jargon is a beautiful and expressive language!"

"And I abide by this decision, your majesty," zealously cried Herzberg. "The German language is euphonious, and prolific in ideas, and it is well capable of rivalling in brevity and clearness those of the ancients."

"That you have already asserted, and I have contested it, and again I contest it to-day. Do not trouble me with your German language. It will only deserve notice when great poets, distinguished orators, and admirable historians, have given it their attention and corrected it, freeing it from such disgusting and effeminate phrases as now disfigure it, and cause one to use a mass of words to express a few ideas. At present it is only an accumulation of different dialects, which every division of the German empire thinks to speak the best, and of which twenty thousand can scarcely understand what the other twenty thousand are saying!" [Footnote: The king's own words.--See "Posthumous Works," vol. xv.]

"Sire," cried Herzberg, with vehemence, "should a German king thus speak of his native tongue, at the same time that he takes the field to vindicate the honor of Germany, and submits to all the miseries and hardships of war? Your majesty cannot be in earnest, to despise our beautiful language."

"I do not despise it; I only say that it must be reformed, and shorn of its excrescences. Until then we must use the French, which is to- day the language of the world, and in which one can render all the master-works of the Greeks and the Latins, with the same versatility, delicacy, and subtlety, as the original. You pretend that one can well read Tacitus in a German translation, but I do not think the language capable of rendering the Latin authors with the same brevity as the French."

"Sire, to my joy, I can give you proof to the contrary. a Berlin savant, Conrector Moritz, at my request, has translated a few chapters of the fourteenth book of the 'Annals of Tacitus,' word for word, most faithfully into German. He has written it in two columns, the translation at the side of the original. I have taken the liberty to bring this work with me and you will see how exactly, and with what brevity, Latin authors can be rendered into German, and that there are young learned men who have seized the spirit of our language and know how to use it with grace and skill."

"Indeed, give it to me," cried the king, zealously. "I am truly curious to admire the German linguist's work who has so boldly undertaken to translate Tacitus."

"Sire," said Herzberg, raising his eyes knowingly, with a mild, imploring expression to the king's face--" sire, I join a request with this translation."

"What is it? I am very curious about a petition from you, it is so seldom that you proffer one."

"Your majesty, my request concerns the translator of this very chapter of Tacitus. He is Conrector Moritz, attached to the Gray Cloister in Berlin--an unusually gifted young man, who has undoubtedly a brilliant future before him. He has already written many eminent works. The Director Gedicke recommended him to me as a most distinguished, scholarly person, and I have learned to know and appreciate the young man by this means."

"I see it," nodded the king. "You speak of him with great enthusiasm, and as what you so warmly recommend is generally able and well qualified, I begin to be interested in this Herr Moritz. When I return to Berlin--and Heaven grant that it may be soon!--I will at once empower you to present this luminary. Are you satisfied?"

"Sire, dare I ask still more? I would beg your majesty to grant this young man an audience at once."

"How, at once! Is this phoenix here, who so interests my Minister Herzberg? Where is he from, and what does he wish?"

"He is from Berlin; I met him making the journey on foot. He sat upon a stone, by the wayside, eating a piece of bread, with a glowing face, and so absorbed talking to himself in Latin that he heard not the creaking of my carriage through the sand. I recognized him immediately, and called him by name. He turned, perfectly unembarrassed and not at all ashamed to have been discovered in such an humble and poor position."

"That is to say, he is a good comedian," said the king. "He knew that you would drive past there, and placed himself expressly to call your attention to him."

"I beg pardon, sire; Conrector Moritz could not have known that I would take this journey. You will recollect that the courier arrived at midnight with your majesty's commands, and two hours later I was on the road, and have since travelled day and night. As I met the young man only five miles from this place, he must have set out many days before I thought of leaving Berlin."

"It is true," said the king, "it was a false suspicion. You invited him into your carriage, did you not?"

"I did very naturally, sire, as he told me he was going to beg an audience of your majesty. At first he refused decidedly, as he wished to travel on foot, like the pilgrims to the pope at Rome."

"An original, a truly original genius," cried the king.

"He is so indeed, and is so called by all his friends."

"Has he any friends?" asked the king, with an incredulous smile.

"Yes, sire, many warm and sympathizing friends, who are much attached to him, and, on account of his distinguished and brilliant qualities, are willing to indulge his peculiarities."

"Herzberg, you are charmed, and speak of this man as a young girl in love!"

"Sire, if I were a young girl, I should certainly fall in love with this Moritz, for he is handsome."

"Diable! I begin to fear this subject. You say he is handsome, learned, wise, and good, although he belongs to the airy, puffed-up Berliners. Did you let Herr Moritz wander on in his pilgrimage?"

"No, sire, I persuaded him at last to accept a seat in my carriage, by explaining to him that your majesty might soon leave Welsdorf, and he would run the risk of not arriving in season. Upon no condition would he get inside, but climbed up behind, for, said he, with a firm, decided manner, 'I go to the king as a beggar, not as a distinguished gentleman.'"

"Indeed it is an original," the king murmured to himself. "Do you know what the man wants?" he asked aloud.

"No, your majesty; he said that his business concerned the happiness of two human beings, and that he could only open his heart to his God and his king."

"Where is your protege?"

"He stands outside, and it is my humble request that your majesty will grant him an audience, and permit me to call him."

"It is granted, and--"

Just at that moment the door opened, and the footman announced that the private secretary of his highness Prince von Galitzin had arrived, and most respectfully begged an audience.

"It is he--it is the baron," said the king. "Tell your protege he must wait, and come again. Bid the Prince von Galitzin enter."

As the Minister von Herzberg withdrew, the Baron von Thugut appeared, the extraordinary and secret ambassador of the Empress Maria Theresa.

"Well, Herr Baron, you are already returned," said the king, as he scarcely nodded to the profoundly respectful bows of the ambassador. "I infer, therefore, that your instructions are not from the empress, but from the co-regent, the Emperor Joseph, who has betaken himself to the Austrian camp."

"Sire," answered Thugut, laconically, "I have driven day and night, and have received my instructions directly from the empress."

The king slowly shook his head, and an imperceptible smile played around his lips.

"Does the young emperor approve of these instructions?"

"Sire, his majesty, the emperor, is only the co-regent," answered Thugut, hastily. "It is not therefore necessary, that my sovereign should make her decisions dependent upon her son's concordance."

"The empress will negotiate for peace," said the king to himself, "but the emperor desires to win laurels in the war, and will try to cut off the negotiations of his mother by a coup de main. One must be on his guard!"

Just then the door opened and Herzberg returned.

"You perceive I expected you, Baron von Thugut," said the king, "and I ordered here my minister of state, Herr von Herzberg. This is the Baron von Thugut, my dear minister, the ambassador of the empress- queen, who carries in his pocket peace or war, as it may be."

"Sire, I must protest against being so important a personage, as peace and war alone depend upon your majesty. It alone depends upon the lofty King of Prussia whether he will give peace and tranquillity to Germany, or suffer the guilt of permitting the bloody scourge of civil war again to tear in pieces the unhappy German nation."

"That sounds very sentimental," cried the king, smiling. "The Baron von Thugut will appeal to my heart, when we have only to do with the head. Austria wishes to be the head of Germany, and as such would devour one German state after another, as a very palatable morsel. But if you will be the head, Monsieur le Baron, you cannot represent the stomach also, for, as I have been told, it only exists in those soft animals of the sea whose head is in their stomach, and which think and digest at the same time. Austria does not belong to this class, but has rather a very hard and impenetrable shell. We cannot