“That you are, indeed,” said Goethe, “who would dispute it? You have given evidence of great poetical talent, and I read your heroic poem upon the Great Frederick with real delight.” “Do you know what he did?” she asked, bitterly. “I turned to him, begging for assistance; for who should a poet turn to, but his God and his king? Moreover, he had promised it to me personally.” “You have spoken with him, then, yourself?” asked Goethe. “Yes, eight years ago; General von Siedlitz procured me an audience. The king was very gracious, and among other things, asked me about my life; and as I explained to him my poverty and want, he most kindly promised to help me.” [Footnote: This interview which Frau Karschin had with the king is found in “Anecdotes and Traits of Character of Frederick the Great.” vol. ii., p. 72.] “And did he not fulfil his promise?” “No, had it been given to the least of the French writers he would have kept it, but to a German poet it was not worth while. What is a native poet to the great German king? A phantom that he knows not, and believes not. As great as he is, the king showed himself very small to me. I sang him as a poetess and he bestowed a pittance upon me as one would to a beggar in tatters by the wayside.” “Is it really true, upon your supplication--” “Sent me two thalers! Yes, that is indeed true, and I see by your smile that you know it, and know also that I returned it to him. I had rather die with hunger than take a beggar’s penny. But let me relate to you what happened two weeks since. I had borne patiently the affair of the two thalers, and forgotten it. I am more comfortable now; the booksellers pay me for my songs and poems very well, and a number of patrons and friends, at whose head is the Prince of Prussia, give me a small pension, from which I can at least live--though poorly. One of my patrons sent me a strip of land on the Spree not far from the Hercules Bridge, where I would gladly build me a little house, at last to have a sure abiding-place where I could retire--that would be a refuge against all the troubles and sorrows of life. As I thought it over, the old confidence and imperishable love for the great king rose again within me, and as I esteemed him I always hoped for the fulfilment of his promise. I applied to him again, and begged him to do for me what he had granted to so many cobblers and tailors, as the king gives building-money to help those who will build. All the houses of the Gensdarmen-markt are built by royal aid, and sometimes the king designs the facades, as he did for the butcher Kuhn’s great house; and sent him a design to ornament the frieze of ninety-nine, sheeps’ heads, only ninety-nine, for he said the butcher himself was the one hundredth. The butcher remonstrated, but he was obliged to keep them, if he would have the building-money.” “Really,” cried Goethe, laughing, “the king is an ingenious and extraordinary man in every thing, and no one is like him.”