This public voice had declared that Eckhof was a great tragedian, who rivalled successfully the great French actor, Monsieur Dennis.  This public voice, though but the voice of the people, found entrance everywhere, even in the saloons of the nobles and cabinets of princes.  Berlin resounded with the name of Eckhof, who dared to rival the French actor, and with the name of Schonemein, who dared, every time a drama of Corneille or Racine, of Moliere or Voltaire, was given in the palace theatre, to represent the same in the Council-house on the following evening.  This was a good idea.  Those who had been so fortunate as to witness the performance at the palace, wished to compare the glittering spectacle with the poor caricature, as they were pleased to call it, in the Council-house.  Those whose obscure position prevented them from entering the French theatre, wished at least to see the play which had enraptured the king and court; they must be content with a copy, somewhat like the hungry beggar who stands before the kitchen door, and refreshes himself by smelling the roast beef he cannot hope to taste.  But there was still a third class who visited the German theatre, not in derision, not from curiosity, not from a desire to imitate the nobles in their amusements, but with the seemingly Utopian hope of building up the German drama.  Amongst these were the scholars, who pronounced the dramas of Gottsched far superior to those of Corneille and Racine; there were the German patriots, who would not grant a smile to the best representation of “Le Malade Imaginaire,” but declared “The Hypochondriac,” by Guistorp, the wittiest drama in the world.  In short, this large class of men ranged themselves in bold opposition to the favoritism shown to Frenchmen by Frederick the Great.  These were the elements which composed the audience in the Council-house.

One afternoon, just before the opening of the theatre, two young men were walking arm-in-arm in the castle court; with one of them we are already acquainted, Joseph Fredersdorf, the merry student of Halle, the brother of the private secretary—­he who had been commissioned to seek the black ram, for the propitiation of the devil.  In obedience to the command of the secretary, he, with ten other members of this unholy alliance, had been searching in every quarter for this sacrifice.  Joseph Fredersdorf, indebted to fortune or his own adroitness, was the first to return from his wanderings, and he brought with him a black ram, on whose glossy coat the sharpest eye could not detect one white hair.

Fredersdorf, and Baron Kleist, the husband of the lovely Louise von Schwerin, were truly happy, and paid willingly some hundred thalers for this coveted object.  Indeed, they considered this a very small interest to pay for the large capital which they would soon realize.  They were the principal leaders in the secret conspiracy for gold-making, and many other most distinguished nobles, generals, and officers