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248 R. M.Johnston and cynical eye of a philosopher and political free-lance. His ob- servations on matters commercial, financial, political and social, are vivid and full of food for reflection, but he does not hesitate to vent his spite, when the occasion serves, and to relate scandalous stories about the highest personages, calculated to tickle the highly sea- soned palates of Talleyrand and his other good friends, and, when he believes that by so doing he can further his own interests, to boldly invent facts. It is not possible within the space of this arti- cle to go through these dispatches at length ; only a few points of interest will be touched on, and the reader who would have the whole of the c/ironigiic scandaU'iisf of Berlin, the story of Fraulein von Voss and all the rest, must be referred to Mr. Welschinger's edition. When Mirabeau reached Berlin in July, the public attention was centred on the last hours of the fast-failing Frederick. Copious details of the state of the King were sent off to Talleyrand by every courier ; on August 2 it is related that : " Frese (the King's doc- tor at Potsdam) is still very much in disgrace for having dared utter the word, — dropsy, — in answer to a summons to state, as a man of honor, the name and character of the disease. The King suffers from fits of shivering and is constantly wrapped in rugs and covered with quilts. He has not been to bed for six weeks. . . . What seems certain is that ' we ' do not wish to die. ... at all events the mind is not affected, and ' we ' are even working particularly hard.' How Mirabeau heard of the death of the King, is related in the following lively manner, under date August 1 7 : " The event is accomplished, Frederick William reigns, and one of the grandest characters ever formed by nature is dissolved. My firm re- solve of friendly duty was that you should have the earliest news of this event, and my measures had been taken with the greatest care. At eight on the morning of Wednesday, I already knew that ' we ' were at the last extremity ; that the day before ' we ' had only given the pass-word at twelve instead of at eleven as usual ; that it was noon before ' we ' had spoken to the secretaries who had been in attendance since five ; that notwithstanding this, the dispatches had been clear and precise ; that ' we ' had again eaten immoderately, notably a lobster. Besides all this, I was aware that the lack of cleanliness prevailing about the patient's room and about him . . . had set up a sort of putrid fever ; that the somnolence of that day, Wednesday, was nearly lethargic ; that everything announced a hydropic apoplexy, a dissolution of the brain, and, in fine, that a few hours must in all probability witness the closing scene. At one o'clock I was on horseback on the road to Potsdam, drawn by some vague presentiment, when a groom came galloping by for Doctor Zelle, who was ordered not to lose a minute and who started at once. I soon learnt that the groom had killed his horse. ... I hastened to the French minister's ; he was out ; he was dining at Char- lottenburg, no means of meeting him at Berlin. I got myself dressed ; I