he field to assert his claim to Silesia.
Again he was victorious. He had already the calm confidence of a tried
general. His joy at the excellence of his troops was great. "All that
flatters me in this victory," he wrote to Frau von Camas, "is that I
could contribute by a quick decision and a bold manoeuvre to the
preservation of so many good people. I would not have the least of my
soldiers wounded for vain glory, which no longer deceives me." But in
the midst of the contest came the death of two of his dearest friends,
Jordan and Kayserlingk. His grief was touching: "In less than three
months I have lost my two most faithful friends, people with whom I
had lived daily, pleasant companions, honorable men, and true friends.
It is hard for a heart that was made so sensitive as mine to restrain
my deep sorrow. When I come back to Berlin, I shall be almost a
stranger in my own fatherland, lonesome in my own house. You too have
had the misfortune to lose at one time several people who were dear to
you. I admire your courage, but I cannot imitate it. My only hope is
in time, which can overcome everything in nature. It begins by
weakening the impressions on our brains, and only ceases when it
destroys us utterly. I anticipate with terror visiting all the places
which call up in me sad memories of friends whom I have lost forever."
And four weeks after their death he writes to the same friend, who
tried to console him: "Do not believe that pressure of business and
danger give distraction in sadness. I know from experience that that
is a poor remedy. Unfortunately only four weeks have passed since my
tears and my sorrow began, but after the violent outbursts of the
first days, I feel myself just as sad, just as little consoled, as at
the beginning." And when his worthy tutor, Duhan, sent him at his
request some French books which Jordan had left behind, the King
wrote, late in the autumn of the same year: "Tears came into my eyes
when I opened the books of my poor dear Jordan. I loved him so much,
it will be hard to realize that he is no more." Not long after the
King lost also the intimate friend to whom this letter was addressed.

The loss, in 1745, of the friends of his youth was an important
turning point in the King's mental life. With these unselfish,
honorable men almost everything died which had made him happy in his
intercourse with others. The intimacies into which he now entered as a
man were all of another kind. Eve