His Serenity Will Build a Palace
It was in the year 1700 and something or other, on a pleasant May day about bed-time, that his Serene Highness the Duke of Mecklenberg-Strelitz, Adolf Friedrich, fourth of the name, and his dear sister, the Princess Christel, were sitting side by side in their palace telling each other true ghost stories, thrilling yarns that nobody under the sun would have believed if they hadn’t really happened; and they both sat shivering, more especially his Serenity Adolf Friedrich.
Suddenly through the still summer evening there came a sound across the lake, a most uncanny sound, a sound that none but the most masculine ghost would be guilty of to frighten a poor mortal out of his seven wits. With a hollow cadence long drawn out did it pass over the whole of Neu-Strelitz, and the princely pair could not for the life of them say whether it came from up in the air or from underneath the earth. It was all the same anyhow, it was gruesome enough either way. His Highness Adolf Friedrich IV. trembled from top to toe, and Princess Christel, who was confoundedly resolute for a woman, had just enough presence of mind left to catch hold of a silver bell and ring and storm with might and main. Why she did it she couldn’t have told you, but at any rate it brought human aid to the spot. Rand, the valet de chambre, and Von Knüppelsdörp, the gentleman of the bed-chamber, came rushing in to ask the why and wherefor. Princess Christel was just able to motion the two to a chair, and so the four of them sat staring at each other in dead silence, and none of them knew what was the matter except that they saw his Serenity had the shivers. All at once the sound came again, and as it was dying away over Neu-Strelitz in its hollow weirdness Adolf Friedrich IV. clapped his hands over his most serene ears and cried, “There it is again!” Von Knüppelsdörp, gentleman of the bed-chamber, took the words out of the mouth of Rand, the valet, on the strength of the Mecklenborgian regulations concerning rank, and remarked, “Your Highness, it’s the bittern.” And the Princess Christel had just enough presence of mind to ask what new kind of spook that might be. And the gentleman of the bed-chamber said it was no spook at all, it was only a bird that took a devilish sort of delight in frightening honest folk by putting his beak in the swampy ground and then bellowing like a good one. I’m sure I don’t know whether he was right, but he ought to have known, for he was also page of the hunt. But his Serenity did not take much stock in what he said, and after having meditated a bit he remarked, “All good spirits praise the Lord; and as for you, Rand, I want you to sleep with me this coming night.” With that he left the room.
Princess Christel sat a bit longer with the gentleman of the bed-chamber, discussing the question what potent charms she should employ to banish the ghost for the coming night, and who should sleep with her, for her lady-in-waiting, Caroline Soltmanns, was an old superstitious chatterer, and at last she came to the conclusion that it would be by far the best thing she could do to invite the scrubbing-maid Wendula Steinhagens for the night. Wendula was a d—d plucky person, who was not afraid of the devil nor of his Serenity the Duke, for she had been known to say, “Hallo there, your Highness; get out of the way, will you!” And had flourished her broom in his face.
So the princely pair had passed the night safely under the tender care of Rand and Wendula, and were sitting at the breakfast table next morning drinking chocolate. Then did his Serenity come forth with his deep thoughts and remark, “Sister Christel, you are a woman, and you know I don’t think much of ’em; but you are a member of our most serene house, and for this reason, and on this account, I will make known to you the measures of my government. Would you know the news? I’ll build me a new palace on some pleasant spot in my domains.”
“That’s right, your Grace,” said she. “You are lord of the whole; but how will the money hold out?”
“Oh, I’ve thought of all that,” said his Serenity; “but what have I got my bailiffs for? They must help me out of the lurch, and the workmen can wait awhile for their pay; for it is scandalous that Serenissimus Streliziensis should have to endure a spook under his very nose. To be sure, that fool Knüppelsdörp says it’s a bittern,—but what is a bittern? I’ll believe anything, but to believe an explanation like that is more than can be expected of me in my quality as sovereign lord.”
“Rand,” he said to his valet de chambre, “tell Jochen Boenhas to hitch up the gilt coach, three footmen on behind, and the two runners to run ahead; the coachman and the footmen to put on their best livery with the gilt tassels, and the two runners shall wear their new flowered hats from Paris—à la Pompadour,” he added aside to his sister—“for I am going on a journey through my estates.”
“Dear me, your Honour,” said Rand, “I’m afraid that won’t do, for our old mare that goes as the off-horse has the spavin, and can’t set one foot before the other.”
“Confound the mare!” exclaimed his Serene Highness in a burst of displeasure. “If the mare can’t go, all you have to do is to go to our Burgher Sachtleben and borrow one of his horses.”
“Dear me, your Honour, he won’t let us have it. This is just the busiest time for carting manure, and it’s no wonder he can’t spare his team.”
“Do as I bid you, Rand; we are sovereign lord.”
And Rand went, and Sachtleben gave him his old stiff bay horse to harness on the resplendent state chariot.
Jochen Boenhas pulled up before the door with his gilt coach, three lackeys jumped up behind one after the other, the two runners floated along the street; Rand sat on the box, and his Serene Highness and sister Christel sat inside the coach.
“Where to?” asked Jochen Boenhas.
“Straight ahead,” said Rand; “over beyond Stargard, up to our boundary-line; but don’t for the life of you drive over the line, for we are only going to travel through our own domain.”
And Jochen Boenhas drove through Stargard and through Frieland up to the Prussian line, and pulled up his horses: “Whoa, whoa I say! Here we are at the end!”
And his Serene Highness gave orders to drive to the east over Woldegk; and when they had passed Woldegk and reached Wolfshagen, Jochen Coachman turned around once more on his old horse and said, “Rand, here’s the end again, we can’t go any further.”
And Princess Christel, who had overheard it, said: “Your Grace, this is the first time I have travelled through our estates; I’d never have thought it was such a short way.”
“Christel,” said his Serene Highness, “you’re a woman, and you don’t know much. What do you suppose? There’s a good lot more toward noon. Feldberg and Mirow and Fürstenberg, all that is in my domain, and then beyond Mirow there’s quite a lengthy bit stretching into our neighbour Schwerin’s possessions that makes a good show.”
“Nay, your Highness,” said Rand, who had overheard, “it doesn’t make much of a show, for the sand just pours into a person’s eyes, as I ought to know, for I was born and bred there.”
His Serene Highness very nearly lost his temper at Rand’s foolish twaddle. He leaned far out of the gilt coach, and called out: “Jochen Boenhas, we’ll go home now! And to-morrow we’ll take the Fürstenberg hemlock grove and Mirow.”
And it was done exactly as his Serene Highness had said, for he was a high-spirited prince, and when he had once said, “I say!” then sure enough he had said it.
So the next day they went beyond Fürstenberg to the hemlock grove, and when Rand turned to look into the carriage and say, “Your Grace, here we are at the end again,” then his Serenity looked sinister, and shouted “Wesenbarg!” to console himself; but in spite of Wesenbarg, he came back to Neu-Strelitz in an utterly discontented spirit, and Rand and sister Christel stood in the hall together, shaking their heads and saying, “Where will this end?”
And the evening and the morning were the third day, and his Highness did not reign during that night, for he slept. The bitterns kept silent, and all the ghosts that had of late taken to haunting the palace at Neu-Strelitz had their off-night.
The next morning the valet de chambre came down to the princess and said: “Thank goodness! we have slept in peace for one night, and reigned right along without let or hindrance, and to-day we are going to travel westward, toward Neu-Brandenburg, and that finishes up the whole business.”
And Princess Christel said, “The Lord be praised! Then he will have peace; he is too ambitious a prince.” And three hours later they passed the inn near Neu-Brandenburg, and Sachtleben’s old bay horse, having got to the end of his rope, one of the innkeeper’s horses was hitched up, and his Serene Highness walked up and down before the door, and looked across the sunny lake over to the woods of Broda, and said to his sister Christel in High German—for the innkeeper’s wife stood near, and he must needs show her his Serenity at its finest—
“What say you, Princess? Shall we build our Belvedere on the other side of this pleasant lake?”
Princess Christel was about to reply, but Rand intercepted her and said—
“Your Highness is always right; of course we’ll have a Bellmandur! All people of degree have a Bellmandur except us!”
And his Serene Highness said: “Rand is right.” And so they drove into Neu-Brandenburg.
Having reached this pearl of his possessions, and coming up in fine style on the market-place, he called out of the gilt carriage: “Rand, tell Jochen Boenhas to stop!” And with that he and his sister Christel descended from the coach, and Rand from the box, and the three lackeys from their seat, and the two runners stood panting.
And then said his Serene Highness Adolf Friedrich IV.: “This suits us right well, and here we will build our palace!”
Her Highness Sister Christel opened her mouth to say something, but his Highness the liege lord took the words out of her mouth and said: “Princess Christel, what more would your Grace have? Are you still critical? Look yonder.” For the time being he was surrounded by a circle of his most devoted subjects, and though these were mostly small street urchins, he felt constrained thereby to speak High German to his sister. “Look, yonder, by the side of the mansion-house, we’ll put it up.”
And Princess Christel said: “Cela me convient! And I hope your Highness will have a couple of wings put on, and I will go and live in one of them.”
“That’s just what you won’t do, Sister Christel,” said his most Serene Highness, turning on his heel. “Don’t make plans, and then they won’t miscarry! I don’t want any womankind with their chit-chat and nonsense in this new palace. I’ve had a deal too much of that at Neu-Strelitz. Rand!” he called; “go and find the two Burgomasters; and you,” he said to two of the footmen, “go and cite the aldermen; tell them I wish to consult them, I, their liege lord. You are to stay here,” he said to the third lackey; “it will not do to strip ourselves entirely of attendance.”
And thereupon he walked up and down with his sister, and did not so much as notice that she made a wry face and protruded her nether-lip; and the lackey trotted behind them.
Fritz Reuter (1810-1874).