The palace of Frederick William was little more
attractive than the houses of the humbler citizens of Berlin. The floors
were carpetless, the rooms were furnished with common bare tables and
wooden chairs, art was conspicuously absent, luxury wanting, comfort
barely considered, even the table was very parsimoniously served.
The old king's favorite apartment in all his places of residence was his
smoking-room, which was furnished with a deal table covered with green
baize and surrounded by hard chairs. This was his audience-chamber, his
hall of state, the room in which the affairs of the kingdom were decided
in a cloud of smoke and amid the fumes of beer. Here sat generals in
uniform, ministers of state wearing their orders, ambassadors and noble
guests from foreign realms, all smoking short Dutch pipes and breathing
the vapors of tobacco. Before each was placed a great mug of beer, and
the beer-casks were kept freely on tap, for the old despot insisted that
all should drink or smoke whether or not they liked beer and tobacco,
and he was never more delighted than when he could make a guest drunk or
sicken him with smoke.
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