The Ghost-Seer; or the Apparitionist; and Sport of DestinySchiller, Friedrich
General
The Ghost-Seer; or the Apparitionist; and Sport of Destiny
Schiller, Friedrich
Ghost stories; Venice (Italy) -- Fiction
When the decisive day arrived, G------ appeared, according to custom,
upon the parade. He had risen in a few years from the rank of ensign to
that of colonel; and even this was only a modest name for that of prime
minister, which he virtually filled, and which placed him above the
foremost of the land. The parade was the place where his pride was
greeted with universal homage, and where he enjoyed for one short hour
the dignity for which he endured a whole day of toil and privation.
Those of the highest rank approached him with reverential deference,
and those who were not assured of his favor with fear and trembling.
Even the prince, whenever he visited the parade, saw himself neglected
by the side of his vizier, inasmuch as it was far more dangerous to
incur the displeasure of the latter than profitable to gain the
friendship of the former. This very place, where he was wont to be
adored as a god, had been selected for the dreadful theatre of his
humiliation.
With a careless step he entered the well-known circle of courtiers,
who, as unsuspicious as himself of what was to follow, paid their usual
homage, awaiting his commands. After a short interval appeared
Martinengo, accompanied by two adjutants, no longer the supple,
cringing, smiling courtier, but overbearing and insolent, like a lackey
suddenly raised to the rank of a gentleman. With insolence and
effrontery he strutted up to the prime minister, and, confronting him
with his head covered, demanded his sword in the prince’s name. This
was handed to him with a look of silent consternation; Martinengo,
resting the naked point on the ground, snapped it in two with his foot,
and threw the fragments at G-----‘s feet. At this signal the two
adjutants seized him; one tore the Order of the Cross from his breast;
the other pulled off his epaulettes, the facings of his uniform, and
even the badge and plume of feathers from his hat. During the whole of
the appalling operation, which was conducted with incredible speed, not
a sound nor a respiration was heard from more than five hundred persons
who were present; but all, with blanched faces and palpitating hearts,
stood in deathlike silence around the victim, who in his strange
disarray--a rare spectacle of the melancholy and the ridiculous--
underwent a moment of agony which could only be equalled by feelings
engendered on the scaffold. Thousands there are who in his situation
would have been stretched senseless on the ground by the first shock;
but his firm nerves and unflinching spirit sustained him through this
bitter trial, and enabled him to drain the cup of bitterness to its
dregs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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