body and soul together by school-mastering among the hill-villages of Thuringia. When he was about sixty years of age, Cannabich, pastor of the "thrice-obscure village of Hemmleben," died, and the landed proprietor, who had the living in his gift, sent a messenger announcing to Linzenbarth that he might have the place. The offer which, at the first moment, filled the poor old hungry soul with gladness, was, at the second, on his learning that the condition annexed was marriage to a cast-off dependent of the great house, peremptorily rejected. The mean wretch who took the living and the wife, was worried to death by the latter in three years' time; but Linzenbarth found that his poor prospects in his native district were ruined, and set out for Berlin, where he arrived on the 20th of June, 1750. Hard as his life had been, he had contrived, by more than Spartan frugality, to save some £60, which he carried with him in Nürnberg silver money of very bad quality. By a decree made some six years before, this Nürnberg money had been excluded from Prussia, and the Custom-house officials no sooner caught sight of Linzenbarth's "batzen," than they seized and sealed up the whole. He exclaimed and gesticulated, vowed that he was ignorant of the decree, asked how he was to live in a strange place upon nothing. With calm professional cruelty the officials told him it was his duty to have informed himself, theirs to put the law in force. Not a stiver of his hoard could circulate in Prussia. One advocate, who took up his case on the chance of being paid in the event of success, was sharply rebuked by the magistrate for countenancing a breach of the King's laws, and told that, if he went on so, he would land in the common jail. At last some simple persons advised Linzenbarth to appeal direct to the King. "Write out your case," said Linzenbarth's advisers, "with extreme brevity; nothing but the essential points, and those clear." Linzenbarth did so, and one August morning, at the opening of the gates of Berlin, went off "without one farthing in my pocket, in God's name,

to Potsdam."

We shall now take his own narrative, with Car

lyle's intercalated remarks, abridging but not altering.

LINZENBARTH AND FREDERICK.

At Potsdam I was lucky enough to see the King; my first sight of him. He was in the palace esplanade there, drilling his troops. When the drill was over, his Majesty went into the garden, and the soldiers dispersed ; only four officers remained lounging upon the esplanade, and walked up and down. For fright I knew not what to do; I pulled the papers out of my pocket. These were my memorial, two certificates of character, and a Thüringen pass. The officers noticed this; came straight to me and said, "What letters has he there, then ?" I thankfully and gladly imparted the whole; and when the officers had read them, they said, “We will give you a good advice. The King is extra-gracious to-day, and is gone alone into the garden. Follow him straight. Thou wilt have luck." This I would not do; my awe was too great. They thereupon laid hands on me (the mischievous dogs, not ill-humored, either): one took me by the right arm, another by the left, "Off, off; to the garden!" Having got me thither, they looked out for the King. He was among the gardeners, examining some rare plant; stooping over it, and had his back to us. Here I had to halt; and the officers began, in underhand tone (the dogs!), to put me through my drill: "Hat under left arm! Right foot foremost !-Breast well forward!-Head up!-Papers from pouch! Papers aloft in right hand!-Steady! steady!" And went their ways, looking always round, to see if I kept my posture. I perceived well enough they were pleased to make game of me; but I stood, all the same, like a wall, being full of fear. The officers were hardly out of the garden, when the King turned round, and saw this extraordinary machine — telegraph figure, or whatever we may call it, with papers pointing to the sky. He gave such a look at me, like a flash of sunbeams glancing through you; and sent one of the gardeners to bring my papers. Which having got, he struck into another walk with them, and was out of sight. In a few minutes he appeared again at the place where the rare plant was, with my papers open in his left hand; and gave me a wave with them to come nearer. I plucked up a heart, and went straight toward him. Oh, how thrice and four-times graciously this great monarch deigned to speak to me!

KING: “My good Thüringian, you came to Berlin, seeking to earn your bread by industrious teaching of children, and here, at the Packhof, in searching your things, they have taken your Thüringen hoard from you.

True, the batzen are not legal here; but the people should have said to you: You are a stranger, and didn't know the prohibition ;—well, then, we will seal up the bag of batzen; you send it back to Thüringen, get it changed for other sorts; we will not take it from you!-Be of heart, however; you shall have your money again, and interest too. But, my poor man, Berlin pavement is bare, they don't give anything gratis; you are a stranger; before you are known and get teaching, your bit of money is done; what then?" I understood the speech right well; but my awe was too great to say, "Your Majesty will have the all-highest grace to allow me something!" But as I was so simple, and asked for nothing, he did not offer anything.

When we got out of the garden, the four officers were still there on the esplanade. For twenty-seven hours I had not tasted food; not a farthing in bonis to get bread with; I had waded twenty miles hither, in a sultry morning, through the sand. In this tremor of my heart, there came a Kammer-hussar (soldier-valet, valet reduced to his simplest expression) out of the palace, and asked, "Where is the man who was with my King in the garden ?" I answered, "Here!" And he led me into the Schloss, to a large room, where pages, lackeys, and Kammer-hussars were about. My Kammer-hussar took me to a little table, excellently furnished; with soup, beef; likewise carp dressed with garden-salad, likewise game with cucumber-salad; bread, knife, fork, spoon, and salt were all there (and I with an appetite of twenty-seven hours; I, too, was there). My hussar set me a chair, said, "This that is on the table, the King has ordered to be served for you; you are to eat your fill, and mind nobody; and I am to serve. Sharp, then, fall to!" I was greatly astonished, and knew not what to do; least of all could it come into my head that the King's Kammer - hussar, who waited on his Majesty, should wait on me. I pressed him to sit by me; but, as he refused, I did as bidden-sat down, took my spoon, and went at it with a will (frisch)! The hussar took the beef from the table, set it on the charcoal-dish (to keep it hot till wanted); he did the like with the fish and roast game, and poured me out wine and beer. I ate and drank till I had abundantly enough. Dessert, confectionery, what I could. A plateful of big black cherries and a plateful of pears my waiting man wrapped in paper and stuffed them into my pockets, to be a refreshment on the way home. And so I rose from the royal table, and thanked God and the King in my heart that I had so gloriously dined.

At that moment a secretary came, brought me a sealed order to the Packhof at Berlin, with my certificates and the pass; told down on the

table five tail ducats and a gold Friedrich under them (better than £10 of our day), saying the King sent me this to take me home to Berlin again. The secretary took me out, and there, yoked with six horses, stood a royal Proviant-wagon, which having led me to, the secretary said: "You people, the King has given order you are to take this stranger to Berlin, and also to accept no drink-money from him." I again, through the Herrn Secretarium, testified my most submissive thankfulness for all royal graciousness; took my place, and rolled away. On reaching Berlin, I went at once to the Packhof and handed them my royal rescript. The head man opened the seal; in reading he changed color, went from pale to red, said nothing, and gave it to the second man to read. The second put on his spectacles, read, and gave it to the third. However, I was to come forward, and be so good as write a quittance, "That I had received for my batzen the same sum in Brandenburg coin, ready down, without the least deduction!" My cash was at once accurately paid. And thereupon the steward was ordered, To go with me to the White Swan in the Judenstrasse, and pay what I owed there, whatever my score was. This was what the King meant when he said, "You shall have your money back, and interest too." Our gray-whiskered, rawboned, great-hearted Candidatus lay down to sleep, at the White Swan; probably the happiest man in all Berlin. Meat, clothes, and fire he did not again lack for the time he needed them, some twenty-seven years still. He died of apoplexy at the age of eightyeight.

Of the general success of Frederick's administrative system, and the security and prosperity of his subjects, no better proof could be afforded than the fact that only fourteen or fifteen criminals were executed annually in Prussia.

CHAPTER XXI.

CARLYLE'S ACCOUNT OF VOLTAIRE.

WITHIN his book on Frederick Mr. Carlyle has given us

what is, in effect, the best biography of Voltaire in existence, and I must not conclude my talk about Carlyle without saying something of it.

Carlyle pronounces Voltaire "the spiritual complement" of Frederick. Between these two lies mainly "what little of lasting their poor century produced." Frederick stands for what it "did," Voltaire for what it "thought." One can hardly help fancying that this generalization is too broad to be of much practical value. A century which produced the sceptical philosophy of Hume, the constructive philosophies of Reid and of Kant, Butler's Doctrine of Conscience, Adam Smith's Political Economy, and the most important poems of Goethe, has surely left us fruits of thought more permanent and more precious than the works of Voltaire. Frederick and he were, however, the most conspicuous men of their century, the orbit of Napoleon touching only on its close; and the interest now felt in Voltaire is at least as great as that felt in Frederick. Probably, also, Voltaire's writings have directly influenced a greater number of minds than those of any of the thinkers named, his popularity being quite unrivalled until the end of his own century, and remaining to this day unsurpassed. "This poor Voltaire," says Carlyle," without implement, except the tongue and brain of him he is still a shining object to all the populations; and they say and symbol to me, Tell us of him! He is the man!" In fundamentals Carlyle does not abandon the estimate of Voltaire published in his famous essay of 1828; it