The preparations for Campaign 1748 were on a larger scale than ever.
Britannic Subsidies, a New Parliament being of willing mind, are opulent
to a degree; 192,000 men, 60,000 Austrians for one item, shall be in the
Netherlands;--coupled with this remarkable new clause, "And they are to
be there in fact, and not on paper only," and with a tare-and-tret of
30 or 40 per cent, as too often heretofore! Holland, under its new
Stadtholder, is stanch of purpose, if of nothing else. The 35,000
Russians, tramping along, are actually dawning over the horizon, towards
Teutschland,--King Friedrich standing to arms along his Silesian Border,
vigilant "Cordon of Troops all the way," in watch of such questionable
transit. [In ADELUNG, vi. 110, 143, 167, 399 ("April, 1747-August,
1748"), account of the more and more visible ill-will of the Czarina:
"jealousy" about Sweden, about Dantzig, Poland, &c. &c.] Britannic
Majesty and Parliament seem resolute to try, once more, to the utmost,
the power of the breeches-pocket in defending this sacred Cause of
Liberty so called.
Breeches-pocket MINUS most other requisites: alas, with such methods as
you have, what can come of it? Royal Highness of Cumberland is a
valiant man, knowing of War little more than the White Horse of Hanover
does;--certain of ruin again, at the hands of Marechal de Saxe. So
think many, and have their dismal misgivings. "Saxe having eaten
Bergen-op-Zoom before our eyes, what can withstand the teeth of Saxe?"
In fact, there remains only Maestricht, of considerable; and then
Holland is as good as his! As for King Louis, glory, with funds running
out, and the pot ceasing to boil, has lost its charm to an afflicted
France and him. King Louis's wishes are known, this long while;--and
Ligonier, generously dismissed by him after Lauffeld, has brought
express word to that effect, and outline of the modest terms proposed in
one's hour of victory, with pot ceasing to boil.
On a sudden, too, "March 18th,"--wintry blasts and hailstorms still
raging,--Marechal de Saxe, regardless of Domestic Hunger, took the
field, stronger than ever. Manoeuvred about; bewildering the mind of
Royal Highness and the Stadtholder ("Will he besiege Breda? Will he do
this, will he do that?")--poor Highness and poor Stadtholder; who "did
not agree well together," and had not the half of their forces come in,
not to speak of handling them when come! Bewilderment of these two once
completed, Marechal de Saxe made "a beautiful march upon Maestricht;"
and, April 15th, opened trenches, a very Vesuvius of artillery, before
that place; Royal Highness gazing into it, in a doleful manner, from the
adjacent steeple-tops. Royal Highness, valor's self, has to admit: "Such
an outlook; not half of us got together! The 60,000 Austrians are but
30,000; the--In fact, you will have to make Peace, what else?" [His
Letters, in Coxe's--Pelham--("March 29th-April 2d, 1748"), i. 405-410.]
Nothing else, as has been evident to practical Official People
(especially to frugal Pelham, Chesterfield and other leading heads) for
these two months last past.
In a word, those 35,000 Russians are still far away under the horizon,
when thoughts of a new Congress, "Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle," are
busying the public mind: "Mere moonshine again?" "Something real this
time?"--And on and from March 17th (Lord Sandwich first on the ground,
and Robinson from Vienna coming to help), the actual Congress begins
assembling there. April 24th, the Congress gets actually to business;
very intent on doing it; at least the three main parties, France,
England, Holland, are supremely so. Who, finding, for five diligent
days, nothing but haggle and objection on the part of the others, did
by themselves meet under cloud of night, "night of April 29th-30th;"
and--bring the Preliminaries to perfection. And have them signed before
daybreak; which is, in effect, signing, or at least fixing as certain,
the Treaty itself; so that Armistice can ensue straightway, and the War
essentially end.
A fixed thing; the Purseholders having signed. On the safe rear of
which, your recipient Subsidiary Parties can argue and protest (as the
Empress-Queen and her Kaunitz vehemently did, to great lengths), and
gradually come in and finish. Which, in the course of the next six
months, they all did, Empress-Queen and Excellency Kaunitz not excepted.
And so, October 18th, 1748, all details being, in the interim, either
got settled, or got flung into corners as unsettleable (mostly the
latter),--Treaty itself was signed by everybody; and there was "Peace
of Aix-la-Chapelle." Upon which, except to remark transiently how
inconclusive a conclusion it was, mere end of war because your powder is
run out, mere truce till you gather breath and gunpowder again, we will
spend no word in this place. [Complete details in ADELUNG, vi. 225-409:
"October, 1747," Ligonier returning, and first rumor of new Congress
(226); "17th March, 1748," Sandwich come (323); "April 29th-30th,"
meet under cloud of night (326); Kaunitz protesting (339): "2d August,"
Russians to halt and turn (397); "are over into the Oberpfalz, magazines
ahead at Nurnberg;" in September, get to Bohmen again, and winter there:
"18th October, 1748," Treaty finished (398, 409); Treaty itself given
(IB., Beylage, 44). See--Gentleman's Magazine,--and OLD NEWSPAPERS of
1748; Coxe's--Pelham,--ii. 7-41, i. 366-416.]
"The Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle was done in a hurry and a huddle; greatly
to Maria Theresa's disgust. 'Why not go on with your expenditures, ye
Sea-Powers? Can money and life be spent better? I have yet conquered
next to nothing for the Cause of Liberty and myself!' But the Sea-Powers
were tired of it; the Dutch especially, who had been hoisted with such
difficulty, tended strongly, New Stadtholder notwithstanding, to plump
down again into stable equilibrium on the broad-bottom principle. Huddle
up the matter; end it, well if you can; any way end it. The Treaty
contained many Articles, now become forgettable to mankind. There is
only One Article, and the Want of One, which shall concern us in this
place. The One Article is: guarantee by all the European Powers to
Friedrich's Treaty of Dresden. Punctually got as bargained for,--French
especially willing; Britannic Majesty perhaps a little languid, but his
Ministers positive on the point; so that Friedrioh's Envoy had not much
difficulty at Aix. And now, Friedrich's Ownership of Silesia recognized
by all the Powers to be final and unquestionable, surely nothing more is
wanted? Nothing,--except keeping of this solemn stipulation by all the
Powers. How it was kept by some of them; in what sense some of them are
keeping it even now, we shall see by and by.
"The Want of an Article was, on the part of England, concerning
JENKINS'S EAR. There is not the least conclusion arrived at on that
important Spanish-English Question; blind beginning of all these
conflagrations; and which, in its meaning to the somnambulant Nation,
is so immense. No notice taken of it; huddled together, some hasty
shovelful or two of diplomatic ashes cast on it, 'As good as extinct,
you see!' Left smoking, when all the rest is quenched. Considerable
feeling there was, on this point, in the heart of the poor somnambulant
English Nation; much dumb or semi-articulate growling on such a
Peace-Treaty: 'We have arrived nowhere, then, by all this fighting, and
squandering, and perilous stumbling among the chimney-pots? Spain (on
its own showing) owed us 95,000 pounds. Spain's debt to Hanover; yes,
you take care of that; some old sixpenny matter, which nobody ever heard
of before: and of Spain's huge debt to England you drop no hint; of
the 95,000 pounds, clear money, due by Spain; or of one's liberty to
navigate the High Seas, none!' [PROTEST OF ENGLISH MERCHANTS AGAINST,
&c. ("May, 1748") given in ADELUNG, vi. 353-358.] A Peace the reverse of
applauded in England; though the wiser Somnambulants, much more Pitt
and Friends, who are broad awake on these German points, may well be
thankful to see such a War end on any terms."--Well, surely this old
admitted 95,000 pounds should have been paid! And, to a moral certainty,
Robinson and Sandwich must have made demand of it from the Spaniard. But
there is no getting old Debts in, especially from that quarter. "King
Friedrich [let me interrupt, for a moment, with this poor composite
Note] is trying in Spain even now,--ever since 1746, when Termagant's
Husband died, and a new King came,--for payment of old debt: Two old
Debts; quite tolerably just both of them. King Friedrich keeps trying
till 1749, three years in all: and, in the end, gets nothing whatever.
Nothing,--except some Merino Rams in the interim," gift from the new
King of Spain, I can suppose, which proved extremely useful in our Wool
Industries; "and, from the same polite Ferdinand VI., a Porcelain Vase
filled with Spanish Snuff." That was all!--
King Friedrich, let me note farther, is getting decidedly deep into
snuff; holds by SPANIOL (a dry yellow pungency, analogous to Lundy-foot
or Irish-Blackguard, known to snuffy readers); always by Spaniol, we
say; and more especially "the kind used by her Majesty of Spain," the
now Dowager Termagant: [Orders this kind, from his Ambassador in Paris,
"30th September, 1743:" the earliest extant trace of his snuffing habits
(Preuss, i. 409).--NOTE FARTHER (if interesting): "The Termagant still
lasted as Dowager, consuming SPANIOL at least, for near twenty years
(died 11th July, 1766);--the new King, Ferdinand VI., was her STEPson,
not her son; he went mad, poor soul, and died (10th August, 1759): upon
which, Carlos of Naples, our own 'Baby Carlos' that once was, succeeded
in Spain, 'King Carlos III. of Spain;' leaving his Son, a young boy
under tutelage, as King of the Two Sicilies (King 'Ferdinand IV.,' who
did not die, but had his difficulties, till 1825). Don Philip, who had
fought so in those Savoy Passes, and got the bit of Parmesan Country,
died 1765, the year before Mamma."] which, also, is to be remembered.
Dryasdust adds, in his sweetly consecutive way: "Friedrich was very
expensive about his snuff-boxes; wore two big rich boxes in his pockets;
five or six stood on tables about; and more than a hundred in store,
coming out by turns for variety. The cheapest of them cost 300 pounds
(2,000 thalers); he had them as high as 1,500 pounds. At his death,
there were found 130 of various values: they were the substance of all
the jewelry he had; besides these snuff-boxes, two gold watches only,
and a very small modicum of rings. Had yearly for personal Expenditure
1,200,000 thalers [180,000 pounds of Civil List, as we should say];
SPENT 33,000 pounds of it, and yearly gave the rest away in Royal
beneficences, aid of burnt Villages, inundated Provinces, and
multifarious PATER-PATRIAE objects." [Preuss, i. 409, 410,]--In regard
to JENKINS'S EAR, my Constitutional Friend continues:--
"SILESIA and JENKINS'S EAR, we often say, were the two bits of realities
in this enormous hurly-burly of imaginations, insane ambitions, and
zeros and negative quantities. Negative Belleisle goes home, not with
Germany cut in Four and put under guidance of the First Nation of the
Universe (so extremely fit for guiding self and neighbors), but with
the First Nation itself reduced almost to wallet and staff; bankrupt,
beggared--'Yes,' it answers, 'in all but glory! Have not we gained
Fontenoy, Roucoux, Lauffeld; and strong-places innumerable [mostly in a
state of dry-rot]? Did men ever fight as we Frenchmen; combining it
with theatrical entertainments, too! Sublime France, First Nation of the
Universe, will try another flight (ESSOR), were she breathed a little!'
"Yes, a new ESSOR ere long, and perhaps surprise herself and mankind!
The losses of men, money and resource, under this mad empty Enterprise
of Belleisle's, were enormous, palpable to France and all mortals: but
perhaps these were trifling to the replacement of them by such GLOIRE
as there had been. A GLOIRE of plunging into War on no cause at all; and
with an issue consisting only of foul gases of extreme levity. Messieurs
are of confessed promptitude to fight; and their talent for it, in some
kinds, is very great indeed. But this treating of battle and slaughter,
of death, judgment and eternity, as light play-house matters; this of
rising into such transcendency of valor, as to snap your fingers in the
face of the Almighty Maker; this, Messieurs, give me leave to say so, is
a thing that will conduct you and your PREMIERE NATION to the Devil, if
you do not alter it. Inevitable, I tell you! Your road lies that way,
then? Good morning, Messieurs; let me still hope, Not!"
Diplomatist Kaunitz gained his first glories in this Congress of Aix;
which are still great in the eyes of some. Age now thirty-seven; a
native of these Western parts; but henceforth, by degrees ever more, the
shining star and guide of Austrian Policies down almost to our own New
Epoch. As, unluckily, he will concern us not a little, in time coming,
let us read this Note, as foreshadow of the man and his doings:--
"The glory of Count, ultimately Prince, von Kaunitz-Rietberg, is
great in Diplomatic Circles of the past Century. 'The greatest of
Diplomatists,' they all say;--and surely it is reckoned something to
become the greatest in your line. Farther than this, to the readers of
these times, Kaunitz-Rietberg's glory does not go. A great character,
great wisdom, lasting great results to his Country, readers do not trace
in Kaunitz's diplomacies,--only temporary great results, or what he and
the by-standers thought such, to Kaunitz himself. He was the Supreme
Jove, we perceive, in that extinct Olympus; and regards with sublime
pity, not unallied to contempt, all other diplomatic beings. A man
sparing of words, sparing even of looks; will hardly lift his eyelids
for your sake,--will lift perhaps his chin, in slight monosyllabic
fashion, and stalk superlatively through the other door. King of the
vanished Shadows. A determined hater of Fresh Air; rode under glass
cover, on the finest day; made the very Empress shut her windows when
he came to audience; fed, cautiously daring, on boiled capons: more I
remember not,--except also that he would suffer no mention of the word
Death by any mortal. [Hormayr,--OEsterreichischer Plutarch,--iv.
(3tes), 231-283.] A most high-sniffing, fantastic, slightly insolent
shadow-king;--ruled, in his time, the now vanished Olympus; and had the
difficult glory (defective only in result) of uniting France and Austria
AGAINST the poor old Sea-Power milk-cows, for the purpose of recovering
Silesia from Friedrich, a few years hence!"--These are wondrous results;
hidden under the horizon, not very far either; and will astonish
Britannic Majesty and all readers, in a few years.
MARECHAL DE SAXE PAYS FRIEDRICH A VISIT.
In Summer, 1749, Marechal de Saxe, the other shiny figure of this mad
Business of the Netherlands, paid Friedrich a visit; had the honor to
be entertained by him three days (July 13th-16th, 1749), in his Royal
Cottage of Sans-Souci seemingly, in his choicest manner. Curiosity,
which is now nothing like so vivid as it then was, would be glad to
listen a little, in this meeting of two Suns, or of one Sun and one
immense Tar-Barrel, or Atmospheric Meteor really of shining nature,
and taken for a Sun. But the Books are silent; not the least detail, or
hint, or feature granted us. Only Fancy;--and this of Smelfungus, by way
of long farewell to one of the parties:--
... "It was at Tongres, or in head-quarters near it, 10th October,
1746,--Battle expected on the morrow [Battle of ROUCOUX, over towards
Herstal, which we used to know],-that M. Favart, Saxe's Playwright and
Theatre-Director, gave out in cheerful doggerel on fall of the Curtain,
the announcement:--
--'Demain nous donnerons relache,
Quoique le Directeur s'en fache,
Vous voir combleroit nos desirs:--
'To-morrow is no Play,
To the Manager's regret,
Whose sole study is to keep you happy:
--On doit ceder tout a la gloire;
Vous ne songes qu'a la victoire,
Nous ne songeons qu'a vos plaisires'--
[--Biographic Universelle,--xiv. 209,? Favart;
Espagnac, ii. 162.]
But, you being bent upon victory,
What can he do?--
Day after to-morrow,'--
'Day after to-morrow,' added he, taking the official tone, (in honor of
your laurels) [gained already, since you resolve on gaining them], we
will have the honor of presenting'--such and such a gay Farce, to as
many of you as remain alive! which was received with gay clapping of
hands: admirable to the Universe, at least to the Parisian UNIVERS and
oneself. Such a prodigality of light daring is in these French
gentlemen, skilfully tickled by the Marechal; who uses this Playwright,
among other implements, for keeping them at the proper pitch. Was there
ever seen such radiancy of valor? Very radiant indeed;--yet, it seems to
me, gone somewhat into the phosphorescent kind; shining in the dark, as
fish will do when rotten! War has actually its serious character; nor is
Death a farcical transaction, however high your genius may go. But what
then? it is the Marechal's trade to keep these poor people at the
cutting pitch, on any terms that will hold for the moment.
"I know not which was the most dissolute Army ever seen in the world;
but this of Saxe's was very dissolute. Playwright Favart had withal
a beautiful clever Wife,--upon whom the courtships, munificent
blandishments, threatenings and utmost endeavors of Marechal de Saxe
(in his character of goat-footed Satyr) could not produce the least
impression. For a whole year, not the least. Whereupon the Goat-footed
had to get LETTRE DE CACHET for her; had to--in fact, produce the
brutalest Adventure that is known of him, even in this brutal kind. Poor
Favart, rushing about in despair, not permitted to run him through the
belly, and die with his Wife undishonored, had to console himself, he
and she; and do agreeable theatricalities for a living as heretofore.
Let us not speak of it!
"Of Saxe's Generalship, which is now a thing fallen pretty much into
oblivion, I have no authority to speak. He had much wild natural
ingenuity in him; cunning rapid whirls of contrivance; and gained Three
Battles and very many Sieges, amid the loudest clapping of hands that
could well be. He had perfect intrepidity; not to be flurried by any
amount of peril or confusion; looked on that English Column, advancing
at Fontenoy with its FUE INFERNAL, steadily through his perspective;
chewing his leaden bullet: 'Going to beat me, then? Well--!' Nobody
needed to be braver. He had great good-nature too, though of hot temper
and so full of multifarious veracities; a substratum of inarticulate
good sense withal, and much magnanimity run wild, or run to seed. A
big-limbed, swashing, perpendicular kind of fellow; haughty of face,
but jolly too; with a big, not ugly strut;--captivating to the French
Nation, and fit God of War (fitter than 'Dalhousie,' I am sure!) for
that susceptive People. Understood their Army also, what it was then
and there; and how, by theatricals and otherwise, to get a great deal of
fire out of it. Great deal of fire;--whether by gradual conflagration
or not, on the road to ruin or not; how, he did not care. In respect of
military 'fame' so called, he had the great advantage of fighting always
against bad Generals, sometimes against the very worst. To his fame an
advantage; to himself and his real worth, far the reverse. Had he fallen
in with a Friedrich, even with a Browne or a Traun, there might have
been different news got. Friedrich (who was never stingy in such
matters, except to his own Generals, where it might do hurt) is profuse
in his eulogies, in his admirations of Saxe; amiable to see, and not
insincere; but which, perhaps, practically do not mean very much.
"It is certain the French Army reaped no profit from its experience
of Marechal de Saxe, and the high theatricalities, ornamental
blackguardisms, and ridicule of death and life. In the long-run a graver
face would have been of better augury. King Friedrich's soldiers, one
observes, on the eve of battle, settle their bits of worldly business;
and wind up, many of them, with a hoarse whisper of prayer. Oliver
Cromwell's soldiers did so, Gustaf Adolf's; in fact, I think all
good soldiers: Roucoux with a Prince Karl, Lauffeld with a Duke of
Cumberland; you gain your Roucoux, your Lauffeld, Human Stupidity
permitting: but one day you fall in with Human Intelligence, in an
extremely grave form;--and your 'ELAN,' elastic outburst, the quickest
in Nature, what becomes of it? Wait but another decade; we shall
see what an Army this has grown. Cupidity, dishonesty, floundering
stupidity, indiscipline, mistrust; and an elastic outspurt (ELAN) turned
often enough into the form of SAUVE-QUI-PEUT!
"M. le Marechal survived Aix-la-Chapelle little more than two years.
Lived at Chambord, on the Loire, an Ex-Royal Palace; in such splendor as
never was. Went down in a rose-pink cloud, as if of perfect felicity; of
glory that would last forever,--which it has by no means done. He made
despatch; escaped, in this world, the Nemesis, which often waits on what
they call 'fame.' By diligent service of the Devil, in ways not worth
specifying, he saw himself, November 21st, 1750, flung prostrate
suddenly: 'Putrid fever!' gloom the doctors ominously to one another:
and, November 30th, the Devil (I am afraid it was he, though clad in
roseate effulgence, and melodious exceedingly) carried him home on those
kind terms, as from a Universe all of Opera. 'Wait till 1759,--till
1789!' murmured the Devil to himself."
TRAGIC NEWS, THAT CONCERN US, OF VOLTAIRE AND OTHERS.
About two months after those Saxe-Friedrich hospitalities at Sans-Souci,
Voltaire, writing, late at night, from the hospitable Palace of Titular
Stanislaus, has these words, to his trusted D'Argental:--
LUNEVILLE, 4th SEPTEMBER, 1749.... "Madame du Chatelet, this night,
while scribbling over her NEWTON, felt a little twinge; she called
a waiting-maid, who had only time to hold out her apron, and catch a
little Girl, whom they carried to its cradle. The Mother arranged her
papers, went to bed; and the whole of that (TOUT CELA) is sleeping like
a dormouse, at the hour I write to you." My guardian angels, "poor I
sha'n't have so easy a delivery of my CATILINA" (my ROME SAVED, for
the confusion of old Crebillon and the cabals)! [--OEuvres,--lxxiv. 57
(Voltaire to D'Argental).]...
And then, six days later, hear another Witness present there:--
LUNEVILLE PALACE, 10th SEPTEMBER. "For the first three or four days,
the health of the Mother appeared excellent; denoting nothing but the
weakness inseparable from her situation. The weather was very warm.
Milk-fever came, which made the heat worse. In spite of remonstrances,
she would have some iced barley-water; drank a big glass of it;--and,
some instants after, had great pain in her head; followed by other bad
symptoms." Which brought the Doctor in again, several Doctors, hastily
summoned; who, after difficulties, thought again that all was coming
right. And so, on the sixth night, 10th September, inquiring friends had
left the sick-room hopefully, and gone down to supper, "the rather as
Madame seemed inclined to sleep. There remained none with her but M. de
St. Lambert, one of her maids and I. M. de St. Lambert, as soon as the
strangers were gone, went forward and spoke some moments to her; but
seeing her sleepy, drew back, and sat chatting with us two. Eight or ten
minutes after, we heard a kind of rattle in the throat, intermixed with
hiccoughs: we ran to the bed; found her, senseless; raised her to a
sitting posture, tried vinaigrettes, rubbed her feet, knocked into the
palms of her hands;--all in vain; she was dead!
"Of course the supper-party burst up into her room; M. le Marquis de
Chatelet, M. de Voltaire, and the others. Profound consternation: to
tears, to cries succeeded a mournful silence. Voltaire and St. Lambert
remained the last about her bed. At length Voltaire quitted the room;
got out by the Grand Entrance, hardly knowing which way he went. At the
foot of the Outer Stairs, near a sentry's box, he fell full length on
the pavement. His lackey, who was a step or two behind, rushed forward
to raise him. At that moment came M. de St. Lambert; who had taken the
same road, and who now hastened to help. M. de Voltaire, once on his
feet again, and recognizing who it was, said, through his tears and with
the most pathetic accent, 'AH, MON AMI, it is you that have killed
her to me!'--and then suddenly, as if starting awake, with the tone of
reproach and despair, 'EH, MON DIEU, MONSIEUR, DE QUOI VOUS AVISIEZ-VOUS
DE LUI FAIRE UN ENFANT (Good God, Sir, what put it into your head
to--to--)!'" [Longchamp et Wagniere,--Memoires sur Voltaire,--ii. 250,
251;--Longchamp LOQUITUR.]
Poor M. de Voltaire; suddenly become widower, and flung out upon his
shifts again, at his time of life! May now wander, Ishmael-like, whither
he will, in this hard lonesome world. His grief is overwhelming, mixed
with other sharp feelings clue on the matter; but does not last very
long, in that poignant form. He will turn up on us, in his new capacity
of single-man, again brilliant enough, within year and day.
Last Autumn, September, 1748, Wilhelmina's one Daughter, one child, was
wedded; to that young Durchlaucht of Wurtemberg, whom we saw gallanting
the little girl, to Wilhelmina's amusement, some years ago. About the
wedding, nothing; nor about the wedded life, what would have been more
curious:--no Wilhelmina now to tell us anything; not even whether Mamma
the Improper Duchess was there. From Berlin, the Two youngest Princes,
Henri and Ferdinand, attended at Baireuth;--Mannstein, our old Russian
friend, now Prussian again, escorting them. [Seyfarth, ii. 76.] The
King, too busy, I suppose, with Silesian Reviews and the like, sends
his best wishes,--for indeed the Match was of his sanctioning and
advising;--though his wishes proved mere disappointment in the sequel.
Friedrich got no "furtherance in the Swabian-Franconian Circles,"
or favor anywhere, by means of this Durchlaucht; in the end, far
the reverse!--In a word, the happy couple rolled away to Wurtemberg
(September 26th, 1748); he twenty, she sixteen, poor young creatures;
and in years following became unhappy to a degree.
There was but one child, and it soon died. The young Serene Lady was
of airy high spirit; graceful, clever, good too, they said; perhaps a
thought too proud:--but as for her Reigning Duke, there was seldom seen
so lurid a Serenity; and it was difficult to live beside him. A most
arbitrary Herr, with glooms and whims; dim-eyed, ambitious, voracious,
and the temper of an angry mule,--very fit to have been haltered, in a
judicious manner, instead of being set to halter others! Enough, in
six or seven years time, the bright Pair found itself grown thunderous,
opaque beyond description; and (in 1759) had to split asunder for good.
"Owing to the reigning Duke's behavior," said everybody. "Has behaved
so, I would run him through the body, if we met!" said his own Brother
once:--Brother Friedrich Eugen, a Prussian General by that time, whom we
shall hear of. [Preuss, iv. 149; Michaelis, iii. 451.] What thoughts
for our dear Wilhelmina, in her latter weak years;--lapped in eternal
silence, as so much else is.