n the drama 'Gotz von Berlichingen.'"

"Stop!--it is sufficient. I do not wish to hear any thing more," cried
the king, indignant, and rising. "It is bad enough that such pieces
should appear upon the German stage as this 'Gotz von Berlichingen.'
They are nothing less than abominable imitations of the bad English
pieces of Shakespeare! The pit applauds them, and demands with
enthusiasm these very disgusting platitudes. [Footnote: The king's own
words.--See "Posthumous Works," vol. iii.] Do not be angry again, you
must have patience with the old boy! I shall rejoice heartily if this
Herr Goethe becomes a classic writer one day, as you say. I shall not
live to witness it. I only see the embryo where you see the full-grown
author. We will talk further about it when we meet in the Elysian
Fields; then we will see, when you present this Herr Johann Wolfgang
Goethe, as a German classic writer, to Homer, Horace, Virgil, and
Corneille, if they do not turn their backs upon him. Now adieu,
Herzberg! So soon as circumstances permit, I shall send for you to go to
Silesia, and then you can give me your German translation of Tacitus."

The king nodded in a friendly manner to his minister, and slowly walked
back and forth, while he took leave and withdrew. After a few moments he
rang, and the summons was immediately answered by the footman Schultz.

The king fixed upon him one of those searching glances of his fiery
eyes which confounded and confused the footman. He remained standing and
embarrassed, with downcast look.

"What are you standing there for?" asked the king. "Did I not ring for
you, and do you not know what you have to do?" Frederick continued to
regard him, with flashing eyes, which increased the lackey's confusion.

He forgot entirely that the summons was for his majesty's lunch, and all
that he had to do was to open the door to the adjoining room, where it
stood already prepared.

Frederick waited a moment, but the footman still stood irresolute, when
his majesty indicated to him to approach.

He approached, staggering under the puzzling glance of his master.

"Oh! I see what it is," said Frederick, shrugging his shoulders; "you
are drunk again, as you often are, and--"

"Your majesty," cried Schultz, amazed, "I drunk!"

"Silence!--will you be bold enough to reason with me? I say that you are
drunk, and I want no drunken footmen. They must be well-behaved, sober
fellows, who keep their ears open and their mou