Goethe and Schiller. L. Muhlbach

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СКАЧАТЬ the summons of the king’s bell, and whispering to each other that his majesty was again sitting up, and working at a very late hour, although his physician had expressly forbidden him to do so. And yet neither of them dared to enter and disturb him in his labors; they stood hesitating and casting anxious glances at the door.

      But, behind this door, in the king’s room, two eyes were regarding him intently; these were the eyes of his greyhound, Alkmene. Twice had the animal already jumped up from its bed, ran to the king, and nestled caressingly at his side, and had then, when Frederick took no notice of it, hung its head and gone mournfully back to its cushion. It now raised its tapering head, and looked intelligently at the king, who sat writing at the table, his back turned toward the little dog. Suddenly it bounded across the room, sprang upon the king’s chair, laid its slender forefeet on its master’s shoulder, bent its graceful neck downward, snatched the king’s pen from his hand, and jumped down to the floor with it.

      “Be quiet, Alkmene,” cried the king, without looking up from his work, in which he was entirely absorbed. “No nonsense, mademoiselle!” And the king took another pen from the stand.

      Alkmene let the pen fall, and looked up at the king intently. When she saw that he continued writing, she uttered a low, plaintive whine. With one bound she was again on the back of the king’s chair. Supporting her feet on his shoulder, she snatched the pen from his hand a second time, and jumped down with it. This time she did not let the pen fall, but held it in her mouth, and remained near the king’s chair, looking up to him with her sparkling eyes.

      Frederick looked down from his work at the little animal, and a smile flitted over his features.

      “Really,” said he, in a low voice, “I believe Alkmene wishes to remind me that it is time to go to bed. Well, come here, mademoiselle, I will grant your desire!”

      As if understanding her master’s words, Alkmene barked joyously, and jumped into the king’s lap. The king pressed the little greyhound to his breast, and caressed it tenderly. “My friends have not all deserted me,” he murmured. “I shall probably have a smiling heir, but, when my body is carried to the grave, my dog at least will remain there to weep over me.”

      He pressed the greyhound closer to his breast; deep silence reigned in the room. The wind howled dismally through the trees in the garden; a sudden blast dashed some fallen twigs against the low window, in front of which Frederick worked, and it sounded as if ghostly hands were knocking there. The wind whispered and murmured as if the voices of the night and the spirits of the flowers and the trees wished to bring the king a greeting.

      Suddenly Alkmene uttered a long, distressful howl, and ran to the door, and scratched and whined until the servants took heart and entered the room.

      The king lay groaning in his arm-chair, his eyes glazed, and blood flowing from his pale lips. His physician and a surgeon were summoned at once, and the king was bled and his forehead rubbed with strengthening salts. He awoke once more to life and its torments; and for a few weeks the heroic mind conquered death and bodily decrepitude. But the ride on Condé on the fourth of July was nevertheless his last. After that day Frederick never left his “dark house.”

      When the king of the desert, when the lion feels that his end is approaching, he goes to the forest, seeks the densest jungle and profoundest solitude, and lies down to die. Nature has ordained that no one shall desecrate by his presence the last death-agony of the king of the desert.

      His Sans-Souci was the great king’s holy and solitary retreat; and there it was that the hero and king breathed his last sigh on earth, without murmur or complaint.

      He died on the morning of the 17th August, in the year 1786.

      A great man had ceased to live. There lay the inanimate form of him who had been called King Frederick the Second. But a star arose in the heavens, and wise men gave it the name Frederick’s Honor. The same star still shines in the firmament, and seems to greet us and Prussia: Frederick’s Honor!

BOOK II.

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

      AFTER THE KING’S DEATH.

      “The king is dead! Frederick the Second is no more! I come, your majesty, to bring you this sad intelligence!”

      These were the words with which the minister Herzberg, accompanied by the valet Rietz, walked up to the bed of the prince royal, Frederick William, on the night of the seventeenth of August, and aroused him from his slumber.

      “What is it? Who speaks to me?” asked the prince royal, rising in bed, and staring at the two men who stood before him—the one with a sad, the other with a joyful expression of countenance.

      “I ventured to speak to your majesty,” answered Herzberg; “I, the former minister of King Frederick the Second. His majesty departed this life half an hour since, and I have come to bring the sad tidings in person. King Frederick the Second is dead!”

      “Long live King Frederick William the Second!” cried the valet Rietz, as he busily assisted the king in dressing himself and finishing his toilet.

      Frederick William remained silent. No words, either of sorrow or of joy, escaped his lips. Lost in thought, or perhaps painfully alive to the sublimity of the moment, or embarrassed as to what he should say, in order to satisfy two men so differently constituted, he silently submitted himself to his valet’s attentions, while Von Herzberg had withdrawn to the alcove of the farthest window, and stood sadly awaiting the commands of the new king.

      “Your majesty is attired,” said Rietz, in low, submissive tones.

      “Is the carriage in readiness?” demanded Frederick William, starting as if aroused from deep thought.

      “Yes, your majesty, I ordered it to be ready at once.”

      “Come, then, Herzberg, let us go; Rietz, you will accompany us.”

      “But kings should not venture into the night air, without first breaking fast. The chocolate is already prepared. Will your majesty permit me to serve it up?”

      “No, Rietz, every thing in its proper place,” said the king. “My knees tremble; give me the support of your arm, Herzberg, and lead me.”

      He laid his hand heavily upon Herzberg’s proffered arm, and walked out, leaning upon him. Rietz, who followed them, fastened his small gray eyes on the minister, and shook his fist at him behind his back. “You will not be the support of my king much longer,” he muttered between his clinched teeth. “You and your whole pack shall soon be dismissed! We have stood in the background and looked on while you governed, long enough. Our time has at last come, and we will make the most of it.” His manner had been threatening and hostile while muttering these words; but, as he now hurried forward to open the carriage door, he quickly changed it, and he not only assisted the king in entering, but also extended a helping hand to the minister. He then jumped up and took his seat beside the coachman, and the carriage rolled down the broad avenue that led to the palace of Sans-Souci. The drive was of short duration, the horses pushing forward as if aware that they were СКАЧАТЬ