled the past seven years of her life, her two children, whom she had borne to the prince, and the joy that filled his heart as he became a father, although his lawful wife had also borne him children. She looked around her small, quiet dwelling, arranged in a modest manner, not as the favorite of the Pri

d affection, that I followed the husband of m

ing had commanded her to hide her head so securely that

me never se

Ritter! She, too, had loved a crown prince-she, too, had dared to raise her eyes to the future King of Prussia, for which she was cruelly punished, though chaste and pure, and hurled down to the abyss of shame for the crime of loving an heir to the throne. Beaten, insulted, and whipped through the streets, and then sent

orned, reviled by the rabble, and then sent to Spandau as a criminal. Did not the king threate

er her like the sword of Damocles, ready at the least occasion to fall upon her, and bind her to it. She felt tha

finger is sufficient to seize me, to cause me to disappear before the prince could have any kno

ore security for the moment, for she could fly at the least sign of danger, could even hide herself from the prince, if it were necessary to save him

rt. "Louisa, we must leave here immediately; it is urgent necessity!" said she, with quivering lip. "Do not say a word about it to any one, but hasten; order quickly a wagon, bargain for the pla

e her mistress, or contradict the

ious, the old bear! His eyes flashed so terribly, one might well fear him, and I thanked Heaven when mamselle sent me home from the park. It is coming to a

arcely an hour had passed before Wilhelmine Enke, her two children and nurs

roops pass, which with a full band of music, came marching on. At the head of one of the regiments, mounted upon a fiery steed, was a general in brilliant uniform, his breast covered with orders, which glittered in the sun. He was tall and rather corpulent, but appeared to advantage. His carriage was proud and imposing, his face was almost too youthful for a general, and his body too corpulent for the expres

id Wilhelmine, gently. "Take the child that he may not scream, for if the pri

son must stop here on the street, in a miserable wagon, while his noble father rides past, so splendid and glitter

rs they were separated, on account of the improper conduct of the princess, who was banished to Stettin. There she lived until her death in 1840, after seventy-one years of imprisonment. Never during these seventy-one years had the Princess 'Lisbeth', as she was called, dared to leave Stettin. There she was obliged to amuse herself. Her concerts and evening entertainments were celebrated. The second wife of the crown prince of Prussia was Louisa of Hesse-Darmstadt, the mother of Frederick William III. She died in 1805.] although every one knew of her shameful conduct-knew of her intrigues with lackeys and common soldiers? D

of the sentinel, and the roll of the drums. An equipage, drawn by six black steeds, drove past. A pale, young wife, splendidly attired, leaned back in the carriage, and the little flag-bearer, Prince Frederick William, was by her side; on the seat opposite sat the second son, Prince Louis, and the lord steward. In this beautiful equipage drove the Princess of Prussia; at her side, in a miserable linen-covered wagon, crouching far in the corner, sat Wilhelmine Enke, the rival of the princess; near her, her two children, whose existence condemned her, and stamped her life with dishonor. Like a dream the brilliant apparition rushed past Wilhelmine, and it haunted her through the long streets, to the humble home where she sought a temporary refuge. And when finally alone, in her own room, where no one could spy into her fa

n he will know where to find his Wilhelmine. But if it is true, what malicious people have repeated to me, with feigned sympathy, that the prince loves another-that he has withdrawn his love from me, is indifferent and cold-then he will not seek me; then I shall remain here alone!-alone, with my children, this long,

found Louisa humming and singing her little boy to slee

ting her in her arms. "Your mother will make your bed softly. W

, blessing and kissing him. "Sleep my boy, sleep. I know not that I shall ever see thy beautiful eyes open again-whether I shall ever again press thee to my heart. Who can tell if the

and take something to eat. You must be hungry and tired. Buy at the next store what you need; but do not stop to talk with any

thing, mamselle; you m

d, refusing, and returne