The king dismissed his friends with a gracious smile, jested gayly with Fredersdorf, and then dictated three letters to his secretary. One was to Marshal von Schwerin, the other to the Prince of Anhalt Dessau, and the third to Ambassador Podrilse. The three held the same words, the same command, telling them to come immediately to Rheinsberg. He then entered the music room, and never was Frederick so gay, so witty, and unconstrained; never did he play on his flute more beautifully than on the day he heard of the death of the Emperor of Germany. The following morning the three gentlemen arrived from Berlin and were at once admitted into the king's library. Frederick met them with a proud, happy smile; his eye beamed with an unusual light; his forehead was smooth and free from care; he seemed inspired.
"The Emperor of Germany is dead," said he, after the gentlemen were seated. "The emperor is dead, and I have sent for you to see what benefit we can derive from his death!"
"Oh, your majesty would not think of benefiting by a death which throws a royal house, nearly connected with you, into deep sorrow, and robs the reigning queen of Prussia of an uncle!" cried the old Prince of Dessau, solemnly.
"Oh, it is well known that you are an imperialist," said the king, laughing.
"No, your majesty, but a difficulty with Austria would be a great misfortune for us."
Frederick shrugged his shoulders, and turned to the other two.
"I also wish for your opinion, gentlemen," said he; "you are all men of experience, soldiers, and statesmen, and you must not refuse to advise one of my youth and inexperience."
With a quiet smile he listened to their wise, peaceful propositions.
"You then doubt my right to Silesia?" said he, after a pause. "You do not think I am justified in demanding this Silesia, which was dishonestly torn from my ancestors by the Hapsburger?"
"But your ancestors still kept the peace," said the Prince of Dessau; "they left Silesia in the undisturbed possession of the Austrians."