foolhardy boys who had climbed into trees or up lampposts, or the short
and sharp fights which went on between spectators for the best places,
nothing escaped recognition.

Now between the firing of cannons was heard a more distant sound of a
warlike fanfare of trumpets, and between the pillars of the central
Brandenburg Gateway came the Field-Marshal Wrangel, recognizing all the
arrangements with a pleasant smile, and with a radiantly happy
expression on his withered face, as the first enthusiasm of the people
burst upon him, though he had demanded no part of the triumph for
himself. A group of generals followed him in gorgeous uniforms,
decorated with shining medals and stars, all bore famous names,
attracting the keenest interest and centering the enthusiasm of the
crowd. Endless and numberless seemed the ever-changing and
richly-colored procession--Moltke, Bismarck, and Roon side by side, all
statuesque figures, their eyes with stately indifference glancing at
the rejoicing people. They seemed in the midst of this stormy wave of
excitement like stern, immovable rocks, standing firm and high above
the breaking surf at their feet. Many people had at the sight of them
an intuitive feeling that they were not mortal men, but rather mystical
embodiments of the power of nature, just as the gods of the sun, the
sea, and the storm were the conceptions of the old religions. They
passed on, and at a short interval behind them came the Emperor
Wilhelm. His supreme importance was emphasized by the space left before
and after him. Wreaths covered his purple saddle, flowers drooped over
the glossy skin of his high-stepping charger, his helmeted head and his
gloved hand saluted and bowed, and on his face shone a mingled
expression of gratitude and emotion, which, after the hard, cold
bearing of his fellow-workers, was doubly impressive and affecting.
Manifestly this conqueror was not like his Roman prototype who had the
words, "Think of death," whispered in his ear, while he tolerated the
idolization of the people.

The monarch had to hear long speeches from the officials and verses
from the trembling lips of the young girls who surrounded him before he
could ride further. The train of individual heroes ended with him. The
principle of massing together was now the order, in which individuality
is no longer recognized.

Battalion after battalion and squadron after squadron in endless lines
passed by, until the tired eyes of the