Chapter VIII.--MISCELLANEA IN WINTER-QUARTERS, 1759-1760.

Friedrich was very loath to quit the field this Winter. In spite of

Maxen and ill-luck and the unfavorablest weather, it still was, for

about two months, his fixed purpose to recapture Dresden first, and

drive Daun home. "Had I but a 12,000 of Auxiliaries to guard my right

flank, while trying it!" said he. Ferdinand magnanimously sent him

the Hereditary Prince with 12,000, who stayed above two months; ["Till

February 15th;" List of the Regiments (German all), in SEYFARTH, ii.

578 n.] and Friedrich did march about, attempting that way, [_OEuvres de

Frederic,_ v. 32. Old Newspaper rumors: in _Gentleman's Magazine,_

xxix. 605, "29th December," &c.]--pushed forward to Maguire and

Dippoldiswalde, looked passionately into Maguire on all sides; but

found him, in those frozen chasms, and rock-labyrinths choked with snow,

plainly unattackable; him and everybody, in such frost-element;--and

renounced the passionate hope.

It was not till the middle of January that Friedrich put his troops into

partial cantonments, Head-quarter Freyberg; troops still mainly in the

Villages from Wilsdruf and southward, close by their old Camp there.

Camp still left standing, guarded by Six Battalions; six after six,

alternating week about: one of the grimmest camps in Nature; the canvas

roofs grown mere ice-plates, the tents mere sanctuaries of frost:--never

did poor young Archenholtz see such industry in dragging wood-fuel, such

boiling of biscuits in broken ice, such crowding round the embers to

roast one side of you, while the other was freezing. [Archenholtz (UT

SUPRA), ii. 11-15.] But Daun's people, on the opposite side of Plauen

Dell, did the like; their tents also were left standing in the frozen

state, guarded by alternating battalions, no better off than their

Prussian neighbors. This of the Tents, and Six frost-bitten Battalions

guarding them, lasted till April. An extraordinary obstinacy on the part

both of Daun and of Friedrich; alike jealous of even seeming to yield

one inch more of ground.

The Hereditary Prince, with his 12,000, marched home again in February;

indeed, ever after the going into cantonments, all use of the Prince

and his Force here visibly ceased; and, on the whole, no result whatever

followed those strenuous antagonisms, and frozen tents left standing for

three months; and things remained practically what they were. So that,

as the grand "Peace Negotiations" also came to nothing, we might omit

this of Winter-quarters altogether; and go forward to the opening of

Campaign Fifth;--were it not that characteristic features do otherwise

occur in it, curious little unveilings of the secret hopes and

industries of Friedrich:--besides which, there have minor private events

fallen out, not without interest to human readers. For whose behoof

mainly a loose intercalary Chapter may be thrown together here.

SERENE HIGHNESS OF WURTEMBERG, AT FULDA (November 30th, 1759), IS JUST

ABOUT "FIRING VICTORIA," AND GIVING A BALL TO BEAUTY AND FASHION, IN

HONOR OF A CERTAIN EVENT;--BUT IS UNPLEASANTLY INTERRUPTED.

November 21st, the very day while Finck was capitulating in the Hills of

Maxen, Duke Ferdinand, busy ever since his Victory at Minden, did, after

a difficult Siege of Munster, Siege by Imhof, with Ferdinand protecting

him, get Munster into hand again, which was reckoned a fine success to

him. Very busy has the Duke been: industriously reaping the fruits

of his Victory at Minden; and this, the conclusive rooting out of the

French from that Westphalian region, is a very joyful thing; and puts

Ferdinand in hopes of driving them over the Mayn altogether. Which some

think he would have done; had not he, with magnanimous oblivion of self

and wishes, agreed to send the Hereditary Prince and those 12,000 to

assist in Friedrich's affairs, looking upon that as the vital point in

these Allied Interests. Friedrich's attempts, we have said, turned out

impossible; nor would the Hereditary Prince and his 12,000, though

a good deal talked about in England and elsewhere, [Walpole, _George

Second,_ iii. 248 (in a sour Opposition tone); &c. &c.] require more

than mention; were it not that on the road thither, at Fulda ("Fulda is

half-way house to Saxony," thinks Ferdinand, "should Pitt and Britannic

Majesty be pleased to consent, as I dare presume they will"), the

Hereditary Prince had, in his swift way, done a thing useful for

Ferdinand himself, and which caused a great emotion, chiefly of

laughter, over the world, in those weeks.

"No Enemy of Friedrich's," says my Note, "is of feller humor than the

Serenity of Wurtemberg, Karl Eugen, Reigning Duke of that unfortunate

Country; for whom, in past days, Friedrich had been so fatherly, and

really took such pains. 'Fatherly? STEP-fatherly, you mean; and for his

own vile uses!' growled the Serenity of Wurtemberg:--always an ominous

streak of gloom in that poor man; streak which is spread now to whole

skies of boiling darkness, owing to deliriums there have been! Enough,

Karl Eugen, after divorcing his poor Wife, had distinguished himself

by a zeal without knowledge, beyond almost all the enemies of

Friedrich;--and still continues in that bad line of industry. His poor

Wife he has made miserable in some measure; also himself; and, in a

degree, his poor soldiers and subjects, who are with him by compulsion

in this Enterprise. The Wurtembergers are Protestants of old type; and

want no fighting against 'the Protestant Hero,' but much the reverse!

Serene Karl had to shoot a good few of these poor people, before they

would march at all; and his procedures were indeed, and continued to be,

of a very crying nature, though his poor Populations took them silently.

Always something of perverse in this Serene Highness; has it, I think,

by kind.

"Besides his quota to the Reich, Karl Eugen has 12,000 more on

foot,--and it is of them we are treating at present. In 1757 he had lent

these troops to the Empress Queen, for a consideration; it was they

that stood on the Austrian left, at Leuthen; and were the first that

got beaten, and had to cease standing,--as the Austrians were abundantly

loud in proclaiming. To the disgust of Serene Highness: 'Which of you

did stand, then? Was it their blame, led as they were?' argued he.

And next year, 1758, after Crefeld, he took his 12,000 to the French

('subsidy,' or consideration, 'to be paid in SALT,' it appears [_OEuvres

de Frederic,_ v. 10.]); with whom they marched about, and did nothing

considerable. The Serenity had pleaded, 'I must command them myself!'

'You?' said Belleisle, and would not hear of it. Next year again,

however, that is 1759, the Duke was positive, 'I must;' Belleisle not

less so, 'You cannot;'--till Minden fell out; and then, in the wreck of

Contades, Belleisle had to consent. Serenity of Wurtemberg, at that late

season, took the field accordingly; and Broglio now has him at Fulda,

'To cut off Ferdinand from Cassel;' to threaten Ferdinand's left flank

and his provision-carts in that quarter. May really become unpleasant

there to Ferdinand;--and ought to be cut out by the Hereditary Prince.

'To Fulda, then, and cut him out!'

"FULDA, FRIDAY, 30th NOVEMBER, 1759. Serene Highness is lying here for a

week past; abundantly strong for the task on hand,--has his own 12,000,

supplemented by 1,000 French Light Horse;--but is widely scattered

withal, posted in a kind of triangular form; his main posts being Fulda

itself, and a couple of others, each thirty miles from Fulda, and five

miles from one another,--with 'patrols to connect them,' better or

worse. Abundantly strong for the task, and in perfect security; and

indeed intends this day to 'fire VICTORIA' for the Catastrophe at Maxen,

and in the evening will give a Ball in farther honor of so salutary an

event:--when, about 9 A.M., news arrives at the gallop, 'Brunswickers

in full march; are within an hour of the Town-Bridge!' Figure to what

flurry of Serene Highness; of the victoria-shooting apparatus; of busy

man-milliner people, and the Beauty and Fashion of Fulda in general!

"The night before, a rumor of the French Post being driven in by

somebody had reached Serene Highness; who gave some vague order, not

thinking it of consequence. Here, however, is the Fact come to hand in

a most urgent and undeniable manner! Serene Highness gets on horseback;

but what can that help? One cannon (has nothing but light cannon) he

does plant on the Bridge; but see, here come premonitory bomb-shells

one and another, terrifying to the mind;--and a single Hessian dragoon,

plunging forward on the one unready cannon, and in the air making horrid

circles,--the gunners leave said cannon to him, take to their heels; and

the Bridge is open. The rest of the affair can be imagined. Retreat at

our swiftest, 'running fight,' we would fain call it, by various roads;

lost two flags, two cannon; prisoners were above 1,200, many of them

Officers. 'A merciful Providence saved the Duke's Serene Person from

hurt,' say the Stuttgard Gazetteers: which was true,--Serene Highness

having been inspired to gallop instantly to rearward and landward,

leaving an order to somebody, 'Do the best you can!'

"So that the Ball is up; dress-pumps and millineries getting all locked

into their drawers again,--with abundance of te-hee-ing (I hope, mostly

in a light vein) from the fair creatures disappointed of their dance

for this time. Next day Serene Highness drew farther back, and next day

again farther,--towards Frankenland and home, as the surest place;--and

was no more heard of in those localities." [Buchholz, ii. 332;

Mauvillon, ii. 80; _Helden-Geschichte,_ v. 1184-1193; Old Newspapers,

in _Gentleman's Magazine,_ xxix. 603.]

Making his first exit, not yet quite his final, from the War-Theatre,

amid such tempests of haha-ing and te-hee-ing. With what thoughts in his

own lofty opaque mind;--like a crowned mule, of such pace and carriage,

who had unexpectedly stepped upon galvanic wires!--

As to those poor Wurtembergers, and their notion of the "Protestant

Hero," I remark farther, that there is a something of real truth in it.

Friedrich's Creed, or Theory of the Universe, differed extremely, in

many important points, from that of Dr. Martin Luther: but in the vital

all-essential point, what we may call the heart's core of all Creeds

which are human, human and not simious or diabolic, the King and the

Doctor were with their whole heart at one: That it is not allowable,

that it is dangerous and abominable, to attempt believing what is

not true. In that sense, Friedrich, by nature and position, was a

Protestant, and even the chief Protestant in the world. What kind of

"Hero," in this big War of his, we are gradually learning;--in which

too, if you investigate, there is not wanting something of "PROTESTANT

Heroism," even in the narrow sense. For it does appear,--Maria Theresa

having a real fear of God, and poor Louis a real fear of the Devil,

whom he may well feel to be getting dangerous purchase over him,--some

hope-gleams of acting upon Schism, and so meriting Heaven, did mingle

with their high terrestrial combinations, on this unique opportunity,

more than are now supposed in careless History-Books.

WHAT IS PERPETUAL PRESIDENT MAUPERTUIS DOING, ALL THIS WHILE? IS HE

STILL IN BERLIN; OR WHERE IN THE UNIVERSE IS HE? ALAS, POOR MAUPERTUIS!

In the heat of this Campaign, "July 27th,"--some four days after the

Battle of Zullichau, just while Friedrich was hurrying off for that

Intersection at Sagan, and breathless Hunt of Loudon and Haddick,--poor

Maupertuis had quitted this world. July 27th, 1759; at Basel, on the

Swiss Borders, in his friend Bernouilli's house, after long months of

sickness painfully spent there. And our poor Perpetual President, at

rest now from all his Akakia burns, and pains and labors in flattening

the Earth and otherwise, is gone.

Many beautifuler men have gone within the Year, of whom we can say

nothing. But this is one whose grandly silent, and then occasionally

fulminant procedures, Akakia controversies, Olympian solemnities and

flamy pirouettings under the contradiction of sinners, we once saw; and

think with a kind of human pathos that we shall see no more. From his

goose of an adorer, La Beaumelle, I have riddled out the following

particulars, chiefly chronological,--and offer them to susceptible

readers. La Beaumelle is, in a sort, to be considered the speaker; or La

Beaumelle and this Editor in concert.

FINAL PILGRIMAGE OF THE PERPETUAL PRESIDENT. "Maupertuis had quitted

Berlin soon after Voltaire. That threat of visiting Voltaire with

pistols,--to be met by 'my syringe and vessel of dishonor' on Voltaire's

part,--was his last memorability in Berlin. His last at that time; or

indeed altogether, for he saw little of Berlin farther.

"End of April, 1753, he got leave of absence; set out homewards,

for recovery of health. Was at Paris through summer and autumn: very

taciturn in society; 'preferred pretty women to any man of science;'

would sententiously say a strong thing now and then, 'bitter but not

without BONHOMIE,' shaking slightly his yellow wig. Disdainful, to how

high a degree, of AKAKIA brabbles, and Voltaire gossip for or against!

In winter went to St. Malo; found his good Father gone; but a loving

Sister still there.

"June, 1754, the King wrote to him, 'VENEZ VITE, Come quickly:' July,

1754, he came accordingly, [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xx. 49.] saw Berlin

again; did nothing noticeable there, except get worse in health; and

after eleven months, June, 1756, withdrew again on leave,--never to

return this time, though he well intended otherwise. But at St. Malo,

when, after a month or two of Paris, he got thither (Autumn, 1756),

and still more, next summer, 1757, when he thought of leaving St.

Malo,--what wars, and rumors of war, all over the world!

"June, 1757, he went to Bordeaux, intending to take ship for Hamburg,

and return; but the sea was full of English cruisers [Pitt's Descents

lying in store for St. Malo itself]. No getting to Berlin by the Hamburg

or sea route! 'Never mind, then,' wrote the King: 'Improve your health;

go to Italy, if you can.'

"Summer, 1757, Maupertuis made for Italy; got as far as

Toulouse;--stayed there till May following; sad, tragically stoical;

saying, sparingly, and rather to women than men, strong things, admired

by the worthier sort. Renounced thoughts of Italy: 'Europe bleeding, and

especially France and Prussia, how go idly touring?'

"May, 1758, Maupertuis left Toulouse: turned towards Berlin; slow, sad,

circuitous;--never to arrive. Saw Narbonne, Montpellier, Nimes; with

what meditations! At Lyons, under honors sky-high, health getting worse,

stays two months; vomits clots of blood there. Thence, July 24th, to

Neufchatel and the Lord Marischal; happy there for three months. Hears

there of Professor Konig's death (AKAKIA Konig): 'One scoundrel less in

the world,' ejaculated he; 'but what is one!'--October 16th, to the

road again, to Basel; stays perforce, in Bernouilli's house there, all

Winter; health falling lower and lower.

"April, 1759, one day he has his carriage at the door ('Homeward, at

all rates!'): but takes violent spasms in the carriage; can't; can no

farther in this world. Lingers here, under kind care, for above three

months more: dying slowly, most painfully. With much real stoicism; not

without a stiff-jointed algebraic kind of piety, almost pathetic in

its sort. 'Two Capuchins from a neighboring Convent daily gave him

consolations,' not entirely satisfactory; for daily withal, 'unknown to

the Capuchins, he made his Valet, who was a Protestant, read to him from

the Geneva Bible;'--and finds many things hard to the human mind. July

27th, 1759, he died." [La Beaumelle, _Vie de Maupertuis,_ pp. 196-216.]

Poor Maupertuis; a man of rugged stalwart type; honest; of an ardor, an

intelligence, not to be forgotten for La Beaumelle's pulings over them.

A man of good and even of high talent; unlucky in mistaking it for the

highest! His poor Wife, a born Borck,--hastening from Berlin, but again

and again delayed by industry of kind friends, and at last driving on

in spite of everything,--met, in the last miles, his Hearse and Funeral

Company. Adieu, a pitying adieu to him forever,--and even to his adoring

La Beaumelle, who is rather less a blockhead than he generally seems.

This of the Two Capuchins, the last consummation of collapse in man, is

what Voltaire cannot forget, but crows over with his shrillest

mockery; and seldom mentions Maupertuis without that last touch to his

life-drama.

GRAND FRENCH INVASION-SCHEME COMES ENTIRELY TO WRECK (Quiberon Bay, 20th

November, 1759): OF CONTROLLER-GENERAL SILHOUETTE, AND THE OUTLOOKS OF

FRANCE, FINANCIAL AND OTHER.

On the very day of Maxen, Tuesday, November 20th, the grand French

Invasion found its terminus,--not on the shores of Britain, but

of Brittany, to its surprise. We saw Rodney burn the Flat-bottom

manufactory at Havre; Boscawen chase the Toulon Squadron, till it ended

on the rocks of Lagos. From January onwards, as was then mentioned,

Hawke had been keeping watch, off Brest Harbor, on Admiral Conflans,

who presides there over multifarious preparations, with the last Fleet

France now has. At Vannes, where Hawke likewise has ships watching,

are multifarious preparations; new Flat-bottoms, 18,000 troops,--could

Conflans and they only get to sea. At the long last, they did get;--in

manner following:--

"November 9th, a wild gale of wind had blown Hawke out of sight; away

home to Torbay, for the moment. 'Now is the time!' thought Conflans, and

put to sea (November 14th); met by Hawke, who had weighed from Torbay

to his duty; and who, of course, crowded every sail, after hearing that

Conflans was out. At break of day, November 20th [in the very hours when

poor Finck was embattling himself round Maxen, and Daun sprawling up

upon him through the Passes], Hawke had had signal, 'A Fleet in sight;'

and soon after, 'Conflans in sight,'--and the day of trial come.

"Conflans is about the strength of Hawke, and France expects much of

him; but he is not expecting Hawke. Conflans is busy, at this moment,

in the mouth of Quiberon Bay, opening the road for Vannes and the

18,000;--in hot chase, at the moment, of a Commodore Duff and his small

Squadron, who have been keeping watch there, and are now running all

they can. On a sudden, to the astonishment of Conflans, this little

Squadron whirls round, every ship of it (with a sky-rending cheer, could

he hear it), and commences chasing! Conflans, taking survey, sees that

it is Hawke; he, sure enough, coming down from windward yonder at his

highest speed; and that chasing will not now be one's business!--

"About 11 A.M. Hawke is here; eight of his vanward ships are sweeping on

for action. Conflans, at first, had determined to fight Hawke; and drew

up accordingly, and did try a little: but gradually thought better

of it; and decided to take shelter in the shoaly coasts and nooks

thereabouts, which were unknown to Hawke, and might ruin him if he

should pursue, the day being short, and the weather extremely bad.

Weather itself almost to be called a storm. 'Shoreward, then; eastward,

every ship!' became, ultimately, Conflans's plan. On the whole, it was

2 in the afternoon before Hawke, with those vanward Eight, could get

clutch of Conflans. And truly he did then strike his claws into him in

a thunderously fervid manner, he and all hands, in spite of the roaring

weather:--a man of falcon, or accipitral, nature as well as name.

"Conflans himself fought well; as did certain of the others,--all, more

or less, so long as their plan continued steady:--thunderous miscellany

of cannon and tempest; Conflans with his plan steady, or Conflans with

his plan wavering, VERSUS those vanward Eight, for two hours or more.

But the scene was too dreadful; this ship sinking, that obliged to

strike; things all going awry for Conflans. Hawke, in his own Flagship,

bore down specially on Conflans in his,--who did wait, and exchange a

couple of broadsides; but then sheered off, finding it so heavy. French

Vice-Admiral next likewise gave Hawke a broadside; one only, and sheered

off, satisfied with the return. Some Four others, in succession, did

the like; 'One blast, as we hurry by' (making for the shore, mostly)! So

that Hawke seemed swallowed in volcanoes (though, indeed, their firing

was very bad, such a flurry among them), and his Blue Flag was invisible

for some time, and various ships were hastening to help him,--till a

Fifth French ship coming up with her broadside, Hawke answered her in

particular (LA SUPERBE, a Seventy-four) with all his guns together;

which sent the poor ship to the bottom, in a hideously sudden manner.

One other (the THESEE) had already sunk in fighting; two (the SOLEIL and

the HEROS) were already running for it,--the HEROS in a very unheroic

manner! But on this terrible plunge-home of the SUPERBE, the rest all

made for the shore;--and escaped into the rocky intricacies and the

darkness. Four of Conflans's ships were already gone,--struck, sunk,

or otherwise extinct,--when darkness fell, and veiled Conflans and his

distresses. 'Country people, to the number of 10,000,' crowded on the

shore, had been seen watching the Battle; and, 'as sad witnesses of the

White Flag's disgrace,' disappeared into the interior." [Beatson, ii.

327-345: and Ib. iii. 244-250. In _Gentleman's Magazine,_ (xxix. 557),

"A Chaplain's Letter," &c.]

It was such a night as men never witnessed before. Walpole says: "The

roaring of the elements was redoubled by the thunder from our ships; and

both concurred in that scene of horror to put a period to the Navy and

hopes of France. Seven ships of the line got into the River Vilaine

[lay there fourteen months, under strict watching, till their backs

were broken, "thumping against the shallow bottom every tide," and only

"three, with three frigates," ever got out again]; eight more escaped

to different ports," into the River Charente ultimately. "Conflans's own

ship and another were run on shore, and burnt. One we took." Two, with

their crews, had gone to the bottom; one under Hawke's cannon; one

partly by its own mismanagement. "Two of ours were lost in the storm

[chasing that SOLEIL and HEROS], but the crews saved. Lord Howe, who

attacked LA FORMIDABLE, bore down on her with such violence, that her

prow forced in his lower tier of guns. Captain Digby, in the DUNKIRK,

received the fire of twelve of the enemy's ships, and lost not a man.

Keppel's was full of water, and he thought it sinking: a sudden squall

emptied his ship; but he was informed all his powder was wet; 'Then,'

said he, 'I am sorry I am safe.' They came and told him a small quantity

was undamaged; 'Very well,' said he; 'then attack again.' Not above

eight of our ships were engaged in obtaining that decisive victory.

The Invasion was heard of no more." [Walpole, _George Second,_ iii.

232.--Here is the List, accurately riddled out: 1. FORMIDABLE, struck

(about 4 P.M.): 2. THESEE, sunk (by a tumble it made, while in action,

under an unskilful Captain): 3. SUPERBE, sunk: 4. HEROS, struck; could

not he boarded, such weather; and recommenced next day, but had to run

and strand itself, and be burnt by the English;--as did (5.) the SOLEIL

ROYAL (Conflans's Flagship), Conflans and crew (like those of the HEROS)

getting out in time.]

Invasion had been fully intended, and even, in these final days,

considerably expected. In the old London Newspapers we read this notice:

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 19th: "To-day there came Three Expresses,"--Three

Expresses, with what haste in their eyes, testifying successively of

Conflans's whereabouts. But it was believed that Hawke would still

manage. And, at any rate, Pitt wore such a look,--and had, in fact, made

such preparation on the coasts, even in failure of Hawke,--there was no

alarm anywhere. Indignation rather;--and naturally, when the news did

come, what an outburst of Illumination in the windows and the hearts of

men!

"Hawke continued watching the mouths of the Vilaine and Charente Rivers

for a good while after, and without interruption henceforth,--till the

storms of Winter had plainly closed them for one season. Supplies of

fresh provisions had come to him from England all Summer; but were

stopped latterly by the wild weather. Upon which, in the Fleet, arose

this gravely pathetic Stave of Sea-Poetry, with a wrinkle of briny humor

grinning in it:--

Till Hawke did bang Monsieur Conflans [CONGFLANG],

You sent us beef and beer;

Now Monsieur's beat, we've nought to eat,

Since you have nought to fear." [Beatson, ii. 342 n.]

The French mode of taking this catastrophe was rather peculiar. Hear

Barbier, an Eye-witness; dating PARIS, DECEMBER, 1759: "Since the first

days of December, there has been cried, and sold in the streets, a

Printed Detail of all that concerns the GRAND INVASION projected this

long while: to wit, the number of Ships of the Line, of Frigates,

Galiots,--among others 500 Flat-bottomed Boats, which are to carry over,

and land in England, more than 54,000 men;--with list of the Regiments,

and number of the King's Guards, that are also to go: there are

announced for Generals-in-Chief, M. le Prince de Conti [do readers

remember him since the Broglio-Maillebois time, and how King Louis

prophesied in autograph that he would be "the Grand Conti" one

day?]--Prince de Conti, Prince de Soubise [left his Conquest of

Frankfurt for this greater Enterprise], and Milord Thomont [Irish

Jacobite, whom I don't know]. As sequel to this Detail, there is a

lengthy Song on the DISEMBARKMENT IN ENGLAND, and the fear the English

must have of it!" Calculated to astonish the practical forensic mind.

"It is inconceivable", continues he, "how they have permitted such

a Piece to be printed; still more to be cried, and sold price one

halfpenny (DEUX LIARDS). This Song is indecent, in the circumstances of

the actual news from our Fleet at Brest (20th of last month);--in regard

to which bad adventure M. le Marquis de Conflans has come to Versailles,

to justify himself, and throw the blame on M. le Marquis de Beauffremont

[his Rear-Admiral, now safe in the Charente, with eight of our poor

ships]. Such things are the more out of place, as we are in a bad enough

position,--no Flat-bottoms stirring from the ports, no Troops of the

MAISON DU ROI setting out; and have reason to believe that we are now to

make no such attempt." [Barbier, iv. 336.]

Silhouette, the Controller-General, was thought to have a creative

genius in finance: but in the eighth month of his gestation, what

phenomena are these? October 26th, there came out Four Decrees of

Council, setting forth, That, "as the expenses of the War exceed not

only the King's ordinary revenues, but the extraordinaries he has had to

lay on his people, there is nothing for it but," in fact, Suspension of

Payment; actual Temporary Bankruptcy:--"Cannot pay you; part of you not

for a year, others of you not till the War end; will give you 5 per cent

interest instead." Coupled with which, by the same creative genius, is a

Declaration in the King's name, "That the King compels nobody, but does

invite all and sundry of loyal mind to send their Plate (on loan, of

course, and with due receipt for it) to the Mint to be coined, lest

Majesty come to have otherwise no money,"--his very valets, as is

privately known, having had no wages from him for ten months past.

Whereupon the rich Princes of the Blood, Due d'Orleans foremost, and

Official persons, Pompadour, Belleisle, Choiseul, do make an effort; and

everybody that has Plate feels uneasily that he cannot use it, and that

he ought to send it. And, November 5th, the King's own Plate, packed

ostentatiously in carts, went to the Mint;--the Dauphiness, noble

Saxon Lady, had already volunteered with a silver toilet-table of hers,

brand-new and of exquisite costly pattern; but the King forbade her. On

such examples, everybody had to make an effort, or uneasily try to make

one. King Friedrich, eight days after Maxen, is somewhat amused at these

proceedings in the distance:--

"The kettles and spoons of the French seem to me a pleasant resource,

for carrying on War!" writes he to D'Argens. ["Wilsdruf, 28th November,

1759," _OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 108.] "A bit of mummery to act on the

public feeling, I suppose. The result of it will be small: but as

the Belleisle LETTERS [taken in Contades's baggage, after Minden, and

printed by Duke Ferdinand for public edification] make always such

an outcry about poverty, those people are trying to impose on their

enemies, and persuade them that the carved and chiselled silver of the

Kingdom will suffice for making a vigorous Campaign. I see nothing else

that can have set them on imagining the farce they are now at. There is

Munster taken from them by the English-Hanoverian people; it is affirmed

that the French, on the 25th, quitted Giessen, to march on Friedberg

and repass the Rhine [might possibly have done so;--but the Hereditary

Prince and his 12,000 come to be needed elsewhere!]--Poor we are

opposite our enemies here, cantoned in the Villages about; the last

truss of straw, the last loaf of bread will decide which of us is to

remain in Saxony. And as the Austrians are extremely squeezed together,

and can get nothing out of Bohmen,"--one hopes it will not be they!

All through November, this sending of Plate, I never knew with what

net-result of moneys coinable, goes on in Paris; till, at the highest

tables, there is nothing of silver dishes left;--and a new crockery kind

(rather clumsy; "CULS NOIRS," as we derisively call them, pigment of

BOTTOM part being BLACK) has had to be contrived instead. Under what

astonishments abroad and at home, and in the latter region under what

execrations on Silhouette, may be imagined. "TOUT LE MONDE JURE BEAUCOUP

CONTRE M. DE SILHOUETTE, All the world swears much against him," says

Barbier;--but I believe probably he was much to be pitied: "A creative

genius, you; and this is what you come to?"

November 22d, the poor man got dismissed; France swearing at him, I

know not to what depth; but howling and hissing, evidently, with all

its might. The very tailors and milliners took him up,--trousers

without pockets, dresses without flounce or fold, which they called A LA

SILHOUETTE:--and, to this day, in France and Continental Countries,

the old-fashioned Shadow-Profile (mere outline, and vacant black) is

practically called a SILHOUETTE. So that the very Dictionaries have him;

and, like bad Count Reinhart, or REYNARD, of earlier date, he has become

a Noun Appellative, and is immortalized in that way. The first of

that considerable Series of Creative Financiers, Abbe Terray and the

rest,--brought in successively with blessings, and dismissed with

cursings and hissings,--who end in Calonne, Lomenie de Brienne, and

what Mirabeau Pere called "the General Overturn (CULBUTE GENERALE)."

Thitherward, privately, straight towards the General Overturn, is France

bound;--and will arrive in about thirty years.

FRIEDRICH, STRANGE TO SAY, PUBLISHES (March-June, 1760) AN EDITION OF

HIS POEMS. QUESTION, "WHO WROTE Matinees du Roi de Prusse?"--FOR THE

SECOND, AND POSITIVELY THE LAST TIME.

In this avalanche of impending destructions, what can be more surprising

than to hear of the Editing of Poems on his Majesty's part! Actual

publication of that OEuvre de Poesie, for which Voltaire, poor

gentleman, suffered such tribulation seven years ago. Now coming out

from choice: Reprint of it, not now to the extent of twelve copies for

highly special friends, but in copious thousands, for behoof of mankind

at large! The thing cost Friedrich very little meditating, and had

become necessary,--and to be done with speed.

Readers recollect the OEUVRE DE POESIE, and satirical hits said to be

in it. At Paris, about New-year's time 1760, some helpful Hand had

contrived to bring out, under the pretended date "Potsdam," a

cheap edition of that interesting Work. [_"OEuvres du Philosophe de

Sans-Souci:"_ 1 vol. 12 mo, "Potsdam [PARIS, in truth], 1760."] Merely

in the way of theft, as appeared to cursory readers, to D'Argens, for

example: [His Letter to the King, _OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 138.]

but, in deeper fact, for the purpose of apprising certain Crowned Heads,

friendly and hostile,--Czarish Majesty and George II. of England the

main two,--what this poetizing King was pleased to think of them in

his private moments. D'Argens declares himself glad of this theft, so

exquisitely clever is the Book. But Friedrich knows better: "March 17th,

when a Copy of it came to him," Friedrich sees well what is meant,--and

what he himself has to do in it. He instantly sets about making a few

suppressions, changes of phrase; sends the thing to D'Argens: "Publish

at once, with a little prefatory word." And, at the top of his speed,

D'Argens has, in three weeks' time, the suitable AVANT-PROPOS, or AVIS

AU LIBRAIRE, "circulating in great quantities, especially in London

and Petersburg" ("Thief Editor has omitted; and, what is far more,

has malignantly interpolated: here is the poor idle Work itself, not a

Counterfeit of it, if anybody care to read it"), and an Orthodox Edition

ready. [Came out April 9th [see MITCHELL, ii. 153], "and a second finer

Edition in June:" in _OEuvres de Frederic,_ x. p. x, xix. 137 n., 138;

especially in PREUSS, i. 467, 468 (if you will compare him with

HIMSELF on these different occasions, and patiently wind out his bit

of meaning), all manner of minutest details.] The diligent Pirate

Booksellers, at Amsterdam, at London, copiously reproduced this

authorized Berlin Edition too,--or added excerpts from it to their

reprints of the Paris one, by way of various-readings. And everybody

read and compared, what nobody will now do; theme, and treatment of

theme, being both now so heartily indifferent to us.

Who the Perpetrator of this Parisian maleficence was, remained

dark;--and would not be worth inquiring into at all, except for two

reasons intrinsically trifling, but not quite without interest to

readers of our time. First, that Voltaire, whom some suspected (some,

never much Friedrich, that I hear of), appears to have been perfectly

innocent;--and indeed had been incapacitated for guilt, by Schmidt and

Freytag, and their dreadful Frankfurt procedures! This is reason FIRST;

poor Voltaire mutely asking us, Not to load him with more sins than his

own. Reason SECOND is, that, by a singular opportunity, there has, in

these very months, [Spring, 1863.] a glimmering of light risen on it to

this Editor; illustrating two other points as well, which readers here

are acquainted with, some time ago, as riddles of the insignificant

sort. The DEMON NEWSWRITER, with his "IDEA" of Friedrich, and the

"MATINEES DU ROI DE PRUSSE:" readers recollect both those Productions;

both enigmatic as to authorship;--but both now become riddles which can

more or less be read.

For the surprising circumstance (though in certain periods, when the

realm of very Chaos re-emerges, fitfully, into upper sunshine now and

then, nothing ought to surprise one as happening there) is, That, only

a few months ago, the incomparable MATINEES (known to my readers five

years since) has found a new Editor and reviver. Editor illuminated "by

the Secretary of the Great Napoleon," "by discovery of manuscripts," "by

the Duc de Rovigo," and I know not what; animated also, it is said, by

religious views. And, in short, the MATINEES is again abroad upon the

world,--"your London Edition twice reprinted in Germany, by the Jesuit

party since" (much good may it do the Jesuit party!)--a MATINEES again

in comfortable circumstances, as would seem. Probably the longest-eared

Platitude now walking the Earth, though there are a good many with ears

long. Unconscious, seemingly, that it has been killed thrice and four

times already; and that indeed, except in the realm of Nightmare, it

never was alive, or needed any killing; belief in it, doubt upon it

(I must grieve to inform the Duc de Rovigo and honorable persons

concerned), being evidence conclusive that you have not yet the faintest

preliminary shadow of correct knowledge about Friedrich or his habits or

affairs, and that you ought first to try and acquire some.

To me argument on this subject would have been too unendurable. But

argument there was on it, by persons capable and willing, more than one:

and in result this surprising brand-new London moon-calf of a MATINEES

was smitten through, and slit in pieces, for the fifth time,--as if

that could have hurt it much! "MIT DER DUMMHEIT," sings Schiller; "Human

Stupidity is stronger than the very Gods." However, in the course of

these new inspections into matters long since obsolete, there did--what

may truly be considered as a kind of profit by this Resuscitating of the

moon-calf MATINEES upon afflicted mankind, and is a net outcome from it,

real, though very small--some light rise as to the origin and genesis of

MATINEES; some twinkles of light, and, in the utterly dark element, did

disclose other monstrous extinct shapes looming to right and left of

said monster: and, in a word, the Authorship of MATINEES, and not of

MATINEES only, becomes now at last faintly visible or guessable. To

one of those industrious Matadors, as we may call them, Slayers of this

moon-calf for the fourth or fifth time, I owe the following Note; which,

on verifying, I can declare to be trustworthy:--

"The Author of MATINEES, it is nearly certain", says my Correspondent,

"is actually a 'M. de Bonneville,'--contrary to what you wrote five

years ago. [A.D. 1858 (SUPRA, v. 165, 166).] Not indeed the Bonneville

who is found in Dictionaries, who is visibly impossible; but a

Bonneville of the preceding generation, who was Marechal de Saxe's

Adjutant or Secretary, old enough to have been the Uncle or the Father

of that revolutionary Bonneville. Marechal de Saxe died November 30th,

1750; this senior Bonneville, still a young man, had been with him to

Potsdam on visit there. Bonneville, conscious of genius, and now out of

employment, naturally went thither again; lived a good deal there, or

went between France and there: and authentic History knows of him, by

direct evidence, and by reflex, the following Three Facts (the SECOND of

them itself threefold), of which I will distinguish the indubitable from

the inferentially credible or as good as certain:--

"1. Indubitable, That Bonneville sold to Friedrich certain Papers,

military Plans, or the like, of the late Marechal and was paid for them;

but by no means met the recognition his genius saw itself to merit.

These things are certain, though not dated, or datable except as of

the year 1750 or 1751. After which, for above twenty years, Bonneville

entered upon a series of adventures, caliginous, underground, for most

part; 'soldiering in America,' 'writing anonymous Pamphlets or Books,'

roaming wide over the world; and led a busy but obscure and uncertain

life, hanging by Berlin as a kind of centre, or by Paris and Berlin

as his two centres; and had a miscellaneous series of adventures,

subterranean many of them, unluminous all of them, not courting

the light; which lie now in naturally a very dark condition. Dimly

discernible, however, in the general dusk of Bonneville, dim and vague

of outline, but definitely steady beyond what could have been expected,

it does appear farther,--what alone entitles Bonneville to the least

memory here, or anywhere in Nature now or henceforth,--

"2. Inferentially credible, That, shortly after that first rebuff in

Potsdam, he, not another, in 1752, was your 'DEMON NEWSWRITER,' whom

we gazed at, some time since, devoutly crossing ourselves, for a little

while!

"Likewise that, in 1759-1760, after or before his American wanderings,

he, the same Bonneville, as was suspected at the time, ["Nicolai, _Ueber

Zimmermanns Fragmente,_ i. 181, 182, ii. 253, 254. Sketch of what is

authentically known about Bonneville: 'suspected both of MATINEES and

of the Stolen EDITION.'"] stole and edited this surreptitious

mischief-making _OEuvres du Philosophe de Sans-Souci_ (Paris or

Lyon, pretending to be 'Potsdam,' January, 1760)," which we are now

considering!" Encouraged, probably enough, by Choiseul himself, who, in

any case, is now known to have been the promoter of this fine bit of

mischief, [Choiseul's own Note, "To M. de Malesherbes, DIRECTEUR DE

LA LIBRAIRE, 10th December, 1759: 'By every method screen the King's

Government from being suspected;--and get the Edition out at once.'"

(Published in the _Constitutionnel, _ 2d December, 1850, by M.

Sainte-Beuve; copied in Preuss, _OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 168

n.)]--and who may thereupon [or may as probably, NOT "thereupon," if it

were of the least consequence to gods or men] have opened to Bonneville

a new military career in America? Career which led to as good as

nothing; French soldiering in America being done for, in the course of

1760. Upon which Bonneville would return to his old haunts, to his old

subterranean industries in Paris and Berlin.

"And that, finally, in 1765, he, as was again suspected at the time,

["Nicolai, Ueber Zimmermanns Fragmente, i. 181, 182, ii. 253, 254.

Sketch of what is authentically known about Bonneville: 'suspected both

of MATINEES and of the Stolen EDITION.'"] he and no other, did write

those MATINEES, which appeared next year in print (1766), and many times

since; and have just been reprinted, as a surprising new discovery, at

London, in Spring, 1863.

"3. Again indubitable, That either after or before those Editorial

exploits, Bonneville had sold the Marechal de Saxe's Plans and Papers,

which were already the King's, to some second person, and been a second

time paid for them. And was, in regard to this Swindling exploit, found

out; and by reason of that sale, or for what reason is not known, was

put into Spandau, and, one hopes, ended his life there." ["Nicolai, UBI

SUPRA;--and besides him, only the two following references, out of half

a cart-load: 1. Bachaumont, MEMOIRES SECRETES, '7th February, 1765' (see

Barbier, _Dictionnaire des Anonymes,_ Matinees), who calls MATINEES

'a development of the IDEE DE LA PERSONNE,' &c. (that is, of your 'DEMON

NEWSWRITER;' already known to Bachaumont, this 'IDEE,' it seems, as

well as the MATINEES in Manuscript). 2. LETTER of Grimm to Duchess of

Sachsen-Gotha [OUR Duchess], dated 'Paris, 15th April, 1765:' not in

printed _Correspondance de Grimm,_ but still in the Archives of Gotha,

in company with a MS. of MATINEES, probably the oldest extant (see,--in

the GRENZBOTEN Periodical, Leipzig, 1863, pp. 473-484, 500-519,--K.

SAMWER, who is Chief MALLEUS of this new London moon-calf, and will

inform the curious of every particular)]."

MATINEES was first printed 1766 (no place), and seven or eight times

since, in different Countries; twice or thrice over, as "an interesting

new discovery:"--very wearisome to this Editor; who read MATINEES (in

poor LONDON print, that too) many years ago,--with complete satisfaction

as to Matinees, and sincere wish not to touch it again even with a pair

of tongs;--and has since had three "priceless MSS. of it" offered him,

at low rates, as a guerdon to merit.

Fact No. 2, which alone concerns us here,--and which, in its three

successive stages, does curiously cohere with itself and with other

things,--comes, therefore, not by direct light, which indeed, by the

nature of the case, would be impossible. Not by direct light, but by

various reflex lights, and convergence of probabilities old and new,

which become the stronger the better they are examined; and may be

considered as amounting to what is called a moral certainty,--"certain"

enough for an inquiry of that significance. To a kind of moral

certainty: kind of moral consolation too; only One individual of Adam's

Posterity, not Three or more, having been needed in these multifarious

acts of scoundrelism; and that One receiving payment, or part payment,

so prompt and appropriate, in the shape of a permanent cannon-ball at

his ankle.

This is the one profit my readers or I have yet derived from the late

miraculous Resuscitation of MATINEES ROYALES; the other items of profit

in that Enterprise shall belong, not to us in the least measure, but to

Bonneville, and to his well or ill disposed Coadjutors and Copartners in

the Adventure. Adieu to it, and to him and to them, forever and a day!

PEACE-NEGOTIATIONS HOPEFUL TO FRIEDRICH ALL THROUGH WINTER; BUT THE

FRENCH WON'T. VOLTAIRE, AND HIS STYLE OF CORRESPONDING.

This Winter there was talk of Peace, more specifically than ever.

November 15th, at the Hague, as a neutral place, there had been, by the

two Majesties, Britannic and Prussian, official DECLARATION, "We, for

our part, deeply lament these horrors, and are ready to treat of Peace."

This Declaration was presented November 15th, 1759, by Prince Ludwig of

Brunswick (Head General of the Dutch, and a Brother of Prince Ferdinand

our General's, suitable for such case), to the Austrian-French

Excellencies at the Hague. By whom it had been received with the due

politeness, "Will give it our profoundest consideration;" [DECLARATION

(by the two Majesties) that they are ready to treat of Peace, 15th

November, 1759, presented by, &c. (as above); ANSWER from France, in

stingy terms, and not till 3d April, 1760: are in _London Gazette;_ in

_Gentleman's Magazine,_ xxix. 603, xxx. 188; in &c. &c.]--which indeed

the French, for some time, privately did; though the Austrians privately

had no need to do so, being already fixed for a negative response to the

proposal. But hereby rose actual talk of a "Congress;" and wagging of

Diplomatic wigs as to where it shall be. "In Breda," said some; "Breda

a place used to Congresses." "Why not in Nanci here?" said poor old

Ex-Polish Stanislaus, alive to the calls of benevolence, poor old

Titular soul. Others said "Leipzig;" others "Augsburg;"--and indeed

in Augsburg, according to the Gazetteers, at one time, there were

"upholsterers busy getting ready the apartments." So that, with such

rumor in the Diplomatic circles, the Gazetteer and outer world was full

of speculation upon Peace; and Friedrich had lively hopes of it, and had

been hoping three months before, as we transiently saw, though again it

came to nothing. All to nothing; and is not, in itself, worth the least

attention from us here,--a poor extinct fact, loud in those months and

filling the whole world, now silent and extinct to everybody,--except,

indeed, that it offers physiognomic traits here and there of a certain

King, and of those about him. For which reason we will dwell on it a few

minutes longer.

Nobody, in that Winter 1759-1760, could guess where, or from whom, this

big world-interesting Peace-Negotiation had its birth; as everybody now

can, when nobody now is curious on the question! At Sagan, in September

last, we all saw the small private source of it, its first outspurt into

daylight; and read Friedrich's ANSWERS to Voltaire and the noble

Duchess on it:--for the sake of which Two private Correspondents, and

of Friedrich's relation to them, possibly a few more Excerpts may still

have a kind of interest, now when the thing corresponded on has ceased

to have any. To the Duchess, a noble-minded Lady, beautifully zealous to

help if she could, by whose hand these multifarious Peace-Papers have to

pass, this is always Friedrich's fine style in transmitting them. Out of

many specimens, following that of Sagan which we gave, here are the Next

Three:--

FRIEDRICH TO THE DUCHESS OF SACHSEN-GOTHA (Three other Letters on the

"Peace").

1. "WILSDRUF, 21st November, 1759 [day after Maxen, SURRENDER was THIS

morning--of which he has not heard].

"MADAM,--Nothing but your generosities and your indulgence could justify

my incongruity [INCONGRUITE, in troubling you with the Enclosed]. You

will have it, Madam, that I shall still farther abuse those bounties,

which are so precious to me: at least remember that it is by your order,

if I forward through your hand this Letter, which does not merit such

honor.

"Chance, which so insolently mocks the projects of men, and delights to

build up and then pull down, has led us about, thus far,--to the end of

the Campaign [not quite ended yet, if we knew]. The Austrians are girt

in by the Elbe on this side; I have had two important Magazines of

theirs in Bohemia destroyed [Kleist's doing]. There have been some bits

of fighting (AFFAIRES), that have turned entirely to our advantage:--so

that I am in hopes of forcing M. Daun to repass the Elbe, to abandon

Dresden, and to take the road for Zittau and Bohemia.

"I talk to you, Madam, of what I am surrounded with; of what, being in

your neighborhood, may perhaps have gained your attention. I could go

to much greater length, if my heart dared to explain itself on the

sentiments of admiration, gratitude and esteem, with which I am,--Madam

my Cousin,--Your most faithful Cousin, Friend and Servant,--F."

2.

"FREYBERG, 18th December, 1759.

"MADAM,--You spoil me so by your indulgence, you so accustom me to have

obligations to you, that I reproach myself a hundred times with this

presumption. Certainly I should not continue to enclose these Letters to

your care, had not I the hope that perhaps the Correspondence may be of

some use to England, and even to Europe,--for without doubt Peace is

the desirable, the natural and happy state for all Nations. It is to

accelerate Peace, Madam, that I abuse your generosities. This motive

excuses me to myself for the incongruity of my procedures.

"The goodness you have to take interest in my situation obliges me to

give you some account of it. We have undergone all sorts of misfortune

here [Maxen, what not], at the moment we were least expecting them.

Nevertheless, there remains to us courage and hope; here are Auxiliaries

[Hereditary Prince and 12,000] on the point of arriving; there is reason

to think that the end of our Campaign will be less frightful than seemed

likely three weeks ago. May you, Madam, enjoy all the happiness that I

wish you. May all the world become acquainted with your virtues, imitate

them, and admire you as I do. May you be persuaded that...--F."

3.

"FREYBERG, 16th February, 1760.

"MADAM,--It is to my great regret that I importune Your Highness so

often with my Letters. Your bounties, Madam, have spoiled me;--it

will teach you to be more chary of them to others. I regard you as an

estimable Friend, to whose friendship I have recourse in straits.

The question is still Peace, Madam; and were not the object of my

importunities so beautiful, Madam, I should be inexcusable."--Goes then

into practical considerations, about "Cocceji" (King's Aide-de-Camp,

once Keith's, who carries this Letter), about a "Herr von Edelsheim,"

a "Bailli de Froulay", and the possible "Conditions of Peace,"--not of

consequence to us just now. [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xviii. 174, 173,

172. Correspondence on this subject lasts from 22d September, 1759, to

8th May, 1760: IB. pp. 170-186. In that final Letter of 8th May is the

phrase, hardly worth restoring to its real ownership, though the context

considerably redeems it there,--"the prejudice I can't get rid of, that,

in war, DIEU EST POUR LES GROS ESCADRONS."]

As to Voltaire again, and the new Friedrich-Voltaire Style of

Correspondence, something more of detail will be requisite. Ever since

the black days of 1757, when poor Wilhelmina, with Rossbach and Leuthen

still hidden from her in a future gloomy as death, desperately brought

Voltaire to bear upon Cardinal Tencin in this matter, without success,

there has been a kind of regular corresponding between Voltaire and

Friedrich; characteristic on both sides. A pair of Lovers hopelessly

estranged and divorced; and yet, in a sense, unique and priceless to one

another. The Past, full of heavenly radiances, which issued, alas, in

flames and sooty conflagrations as of Erebus,--let us forget it, and be

taught by it! The Past is painful, and has been too didactic to some

of us: but here still is the Present with its Future; better than blank

nothing. Pleasant to hear the sound of that divine voice of my loved

one, were it only in commonplace remarks on the weather,--perhaps

intermixed with secret gibings on myself:--let us hear it while we can,

amid those world-wide crashing discords and piping whirlwinds of war.

Friedrich sends his new Verses or light Proses, which he is ever and

anon throwing off; Voltaire sends his, mostly in print, and of more

elaborate turn: they talk on matters that are passing round them, round

this King, the centre of them,--Friedrich usually in a rather swaggering

way (lest his Correspondent think of blabbing), and always with

something of banter audible in him;--as has Voltaire too, but in a finer

TREBLE tone, being always female in this pretty duet of parted lovers.

It rarely comes to any scolding between them; but there is or can be

nothing of cordiality. Nothing, except in the mutual admiration, which

one perceives to be sincere on both sides; and also, in the mutual

practical estrangement: "Nothing more of you,--especially of YOU,

Madam,--as a practical domestic article!"

After long reading, with Historical views, in this final section of the

Friedrich-Voltaire Correspondence, at first so barren otherwise and of

little entertainment, one finds that this too, when once you CAN "read"

it (that is to say, when the scene and its details are visible to

you), becomes highly dramatic, Shakspearean-comic or more, for this

is Nature's self, who far excels even Shakspeare;--and that the

inextricably dark condition of these Letters is a real loss to the

ingenuous reader, and especially to the student of Friedrich. Among the

frequently recurring topics, one that oftenest turns up on Voltaire's

side is that of Peace: Oh, if your Majesty would but make Peace! Does it

depend on me? thinks Friedrich always; and is, at last, once provoked to

say so:--

FRIEDRICH TO VOLTAIRE.

"REICH-HENNERSDORF, 2d July, 1759, [shortly before Schmottseifen, while

waiting Daun's slow movements].

"Asking ME for Peace: there is a bitter joke!--[In verse, this; flings

off a handful of crackers on the BIEN-AIME, whose Chamberlain you are,

on the HONGROISE QUI'IL ADORE, on the Russian QUE J'ABHORRE;--then

continues in prose]:

"It is to him," the Well-beloved Louis, "that you must address

yourself, or to his Amboise in Petticoats [his Pompadour, acting the

Cardinal-Premier on this occasion]. But these people have their heads

filled with ambitious projects: these people are the difficulty; they

wish to be the sovereign arbiters of sovereigns;--and that is what

persons of my way of thinking will by no means put up with. I love

Peace quite as much as you could wish; but I want it good, solid and

honorable. Socrates or Plato would have thought as I do on this subject,

had they found themselves placed in the accursed position which is now

mine in the world.

"Think you there is any pleasure in leading this dog of a life [CHIENNE,

she-dog]? In seeing and causing the butchery of people you know nothing

of; in losing daily those you do know and love; in seeing perpetually

your reputation exposed to the caprices of chance; in passing year after

year in disquietudes and apprehensions; in risking, without end, your

life and your fortune?

"I know right well the value of tranquillity, the sweets of society, the

charms of life; and I love to be happy, as much as anybody whatever. But

much as I desire these blessings, I will not purchase them by basenesses

and infamies. Philosophy enjoins us to do our duty; faithfully to serve

our Country, at the price of our blood, of our repose, and of every

sacrifice that can be required of us. The illustrious ZADIG went through

a good many adventures which were not to his taste, CANDIDE the like;

and nevertheless took their misfortune in patience. What finer example

to follow than that of those heroes?

"Take my word, our 'curt jackets,' as you call them [HABITS ECOURTES,

peculiar to the Prussian soldier at that time], are as good as your red

heels, as the Hungarian pelisses, and the green frocks of the Roxelans

[Russians]. We are actually on the heels of the latter [at least

poor Dohna is, and poor Dictator Wedell will be, not with the effect

anticipated!]--who by their stupidities give us fine chance. You will

see I shall get out of the scrape this Year too, and deliver myself

both from the Greens and the Dirty-Whites [Austrian color of coat].

My neighbor of the Sacred Hat,--I think, in spite of Holy Father's

benediction, the Holy Ghost must have inspired him the reverse way; he

seems to have a great deal of lead in his bottom.... F." [_OEuvres de

Frederic,_ xxiii. 53.]

VOLTAIRE IN ANSWER.

"THE DELICES," guessed to be some time in "August, 1759."

"In whatever state you are, it is very certain that you are a great

man. It is not to weary your Majesty that I now write; it is to confess

myself,--on condition you will give me absolution! I have betrayed you;

that is the fact"--(really guilty this time, and HAVE shown something of

your writing; as your Majesty, oh how unjustly, is often suspecting that

I do, and with mischievous intention, instead of good, ah, Sire!)--In

fact, I have received that fine "MARCUS-AURELIUS" Letter (Letter we have

just read); exquisite Piece, though with biting "JUVENAL" qualities in

it too; and have shown it, keeping back the biting parts, to a beautiful

gillflirt of the Court, MINAUDIERE (who seems to be a Mistress of

Choiseul's), who is here attending Tissot for her health: MINAUDIERE

charmed with it; insists on my sending to Choiseul, "He admires the King

of Prussia, as he does all nobleness and genius; send it!" And I did

so;--and look here, what an Answer from Choiseul (Answer lost): and

may it not have a fine effect, and perhaps bring Peace--Oh, forgive me,

Sire. But read that Note of the great man. "Try if you can decipher

his writing. One may have very honest sentiments, and a great deal of

ESPRIT, and yet write like a cat....

"Sire, there was once a lion and a mouse (RAT); the mouse fell in love

with the lion, and went to pay him court. The lion, tired of it, gave

him a little scrape with his paw. The mouse withdrew into his mouse-hole

(SOURICIERE); but he still loved the lion; and seeing one day a net they

were spreading out to catch the lion and kill him, he gnawed asunder one

mesh of it. Sire, the mouse kisses very humbly your beautiful claws,

in all submissiveness:--he will never die between two Capuchins, as,

at Bale, the mastiff (DOGUE) of St. Malo has done [27th July last]. He

would have wished to die beside his lion. Believe that the mouse was

more attached than the mastiff."--V. [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxiii. 59,

60.]

To which we saw the Answer, pair of Answers, at Sagan, in September

last. This Note from Choiseul, conveyed by Voltaire, appears to have

been the trifling well-spring from which all those wide-spread waters

of Negotiation flowed. Pitt, when applied to, on the strength of

Friedrich's hopes from this small Document of Choiseul's, was of course

ready, "How welcome every chance of a just Peace!" and agreed to the

Joint Declaration at the Hague; and took what farther trouble I know

not,--probably less sanguine of success than Friedrich. Friedrich was

ardently industrious in the affair; had a great deal of devising and

directing on it, a great deal of corresponding with Voltaire and the

Duchess, only small fractions of which are now left. He searched out, or

the Duchess of Sachsen-Gotha did it for him, a proper Secret Messenger

for Paris: Secret Messenger, one Baron von Edelsheim, properly veiled,

was to consult a certain Bailli de Froulay, a friend of Friedrich's in

Paris;--which loyal-hearted Bailli did accordingly endeavor there; but

made out nothing. Only much vague talking; part of it, or most of it,

subdolous on Choiseul's side. Pitt would hear of no Peace which did

not include Prussia as well as England: some said this was the cause

of failure;--the real cause was that Choiseul never had any serious

intention of succeeding. Light Choiseul, a clever man, but an unwise,

of the sort called "dashing," had entertained the matter merely in the

optative form,--and when it came nearer, wished to use it for making

mischief between Pitt and Friedrich, and for worming out Edelsheim's

secrets, if he had any,--for which reason he finally threw Edelsheim

into the Bastille for a few days. [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ v. 38-41,

detailed account of the Affair.]

About the end of March I guess it to have been that Choiseul, by way of

worming out poor Edelsheim's secrets, flung him into the Bastille for

a day or two. Already in December foregoing, we have seen Choiseul's

Black-Artist busy upon the Stolen EDITION of Friedrich's Verses. A

Choiseul full of intrigues; adroit enough, ambitious enough; restlessly

industrious in making mischief, if there were nothing else to be made;

who greatly disgusted Friedrich, now and afterwards.

And this was what the grand Voltaire Pacification came to, though

it filled the world with temporary noise, and was so interesting to

Voltaire and another. What a heart-affecting generosity, humility and

dulcet pathos in that of the poor Mouse gnawing asunder a mesh of the

Lion's net! There is a good deal of that throughout, on the Voltaire

side,--that is to say, while writing to Friedrich. But while writing of

him, to third parties, sometimes almost simultaneously, the contrast

of styles is not a little startling; and the beautiful affectionately

chirping Mouse is seen suddenly to be an injured Wild-cat with its fur

up. All readers of Voltaire are aware of this; and how Voltaire handles

his "LUC" (mysterious nickname for KING FRIEDRICH ), when Luc's back is

turned. For alas, there is no man or thing but has its wrong side too;

least of all, a Voltaire,--doing TREBLE voice withal, if you consider

it, in such a Duet of estranged Lovers! Suppose we give these few

Specimens,--treble mostly, and a few of bass as well,--to illustrate

the nature of this Duet, and of the noises that went on round it, in a

war-convulsed world? And first of all, concerning the enigma "What is

Luc?"

What the LUC in Voltaire is? Shocking explanations have been hit

upon: but Wagniere (WAGNER, an intelligent Swiss man), Voltaire's old

Secretary, gives this plain reading of the riddle: "M. de Voltaire had,

at The Delices [near by Ferney, till the Chateau got built], a big

Ape, of excessively mischievous turn; who used to throw stones at the

passers-by, and sometimes would attack with its teeth friend or foe

alike. One day it thrice over bit M. de Voltaire's own leg. He had

called it LUC (Luke); and in conversation with select friends, as also

in Letters to such, he sometimes designated the King of Prussia by that

nickname: 'HE is like my Luc here; bites whoever caresses him!'--In 1756

M. de Voltaire, having still on his heart the Frankfurt Outrage, wrote

curious MEMOIRES [ah, yes, VIE PRIVEE]; and afterwards wished to burn

them; but a Copy had been stolen from him in 1768,"--and they still

afflict the poor world.

To the same effect speaks Johannes von Muller: "Voltaire had an Ape

called Luc; and the spiteful man, in thus naming the King, meant to

stigmatize him as the mere APE of greater men; as one without any

greatness of his own."--No; LUC was mischievous, flung stones after

passengers; had, according to Clogenson, "bitten Voltaire himself, while

being caressed by him;" that was the analogy in Voltaire's mind. Preuss

says, this Nickname first occurs "12th December, 1757." Suppose 11th

December to have been the day of getting one's leg bitten thrice over;

and that, in bed next morning,--stiff, smarting, fretful against the sad

ape-tricks and offences of this life,--before getting up to one's Works

and Correspondences, the angry similitude had shot, slightly fulgurous

and consolatory, athwart the gloom of one's mood? [Longchamp et Wagniere

_Memoires,_ i. 34; Johannes von Muller, _Works _ (12mo, Stuttgard,

1821), xxxi. 140 (LETTERS TO HIS BROTHER, No, 218, "July, 1796");

Clogenson's Note, in _OEuvres de Voltaire,_ lxxvii. 103; Preuss, ii.

71.] That will account for Luc.

Many of the Voltaire-Friedrich LETTERS are lost; and the remainder

lie in sad disorder in all the Editions, their sequence unintelligible

without lengthy explanation. So that the following Snatches cannot well

be arranged here in the way of Choral Strophe and Antistrophe, as would

have been desirable. We shall have to group them loosely under heads;

with less respect to date than to subject-matter, and to the reader's

convenience for understanding them.

VOLTAIRE ON FRIEDRICH, TO DIFFERENT THIRD-PARTIES, DURING THIS WAR.

TO D'ARGENTAL (Has not yet heard of LEUTHEN, which happened five days

before).... "I have tasted the vengeance of consoling the King of

Prussia, and that is enough for me. He goes beating on the one side, and

getting beaten on the other: except for another miracle [like Rossbach],

he will be ruined. Better have really been a philosopher, as he

pretended to be." [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_ lxvii. 139 ("The Delices, 10th

December, 1757").]

TO THE REVEREND COMTE DE BERNIS (outwardly still our flourishing

Prime-Minister, by grace of Pompadour, but soon to be extinguished under

a Red Hat. Date is six days before ZORNDORF).... "I cannot imagine

how some people have gone into suspecting that my heart might have the

weakness to lean a little towards WHOM you know, towards my Ingrate that

was! One is bound to have politeness; but one has memory as well;--and

one is attached, as warmly as superfluously, to the Good Cause, which

it belongs only to you to defend. Certain it is, poor I am not like the

three-fourths of the Germans in these days [since ROSSBACH, above all]!

I have everywhere seen Ladies'-fans with the Prussian Eagle painted on

them, eating the FLEUR-DE-LIS; the Hanover Horse giving a kick to M.

de Richelieu's bottom; a Courier carrying a bottle of Queen-of-Hungary

Water to Madame de Pompadour. My Nieces shall certainly not have

that fashion of Fans, at my poor little DELICES, whither I am just

returning." [Ib. lxxvii. 35 ("Soleure, 19th August, 1758").]

TO MADAME D'ARGENTAL (on occasion of MINDEN: Kunersdorf three days ago,

but not yet heard of).... "Truly, Madame, when M. de Contades leads to

the butchery all the descendants of our ancient chevaliers, and sets

them to attack eighty pieces of cannon [not in the least, if you knew

it; the reverse, if you knew it],--as Don Quixote did the windmills!

This horrible day pierces my soul. I am French to excess, especially

since those new favors [not worth mentioning here], which I owe to my

divine Angels and to M. le Duc de Choiseul.

"Luc--you know who Luc is [as do we]--is probably giving Battle to the

Austrians and Russians [KUNERSDORF, 12th; three days ago, did it,

and was beaten to your mind], at the moment while I have the honor of

writing to you; at least, he told me such was his Royal intention. If

they beat him, as may happen, what a shame for us to have been beaten by

the Duke of Brunswick! I wish you knew this Duke [as I have done; a Duke

of no ESPRIT, no gift of tongue, in fact no talent at all that I could

discern], you would be much astonished; and would say, 'The people whom

he beats must be great blockheads.' The truth of the fact is, that all

these troops are better disciplined than ours:" [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_

lxxviii, 186, 187 ("Delices, 15th August, 1759").]--Yes indeed, my

esteemed Voltaire; and also, perhaps, that ESPRIT, or gift of tongue, is

not the sole gift for Battles and Campaigns?--

TO D'ARGENTAL (seventh day after KUNERSDORF: "mouse upon lion's net"

nearly contemporaneous). "At last, then, I think my Russians must be

near Great Glogau [might have been, one thinks, after such a Kunersdorf;

did not start for a month yet; never could get very near at all]. Who

would have thought that Barberina [Mackenzie's Dancer once; sent to

Glogau, Cocceji and she, when their marriage became public] was going to

be besieged by the Russians, and in Glogau: O Destiny!--

"I don't love Luc, far from it: I never will pardon him his infamous

procedure with my Niece [at Frankfurt that time]; nor the face he has to

write me flattering things twice a month; without having ever repaired

his wrongs. I desire much his entire humiliation, the chastisement of

the sinner; whether his eternal damnation. I don't quite know." [Ib.

lxxviii. 195 ("19th August, 1759").] (Hear, hear!)

TO THE SAME (a month after MAXEN: "Peace" Negotiation very lively). ...

"Meanwhile, if Luc could be punished before this happy Peace! If, by

this last stroke of General Beck [tussle with Dierecke at Meissen, 4th

December, capture of Dierecke and 1,500; stroke not of an overwhelming

nature, but let us be thankful for our mercies], which has opened the

road from the Lausitz to Berlin [alas, not in the least], some Haddick

could pay Berlin a visit again! You see, in Tragedy I wish always to

have crime punished.

"There is talk of a great Battle fought the 6th [not a word of truth in

it] between Luc and him of the Consecrated Hat: said to have been very

murderous. I interest myself very much in this Piece" now playing under

the Sun. "Whenever the Austrians have any advantage, Kaunitz says to

Madame de Bentinck [litigant wandering Lady, known to me at Berlin and

elsewhere], 'Write that to our Friend Voltaire.' Whenever Luc has the

least success, he tells me, 'I have battered the oppressors of mankind.

Dear Angel, in these horrors I am the only one that has room to

laugh:--and yet I don't laugh either; owing to the CULS-NOIRS [base

crockery; one's Dinner Plate all vanished [Supra, p. 374.]], to the

Annuities, Lotteries, and to Pondicherry,--for I am always afraid about

that latter!" (Going, that, for certain; going, gone, and your East

Indies along with it!) [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_ lxxviii. 346 ("22d

December, 1759").]

TO PERPETUAL SECRETARY FORMEY (in forwarding a "Letter left with me").

"Health and peace, Monsieur; and be SECRETAIRE ETERNEL. Your King is

always a man unique, astonishing, inimitable. He makes charming verses,

in times when another could not write a line of prose; he deserves to

be happy: but will he be so? And if not, what becomes of you? For my own

part, I will not die between two Capuchins. Hardly worth while, exalting

one's soul for such a future as that. What a stupid and detestable farce

this world is!" [Ib. lxxviii. 348 (from SOUVENIRS D'UN CITOYEN, i. 302),

"11th January 1760."]

TO D'ARGENTAL ("Peace" Negotiations still at their briskest),... "But,

my dear Angel, you will see on Tuesday the great man who has turned my

head (DONT JE SUIS FOU), M. le Duc de Choiseul. The Letters he honors

me with enchant me. God will bless him, don't doubt it,"--after all! "We

have at Pondicherry a Lally, a devil of an Irish spirit,--who will cost

me, sooner or later, above 20,000 livres annually [have rents in our

INDIA COMPANY, say 1,000 pounds a year, as my Angels know], which used

to be the readiest item of my Pittance. But M. le Duc de Choiseul will

triumph over Luc in one way or other; then what joy! I suppose he shows

you my impertinent reveries. Do you know, Luc is so mad, that I don't

despair of bringing him to reason [persuading him to give up Cleve, and

knuckle as he should, in this Peace Affair]. That were what I should

call the true Comedy! I should like to have your advices on the

conduct of that Dramatic Piece." [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_ lxxviii. 375

("Delices, 15th February, 1760").]

The late "mouse" gnawing its mesh of net, what a subtle and mighty

hunter has it grown! This of Cleve, however, and of knuckling, would

not do. Hear the stiff Answer that comes: "'Conditions of Peace,' do you

call them? The people that propose such can have no wish to see Peace.

What a logic theirs! 'I might yield the Country of Cleve, because the

inhabitants are stupid'! What would your Ministers say if one required

the Province of Champagne from them, because the Proverb says,

Ninety-nine sheep and one Champagner make a Hundred head of cattle?"

[Friedrich to Voltaire, "Freyberg, 3d April, 1760:" _OEuvres de

Frederic,_ xxiii. 73, 74.]

AGAIN TO D'ARGENTAL (three or four months after; Luc having proved

obstinate, and still unsuccessful).... "I conjure you make use of all

your eloquence to tell him [the supreme Duc de Choiseul], that if Luc

misgo, it will be no misfortune to France. That Brandenburg will always

remain an Electorate; that it is good there be no Elector in it strong

enough to do without the protection of our King; and that all the

Princes of the Empire will always have recourse to that august

protection Most Christian Majesty's] CONTRA L'AQUILA GRIFAGNA,--were

the Prussian Kingship but abolished. Nota bene, if Luc were discomfited

this Year, we should have Peace next Winter." [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_

lxxix. 110 ("July, 1760").]

TO SUPREME CHOISEUL (a year later).... "He has been a bad man, this Luc;

and now, if one were to bet,--by the law of probability it would be 3

to 1 that Luc will go to pot (SERA PERDU), with his rhymings and his

banterings, and his injustices and politics, all as bad as himself."

[Ib. lxxx. 313 ("Chateau de Ferney, 13th July, 1761").]

VOLTAIRE ON SURROUNDING OBJECTS, CHIEFLY ON MAUPERTUIS, AND THE BATTLES.

TO D'ALEMBERT (in the Rossbach-Leuthen interval: on the Battle of

BRESLAU, 22d November, 1757; called by the Austrians "a Malplaquet," and

believed by Voltaire to be a Malplaquet and more). ... "The Austrians

do avenge us, and humble us [us, and our miserable Rossbachs], in a

terrible manner. Thirteen attacks on the Prussian intrenchments, lasted

six hours; never was Victory bloodier, or more horribly beautiful

[in the brain of certain men]. We pretty French fellows, we are more

expeditious, our job is done in five minutes. The King of Prussia is

always writing me Verses, now like a desperado, now like a hero; and

as for me, I try to live like a philosopher in my hermitage. He has

obtained what he always wished: to beat the French, to be admired by

them, to mock them; but the Austrians are mocking him in a very serious

way. Our shame of November 5th has given him glory; and with such glory,

which is but transient and dearly bought, he must content himself. He

will lose his own Countries, with those he has seized, unless the French

again discover [which they will] the secret of losing all their Armies,

as they did in 1741." [Ib. Lxxvii. 133, 134 ("Delices, 6th December,

1757," day after Leuthen).]

TO CLAIRAUT, THE MATHEMATICIAN (Maupertuis lately dead). An excellent

Treatise, this you have sent me, Monsieur! "Your war with the Geometers

on the subject of this Comet appears to me like a war of the gods in

Olympus, while on Earth there is going on a fight of dogs and cats....

Would to Heaven our friend Moreau-Maupertuis had cultivated his art

like you! That he had predicted comets, instead of exalting his soul

to predict the future; of dissecting the brains of giants to know the

nature of the soul; of japanning people with pitch to cure them of every

malady; of persecuting Konig; and of dying between Two Capuchins" (dead

three weeks ago, on those terms, poor soul)! [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_

lxxviii. 191 ("Delices, 19th August, 1759").]

TO D'ALEMBERT (a week later).... "What say you of Maupertuis dying

between Two Capuchins! He was ill, this long while, of a repletion of

pride; but I had not reckoned him either a hypocrite or an imbecile.

I don't advise you ever to go and fill his place at Berlin; you would

repent that. I am Astolpho warning Roger (Ruggiero) not to trust himself

to the Enchantress Alcina; but Roger was unadvisable." [Ib. lxxviii. 197

("Delices, 25th August, 1759").]

TO THE SAME (two years later: Luc, on certain grounds, may as well

be saved). "With regard to Luc, though I have my just causes of anger

against him, I own to you, in my quality of Frenchman and thinking

being, I am glad that a certain most Orthodox House has not swallowed

Germany, and that the Jesuits are not confessing in Berlin. Over towards

the Danube superstition is very powerful.... The INFAME--You are

well aware that I speak of superstition only; for as to the Christian

religion, I respect and love it, like you. Courage, Brethren! Preach

with force, and write with address: God will bless you.--Protect, you

my Brother, the Widow Calas all you can! She is a poor weak-minded

Huguenot, but her Husband was the victim of the WHITE PENITENTS. It

is the concern of Human Nature that the Fanatics of Toulouse be

confounded." (The case of Calas, SECOND act of it, getting on the

scene: a case still memorable to everybody. Stupendous bit of French

judicature; and Voltaire's noblest outburst, into mere transcendent

blaze of pity, virtuous wrath, and determination to bring rescue and

help against the whole world.) [_OEuvres de Voltaire,_ lxxviii. 52, 53

("Ferney, 28th November, 1762").]

FRIEDRICH TO VOLTAIRE, BEFORE AND DURING THESE PEACE NEGOTIATIONS.

AT SCHMOTTSEIFEN, FIVE DAYS BEFORE ZULLICHAU, TEN DAYS BEFORE THAT HUNT

OF LOUDON AND HADDICK (Voltaire, under rebuke for indiscretion, has been

whimpering a little. My discreet Niece burnt those LAST verses, Sire;

no danger there, at least! Truculent Bishop Something-AC tried to attack

your Majesty; but was done for by a certain person). Friedrich answers:

"In truth, you are a singular creature. When I think of scolding you,

you say two words, and the reproach expires. Impossible to scold you,

even when you deserve it....

"As to your Niece, let her burn me or roast me, I care little. Nor are

you to think me so sensitive to what your Bishops in IC or in AC may

say of me. I have the lot of all actors who play in public; applauded

by some, despised by others. One must prepare oneself for satires,

for calumnies, for a multitude of lies, which will be sent abroad into

currency against one: but need that trouble my tranquillity? I go my

road; I do nothing against the interior voice of my conscience; and I

concern myself very little in what way my actions paint themselves in

the brain of beings, not always very thinking, with two legs and without

feathers." ["Schmottseifen, 18th July, 1759;" _OEuvres de Frederic,_

xxiii. 55, 56.]

AT WILSDRUF, JUST BEFORE MAXEN (an exultant exuberant curious Letter;

too long for insertion,--part of it given above).... "For your Tragedy

of SOCRATE, thanks. At Paris they are going to burn it, the wretched

fools,--not aware that absurd fanaticism is their dominant vice. Better

burn the dose of medicine, however, than the useful Doctor. I, can I

join myself to that set? If I bite you, as you complain, it is without

my knowledge. But I am surrounded with enemies, one hitting me, another

pricking me, another daubing me with mud;--patience at last yields, and

one flies abroad into a general rage, too indiscriminate perhaps."

You talk of my Verses on Rossbach (my ADIEU TO THE HOOPERS on finding

their Bridge burnt [Supra, p. 21.]). "This Campaign I have had no

beatific vision, in the style of Moses. The barbarous Cossacks and

Tartars, infamous to look at on any side, have burnt and ravaged

countries, and committed atrocious inhumanities. This is all I saw of

THEM. Such melancholy spectacles don't tend to raise one's spirits.

[Breaks off into metre:] LA FORTUNE INCONSTANTE ET FIERE, Fortune

inconstant and proud. Does not treat her suitors Always in an equal

manner. Those fools called heroes, who run the country,

Ces fous nommes heros, et qui courent les champs,

Couverts de sang et de poussiere,

Voltaire, n'ont pas tous les ans

La faceur de voir le derriere

De leurs ennemis insolents.

Can't expect that pleasure every year"!...

Maupertuis, say you? "Don't trouble the ashes of the dead; let the grave

at least put an end to your unjust hatreds. Reflect that even Kings make

peace after long battling; cannot you ever make it? I think you would

be capable, like Orpheus, of descending to Hell, not to soften Pluto and

bring back your beautiful Emilie, but to pursue into that Abode of Woe

an enemy whom your wrath has only too much persecuted in the world: for

shame!" [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxiii. 61-65 ("Wilsdruf, 17th November,

1759").]--and rebukes him, more than once elsewhere, in very serious

terms.

IN WINTER-QUARTERS, ON PEACE AND THE STOLEN EDITION. (Starts in verse,

which we abridge:) With how many laurels you have covered yourself in

all the fields of Literature! One laurel yet is wanting to the brow

of Voltaire. If, as the crown of so many perfect works, he could by a

skilful manoeuvre bring back Peace, I, and Europe with me, would think

that his masterpiece! [Takes to prose:]

"This is my thought and all Europe's. Virgil made as fine Verses as you;

but he never made a Peace. It will be a distinction you will have over

all your brethren of Parnassus, if you succeed.

"I know not who has betrayed me, and thought of printing [the

EDITION;--not you, surely!] a pack of rhapsodies which were good enough

to amuse myself, but were never meant for publication. After all, I

am so used to treacheries and bad manoeuvres,"--what matters this

insignificant one?

"I know not who the Bredow is [whom you speak of having met]; but he has

told you true. The sword and death have made frightful ravages among

us. And the worst is, we are not yet at the end of the tragedy. You may

judge what effect these cruel shocks made on me. I wrap myself in my

stoicism, the best I can. Flesh and blood revolt against such tyrannous

command; but it must be followed. If you saw me, you would scarcely know

me again: I am old, broken, gray-headed, wrinkled; I am losing my teeth

and my gayety: if this go on, there will be nothing of me left, but the

mania of making verses, and an inviolable attachment to my duties and

to the few virtuous men whom I know." [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxiii. 69

("Freyberg, 24th Feb. 1760").]

IN WINTER-QUARTERS, A MONTH LATER (comes still on "Peace" again). ...

"I will have you paid that bit of debt [perhaps of postage or the like],

that Louis of the Mill (Louis du Moulin," at Fontenoy, who got upon a

Windmill with his Dauphin, and caught that nickname from the common men)

"may have wherewithal to make war on me. Add tenth-penny tax to your tax

of twentieth-penny; impose new capitations, make titular offices to get

money; do, in a word, whatever you like. In spite of all your efforts,

you will not get a Peace signed by my hands, except on conditions

honorable to my Nation. Your people, blown up with self-conceit and

folly, may depend on these words. Adieu, live happy; and while you make

all your efforts to destroy Prussia, think that nobody has less deserved

it than I, either of you or of your French." [Ib. xxiii. 72 ("Freyberg,

20th March, 1760").]

STILL IN WINTER-QUARTERS (on "Peace" still; but begins with

"Maupertuis," which is all we will give). "What rage animates you

against Maupertuis? You accuse HIM of having published that Furtive

EDITION. Know that his Copy, well sealed by him, arrived here after his

death, and that he was incapable of such an indiscretion. [Breaks into

verse:]

Leave in peace the cold ashes of Maupertuis:

Truth can defend him, and will.

His soul was faithful and noble:

He pardoned you that scandalous Akakia (CE VIL LIBELLE

QUE VOTRE FUREUR CRIMINELLE

PRIT SOIN CHEZ MOI DE GRIFFONER); he did:--

And you? Shame on such delirium as Voltaire's!

What, this beautiful, what, this grand genius,

Whom I admired with transport,

Soils himself with calumny, and is ferocious on the dead?

Flocking together, in the air uttering cries of joy,

Vile ravens pounce down upon sepulchres,

And make their prey of corpses:"--

Blush, repent, alas!

These Specimens will suffice. "The King of Prussia?" Voltaire would

sometimes say: "He is as potent and as malignant as the Devil; but he

is also as unhappy, not knowing friendship,"--having such a chance, too,

with some of us!

FRIEDRICH HAS SENT LORD MARISCHAL TO SPAIN: OTHER FOND HOPES OF

FRIEDRICH'S.

In the beginning of this Year, 1759, Earl Marischal had been called

out of his Neufchatel stagnancy, and launched into the Diplomatic field

again; sent on mission into Spain, namely. The case was this: Ferdinand

VI. of Spain (he who would not pay Friedrich the old Spanish debt, but

sent him merino rams, and a jar of Queen-Dowager snuff) had fallen into

one of his gloomy fits, and was thought to be dying;--did, in fact,

die, in a state nearly mad, on the 10th August following. By Treaty of

Aix-la-Chapelle, and by all manner of Treaties, Carlos of Naples, his

Half-Brother (Termagant's Baby Carlos, whom we all knew), was to succeed

him in Spain; Don Philip, the next Brother, now of Parma and Piacenza,

was to follow as King in Naples,--ceding those two litigious Duchies to

Austria, after all. Friedrich, vividly awake to every chance, foresaw,

in case of such disjunctures in Italy, good likelihood of quarrel there.

And has despatched the experienced old Marischal to be on the ground,

and have his eyes open. Marischal knows Spain very well; and has often

said, "He left a dear old friend there, the Sun." Marischal was under

way, about New-year's time; but lingered by the road, waiting how

Ferdinand would turn,--and having withal an important business of his

own, as he sauntered on. Did not arrive, I think, till Summer was at

hand, and his dear Old Friend coming out in vigor.

August 10th, 1759, Ferdinand died; and the same day Carlos became King

of Spain. But, instead of giving Naples to Don Philip, Carlos gave it

to a junior Son of his own; and left poor Philip to content himself with

Parma and Piacenza, as heretofore. Clear against the rights of Austria;

Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle is perfectly explicit on that point! Will

not Austria vindicate its claim? Politicians say, Austria might have

recovered not only Parma and Piacenza, but the kingdom of Naples

itself,--no France at present able to hinder it, no Spain ever able. But

Austria, contrary to expectation, would not: a Country tenacious enough

of its rights, real and imaginary; greedy enough of Italy, but of

Silesia much more! The matter was deliberated in Council at Vienna; but

the result was magnanimously, No. "Finish this Friedrich first; finish

this Silesia. Nothing else till that!"

The Marischal's legationary function, therefore, proved a sinecure;

no Carlos needing Anti-Austrian assistance from Friedrich or another;

Austria magnanimously having let him alone. Doubtless a considerable

disappointment to Friedrich. Industrious Friedrich had tried, on

the other side of this affair, Whether the King of Sardinia, once

an adventurous fighting kind of man, could not be stirred up, having

interests involved? But no; he too, grown old, devotional, apprehensive,

held by his rosaries, and answered, No. Here is again a hope reasonable

to look at, but which proves fallacious.

Marischal continued in Spain, corresponding, sending news (the Prussian

Archives alone know what), for nearly a couple of years. [Returned

"April, 1762" (Friedrich's Letter to him, "10th April, 1762:" in

_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xx. 285).] His Embassy had one effect, which is

of interest to us here. On his way out, he had gone by London, with a

view of getting legal absolution for his Jacobitism,--so far, at least,

as to be able to inherit the Earldom of Kintore, which is likely to

fall vacant soon. By blood it is his, were the Jacobite incapacities

withdrawn. Kintore is a cadet branch of the Keiths; "John, younger Son

of William Sixth Lord Marischal," was the first Kintore. William Sixth's

younger Son, yes;--and William's Father, a man always venerable to me,

had (A.D. 1593) founded Marischal College, Aberdeen,--where, for a

few, in those stern granite Countries, the Diviner Pursuits are still

possible (thank God and this Keith) on frugal oatmeal. MARISCHAL-COLLEGE

Keith, or FIFTH Lord Marischal, was grandfather's grandfather of our

Potsdam Friend, who is tenth and last. [Douglas's _Scotch Peerage,_

pp. 448 et seq., 387 et seq.] Honor to the brave and noble, now fallen

silent under foot NOT of the nobler! In a word, the fourth Kintore was

about dying childless; and Marischal had come by London on that heritage

business.

He carried, naturally, the best recommendations. Britannic Majesty, Pitt

and everybody met him with welcome and furtherance; what he wished was

done, and in such a style of promptness and cordiality, Pitt pushing

it through, as quite gained the heart of old Marischal. And it is

not doubted, though particulars have not been published, That he sent

important Spanish notices to Pitt, in these years;-and especially

informed him that King Carlos and the French Bourbon had signed a FAMILY

COMPACT (15th August, 1761), or solemn covenant, to stand by one another

as brothers. Which was thenceforth, to Pitt privately, an important

fact, as perhaps we shall see; though to other men it was still only a

painful rumor and dubiety. Whether the old Marischal informed him, That

King Carlos hated the English; that he never had, in his royal mind,

forgiven that insult of Commodore Martin's (watch laid on the table, in

the Bay of Naples, long ago), I do not know; but that also was a fact. A

diligent, indignant kind of man, this Carlos, I am told; by no means an

undeserving King of Spain, though his Portraits declare him an ugly:

we will leave him in the discreet Marischal's hands, with the dear Old

Friend shining equally on both.

Singular to see how, in so veracious an intellect as Friedrich's, so

many fallacies of hope are constantly entertained. War in Italy, on

quarrel with King Carlos; Peace with France and the Pompadour, by help

of Edelsheim and the Bailli de Froulay; Peace with Russia and the INFAME

CATIN, by help of English briberies (Friedrich sent an agent this winter

with plenty of English guineas, but he got no farther than the Frontier,

not allowed even to try): sometimes, as again this winter, it is hope of

Denmark joining him (in alarm against the Russian views on Holstein; but

that, too, comes to nothing); above all, there is perennially, budding

out yearly, the brighter after every disappointment, a hope in the

Grand Turk and his adherencies. Grand Turk, or failing him, the Cham of

Tartary,--for certain, some of these will be got to fasten on the heels

of Austria, of Russia; and create a favorable diversion? Friedrich took

an immense deal of trouble about this latter hope. It is almost pathetic

to see with what a fond tenacity he clings to it; and hopes it over

again, every new Spring and Summer. [Preuss, ii. 121 et seq., 292 &c.;

Schoning, ii. iii. PASSIM.]

The hope that an INFAME CATIN might die some day (for she is now deep

in chaotic ailments, deepish even in brandy) seems never to have

struck him; at least there is nowhere any articulate hint of it,--the

eagle-flight of one's imagination soaring far above such a pettiness!

Hope is very beautiful; and even fallacious hope, in such a Friedrich.

The one hope that did not deceive him, was hope in his own best exertion

to the very death; and no fallacy ever for a moment slackened him in

that. Stand to thyself: in the wide domain of Imagination, there is no

other certainty of help. No other certainty;--and yet who knows through

what pettinesses Heaven may send help!