ed them in the public estimation. They ad-
mired each other. They stood in need of each
other. The great king wished to be handed
down to posterity by the great writer. The great
writer felt himself exalted by the homage of the
great king. Yet the wounds which they had
inflicted on each other were too deep to be
effaced, or even perfectly healed. Not only did
the scars remain; the sore places often festered
and bled afresh.

tunes had now cut to the quick. The mocker, strange beings after they had exchanged for-
the tyrant, the most rigorous, the most imperi-giveness. Both felt that the quarrel had lower-
ous, the most cynical of men, was very un-
happy. His face was so haggard and his form
so thin, that when on his return from Bohemia
he passed through Leipsic, the people hardly
knew him again. His sleep was broken; the
tears, in spite of himself, often started into his
eyes; and the grave began to present itself to
his agitated mind as the best refuge from
nisery and dishonour. His resolution was
fixed never to be taken alive, and never to
make peace on condition of descending from
his place among the powers of Europe. He
saw nothing left for him except to die; and he
deliberately chose his mode of death. He al-
ways carried about with him a sure and speedy
poison in a small glass case; and to the few
in whom he placed confidence, he made no
mystery of his resolution.

But we should very imperfectly describe the
state of Frederic's mind, if we left out of view
the laughable peculiarities which contrasted so
singularly with the gravity, energy, and harsh-
ness of his character. It is difficult to say
whether the tragic or the comic predominated
in the strange scene which was then acted. In
the midst of all the great king's calamities, his
passion for writing indifferent poetry grew
stronger and stronger. Enemies all around
him, despair in his heart, pills of corrosive
sublimate hidden in his clothes, he poured forth
hundreds upon hundreds of lines, hateful to
gods and men-the insipid dregs of Voltaire's
Hippocrene-the faint echo of the lyre of
Chaulieu. It is amusing to compare what he
did during the last months of 1757, with what
he wrote during the same time. It may be
doubted whether any equal portion of the life
of Hannibal, of Cæsar, or of Napoleon, will
bear a comparison with that short period, the
most brilliant in the history of Prussia and of
Frederic. Yet at this very time the scanty lei-
sure of the illustrious warrior was employed
in producing odes and epistles, a little better
than Cibber's, and a little worse than Hayley's.
Here and there a manly sentiment which de-
serves to be in prose, makes it appearance in
company with Prometheus and Orpheus, Ely-
sium and Acheron, the plaintive Philomel, the
poppies of Morpheus, and all the other frippery
which, like a robe tossed by a proud beauty to
her waiting-women, has long been contemptu-
ously abandoned by genius to mediocrity. We
hardly know any instance of the strength and
weakness of human nature so striking, and so
grotesque, as the character of this haughty,
vigilant, resolute, sagacious blue-stocking,
half Mithridates and half Trissotin, bearing up
against a world in arms, with an ounce of
poison in one pocket and a quire of bad verses
in the other.

Frederic had some time before made advances towards a reconciliation with Voltaire, and some civil letters had passed between them. After the battle of Kolin their epistolary intercourse became, at least in seeming, friendly and confidential. We do not know any collection of letters which throw so much light on the darkest and most intricate parts of human nature as the correspondence of these

The letters consisted for the most part of
compliments, thanks, offers of service, assu
rances of attachment. But if any thing brought
back to Frederic's recollection the cunning
and mischievous pranks by which Voltaire
had provoked him, some expression of con-
tempt and displeasure broke forth in the midst
of his eulogy. It was much worse when any
thing recalled to the mind of Voltaire the out-
rages which he and his kinswoman had suf-
fered at Frankfort. All at once his flowing
panegyric is turned into invective. "Remem-
ber how you behaved to me. For your sake I
have lost the favour of my king. For your
sake I am an exile from my country. I loved
you. I trusted myself to you. I had no wish
but to end my life in your service. And what
was my reward? Stripped of all you had be-
stowed on me, the key, the order, the pension,
I was forced to fly from your territories. I was
hunted as if I had been a deserter from your
grenadiers. I was arrested, insulted, plundered.
My niece was dragged in the mud of Frankfort
by your soldiers as if she had been some wretch-
ed follower of your camp. You have great ta-
lents. You have good qualities. But you have
one odious vice. You delight in the abasement
of your fellow-creatures. You have brought
disgrace on the name of philosopher. You
have given some colour to the slanders of the
bigots who say that no confidence can be
placed in the justice or humanity of those who
reject the Christian faith." Then the king an-
swers with less heat, but with equal severity-
"You know that you behaved shamefully in
Prussia. It is well for you that you had to
deal with a man so indulgent to the infirmities
of genius as I am. You richly deserved to see
the inside of a dungeon. Your talents are not
more widely known than your faithlessness
and your malevolence. The grave itself is no
asylum from your spite. Maupertuis is dead;
but you still go on calumniating and deriding
him, as if you had not made him miserable
enough while he was living. Let us have no
more of this. And, above all, let me hear no
more of your niece. I am sick to death of her
name. I can bear with your faults for the sake
of your merits; but she has not written Maho-
met or Merope."

An explosion of this kind, it might be sup-
posed, would necessarily put an end to all ami-
cable communication. But it was not so. After
every outbreak of ill humour this extraordinary
pair became more loving than before, and ex
changed compliments and assurances of mu-
tual regard with a wonderful air of sincerity.

It may well be supposed that men who wrote thus to each other were not very guarded in

what they said of each other. The English was himself the personification. But he, like ambassador, Mitchell, who knew that the King of Prussia was constantly writing to Voltaire with the greatest freedom on the most important subjects, was amazed to hear his majesty designate this highly favoured correspondent as a bad-hearted fellow, the greatest rascal on the face of the earth. And the language which the poet held about the king was not much more respectful.

many of those who thought with him, excepted Voltaire from the list of proscribed writers. He frequently sent flattering letters to Ferney. He did the patriarch the honour to borrow money of him, and even carried his condescending friendship so far as to forget to pay interest. Voltaire thought that it might be in his power to bring the duke and the King of Prussia into communication with each other. He wrote earnestly to both; and he so far succeeded that a correspondence between them was commenced.

But it was to very different means that Frederic was to owe his deliverance. At the beginning of November, the net seemed to have closed completely round him. The Russians were in the field, and were spreading devastation through his eastern provinces. Silesia was overrun by the Austrians. A great French army was advancing from the west under the command of Marshal Soubise, a prince of the great Armorican house of Rohan. Berlin itself had been taken and plundered by the Croatians. Such was the situation from which Frederic extricated himself, with dazzling glory, in the short space of thirty days.

It would probably have puzzled Voltaire himself to say what was his real feeling towards Frederic. It was compounded of all sentiments, from enmity to friendship, and from scorn to admiration; and the proportions in which these elements were mixed changed every moment. The old patriarch resembled the spoiled child who screams, stamps, cuffs, laughs, kisses, and cuddles within one quarter of an hour. His resentment was not extinguished; yet he was not without sympathy for his old friend. As a Frenchman, he wished success to the arms of his country. As a philosopher, he was anxious for the stability of a throne on which a philosopher sat. He longed both to save and to humble Frederic. There was one way, and only one, in which all his conflicting feelings could at once be gratified. He marched first against Soubise. On the If Frederic were preserved by the interference fifth of November the armies met at Rosbach. of France, if it were known that for that inter- The French were two to one; but they were ference he was indebted to the mediation of ill-disciplined, and their general was a dunce. Voltaire, this would indeed be delicious re- The tactics of Frederic, and the well-regulated venge; this would indeed be to heap coals valour of the Prussian troops, obtained a com of fire on that haughty head. Nor did the vain plete victory. Seven thousand of the invaders and restless poet think it impossible that he were made prisoners. Their guns, their comight, from his hermitage near the Alps, dic- lours, their baggage, fell into the hands of the tate peace to Europe. D'Estrées had quitted conquerors. Those who escaped fled as conHanover, and the command of the French fusedly as a mob scattered by cavalry. Victo army had been intrusted to the Duke of Riche- rious in the west, the king turned his arms lieu, a man whose chief distinction was derived towards Silesia. In that quarter every thing from his success in gallantry. Richelieu was, seemed to be lost. Breslau had fallen; and in truth, the most eminent of that race of se- Charles of Lorraine, with a mighty power, ducers by profession who furnished Crébillon held the whole province. On the fifth of Dethe younger and La Clos with models for their cember, exactly one month after the battle of heroes. In his earlier days the royal house Rosbach, Frederic, with forty thousand men, itself had not been secure from his presumptu- and Prince Charles, at the head of not less ous love. He was believed to have carried his than sixty thousand, met at Leuthen, hard by conquests into the family of Orleans; and some Breslau. The king, who was, in general, suspected that he was not unconcerned in the perhaps too much inclined to consider the mysterious remorse which imbittered the last common soldier as a mere machine, resorted, hours of the charming mother of Louis the Fif- on this great day, to means resembling those teenth. But the duke was now fifty years old. which Bonaparte afterwards employed with With a heart deeply corrupted by vice, a head such signal success for the purpose of stimu long accustomed to think only on trifles, an im-lating military enthusiasm. The principal paired constitution, an impaired fortune, and, worst of all, a very red nose, he was entering on a dall, frivolous, and unrespected old age. Without one qualification for military command except that personal courage which was common to him and the whole nobility of France, he had been placed at the head of the army of Hanover; and in that situation he did his best to repair, by extortion and corruption, the injury which he had done to his property by a life of dissolute profusion.

The Duke of Richelieu to the end of his life hated the philosophers as a sect-not for those parts of their system which a good and wise man would have condemned-but for their virtues, for their spirit of free inquiry, and for vieir hatred of those social abuses of which he

officers were convoked. Frederic addressed them with great force and pathos; and directed them to speak to their men as he had spoken to them. When the armies were set in battle array, the Prussian troops were in a state of fierce excitement; but their excitement showed itself after the fashion of a grave people. The columns advanced to the attack chanting, to the sound of drums and fifes, the rude hymns of the old Saxon Herhholds. They had never fought so well; nor had the genius of their chief ever been so conspicuous. "That bat tle," said Napoleon, "was a masterpiece. Of itself it is sufficient to entitle Frederic to a place in the first rank among generals." The victory was complete. Twenty-seven thousand Austrians were killed, wounded, or taker;

fifty stand of colours, a hundred guns, four to the Bavarian and the Westphalian, to the thousand wagons, fell into the hands of the citizen of Frankfort and the citizen of Nurem Prussians. Breslau opened its gates; Silesia berg. Then first it was manifest that the Gerwas reconquered; Charles of Lorraine retired mans were truly a nation. Then first was to hide his shame and sorrow at Brussels; and discernible that patriotic spirit which, in 1813, Frederic allowed his troops to take some re- achieved the great deliverance of central Eupose in winter quarters, after a campaign, to rope, and which still guards, and long will the vicissitudes of which it will be difficult to guard against foreign ambition, the old freedom find any parallel in ancient or modern history. of the Rhine. The king's fame filled all the world. He Nor were the effects produced by that celehad, during the last year, maintained a con- brated day merely political. The greatest test, on terms of advantage, against three masters of German poetry and eloquence have powers, the weakest of which had more than admitted that, though the great king neither three times his resources. He had fought four valued nor understood his native language, great pitched battles against superior forces. though he looked on France as the only seat Three of these battles he had gained; and the of taste and philosophy; yet, in his own despite, defeat of Kolin, repaired as it had been, rather he did much to emancipate the genius of his raised than lowered his military renown. The countrymen from the foreign yoke; and that, victory of Leuthen is, to this day, the proudest in the act of vanquishing Soubise, he was, unon the roll of Prussian fame. Leipsic, indeed, intentionally, rousing the spirit which soon and Waterloo, produced consequences more began to question the literary precedence of important to mankind. But the glory of Leipsic Boileau and Voltaire. So strangely do events must be shared by the Prussians with the Aus- confound all the plans of man! A prince who trians and Russians; and at Waterloo the read only French, who wrote only French, who British infantry bore the burden and heat of ranked as a French classic, became, quite unthe day. The victory of Rosbach was, in a consciously, the means of liberating half the military point of view, less honourable than Continent from the dominion of that French that of Leuthen, for it was gained over an criticism of which he was himself, to the end incapable general and a disorganized army. of his life, a slave. Yet even the enthusiasm But the moral effect which it produced was of Germany in favour of Frederic, hardly immense. All the preceding triumphs of equalled the enthusiasm of England. The Frederic had been triumphs over Germans, and birth-day of our ally was celebrated with as could excite no emotions of natural pride much enthusiasm as that of our own sovereign. among the German people. It was impossible and at night the streets of London were in a that a Hessian or a Hanoverian could feel any blaze with illuminations. Portraits of the Hero patriotic exultation at hearing that Pomeranians of Rosbach, with his cocked hat and long pigslaughtered Moravians, or that Saxon banners tail, were in every house. An attentive observer had been hung in the churches of Berlin. In- will, at this day, find in the parlours of olddeed, though the military character of the Ger-fashioned inns, and in the portfolios of printsel mans justly stood high throughout the world, they could boast of no great day which belong ed to them as a people;-of no Agincourt, of no Bannockburn. Most of their victories had been gained over each other; and their most splendid exploits against foreigners had been achieved under the command of Eugene, who was himself a foreigner.

The news of the battle of Rosbach stirred the blood of the whole of the mighty population from the Alps to the Baltic, and from the borders of Courtland to those of Lorraine. Westphalia and Lower Saxony had been deluged by a great host of strangers, whose speech was unintelligible, and whose petulant and licentious manners had excited the strongest feelings of disgust and hatred. That great host had been put to flight by a small band of German warriors, led by a prince of German blood on the side of father and mother, and marked by the fair hair and the clear blue eye of Germany. Never since the dissolution of the empire of Charlemagne, had the Teutonic race won such a Яeld against the French. The tidings called forth a general burst of delight and pride from the whole of the great family which spoke the various dialects of the ancient language of Arminius. The fame of Frederic began to supply, in some degree, the place of a common government and of a common capital. It became a rallying point for all true Germans-a subject of mutual congratulation

lers, twenty portraits of Frederic for one of George II. The sign-painters were everywhere employed in touching up Admiral Vernon into the King of Prussia. Some young Englishmen of rank proposed to visit Germany as volunteers, for the purpose of learning the art of war under the greatest of commanders. This last proof of British attachment and admiration, Frederic politely but firmly declined. His camp was no place for amateur students of military science. The Prussian discipline was rigorous even to cruelty. The officers, while in the field, were expected to practise an abste miousness and self-denial such as was hardly surpassed by the most rigid monastic orders. However noble their birth, however high their rank in the service, they were not permitted to eat from any thing better than pewter. It was a high crime even in a count and field-marshal to have a single silver spoon among his baggage. Gay young Englishmen of twenty thou sand a year, accustomed to liberty and to luxury, would not easily submit to these Spartan restraints. The king could not venture to keep them in order as he kept his own subjects in order. Situated as he was with respect to England, he could not well imprison or shoot refractory Howards and Cavendishes. On the other hand, the example of a few fine gentlemen, attended by chariots and livery servants. eating in plate, and drinking champagne and tokay, was enough to corrupt his whole army

He thought it best to make a stand at first, and civilly refused to admit such dangerous companions among his troops.

The help of England was bestowed in a manner far more useful and more acceptable. An annual subsidy of near seven hundred thousand pounds enabled the king to add probably more than fifty thousand men to his army. Pitt, now at the height of power and popularity, undertook the task of defending Western Germany against France, and asked Frederic only for the loan of a general. The general selected was Prince Ferdinand of Brunswick, who had attained high distinction in the Prussian service. He was put at the head of an army, partly English, partly Hanoverian, partly composed of mercenaries hired from the petty princes of the empire. He soon vindicated the choice of the two allied courts, and proved himself the second general of the age.

in which the prudence of the one and the vigour of the other seem to have happily combined. At dead of night they surprised the king in his camp at Hochkirchen. His presence of mind saved his troops from destruction, but nothing could save them from defeat and severe loss. Marshal Keith was among the slain. The first roar of the guns roused the noble exile from his rest, and he was instantly in the front of the battle. He received a dangerous wound, but refused to quit the field, and was in the act of rallying his broken troops, when an Aus trian bullet terminated his checkered and eventful life.

The misfortune was serious. But, of all ge nerals, Frederic understood best how to repair defeat, and Daun understood least how to im prove victory. In a few days the Prussian army was as formidable as before the battle. The prospect was, however, gloomy. An Aus trian army under General Harsch had invaded Silesia, and invested the fortress of Neisse. Daun, after his success at Hochkirchen, had written to Harsch in very confident terms:"Go on with your operations against Neisse. Be quite at ease as to the king. I will give you a good account of him." In truth, the position of the Prussians was full of difficulties. Between them and Silesia lay the victorious army of Daun. It was not easy for them to reach Silesia at all. If they did reach it, they left Saxony exposed to the Austrians. But the vigour and activity of Frederic surmounted every obstacie. He made a circuitous march of extraordinary rapidity, passed Daun, hasten

Frederic passed the winter at Breslau, in reading, writing, and preparing for the next campaign. The havoc which the war had made among his troops was rapidly repaired, and in the spring of 1758 he was again ready for the conflict. Prince Ferdinand kept the French in check. The king, in the mean time, after attempting against the Austrians some operations which led to no very important result, marched to encounter the Russians, who, slaying, burning, and wasting wherever they turned, had penetrated into the heart of his realm. He gave them battle at Zorndorf, near Frankfort on the Oder. The fight was long and bloody. Quarter was neither given nor taken; for the Germans and Scythians regard-ed into Silesia, raised the seige of Neisse, and ed each other with bitter aversion, and the sight of the ravages committed by the half-savage invaders had incensed the king and his army. The Russians were overthrown with great slaughter, and for a few months no further danger was to be apprehended from the east.

drove Harsch into Bohemia. Daun availed himself of the king's absence to attack Dres den. The Prussians defended it desperately. The inhabitants of that wealthy and polished capital begged in vain for mercy from the gar rison within, and from the besiegers without. A day of thanksgiving was proclaimed by The beautiful suburbs were burned to the the king, and was celebrated with pride and ground. It was clear that the town, if won at delight by his people. The rejoicings in Eng- all, would be won street by street by the bay. land were not less enthusiastic or less sincere.onet. At this conjuncture came news that This may be selected as the point of time at which the military glory of Frederic reached the zenith. In the short space of three-quarters of a year he had won three great battles over the armies of three mighty and warlike monarchies-France, Austria, and Russia.

But it was decreed that the temper of that strong mind should be tried by both extremes of fortune in rapid succession. Close upon this bright series of triumphs came a series of disasters, such as would have blighted the fame and broken the heart of almost any other commander. Yet Frederic, in the midst of his calamities, was still an object of admiration to his subjects, his allies, and his enemies. Overwhelmed by adversity, sick of life, he still maintained the contest, greater in defeat, in flight, and in what seemed hopeless ruin, than on the fields of his proudest victories.

Having vanquished the Russians, he hastened into Saxony to oppose the troops of the Empress-Queen, commanded by Daun, the most cautious, and Laudohn, the most inventive and enterprising of her generals. These 'wo celebrated commanders agreed on a scheme,

Frederic, having cleared Silesia of his enemies, was returning by forced marches into Saxony. Daun retired from before Dresden, and fell back into the Austrian territories. The king, over heaps of ruins, made his triumphant entry into the unhappy metropolis, which had so cruelly expiated the weak and perfidious policy of its sovereign. It was now the 20th of November. The cold weather suspended military operations, and the king again took up his winter-quarters at Breslau.

The third of the seven terrible years was over; and Frederic still stood his ground. He had been recently tried by domestic as well as by military disasters. On the 14th of October, the day on which he was defeated at Hochkir chen, the day on the anniversary of which, forty-eight years later, a defeat far more tre mendous laid the Prussian monarchy in the dust, died Wilhelmina, Margravine of Bareuth. From the portraits which we have of her, by her own hand, and by the hands of the most discerning of her contemporaries, we should pronounce her to have been coarse, indelicate, and a good hater, but not destitute of kind and

A

The is

generous feelings. Her mind, naturally strong of all the campaigns of this fearful war, had
and observant, had been highly cultivated; and now opened. The Austrians filled Saxony,
she was, and deserved to be, Frederic's favour- and menaced Berlin. The Russians defeated
ite sister. He felt the loss as much as it was the king's generals on the Oder, threatened Si-
in his iron nature to feel the loss of any thing lesia, effected a junction with Laudohn, and
but a province or a battle.
intrenched themselves strongly at Kunersdorf.
At Breslau, during the winter, he was in- Frederic hastened to attack them. A great
defatigable in his poetical labours. The most battle was fought. During the earlier part of
spirited lines, perhaps, that he ever wrote, are the day every thing yielded to the impetuosity
to be found in a bitter lampoon on Louis and of the Prussians, and to the skill of their chief.
Madame de Pompadour, which he composed The lines were forced. Half the Russian guns
at this time, and sent to Voltaire. The verses were taken. The king sent off a courier to
were, indeed, so good, that Voltaire was afraid Berlin with two lines, announcing a complete
that he might himself be suspected of having victory. But, in the mean time, the stubborn
written them, or at least of having corrected Russians, defeated yet unproken, had taken up
them; and partly from fright-partly, we fear, their stand in an almost impregnable position,
from love of mischief-sent them to the Duke on an eminence where the Jews of Frankfort
of Choiseul, then prime minister of France. were wont to bury their dead. Here the battle
Choiseul very wisely determined to encounter recommenced. The Prussian infantry, ex-
Frederic at Frederic's own weapons, and ap-hausted by six hours of hard fighting under a
plied for assistance to Palissot, who had some
skill as a versifier, and who, though he had
not yet made himself famous by bringing
Rousseau and Helvetius on the stage, was
known to possess some little talent for satire.
Palissot produced some very stinging lines on
the moral and literary character of Frederic,
and these lines the duke sent to Voltaire. This
war of couplets, following close on the carnage
of Zorndorf and the conflagration of Dresden,
illustrates well the strangely compounded cha-
racter of the King of Prussia.

sun which equalled the tropical heat, were yet
brought up repeatedly to the attack, but in vain.
The king led three charges in person. Two
horses were killed under him. The officers of
his staff fell all around him. His coat was
pierced by several bullets. All was in vain.
His infantry was driven back with frightful
slaughter. Terror began to spread fast from
man to man. At that moment, the fiery cavalry
of Laudohn, still fresh, rushed on the wavering
ranks. Then followed a universal rout. Fre-
deric himself was on the point of falling into
the hands of the conquerors, and was with dif-
ficulty saved by a gallant officer, who, at the
head of a handful of Hussars, made good a
diversion of a few minutes. Shattered in body,
shattered in mind, the king reached that night
a village which the Cossacks had plundered;
and there, in a ruined and deserted farm-house,
flung himself on a heap of straw. He had sent
to Berlin a second despatch very different from
his first:"Let the royal family leave Berlin.
Send the archives to Potsdam. The town may
make terms with the enemy."

At this moment he was assailed by a new
enemy. Benedict XIV., the best and wisest of
the two hundred and fifty successors of St.
Peter, was no more. During the short interval
between his reign and that of his disciple Gan-
ganelli, the chief seat in the Church of Rome
was filled by Rezzonico, who took the name of
Clement XIII. This absurd priest determined
to try what the weight of his authority could
effect in favour of the orthodox Maria Theresa
against a heretic king. At the high mass on
Christmas day, a sword with a rich belt and
scabbard, a hat of crimson velvet lined with
ermine, and a dove of pearls, the mystic sym-
bol of the Divine Comforter, were solemnly
blessed by the supreme pontiff, and were sent
with great ceremony to Marshal Daun, the con-
queror of Kolin and Hochkirchen. This mark
of favour had more than once been bestowed
by the Popes on the great champions of the
faith. Similar honours had been paid, more
than six centuries earlier, by Urban II. to God-
frey of Bouillon. Similar honours had been
conferred on Alba for destroying the liberties But the mutual jealousies of the confederates
of the Low Countries, and on John Sobiesky prevented them from following up their vic-
after the deliverance of Vienna. But the pre- tory. They lost a few days in loitering and
sents which were received with profound re- squabbling; and a few days, improved by Fre-
verence by the Baron of the Holy Sepulchre deric, were worth more than the years of other
in the eleventh century, and which had not men. On the morning after the battle, he
wholly lost their value even in the seventeenth had got together eighteen thousand of his
century, appeared inexpressibly ridiculous to troops. Very soon his force amounted to thirty
a generation which read Montesquieu and Vol- thousand. Guns were procured from the
taire. Frederic wrote sarcastic verses on the neighbouring fortresses; and there was again

The defeat was, in truth, overwhelming. Of
fifty thousand men, who had that morning
marched under the black eagles, not three
thousand remained together. The king be
thought him again of his corrosive sublimate,
and wrote to bid adieu to his friends, and to
give directions as to the measures to be taken
in the event of his death:-"I have no resource
left"-such is the language of one of his letters
—“ all is lost. I will not survive the ruin of
my country. Farewell forever.”

gifts, the giver, and the receiver. But the an army. Berlin was for the present safe;
public wanted no prompter; and a universal but calamities came pouring on the king in
roar of laughter from Petersburg to Lisbon uninterrupted succession. One of his generals,
reminded the Vatican that the age of crusades with a large body of troops, was taken at
Maxen; another was defeated at Meissen:
The fourth campaign, the most disastrous and when at length the campaign of 1759

was over.

1