nd heir; whom they called Iwan, in honor of his Russian
Great-grandfather. Shall we add the subsequent felicities of Anton
Ulrich here; or wait till another opportunity?"

Better wait. This is all, and more than all, his Prussian Majesty,
rolling out of Wusterhausen that afternoon, ever knew of them, or needed
to know!--

Chapter VIII. -- DEATH OF FRIEDRICH WILHELM.

At Wusterhausen, this Autumn, there is game as usual, but little or
no hunting for the King. He has to sit drearily within doors, for most
part; listening to the rustle of falling leaves, to dim Winter coming
with its rains and winds. Field-sports are a rumor from without: for him
now no joyous sow-baiting, deer-chasing;--that, like other things, is
past.

In the beginning of November, he came to Berlin; was worse there, and
again was better;--strove to do the Carnival, as had been customary;
but, in a languid, lamed manner. One night he looked in upon an
evening-party which General Schulenburg was giving: he returned home,
chilled, shivering, could not, all night, be brought to heat again.
It was the last evening-party Friedrich Wilhelm ever went to. [Pollnitz
(ii. 538); who gives no date.] Lieutenant-General Schulenburg: the same
who doomed young Friedrich to death, as President of the Court-Martial;
and then wrote the Three Letters about him which we once looked into:
illuminates himself in this manner in Berlin society,--Carnival
season, 1740, weather fiercely cold. Maypole Schulenburg the lean Aunt,
Ex-Mistress of George I., over in London,--I think she must now be dead?
Or if not dead, why not! Memory, for the tenth time, fails me, of the
humanly unmemorable, whom perhaps even flunkies should forget; and I
will try it no more. The stalwart Lieutenant-General will reappear on
us once, twice at the utmost, and never again. He gave the last
evening-party Friedrich Wilhelm ever went to.

Poor Friedrich Wilhelm is in truth very ill; tosses about all day, in
and out of bed,--bed and wheeled-chair drearily alternating; suffers
much;--and again, in Diplomatic circles, the rumors are rife and
sinister. Ever from this chill at Schulenburg's the medicines did him
no good, says Pollnitz: if he rallied, it was the effect of Nature, and
only temporary. He does daily, with punctuality, his Official business;
perhaps the best two hours he has of the four-and-twenty, for the
time hangs heavy on him. His old Generals sit round his bed, talking,
smoking, as