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are as beautiful as ever; but cannot to our readers, in our limits, be described with advantage. Events of world interest, after the Partition of Poland, do not fall out, or Friedrich is not concerned in them. It is a dim element; its significance chiefly German or Prussian, not European. What of humanly interesting is discoverable in it,—at least, while the Austrian Grudge continues in a chronic state, and has no acute fit,—I will here present in the shape of detached Fragments, suitably arranged and rendered legible, in hopes these may still have some lucency for readers, and render more conceivable the surrounding masses that have to be left dark. Our first Piece is of Winter, or late Autumn, 1771, while the solution of the Polish Business is still in its inchoative stages; perfectly complete in the Artist's own mind; Russia too adhering; but Kaunitz so refractory and contradictory.

Herr Doctor Zimmermann, the famous Author of the Book" On Solitude," walks reverentially before Friedrich's Door in the Dusk of an October Evening; and has a Royal Interview next Day.

Friday Evening, 25th October 1771, is the date of Zimmermann's walk of contemplation,-among the pale Statues and deciduous Gardenings of Sans-Souci Cottage (better than any Rialto, at its best),—the eternal stars coming out overhead, and the transitory candlelight of a King Friedrich close by.

'At Sans-Souci,' says he, in his famed Book, 'where that old God of War (Kriegsgott) forges his thunder'bolts, and writes Works of Intellect for Posterity; 'where he governs his People as the best father would 'his house; where, during one half of the day, he accepts

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and reads the petitions and complaints of the meanest 'citizen or peasant; comes to help of his Countries on 'all sides with astonishing sums of money, expecting

no payment, nor seeking anything but the Common 'Weal; and where, during the other half, he is a Poet and Philosopher:-at Sans-Souci, I say, there reigns · ' all round a silence, in which you can hear the faintest 'breath of every soft wind. I mounted this Hill for the first time in Winter' (late Autumn, 25th October 1771, edge of Winter), 'in the dusk. When I beheld 'the small Dwelling-House of this Convulser of the 'World close by me, and was near his very chamber, I saw indeed a light inside, but no sentry or watchman at the Hero's door; no soul to ask me, Who I was, or 'What I wanted. I saw nothing; and walked about as 'I pleased before this small and silent House."1

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Yes, Doctor, this is your Kriegsgott; throned in a free and easy fashion. In regard to that of Sentries, I believe these do come up from Potsdam nightly, a corporal and six rank-and-file; but perhaps it is at a later hour; perhaps they sit within doors, silent, not to make noises. Another gentleman, of sauntering nocturnal habits, testifies to having, one night, seen the King actually asleep in bed, the doors being left ajar.2As Zimmermann had a Dialogue next day with his Majesty, which we propose to give; still more, as he made such noise in the world by other Dialogues with Friedrich, and by a strange Book about them, which are still ahead,—readers may desire to know a little who or what the Zimmermann is, and be willing for a rough brief Note upon him, which certainly is not readier than it is rough:

1 Preuss, i. 387 ('from Einsamkeit,' Zimmermann's Solitude, 'i. 110; Edition of Leipzig, 1784'). 2 Ibid. i. 388.

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Johann George Zimmermann; born 1728, at Brugg in the Canton of Bern, where his Father seems to have had some little property and no employment, a Rathsherr (Town-Councillor), who was much respected.' Of brothers or sisters, no mention. The Mother being from the French part of the Canton, he learned to speak both languages. Went to Bern for his Latin and high-schooling; then to Göttingen, where he studied Medicine, under the once great Haller and other now dimmed celebrities. Haller, himself from Bern, had taken Zimmermann to board, and became much attached to him: Haller, in 1752, came on a summer visit to native Bern; Zimmermann, who had in the mean time been 'for a few months' in France, in Italy and England, now returned and joined him there; but the great man, feeling very poorly and very old, decided that he would like to stay in Bern, and not move any more;-Zimmermann, accordingly, was sent to Göttingen to bring Mrs. Haller, with her Daughters, bandboxes and effects, home to Bern. Which he did;—and not only them, but a soft ingenious, ingenuous, and rather pretty young Göttingen Lady along with them, as his own Wife withal. With her he settled as Stadtphysicus (Town-Doctor) in native Brugg; where his beloved Hallers were within reach; and practice in abundance, and honours, all that the place yielded, were in readiness for him.

Here he continued some sixteen years; very busy, very successful in medicine and literature; but 'tormented with hypochondria ;-having indeed an immense conceit of himself, and generally too thin a skin for this world. Here he first wrote his Book on Solitude, a Book famed over all the world in my young days (and perhaps still famed); he wrote it a second time, much enlarged, about thirty years after :3 I read it (in the curtailed English-Mercier form, no Scene in it like the above), in early boyhood, and thank it for nothing, or nearly so. Zimmermann lived much alone, at Brugg, and elsewhere; all his days, 'Hy

3 Betrachtungen über die Einsamkeit, von Doctor J. G. Zimmermann, Stadtphysicus in Brugg (Zürich, 1756),-as yet only '1 vol. 8vo, price 6d.' (5 groschen); but it grew with years; and (Leipzig, 1784) came out remodelled into 4 voll. ;-was translated into French, 'with many omissions,' by Mercier (Paris, 1790); into English from Mercier (London, 1791).

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pochondria' was the main company he had :-and it was natural, but unprofitable, that he should say, to himself and others, the best he could for that bad arrangement: poor soul! He wrote also on Medical Experience, a famed Book in its day; also on National Pride; and became famed through the Universe, and was Member of infinite Learned Societies.

All which rendered dull dead Brugg still duller and more dead; unfit utterly for a man of such sublime accomplishments. Plenty of Counts Stadion, Kings of Poland even, offered him engagements; eager to possess such a man, and deliver him from dull dead Brugg; but he had hypochondria, and always feared their deliverance might be into something duller. At length,— in his fortieth year, 1768,—the place of Court-Physician (Hofmedicus), at Hanover, was offered him by George the Third of pious memory, and this he resolved to accept; and did lift anchor, and accept and occupy accordingly.

Alas, at the Gate of Hanover, 'his carriage overset ;' broke his poor old Mother-in-law's leg (who had been rejoicing doubtless to get home into her own Country), and was the end of her, -poor old soul;-and the beginning of misfortunes continual and too tedious to mention. Spleen, envy, malice and calumny, from the Hanover Medical world; treatment, by the old buck'ram Hofdames who had drunk coffee with George II.,' 'which 'was fitter for a laquais-de-place' than for a medical gentleman of eminence: unworthy treatment, in fact, in many or most quarters;-followed by hypochondria, by dreadful bodily disorder (kind not given or discoverable), 'so that I suffered the pains of Hell,' sat weeping, sat gnashing my teeth, and couldn't write a Note after dinner; followed finally by the sickness, and then by the death, of my poor Wife, after five months of torment. Upon which, in 1771, Zimmermann's friends, for he had many friends, being, in fact, a person of fine graceful intellect, high proud feelings and tender sensibilities, gone all to this sad state,-rallied themselves; set his Hanover house in order for him (governess for his children, what not); and sent him off to Berlin, there to be dealt with by one Meckel, an incomparable Surgeon, and be healed of his dreadful disorder (Leibesschade,

46 'Zürich, 1763-4:' by and by, one 'Dobson did it into English.'

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of which the first traces had appeared in Brugg'),—though to most people it seemed rather he would die; and one Medical 'Eminency in Hanover said to myself' (Zimmermann)' one day: "Dr. So-and-so is to have your Pension, I am told; now, by all "right, it should belong to me, don't you think so?" What 'I' thought of the matter, seeing the greedy gentleman thus 'parting my skin,' may be conjectured!—

The famed Meckel received his famed patient with a nobleness worthy of the heroic ages. Lodged him in his own house, in softest beds and appliances; spoke comfort to him, hope to him, the gallant Meckel ;-rallied, in fact, the due medical staff one morning; came up to Zimmermann, who 'stripped,' with the heart of a lamb and lion conjoined, and trusting in God, 'flung himself on his bed' (on his face, or on his back, we never know), and there, by the hands of Meckel and staff, 're'ceived above 2,000 (two thousand) cuts, in the space of an ' hour and half, without uttering one word or sound.' A frightful operation, gallantly endured, and skilfully done; whereby the bodily disorder' (Leibesschade), whatever it might be, was effectually and forever sent about its business by the noble Meckel.

Hospitalities and soft hushed kindnesses and soothing ministrations, by Meckel and by everybody, were now doubled and trebled: wise kind Madam Meckel, young kind Mamsell Meckel, and the Son (who 'now, in 1788, lectures in Göttingen'); not these only, nor Schmucker Head Army-Surgeon, and the evermemorable Herr Generalchirurgus Madan, who had both been in the operation; not these only, but by degrees all that was distinguished in the Berlin world, Ramler, Büsching, Sulzer, Prime Minister Herzberg, Queen's and King's Equerries, and honourable men and women,-bore him 'on angel-wings' towards complete recovery. Talked to him, sang and danced to him (at least the 'Muses' and the female Meckels danced and sang), and all lapped him against eating cares, till, after twelve weeks, he was fairly on his feet again, and able to make jaunts in the neighbourhood with his 'life's saviour,' and enjoy the pleasant Autumn weather to his farther profit.-All this, though described in ridiculous superlative by Zimmermann, is really touching, beautiful and human: perhaps never in his life was he so happy, or a