t Warsaw, there has an Event fallen out. Friedrich,
writing rapidly from vague reminiscence, as he often does, records it
as "during the marriage festivities;" [_OEuvres (Memoires de
Brandenbourg),_ i. 163.] but it was four good months earlier. Event we
must now look at for a moment.

In the end of January last, we left Grumkow in a low and hypochondriacal
state, much shaken by that drinking-bout at Crossen, when the Polish
Majesty and he were so anxious to pump one another, by copious priming
with Hungary wine. About a fortnight after, in the first days of
February following (day is not given), Grumkow reported something
curious. "In my presence," says Wilhelmina, "and that of forty persons,"
for the thing was much talked about, "Grumkow said to the King one
morning: 'Ah Sire, I am in despair; the poor Patroon is dead! I was
lying broad awake, last night: all on a sudden, the curtains of my bed
flew asunder: I saw him; he was in a shroud: he gazed fixedly at me:
I tried to start up, being dreadfully taken; but the phantom
disappeared!'" Here was an illustrious ghost-story for Berlin, in a day
or two when the Courier came. "Died at the very time of the phantom;
Death and phantom were the same night," say Wilhelmina and the
miraculous Berlin public,--but do not say WHAT night for either of them
it was. [Wilhelmina, ii. 98. Event happened, 1st February; news of it
came to Berlin, 4th February: Fassmann (p. 485); Buchholz; &c.] By help
of which latter circumstance the phantom becomes reasonably unmiraculous
again, in a nervous system tremulous from drink. "They had been sad at
parting," Wilhelmina says, "having drunk immensities of Hungary wine;
the Patroon almost weeping over his Grumkow: 'Adieu, my dear Grumkow,'
said he; 'I shall never see you more!'"

Miraculous or not, the catastrophe is true: August, the once Physically
Strong, lies dead;--and there will be no Partition of Poland for the
present. He had the Diet ready to assemble; waiting for him, at Warsaw;
and good trains laid in the Diet, capable of fortunate explosion under
a good engineer. Engineer, alas! The Grumkow drinking-bout had awakened
that old sore in his foot: he came to Warsaw, eager enough for business;
but with his stock of strength all out, and Death now close upon him.
The Diet met, 26th-27th January; engineer all alert about the good
trains laid, and the fortunate exploding of them; when, almost on the
morrow--"Inflammation has come on!" said th