Frederick the Great and His Family [275]
it to me. I had the French with me, and I did not understand a word. He also brought me a poem by Pietsh, but I threw it aside."
"I threw it aside, also," said Gellert, smiling.
The king smiled pleasantly. "Should I remain here, you must come often and bring your fables to read to me."
Gellert's brow clouded slightly. "I do not know whether I am a good reader," he said, in some embarrassment. "I have such a sing-song, monotonous voice."
"Yes, like the Silesians," said the king, "but it sounds pleasantly. You must read your fables yourself. No one else can give the proper emphasis. You must visit me soon again."
"Do not forget the king's request," said Quintus Icilius, as he escorted Gellert to the door. "Visit him soon, and be assured you shall never come in vain. I will take care that the king receives you always."
Gellert looked up smilingly at the major. "My dear sir, in many respects I am quite an old-fashioned man; for example, I have read a great deal in the Old Scriptures for instruction. I have read, 'Put not your trust in princes.' These words seem wise to me, and you must allow me to interpret them literally, and act accordingly."
Gellert withdrew, and hastened home. The major returned to the king, admiring, almost envying, Gellert's modest, independent, and beautiful character.
"Quintus," said the king, "I thank you sincerely for my new German acquaintance. The poet is better than the philosopher. Gellert is the wisest and cleverest poet of his time--a much worthier man than Gottsched, with all his pompous knowledge. Gellert's fame will outlive his. He is perhaps the only German who will not be forgotten. He attempts but little, and succeeds well."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE KING AND THE VILLAGE MAGISTRATE.
In the little village of Voiseilvitz, near the Silesian frontier, there was a great stir and excitement. The quartermaster of the army had just arrived and announced the king's approach. He then went on to the next village to seek quarters for the army. After their many sufferings and wants, the weary soldiers were much in need of rest and refreshment. They had passed many, many miserable weeks, during which the most patient had become disheartened. The king alone had retained his courage, his presence of mind, his activity and energy. He had borne, without complaint, every want and privation. Surrounded by powerful enemies, his great and clear mind had contrived the intrenchments which encompassed his camp, and which had filled his enemies with wonder. Neither Daun, Loudon, Butterlin, nor Ternitschow, dared attack the camp that had suddenly become a strong fortress. They gazed in wild amazement at their daring, invincible enemy, whom they had so often thought to ruin, and who had continually with his lion strength broken the nets they had laid for him. Not daring to attack him with their cannon and their swords, the allies relied upon another much more fearful weapon-- hunger! It was impossible for the king, surrounded as he was by enemies, to obtain food for his troops and fodder for the horses. But Frederick did not cease to hope: he turned night into day and day into night; thus he was prepared for any movement. During the day he could observe all that passed in the enemy's camp; a few slight guards were placed in the intrenchments, while the rest of the army slept. But at night they did not sleep; as soon as evening came, all the tents were taken down, the cannon were planted, and behind them the regiments were placed in line of battle. Thus they stood listening in breathless silence for any sound or movement that would announce the enemy's approach. All were ready and waiting for them, determined to die rather than surrender.
In spite of privations, want of rest and food, the army remained hopeful, for their king shared their danger, wants, and sleepless nights. He was always with them--he hungered and worked with them. If the soldiers were deprived of their rations, they had at least the consolation of knowing that the king suffered likewise. This strengthened and encouraged
"I threw it aside, also," said Gellert, smiling.
The king smiled pleasantly. "Should I remain here, you must come often and bring your fables to read to me."
Gellert's brow clouded slightly. "I do not know whether I am a good reader," he said, in some embarrassment. "I have such a sing-song, monotonous voice."
"Yes, like the Silesians," said the king, "but it sounds pleasantly. You must read your fables yourself. No one else can give the proper emphasis. You must visit me soon again."
"Do not forget the king's request," said Quintus Icilius, as he escorted Gellert to the door. "Visit him soon, and be assured you shall never come in vain. I will take care that the king receives you always."
Gellert looked up smilingly at the major. "My dear sir, in many respects I am quite an old-fashioned man; for example, I have read a great deal in the Old Scriptures for instruction. I have read, 'Put not your trust in princes.' These words seem wise to me, and you must allow me to interpret them literally, and act accordingly."
Gellert withdrew, and hastened home. The major returned to the king, admiring, almost envying, Gellert's modest, independent, and beautiful character.
"Quintus," said the king, "I thank you sincerely for my new German acquaintance. The poet is better than the philosopher. Gellert is the wisest and cleverest poet of his time--a much worthier man than Gottsched, with all his pompous knowledge. Gellert's fame will outlive his. He is perhaps the only German who will not be forgotten. He attempts but little, and succeeds well."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE KING AND THE VILLAGE MAGISTRATE.
In the little village of Voiseilvitz, near the Silesian frontier, there was a great stir and excitement. The quartermaster of the army had just arrived and announced the king's approach. He then went on to the next village to seek quarters for the army. After their many sufferings and wants, the weary soldiers were much in need of rest and refreshment. They had passed many, many miserable weeks, during which the most patient had become disheartened. The king alone had retained his courage, his presence of mind, his activity and energy. He had borne, without complaint, every want and privation. Surrounded by powerful enemies, his great and clear mind had contrived the intrenchments which encompassed his camp, and which had filled his enemies with wonder. Neither Daun, Loudon, Butterlin, nor Ternitschow, dared attack the camp that had suddenly become a strong fortress. They gazed in wild amazement at their daring, invincible enemy, whom they had so often thought to ruin, and who had continually with his lion strength broken the nets they had laid for him. Not daring to attack him with their cannon and their swords, the allies relied upon another much more fearful weapon-- hunger! It was impossible for the king, surrounded as he was by enemies, to obtain food for his troops and fodder for the horses. But Frederick did not cease to hope: he turned night into day and day into night; thus he was prepared for any movement. During the day he could observe all that passed in the enemy's camp; a few slight guards were placed in the intrenchments, while the rest of the army slept. But at night they did not sleep; as soon as evening came, all the tents were taken down, the cannon were planted, and behind them the regiments were placed in line of battle. Thus they stood listening in breathless silence for any sound or movement that would announce the enemy's approach. All were ready and waiting for them, determined to die rather than surrender.
In spite of privations, want of rest and food, the army remained hopeful, for their king shared their danger, wants, and sleepless nights. He was always with them--he hungered and worked with them. If the soldiers were deprived of their rations, they had at least the consolation of knowing that the king suffered likewise. This strengthened and encouraged