sseldorf; and in
the observatory there, they still show us an extremely artistic piece of
work, consisting of one wooden cup within another which he himself had
carved in his leisure hours, of which latter he had every day
four-and-twenty.

[Illustration: JOHANN WILHELM MONUMENT, DUeSSELDORF]

In those days princes were not the harassed creatures they now are.
Their crowns grew firmly on their heads, and at night they drew
nightcaps over them besides and slept in peace, and their people
slumbered calmly at their feet; and when they awoke in the morning they
said, "Good morning, father!" and the princes replied, "Good morning,
dear children!"

But there came a sudden change over all this, for one morning when we
awoke in Duesseldorf and wanted to say, "Good morning, father!" the
father had traveled away, and in the whole town there was nothing but
dumb sorrow. Everywhere there was a sort of funereal atmosphere, and
people crept silently through the market and read the long placard
placed on the door of the City Hall. The weather was dark and lowering,
yet the lean tailor Kilian stood in the nankeen jacket, which he
generally wore only at home, and in his blue woolen stockings, so that
his little bare legs peeped out dismally, and his thin lips quivered as
he murmured the words of the placard to himself. An old invalid soldier
from the Palatine read it in a somewhat louder tone, and at certain
phrases a transparent tear ran down his white, honorable old mustache. I
stood near him, and wept with him, and then asked why we wept; and he
replied, "The Prince Elector has abdicated." Then he read further, and
at the words "for the long-manifested fidelity of my subjects," "and
hereby release you from your allegiance," he wept still more. It is a
strange sight to see, when so old a man, in faded uniform, with a
scarred veteran's face, suddenly bursts into tears. While we read, the
Princely Electoral coat-of-arms was being taken down from the City Hall,
and everything began to appear as oppressively desolate as though we
were waiting for an eclipse of the sun. The city councilors went about
at an abdicating, slow gait; even the omnipotent beadle looked as though
he had had no more commands to give, and stood calmly indifferent,
although the crazy Aloysius again stood upon one leg and chattered the
names of French generals, with foolish grimaces, while the tipsy,
crooked Gumpertz rolled around the gutter, singing, "Ca ira! Ca i