fulfil his Royal duties and also enjoy his personal pleasures to the last. On one occasion when he received a letter from some zealous persons urging his conversion, he handed the letter to one of his Secretaries for reply, merely saying with unusual gentleness, They should be answered kindly, for they mean well!' Frederick does not appear, during his last illness, to have seen or wished to see any member of his family; but almost every evening he received as usual his circle of literary friends. He never wearied them with complaints of his painful state, nor even mentioned it, but conversed cheerfully on the events of the day, and on various points of history and, horticulture, literature and philosophy. He also continued both to read himself and be read to. The last works which he perused were a ' History of Henry IV. of France;' the Siècle de Louis XV.' by Voltaire; and the Twelve Cæsars' of Suetonius as translated by La Harpe. death, and corrected by his own hand, are still preserved. Thus on the 4th of August, one of the dishes proposed to him was Des gateaux à la Rothenbourg, to be executed by one of his culinary artists with the classic name of Dionysius; but on reflection his Majesty deemed it better to substitute another dish and another cook to dress it. Accordingly he effaced the names which we have just quoted, and wrote upon the margin: Gosset-Filet de Poulets au Basilic; mais que la sauce ne soit pas trop épaisse.' On the morning of the 15th, Frederick, far contrary to his usual habit, dosed till eleven o'clock; then, however, he received his Cabinet-Secretaries, and gave them directions with a feeble voice, but with his customary clearness. He also drew out for General von Rohdich, the Commandant of Potsdam, a plan of some manoeuvres which he wished the garrison to execute on the morrow-a plan perfectly accurate, and well adapted to the ground. At dinner he ate half a lobster, the last food which passed his lips. In the afternoon he fell into a kind of stupor, which continued more or less through the night. Early on the 16th rattle was heard in his throat, and he seemed at the very point of death. Conscious as was Frederick of his daily declining health, and hopeless as his state had now become, it is not clear how far he was himself aware of his near approaching dissolution. On the 10th of August hea wrote as follows to his sister, the Duchess of Brunswick : MON ADORABLE SUR-Le Médecin de Hanovre [Zimmermann] a voulu se faire valoir chez vous, ma bonne sœur, mais la vérité est qu'il m'a é é inutile. Les vieux doivent faire place aux jeunes gens pour que chaque génération trouve sa place; et à bien examiner ce que c'est que la vie, c'est voir mourir et naître ses compatriotes. En attendant, je me trouve un peu soulagé depuis quelques jours. Mon cœur vous reste inviolablement attaché, ma bonne sœur. Avec la plus haute considération, je suis, etc., 'FEDERIC.' Next day, however, we find the King, as if in expectation of a longer life, dictate a letter to the bookseller Pitra, for a supply of new publications to his library in the ensuing year. To the last, Frederick displayed the same unconquerable application, the same ardent zeal for the improvement of his states. Thus, on the 1st of August, we may observe that he dictated both instructions and inquiries as the first step towards the reclaiming of a large morass near Tilsit. To the last, also, there continued the same care and thought for the gratification of his palate. Some of the daily bills of fare laid before him within a fortnight of his As When it was announced to him, as usual, that the Cabinet-Secretaries had come, and were ready in the ante-chamber, he could scarcely gasp out words to desire that they should wait, and that he would see them presently. They remained outside, but in the course of the morning General Von Rohdich entered his room. that officer appeared before him, it was painful to observe how the dying Monarch strove to collect his failing energy and fulfil his daily task; how he labored, but all in vain, to raise his drooping head from the corner of his chair, to fix his glassy eye, and to move his speechless tongue. The General put up his papers, and withdrew in silence, with a handkerchief before his face. When, in the afternoon, at the desire of the Prince of Prussia, Dr. Selle came from Berlin, he found that his Royal Patient had slightly rallied, being able to stir a few steps, and articulate a few words;-but for the first time during his long reign, he never mentioned, and seemed to have forgotten, the current business, not yet despatched, of the day-a surer symptom than any other, observed Dr. Selle, of his close approaching dissolution. . About seven o'clock the King had a short but quiet and refreshing interval of sleep. As the clock | either, and it remains only to assign preplaced above his head struck eleven, he in- cisely the different proportions. quired the hour, and on being told, he added,' At four o'clock I will rise.' About midnight his Majesty observed that his favorite dog had sprung from the allotted cushion by his side, upon which he inquired where he was, and desired that he might be put back again. These were the last words he spoke. Soon after the attle in his throat returned, his breathing grew fainter and fainter, and at twenty minutes past two on the morning of the 17th of August he expired. He was seventy-four years and six months of age. It is remarkable that during all this time so strict was the discipline in the Royal Household the King's imminent danger remained a secret not only to most of the Foreign Ministers at Berlin, but also to most members of the Royal Family. Even on the 16th, when the King was at the last extremity, the Queen gave an afternoon party at Schönhausen. Mirabeau, who had just returned from a visit to Prince Henry at Rheinsberg, was present, and states that the Envoy of France was by no means aware of the crisis being so near at hand, and that the Queen herself was equally unconscios. In Mirabeau's own words, 'La Reine ne s'en doutait pas; elle ne me parla que de mon habit, de Rheinsberg, et du bonheur qu'elle y avait goûté étant Princesse Royale.* Thus was her Majesty talking of her honeymoon in the last hours of her married life! In the portrait which we have now endeavored to draw of Frederick's private character in old age and his system of administration in peace, we are conscious that many of the features may appear scarcely consistent with each other, or as appertaining to one and the same mind. As in the giant figure of Dante's vision : Dentro dal monte sta dritto un gran veglio: * * * La sua testa è di fin' oro formata, Mr. Macaulay, in a most able sketch of Frederick's early life and campaigns-a sketeh which first appeared in the pages of a contemporary journal, but since among his own collected Essays-calls his Prussian Majesty the greatest King that has in modern times succeeded by right of birth to a throne.' With very sincere respect for Mr. Macaulay's critical authority, we must here however dissent from his conclusion. Several Royal and legitimate names occur to us as deserving to stand higher on the rolls of fame. Thus, upon the whole, and not without a consciousness of many blemishes and errors in our hero, we should prefer to Frederick, the Fourth Henry of France. But without any doubt or hesitation we should assign the palm over both to Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden. As with Frederick, his grandfather was the first King of his race; to that King, like Frederick, he was lineal and peaceful heir. Succeeding to the throne at a far earlier age than the Prussian monarch, he fell in the field of glory when only thirty-seventhat age so often fatal to genius-yet within that narrow space, during those few and youthful years, how much had he already achieved for immortality! As a statesman he may be held to have surpassed; as a warrior to have equalled, Frederick. And if lofty principles and a thought of things beyond this earth be admitted as an element of greatness (as undoubtedly they should be), how much will the balance then incline to the side of Gustavus! The victory gained by the Prussian King at Rosbach was, we allow, fully equal to the victory gained by the Swedish King at Leipsick on nearly the same ground one hundred and twenty-seven years before. The two Monarchs were alike in the action; but how striking the contrast between them in the evening of the well-fought day! Gustavus kneeling down at the head of all his troops to give God the glory! Frederick seated alone in his tent, and composing his loathsome Ode! The character of Frederick is now, we rejoice to think, viewed by his own countrymen in a fair and discriminating spirit. On the one hand there is, and there ought Thus also in King Frederick the clay was to be, the greatest admiration for his milistrangely blended with the gold; it is im-tary genius and renown; on the other hand possible to deny with truth the presence of there is no leaning to his infidel philosoHistoire Secrète de Berlin, vol. I., p. 84, ed., phy, or to his iron despotism, or to his fantastic notions of finance. The French 1789. In ancient times, the Muses were said to be only three, Mneme, or "Memory;" Metele, or Meditation;" and Aoide, or "Song." According to the poet Alcman, they were the daughters of Uranus and Gæa, dwelling in Mount Helicon, but nevertheless children of Earth. It is of the lastmentioned of these three gentle sisters that we are about to write, claiming her as one of the sweetest of our household deities to this day. But language has over a particular one. We are told by Lucretius, that "the birds taught man to sing." "And did God teach the birds?" asked one who was too bright and pure for this world, and is now, we trust, among the angels in heaven. The Music has been called "an artistic union expression of that childish face, with the of inarticulate sounds and rhythm, exciting clear earnest eyes, and thoughtful brow, is agreeable sensations, and raising mental haunting us yet. "Did God teach the images and emotions directly or indirectly birds ?" or did they burst out singing all at pleasing. As an adjunct, it is a beautiful once, when they opened their eyes upon so illustration of language; combined with the beautiful a world? I do not think I should sister art, it becomes a highly ornamental have required teaching, it seems so natural kind of eloquence." It is a tuneful link to sing when we are happy!" Like that between the present and the past-a sweet young child, many of our ancient philosoand mysterious voice, whispering of by-phers believe song and speech to have been gone days-and friends-and scenes-and coeval. bright, fairy hopes that may never come But Music among the Greeks is a comprehenagain. "Musical floods of tears!" to sive term, signifying poetry sang with some quote the words of one of its most enthusias- sort of accompaniment. According to tratic votaries" gushes of pure joyfulness! ex-dition, Cadmus with his Phoenicians origiquisite embodiments of fugitive thoughts!" nally introduced music into Greece. A thing of dreams, and memories, and beauty! Melodious outpourings of genius, that slip into the heart, as dear old Christopher North says, just like light, no one knows how, filling its chambers sweetly and silently, and leaving it nothing more to desire for perfect contentment. Madame De Staël advocates the infinite superiority of instrumental over vocal music, on account of the vagueness of the former leaving so much to the imagination; while Metastasio describes it as possessing that advantage over poetry, which a universal Plutarch, in his "Dialogue on Music," first makes Lycias a professor of the art, repeats the statement of Heraclides, that Amphion, the son of Jupiter and Antiope, taught the Greeks to compose and sing lyric poetry; then by a second interlocutor, Soterichus contradicts the first, assigning to Apollo the merit of having converted Greece into a musical nation-Apollo, the singer, as he is termed by Horace. "By what is called Greek music, therefore," writes the able author of that article in Knight's Cyclopædia, "we understand 352 ་ "As children," writes a celebrated au the union of poetry and music, the former | We love it for the buried hopes, the garof the two exercising the greatest sway over nered memories, the tender feelings it can the mind, because expressing noble senti- summon with a touch." ments-gracefully inculcating religion and morality-teaching obedience to the laws-thoress," and before the sister-band was exciting generous feelings-and inspiring broken and divided by death and change, patriotism and courage. It is thus only we had, I well remember, a pleasant custhat we can account for the effects said to tom of singing in turns, either at our needlebe wrought by ancient music." And again, work, or after we retired to rest. And I he repeats his belief that it is the blending have many a time, when I happened to lie of harmony and song, which undeniably awake at night, heard my little sister still operated with such amazing force on all singing on in her sleep. The memory of classes of the people-music being but the my gladsome and innocent childhood comes ally of verse. According to Plato and Aris-back like a spell, whenever I hear those old totle, the Greeks, too, had their old songs, songs!" some of which have descended to the present day, full of classical and traditional associations. Homer is said to have sung his own epics. What is so delightful as to hear a poet sing his own compositions? The expression, the soul of the poetry, coming from his lips just as it welled up from the deep fountain of inspiration, the mysteries of which are so little understood by the uninitiated. What is so delightful as to set some favorite rhyme to a tune of our own, and sing it to weariness-if that were possible? It is pleasant enough for an author to find his works translated into a foreign language; but to hear his own songs, unexpectedly, in a far land-ah! that is fame indeed! How truly has the Poet said "There is delight in singing, though none hear Beside the singer!" It is so natural to sing when one is happy. On a bright sunny day for instanceor as we sit alone--or go about our household tasks-ay, and even at our desk, when the mood is on us, the invisible Aoide, and the heart's music will have vent! How an old song, or sometimes only a few lines of one, heard long since, comes back all of a sudden, like a flash of lightning, haunting us for days and weeks, ever in our thoughts and on our lips, breaking forth half-involuntarily into words-and, then, as strangely Rousseau describes song (chanson) (6 it fades as a very brief, lyrical poem, founded com- years; just as if its memory away, and returns not again for had monly on agreeable subjects, to which a gladden some one else. gone to melody is added for the purpose of singing sorrow has stricken us into silence, has a How often, when it on familiar occasions, either at table few notes of some old familiar song broken among friends, or to a beloved object; and the spell, and compelled us irresistibly, as even when alone, to dissipate the ennui of it were, to join in that well-loved melody, the rich, and to lighten the care and labors so that we have wept to find ourselves singof the poor"--but their principal charming, and yet sang on until we forgot our must ever rest in association. It is scarce-weeping! ly needed that they should possess any pe- We can remember, years ago, going on a culiar merit of their own, but will be quite visit to one who, although personally unsufficient if they serve to call up a faint re-known to us at the time, we had been ac membrance of the last time we heard them; customed to regard with no little awe and and of the dear ones who might have been with us then. If they bring back the past, even though it be in sorrow-the melody remaining when the voice that warbled it so sweetly is hushed in death! "A well known tune reverence, and feeling, as the young are apt to feel in a strange house, and among strangers, until on opening the window the following morning, we chanced to hear our hostess singing in the garden beneath, as she tended her flowers. That old song acted like a charm in removing the barrier Which in some dear scene we have loved to between us, and dissipating those causeless hear Remember'd now in sadness!" "We would liken music," says L. E. L., 'to Aladdin's lamp, worthless in itself not so for the spirits which obey its call. fears, which never returned again during that happy and memorable visit. in the most elevated and intellectual socieWhat a large proportion of people, ever ty, there are who prefer hearing a simple the remembrance of Fanny's singing for him; and yet as he said, "it was pleasant enough to listen, and think of old times." A venerable-looking woman, with the tears still glistening on her pale cheeks, and mourning in her dress, but still more in her face, turned to whisper something to her companion : "That was our poor Mary's song-bless her!" old ballad before anything else; although very many want the courage to confess it. Look round you, for instance, at the soirée or concert-room-first, perhaps, comes an instrumental performance by a brilliant and popular musician, whose spirit, as Bellini says of Beethoven, "actually seems to create the inconceivable, while his fingers perform the impossible!" A few enter into the beauty of the conception, others admire and marvel at the rapidity, and at We thought of "sho-the silver tongued," the same time the exquisite finish of his so exquisitely described by Christopher execution. Some, lulled by those sweet North, in his paper on Christmas Dreams, sounds, suffer their thoughts to wander away as about to sing an old ballad, words and in a pleasant, dreamy, idleness, the spell air alike, hundreds of years old--and sing of which is only broken at last by their ces she doth, while tears begin to fall, with a sation. And not a few wonder when it is voice too mournfully beautiful long to to end, and the singing begin. breathe below. And ere another Christmas shall have come with its falling snows, doomed to be mute on earth, but to be hymning in Heaven." And now follows an Italian air from the last new Opera. Half the people present, in all probability, do not understand the language, and are trying to look as if they did: but in spite of that splendid voice, it is a dull affair for them. And even when the talent of the singer rises, as we have known it to do superior to all language, electrifying, and taking the admiration of her hearers, as it were by storm, with her charming cadences, and bird-like notes, and drawing down one unanimous burst of applause it is still but a poor triumph compared to that achieved by old songs. "Now, Fanny, dear," whispered an elderly gentleman nearest to his companion, "they are going to sing your song! יי! แ Can there be aught of truth in the wild and poetical creed of the Hindoos, regarding musical effect, which they strictly conWe turned involuntarily: but one glance nect with past events, believing that it arises was sufficient to assure us that the simple from our recalling to memory the airs of little woman who looked up to him with Paradise, heard in a state of pre-existence her sweet, loving smile, was no authoress mistaking the inspirations of genius for or song-writer, but his wife; and the air, one which in all probability she had sung to him years ago-before they were married perhaps. the dreams of immortality? The Egyptians believe that men were spirits fallen from a brighter world, and that a genius stands at the entrance of mortal life with a Lethean The song was touching and plaintive. cup in his hand, from which every soul beOld enough to have its memories-no light fore it wanders out, is forced to take a deep recommendation in these days of "new oblivious draught, awakening with only a music”—all could understand-many felt confused and indistinct recollection of the it. Tears rushed unbidden into eyes, albeit past. Among these glimpses of the "betunused to weeping. Those who smiled ter-land," harmony is supposed to be one then, and there were not a few glad young of the most frequent occurrence. Plato has hearts to whom sorrow and sadness were a similar faith, and looks upon the human but names, will weep perchance when they soul as an exile from its radiant home, folhear it again, at the recollection of that lowed by infinite aspirations, and haunting happy evening, and those who made its recollections of the Beautiful in sight and happiness for them. There were less appa- sound. How exquisitely has this idea been rent manifestations of applause, and more shadowed forth by one of the sweetest of deep and silent gratification. The elderly our living poetesses:*- gentleman was the only one who did not look quite satisfied-nothing could equal VOL. XIII. No. III. 23 Miss E. B. Barrett. |