WASHINGTON'S BIRTH-DAY.

475

The last page of the fifth and last volume of "Kosmos" was finished on the 14th of September, 1858. It was a happy day with Humboldt, for he had lived to finish his life-long task; besides, it was his birth-day, his eightyninth birth-day. His friends assembled at his house and congratulated him. "Never," says an English correspondent, "did conqueror receive greater congratulations from so many persons, and from such great distances, as the postboy had to carry on Tuesday morning to the well-known house in the Oranienburger-strasse.

"Humboldt is said to be of the opinion that he will die next spring; but his friends who observe him speak differently, and are bold enough to predict that this time he is in error, and that a very different celebration than the one he anticipates will next year take place in his house."

Autumn passed, and winter came, and still the old man lived; so far as his friends could see there was no danger of his prediction being fulfilled. They would meet him on his ninetieth birthday, and banter him on his mistake.

"Yesterday," a young American wrote from Berlin on the 23d of February, 1858; "yesterday was Washington's birth-day, and we celebrated it by a grand dinner at the American Minister's, Gov. Wright. Some eighty or ninety persons were present, among them the Baron Von Humboldt, whom we all reverence above any man. living. I shall remember it until the last moment of my life, and it will be with pride that I can say that I was present upon that occasion in which he honoured the American nation, in his old age, with his presence at a dinner given in remembrance of 'The Father of our Country.'

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HEALTH TO THE KING OF SCIENCE!

"The dinner was set at three o'clock, and every onc was already there a little before the hour, in order to be present when Humboldt came. He entered the room precisely upon time. He is a very short man, and quite infirm, and it is with difficulty that he is able to walk. Of course as soon as he was placed in his chair, the Minister introduced the ladies and many of the gentlemen present. After a few minutes' conversation the party adjourned to the dinner, and the 'devouring of eatables' took place after a short blessing from a clergyman.

"Gov. Wright made the first speech, and spoke of the occasion which had brought them together in a very eloquent manner, and gave as the first toast, 'The Prince and Princess of Prussia,' and for the second, 'Washington's birthday.' Next the Secretary of Legation made a few remarks, and gave a toast in which he coupled the names of 'Washington and Humboldt,' which was drunk standing, and three rousing cheers given. After some other speeches and toasts were given, Mr. Thayer (correspondent of Dwight's Journal of Music) gave the following, which I consider the best toast of the occasion: 'The Baron Von Humboldt-the King of Science, the latchet of whose shoes no common Kings are worthy of unloosing.' It made a tremendous noise, and Humboldt spoke in answer; but his voice was so feeble, and his language so indistinct, that I believe no one understood what he said. He remained two hours and then left, as he can bear but little excitement. As his greatcoat was being put on I was standing quite close to him, and seized the opportunity of touching his cape, which is honour enough for me."

CHAPTER II.

BACK TO TEGEL.

TOWARDS the end of April, 1859, the citizens of Berlin began to miss His Excellency, the Baron Von Humboldt. They met him no longer in the street in the afternoon walking towards the palace; neither did they see him at twilight in his favourite haunt, Unter den Linden. "Where is His Excellency?" they asked, but none could answer. In a few days the question was changed to "How is His Excellency?" for they had learned in the meantime that he was ill. The postboy still made his morning calls at the famous little house in the Oranienburger-strasse, and from time to time through the day carriages stopped near by, and stately gentlemen, decorated with orders, alighted and rang the bell softly.

On the morning of the 3rd of May, the journals of Berlin announced his illness.

"Alexander Von Humboldt has been confined to his bed for the last twelve days; his strength has been gradually failing; his mind retains all its clearness, though his power of expression has decreased. In the dangerous condition of the revered patient, the greatest care and precaution against all excitement is necessary."

Then followed the bulletin of his health.

"May 2.-The fever has somewhat abated since last evening. The catarrh is also less violent. The con

dition of the patient in his very weak state is still very doubtful."

The bulletins were continued from day to day.

"May. 3.-Very great loss of strength; his condition in a high degree doubtful.

"May 4.-The condition of Humboldt during the night of Monday-Tuesday, was exceedingly critical, through the violent fits of coughing and difficulty of breathing. Towards noon of Tuesday the patient was much improved in various respects, but the continued loss of strength renders his position to a high degree critical. "May 5.-Humboldt's condition since yesterday almost unchanged. Weakness increasing.

"May 6.—(Friday morning)-The strength of the patient is decreasing from hour to hour."

The last hours of the dying man were soothed by the presence of his relatives, who flocked to his residence as soon as they heard of his illness. First came from Tegel the Baroness Von Bülow, once his merry little Bülow,-once niece Gabriele, but now a placid widow of fifty-seven; then the husband of his niece Adelheid, General Von Hedemann; and then, from Ottmachan, his nephew Her mann, and his grandnephew William, the son of "the amiable Theodore," of whom Frau Caroline wrote more than sixty years before.

Shall we describe the chamber of the dying manthe darkened walls touched with the sunlight that creeps through the half-closed blinds-the group of sorrowing friends around his bed-his reverend white hair, his

THE LONG LONG SLEEP.

479

divine blue eyes, the smile on his kind old face? No. The death of the humblest man is too sacred a thing to make a picture of; how much more sacred then the death of Humboldt-the greatest and best of men!

He died on the 6th of May at half-past two o'clock in the afternoon. A few moments before his death the blinds were opened, and the full blaze of the sun poured into the chamber. "How grand those rays," he murmured: "they seem to beckon Earth to Heaven." He closed his eyes like a wearied child, and slept the long long sleep.

The tenth of May was set apart for the funeral. Early in the morning the citizens of Berlin were seen hurrying in the direction of Frederic-strasse and Unter den Linden, through which the procession was to pass. The houses in the Oranienburger-strasse were hung with crape, and decorated with black flags: Humboldt's house was closed. The police kept the street clear, admitting into it only those who were to take part in the cere monies. They soon made their appearance-Ministers of State, Generals of the army, and grave and learned professors. There was Dove, Rector Magnificus of the University, Encke, the celebrated astronomer, Professor Mitscherlich, Carl Ritter the great geographer, and a host of authors and artists. Before starting they entered the house to take a last look at the illustrious dead. He lay in a large oaken coffin in his study, surrounded by his books. Over him hung his portrait, wreathed with palm-leaves and exotic flowers. At eight o'clock the coffin was borne down the stairs, and placed in the funeral-car. The crowd uncovered their heads as the coffin appeared.