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 mur- 

 mured : " 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 hurry- 

 ing 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, Eector Magnincus of the 

 University, Encke, the celebrated astronomer, Professor 

 Mitscherlich, Carl Bitter 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. 



