."
Silesia Friedrich's without fail, dear Hanover unmolested even by a
thought of Friedrich's;--and her Hungarian Majesty to be invited, nay
urged by every feasible method, to accede. [Adelung, v. 75; is "in
Rousset, xix. 441;" in &c. &c.] Which done, Britannic Majesty--for
there has hung itself out, in the Scotch Highlands, the other day
("Glenfinlas, August 12th"), a certain Standard "TANDEM TRIUMPHANS," and
unpleasant things are imminent!--hurries home at his best pace, and has
his hands full there, for some time. On Austria, on Saxony, he could
not prevail: "By no manner of means!" answered they; and went their own
road,--jingling his Britannic subsidies in their pocket; regardless of
the once Supreme Jove, who is sunk now to a very different figure on the
German boards.

Friedrich's outlook is very bad: such a War to go on, and not even
finance to do it with. His intimates, his Rothenburg one time, have
"found him sunk in gloomy thought." But he wears a bright face usually.
No wavering or doubting in him, his mind made up; which is a great help
that way. Friedrich indicates, and has indicated everywhere, for many
months, that Peace, precisely on the old footing, is all he wants: "The
Kaiser being dead, whom I took up arms to defend, what farther object is
there?" says he. "Renounce Silesia, more honestly than last time; engage
to have it guaranteed by everybody at the General Peace (or perhaps
Hohenfriedberg will help to guarantee it),--and I march home!" My money
is running down, privately thinks he; guarantee Silesia, and I shall
be glad to go. If not, I must raise money somehow; melt the big silver
balustrades at Berlin, borrow from the STANDE, or do something; and, in
fact, must stand here, unless Silesia is guaranteed, and struggle till I
die.

That latter withal is still privately Friedrich's thought. Under his
light air, he carries unspoken that grimly clear determination, at all
times, now and henceforth; and it is an immense help to the guidance
of him. An indispensable, indeed. No king or man, attempting anything
considerable in this world, need expect to achieve it except, tacitly,
on those same terms, "I will achieve it or die!" For the world, in spite
of rumors to the contrary, is always much of a bedlam to the sanity
(so far as he may have any) of every individual man. A strict place,
moreover; its very bedlamisms flowing by law, as do alike the sudden
mud-deluges, and the steady Atlantic tides, and