sacred
relic.

On December 21st, Prince Charles Frederick, with his daughters and their
grandmother, arrived at Potsdam, where they were awaited by the
impatient bridegrooms. It was a day of universal joy, and every window
of the city was illuminated when the royal visitors passed under the
triumphal arch. Two days later there was a solemn entrance into Berlin.
Universal was the admiration excited by the uncommon beauty and
unaffected grace of the princesses. The foundation of Queen Louisa's
popularity was laid. On Christmas eve, 1793, all the members of the
royal family assembled in the apartments of the queen, where the diamond
crown of the Hohenzollerns was placed upon Louisa's head. The entire
court then betook themselves to the apartments of Elizabeth Christine,
the unfortunate widow of Frederick the Great. What a contrast between
this happy union of love, and that of the poor Princess of Brunswick who
had been forced upon the unwilling Frederick! We learn from the court
records that Louisa's bridal dress was entirely of silver lace, simply
made, but that her corsage glittered with diamonds corresponding to
those of the crown on her head.

This is not the place to dwell upon the home life of the royal couple,
their happiness, their seclusion from the atmosphere of that corrupted
court, Louisa's studies, especially of Shakespeare and the German
classics, and the unconscious influence of purity that emanated from her
presence. A sad time was approaching, and forebodings of political evil
were not wanting. The king, whose private life had undermined his
health, was slowly dying; but before the crown prince ascended the
throne Louisa bore him two sons, both of whom were to be kings of
Prussia, the second son was to be even Emperor of Germany and the
restorer of the ancient glories of the empire. Louisa's husband,
however, gentle, honest, upright, and his noble queen, the best beloved
that ever ruled over Prussia, paid politically the penalty for their
private happiness. The great statesman Von Stein rightly deemed him
inadequate for the gigantic mission of reforming the decadence that had
been going on steadily since the death of Frederick the Great: "I love
him," he said, "for his kind, benevolent nature, his well meaning
character; but I pity him for living in this iron age, in which to
enable him to maintain his position, but one thing is necessary:
commanding military talent, united with that reckless selfishnes