trians did not attempt on
either; showed no such intention,--though mischievous enough in
other small ways. Friedrich wrote the ELOGE of Voltaire [_OEuvres de
Frederic,_ vii. 50 et seq. ("finished Nov. 26th, 1778").] while he
waited here at Schatzlar, among the rainy Mountains. Later on, as
prospects altered, he was much at Breslau, or running about on civic
errands with Breslau as centre: at Breslau he had many Dialogues with
Professor Garve,--in whose good, but oppressively solemn, little Book,
more a dull-droning Preachment than a Narrative, no reader need look for
them or for him.

As to the EULOGY OF VOLTAIRE, we may say that it is generous, ingenious,
succinct; and of dialect now obsolete to us. There was (and is,
though suppressed) another EULOGY, brand-new, by a Contemporary of our
own,--from which I know not if readers will permit me a sentence or two,
in this pause among the rainy Mountains?

... "A wonderful talent lay in this man--[in Voltaire, to wit; "such
an intellect, the sharpest, swiftest of the world," thinks our
Contemporary; "fathoming you the deepest subject, to a depth far beyond
most men's soundings, and coming up with victory and something wise
and logically speakable to say on it, sooner than any other man,--never
doubting but he has been at the bottom, which is from three to ten miles
lower!"] wonderful talent; but observe always, if you look closely, it
was in essence a mere talent for Speech; which talent Bavius and Maevius
and the Jew Apella may admire without looking behind it, but this
Eulogist by no means will. Speech, my friend? If your sublime talent
of speech consists only in making ignorance appear to be knowledge, and
little wisdom appear to be much, I will thank you to walk on with it,
and apply at some other shop. The QUANTITY of shops where you can
apply with thrice-golden advantage, from the Morning Newspapers to
the National Senate, is tremendous at this epoch of the poor world's
history;--go, I request you! And while his foot is on the stairs,
descending from my garret, I think: O unfortunate fellow-creature in an
unfortunate world, why is not there a Friedrich Wilhelm to 'elect' you,
as he did Gundling, to his TOBACCO Parliament, and there set Fassmann
upon you with the pans of burning peat? It were better even for
yourself; wholesomely didactic to your poor self, I cannot doubt; and
for the poor multitudes to whom you are now to be sacred VATES, speaking
and singing YOUR d