t the same time, one of
the ablest monarchs that ever ruled the destinies of Sweden. History
represents him as brave and enlightened, but of a harsh and inflexible
disposition; regulating his opinions by positive facts, and wholly
ungifted with imagination. At the period of which we are about to speak,
death had bereaved him of his Queen, Ulrica Eleonora. Notwithstanding
the harshness which had marked his conduct to the Princess during her
lifetime, and which, in the opinion of his subjects, had precipitated
her into the grave, Charles revered her memory, and appeared more
affected by her loss than might have been imagined from the natural
sternness of his character. Subsequently to this event, he became more
gloomy and taciturn than before, and devoted himself to study with an
intensity of application that evinced his anxiety to escape the tortures
of his own painful reflections. Towards the close of a dreary autumnal
evening, the king, in slippers and _robe de chambre_, was seated before
a large fire, in a private cabinet of his palace at Stockholm. Near him
were his grand chamberlain, the Count de Brahe, who was honoured with
the favourite estimation of his sovereign, and the principal state
physician, Baumgarten, a learned disciple of Hippocrates, who aimed at
the reputation of an _esprit fort_, and who would have pardoned a
disbelief in anything except in the efficacy of his own prescriptions.
The last-mentioned personage had on that evening been hastily summoned
to the presence of the monarch, who felt or fancied himself in need of
his professional skill. The evening was already far advanced, and the
king, contrary to his wont, delayed bidding the customary "goodnight to
all,"--the well-understood signal at which his guests always retired.
With his head bent down, and his eyes fixed upon the decaying embers,
that gradually withdrew even their mockery of warmth from the spacious
fireplace, he maintained a strict silence, evidently fatigued with his
company, yet dreading, though he scarcely knew why, to be left alone.
The grand chamberlain, who perceived that even his profound remarks
failed to excite the attention of the monarch, ventured to hint that his
majesty would do well to seek repose; a gesture of the king retained him
in his place. The physician, in his turn, hazarded a casual observation
on the injurious tendency of late hours. The significant innuendoes
were, however, thrown away on Charles, who replied to