17th Aug. 1786. his head struck 11, he asked: "What o'clock?" "Eleven,' answered they. "At 4," murmured he, "I will rise." One of his dogs sat on its stool near him; about midnight he noticed it shivering for cold: "Throw a quilt over it," said or beckoned he; that, I think, was his last completely-conscious utterance. Afterwards, in a severe choking fit, getting at last rid of the phlegm, he said, "La montagne est passée, nous irons mieux, We are over "the hill, we shall go better now." Attendants, Herzberg, Selle and one or two others, were in the outer room; none in Friedrich's but Strützki, his Kammerhussar, one of Three who are his sole valets and nurses; a faithful ingenious man, as they all seem to be, and excellently chosen for the object. Strützki, to save the King from hustling down, as he always did, into the corner of his chair, where, with neck and chest bent forward, breathing was impossible,-at last took the King on his knee; kneeling on the ground with his other knee for the purpose,-King's right arm round Strützki's neck, Strützki's left arm round the King's back, and supporting his other shoulder; in which posture the faithful creature, for above two hours, sat motionless, till the end came. Within doors, all is silence, except this breathing; around it the dark earth silent, above it the silent stars. At 20 minutes past 2, the breathing paused,-wavered; ceased. Friedrich's Life-battle is fought out; instead of suffering and sore labour, here is now rest. Thursday morning, 17th August 1786, at the dark hour just named. On the 31st of May last, this King had reigned 46 years. 'He has lived,' counts Rödenbeck, '74 years, 6 months and 24 days.' His death seems very stern and lonely;-a man of 17th Aug. 1786. such affectionate feelings, too; "a man with more sensibility than other men!" But so had his whole life been, stern and lonely; such the severe law laid on him. Nor was it inappropriate that he found his death in that poor Silesian Review; punctually doing, as usual, the work that had come in hand. Nor that he died now, rather than a few years later. In these final days of his, we have transiently noticed Arch-Cardinal de Rohan, ArchQuack Cagliostro, and a most select Company of Persons and of Actions, like an Elixir of the Nether World, miraculously emerging into daylight; and all Paris, and by degrees all Europe, getting loud with the DiamondNecklace History. And to eyes of deeper speculation,— World-Poet Goethe's, for instance,-it is becoming evident that Chaos is again big. As has not she proved to be, and is still proving, in the most teeming way! Better for a Royal Hero, fallen old and feeble, to be hidden from such things. 'Yesterday, Wednesday August 16th,' says a Note which now strikes us as curious, 'Mirabeau, smelling eagerly for news, had ridden out towards Potsdam; met the Page riding furiously 'for Selle ("one horse already broken down," say the Peasants 'about); and with beak, powerful beyond any other vulture's, 'Mirabeau perceived that here the end now was. And thereupon rushed off, to make arrangements for a courier, for flying 'pigeons, and the other requisites. And appeared that night at 'the Queen's Soirée in Schönhausen' (Queen has Apartment that evening, dreaming of nothing), "where," says he, "I eagerly 'whispered the French Minister," and less eagerly "mon ami 'Mylord Dalrymple," the English one;-neither of whom would 'believe me. Nor, in short, what Calonne will regret, but no'body else, could the pigeons be let loose, owing to want of 'funds.'16-Enough, enough. 16 Mirabeau, Histoire secrète, &c. (Lettre xiv.), pp. 58-63. 17th Aug. 1786. Friedrich was not buried at Sans-Souci, in the Tomb which he had built for himself; why not, nobody clearly says. By his own express will, there was no embalming. Two Regiment-surgeons washed the Corpse, decently prepared it for interment: 'at 8 that same even ing, Friedrich's Body, dressed in the uniform of the 'First Battalion of Guards, and laid in its coffin, was 'borne to Potsdam, in a hearse of eight horses, twelve 'Non-commissioned Officers of the Guard escorting. All 'Potsdam was in the streets; the soldiers, of their own 'accord, formed rank, and followed the hearse; many เ a rugged face unable to restrain tears: for the rest, 'universal silence as of midnight, nothing audible among 'the people but here and there a sob, and the murmur, "Ach, der gute König!" 6 'All next day, the Body lay in state in the Palace; 'thousands crowding, from Berlin and the other environs, to see that face for the last time. Wasted, worn; 'but beautiful in death, with the thin gray hair parted 'into locks, and slightly powdered. And at 8 in the ' evening' (Friday 18th), 'he was borne to the Garnison"Kirche of Potsdam; and laid beside his Father, in the ' vault behind the Pulpit there,"17-where the two Coffins are still to be seen. I define him to myself as hitherto the Last of the Kings; when the Next will be, is a very long question! But it seems to me as if Nations, probably all Nations, by and by, in their despair,-blinded, swallowed like Jonah, in such a whale's-belly of things brutish, waste, abominable (for is not Anarchy, or the Rule of what is Baser over what is Nobler, the one life's-misery 17 Rödenbeck, iii. 365 (Public Funeral was not till September 9th). 17th Aug. 1786. worth complaining of, and, in fact, the abomination of abominations, springing from and producing all others whatsoever?)-as if the Nations universally, and Eng land too if it hold on, may more and more bethink themselves of such a Man and his Function and Performance, with feelings far other than are possible at present. Meanwhile, all I had to say of him is finished: that too, it seems, was a bit of work appointed to be done. Adieu, good readers; bad also, adieu. |