Goethe and Schiller. L. Muhlbach
said the king, pointing to a stool which stood near his chair. And, when the prince had done as he bade him, he looked long and earnestly into his fresh, open face.
“I sent for you, my child,” said Frederick, in a soft and tender tone, “because I wished to see you once more before I set out on my journey.”
“Your majesty is then about to travel,” said the prince naïvely.
“Yes, I am about to travel,” replied Frederick, bowing his head gently.
“But, your majesty, I thought the grand manœuvres were to be held at Potsdam this time.”
“Yes, the grand manœuvres will be held in Potsdam; and, at the grand review, I will have to report to Him who is the King of kings. Why do you look so awe-struck, my son? Perhaps it has never occurred to you that men are compelled to leave this paradise to die!”
“Your majesty, I had never thought seriously of death!”
“And you were perfectly right in not doing so, my child,” said Frederick, and his voice had now regained its firmness. “Your attention must be firmly and immovably directed to life, for a great deal will be required of you on earth, and with your whole mind and strength you must endeavor to respond to these demands. You must study very diligently and make yourself familiar with the sciences. Which is your favorite study?”
“History, sire.”
“That is well, Fritz. Impress upon your mind the great events of history, and learn, by studying the heroic deeds of kings, to be a hero yourself. Above all, your aims must be great, and you must struggle to attain them throughout your entire life. Who is your favorite hero in history?”
“Sire,” replied the prince, after a little reflection, “my favorite hero is Cosmo de Medici.”
The king looked at him in astonishment. “What do you know of him?” said he. “Who was this Cosmo de Medici?”
“He was a great general,” replied the prince, “and a great lawgiver, and his sole endeavor was to make the people happy.”
“Then you believe the chief aim of a great man, of a prince, should always be to make his people happy?”
“Yes, sire, his chief aim. Professor Behnisch once told me, in the history lesson of the great Cosmo de Medici, called by the people of Florence the ‘benefactor of the people.’ When he felt that his end was approaching, he commanded that he should be carried out in his chair to the largest square in Florence, ‘For,’ said he, ‘I desire to die like a tender and happy father in the midst of his children.’ But the children he spoke of were his subjects, who now poured into the square from all sides, and filled it so closely that it looked like a vast sea of humanity. When no more room could be found on the square, the people pressed into the houses, the doors of which had all been thrown open; and from the edifices which surrounded the square, thousands upon thousands looked down from the windows. Tens of thousands stood on the square, in the centre of which, and on an elevation, the chair, with the dying prince, had been placed. Yet, although so many inhabitants had assembled there, profound silence reigned. No one moved, and the eyes of all were fixed on the countenance of the dying prince. But he smiled, looked around at the vast concourse, and cried in a loud voice. ‘As my last hour has come, I wish to make peace with God and men. Therefore, if there be any one among you to whom I have done injustice, or any one who can complain of any injustice done him under my rule, I beg that he will now step forward and call me to account, in order that I may mete out justice to him before I die! Speak, therefore, in the name of God. I command you to speak.’ But no one came forward, and nothing was heard but the low sobs of the people. For the second time the prince asked: ‘If there be any one among you to whom I have done injustice, let him come forward quickly, for death approaches!’ And a loud voice from among the people cried: ‘You have done nothing but good, you have been our benefactor and our father. You will cause us a pang, for the first time, when you leave us; we therefore implore, O father, do not leave your children!’ And from the vast square and the windows of the circle of houses, resounded the imploring cry of thousands upon thousands: ‘O father, do not leave your children!’ The countenance of the prince was radiant with joy, as he listened to the imploring cry and the sobs of his people. ‘This is a prince’s sublimest requiem,’ said he. ‘Happy is that prince who can die in the midst of the tears and blessings of his people!’ And when he had said this, he arose and extended his arms, as if to give them his benediction. The whole multitude sank, sobbing, on their knees. And Cosmo fell back into his chair. He had died in the midst of the tears and blessings of his people.”
The prince’s voice had faltered, and his eyes filled with tears, while concluding his narrative, and he now looked timidly at his uncle, who had regarded him intently throughout. The eyes of the venerable old man and the youth met, and their hearts seemed to commune with each other also, for they both smiled.
“And you would like to die such a death, my son?” asked Frederick in a soft voice. “Die like Cosmo de Medici, in the midst of the tears and blessings of his people?”
“Yes, sire, may such a death be mine!” replied the prince, earnestly; “and I swear to your majesty that if I should ever become king, my sole aim shall be the happiness of my people. I will always think of you, and remember your deeds and your words. Yesterday my new instructor, Mr. Leuchsenring, also told me something very beautiful. He told me that your majesty worked day and night for the welfare of your people, and that you had said: ‘A king is only the first office-holder of his people!’ And that pleased me so well that I have determined to make it the motto of my life.”
“Very good,” said the king, shaking his head, “keep this motto in your heart, but do not speak of it while you are not yet king, or it might cause you some inconvenience. Be careful how you speak of me when I am gone, and impress this lesson on your memory. A prince royal must never criticise the actions of the ruling king. He must be modest and silent, and give the people an example of an obedient and loyal subject, even if the king should do many things that do not please him. I repeat it—a prince royal must observe and learn in silence. Never forget this, my son, and adopt this as another rule for your entire life. A good king must never devote too much of his attention to women and favorites, or allow them to influence him, for when he does, it is always to the prejudice of his people’s interests, and to his own discredit. I desire to say nothing more on this subject, but remember my words.”
“I will do so, sire,” replied the prince, earnestly. “I will repeat these beautiful lessons daily, morning and evening, but noiselessly, that none may hear them.”
“Well said, my nephew; but let us see how you stand in other respects. Put your hand in my coat-pocket, and take out a little book. I brought it with me in order that you might read something out of it for my benefit. Have you found it?”
“Yes, sire, I have. It is the ‘Fables of La Fontaine.’ ”
“That is it! Now open the book at random. At what fable did you chance to open it?”
“Le Renard et le Corbeau.”[19]
“Now first read the fable in French, and then let me hear you translate it.”
The prince first read the fable with fluency and a correct pronunciation in the original language, and then rendered it with the same fluency and correctness in the German.
The king listened attentively, often inclining his head in commendation, and murmuring, at times, “Bravo, superb!”
He extended his hand to the prince when he had finished, and looked at him tenderly. “I am proud of you, Fritz,” he cried, “and you shall be rewarded for your diligence. Report to my chamberlain before you go, and he will give you ten Fredericks d’or. That is your reward for your impromptu translation.”
“No, I thank you,” said the prince; “I do not deserve this reward, and consequently cannot accept it.”
“What! You do not deserve it? And why not?”
“Because