de-ground, and pours out fire
like one continuous thunder-peal;" so that, strange as it seems, you
find there will actually be nothing for you but--taking to your heels,
shall we say?--rolling off with despatch, as second-best! These things
are of singular omen. Here stands one that will avenge Friedrich
Wilhelm,--if Friedrich Wilhelm were not already sufficiently avenged by
the mere verdict of facts, which is palpably coming out, as Time peels
the wiggeries away from them more and more. Mollwitz and such places
are full of veracity; and no head is so thick as to resist conviction in
that kind.

OF FRIEDRICH'S DISAPPEARANCE INTO FAIRYLAND, IN THE INTERIM; AND OF
MAUPERTUIS'S SIMILAR ADVENTURE.

Of the King's Flight, or sudden disappearance into Fairyland, during
this first Battle, the King himself, who alone could have told us fully,
maintained always rigorous silence, and nowhere drops the least hint.
So that the small fact has come down to us involved in a great bulk
of fabulous cobwebs, mostly of an ill-natured character, set agoing by
Voltaire, Valori and others (which fabulous process, in the good-natured
form, still continues itself); and, except for Nicolai's good industry
(in his ANEKDOTEN-Book), we should have difficulty even in guessing,
not to say understanding, as is now partly possible. The few real
particulars--and those do verify themselves, and hang perfectly
together, when the big globe of fable is burnt off from them--are to the
following effect.

"Battle lost," said Schwerin: "but what is the loss of a Battle to that
of your Majesty's own Person? For Heaven's sake, go; get across the
Oder; be you safe, till this decide itself!" That was reasonable
counsel. If defeated, Schwerin can hope to retreat upon Ohlau, upon
Breslau, and save the Magazines. This side the Oder, all will be
movements, a whirlpool of Hussars; but beyond the Oder, all is quiet,
open. To Ohlau, to Glogau, nay home to Brandenburg and the Old Dessauer
with his Camp at Gottin, the road is free, by the other side of the
Oder.--Schwerin and Prince Leopold urging him, the King did ride away;
at what hour, with what suite, or with what adventures (not mostly
fabulous) is not known:--but it was towards Lowen, fifteen miles off
(where he crossed Neisse River, the other day); and thence towards
Oppeln, on the Oder, eighteen miles farther; and the pace was swift.
Leopold, on reflection, ordered off a Squadron of Gens-d'Armes to
overta