inst such fatality; and will do anything, except risk a Fight.
Here, however, is the fatal posture: Since September 18th, Daun sees
himself considerably cut off from Glatz, his provision-road more and
more insecure;--and for fourteen days onward, the King and he have got
into a dead-lock, and sit looking into one another's faces; Daun in a
more and more distressed mood, his provender becoming so uncertain, and
the Winter season drawing nigh. The sentries are in mutual view: each
Camp could cannonade the other; but what good were it? By a tacit
understanding they don't. The sentries, outposts and vedettes forbear
musketry; on the contrary, exchange tobaccoes sometimes, and have a
snatch of conversation. Daun is growing more and more unhappy. To which
of the gods, if not to Soltikof again, can he apply?

Friedrich himself, successful so far, is abundantly dissatisfied with
such a kind of success;--and indeed seems to be less thankful to his
stars than in present circumstances he ought. Profoundly wearied we find
him, worn down into utter disgust in the Small War of Posts: "Here we
still are, nose to nose," exclaims he (see Letters TO HENRI), "both of
us in unattackable camps. This Campaign appears to me more unsupportable
than any of the foregoing. Take what trouble and care I like, I
can't advance a step in regard to great interests; I succeed only in
trifles.... Oh for good news of your health: I am without all assistance
here; the Army must divide again before long, and I have none to intrust
it to." [Schoning, ii. 416.]

And TO D'ARGENS, in the same bad days: "Yes, yes, I escaped a great
danger there [at Liegnitz]. In a common War it would have signified
something; but in this it is a mere skirmish; my position little
improved by it. I will not sing Jeremiads to you; nor speak of my fears
and anxieties, but can assure you they are great. The crisis I am in
has taken another shape; but as yet nothing decides it, nor can the
development of it be foreseen. I am getting consumed by slow fever; I am
like a living body losing limb after limb. Heaven stand by us: we
need it much. [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xix. 193 ("Dittmannsdorf, 18th
September," day after, or day of finishing, that cannonade).]... You
talk always of my person, of my dangers. Need I tell you, it is not
necessary that I live; but it is that I do my duty, and fight for my
Country to save it if possible. In many LITTLE things I have had luck: I
think of taking