her in Apollo does me
the honor to treat me with confidence. If I was at all disposed to be
arrogant, I might finally imagine myself to be his equal. Let us see
with what sort of dedication the Cygne des Saxons has honored us." He
opened the letter, and while reading, his countenance cleared, and he
burst out into a loud, joyous laugh. "Well, you must read this poem, and
tell me if it is pure German and true poetry." The king, assuming the
attitude of a great tragedian, stepped forward with a nasal voice, and
exactly in the pompous manner of Gottsched, he read the poem aloud.
"Be pleased to remark," said the king, with assumed solemnity, "that
Gottsched announces himself as the Pindar of Germany, and he will have
the goodness to commend me in his rhymes to after-centuries. And now,
tell me, Quintus, if this is German poetry? Is your innermost soul
inspired by these exalted lines?"

"Sire," said Quintus Icilius, "I abandon my renowned scholar, and freely
confess that your majesty judged him correctly; he is an insufferable
fool and simpleton."

"Not so; but he is a German scholar," said the king, pathetically; "one
of the great pillars which support the weight of the great temple of
German science and poetry."

"Sire. I offer up my German scholar; I lay him upon the altar of your
just irony. You may tear him to pieces; he is yours. But I pray you,
therefore, to be gracious, sire, and promise me to receive my poet
kindly."

"I promise," said the king: "I wish also to become acquainted with this
model."

"Promise me, however, one thing. If the German poet resembles the German
scholar, you will make me no reproaches if I turn away from all such
commodities in future?"

CHAPTER XII. GELLERT.

Gellert was just returning from the university, where, in the large
hall, he had recommenced his lectures on morality. A large audience had
assembled, who had given the most undivided attention to their beloved
master. As he left the rostrum the assembly, entirely contrary to their
usual custom, burst forth in loud applause, and all pressed forward to
welcome the beloved teacher on his return to his academic duties after
his severe illness.

These proofs of love had touched the sensitive German poet so deeply in
his present nervous and suffering condition, that he reached his lodging
deathly pale and with trembling knees: utterly exhausted, he threw
himself into his arm-chair, the only article of luxury in his simple