This kind of life lasted seven or eight weeks,--in spite of interruptions of subterranean volcanic nature, some of which were surely considerable.

Here, in the very first week, coming almost volcanically, is one, which indeed is the sum of them all.
Tuesday forenoon, 25th October, 1740, Express arrives at Reinsberg; direct from Vienna five days ago; finds Friedrich under eclipse, hidden in the interior, laboring under his ague-fit: question rises, Shall the Express be introduced, or be held back?
The news he brings is huge, unexpected, transcendent, and may agitate the sick King.

Six or seven heads go wagging on this point,--who by accident are namable, if readers care: "Prince August Wilhelm," lately betrothed; "Graf Truchsess," home from Hanover; "Colonel Graf von Finkenstein," old Tutor's Son, a familiar from boyhood upwards; "Baron Pollnitz" kind of chief Goldstick now, or Master of the Ceremonies, not too witty, but the cause of wit; "Jordan, Bielfeld," known to us; and lastly, "Fredersdorf," Major-domo and Factotum, who is grown from Valet to be Purse-Keeper, confidential Manager, and almost friend,--a notable personage in Friedrich's History.
They decide, "Better wait!" They wait accordingly; and then, after about an hour, the trembling-fit being over, and Fredersdorf having cautiously preluded a little, and prepared the way, the Despatch is delivered, and the King left with his immense piece of news.

News that his Imperial Majesty Karl VI.

died, after short illness, on Thursday, the 20th last.