nd as Friedrich's.

"For the rest, having place and small pension,--not, like La Beaumelle,
obliged to pirate and annotate for 7 pounds 10s.--he went on steadily, a
good while; got a Canonry of Glogau [small Catholic benefice, bad if
it was not better than its now occupant];--and unluckily, in the
Seven-Years-War time, fell into treasonous Correspondence with his
countrymen; which it was feared might be fatal, when found out. But no,
not fatal. Friedrich did lock him in Magdeburg for some months; then let
him out: 'Home to Glogau, sirrah; stick to your Canonry henceforth, and
let us hear no more of you at all!' Which shall be his fate in these
pages also."

Good, my friend; no more of him, then! Only recollect "September, 1752,"
if dateless Royal Letters in De Prades's hand turn up.

Chapter X. DEMON NEWSWRITER, OF 1752.

It must be owned, the King's French Colony of Wits were a sorry set of
people. They tempt one to ask, What is the good of wit, then, if this
be it? Here are people sparkling with wit, and have not understanding
enough to discern what lies under their nose. Cannot live wisely with
anybody, least of all with one another.

In fact, it is tragic to think how ill this King succeeded in the matter
of gathering friends. With the whole world to choose from, one fancies
always he might have done better! But no, he could not;--and chiefly for
this reason: His love of Wisdom was nothing like deep enough, reverent
enough; and his love of ESPRIT (the mere Garment or Phantasm of Wisdom)
was too deep. Friends do not drop into one's mouth. One must know how
to choose friends; and that of ESPRIT, though a pretty thing, is by
no means the one requisite, if indeed it be a requisite at all. This
present Wit Colony was the best that Friedrich ever had; and we may all
see how good it was. He took, at last more and more, into bantering his
Table-Companions (which I do not wonder at), as the chief good he could
get of them. And had, as we said, especially in his later time, in the
manner of Dublin Hackney-Coachmen, established upon each animal its
RAW; and makes it skip amazingly at touch of the whip. "Cruel mortal!"
thought his cattle:--but, after all, how could he well help it, with
such a set?

Native Literary Men, German or Swiss, there also were about Friedrich's
Court: of them happily he did not require ESPRIT; but put them into his
Academy; or employed them in practical functions, where honesty and
good se