question is still Peace, Madam; and were not the object of my
importunities so beautiful, Madam, I should be inexcusable."--Goes then
into practical considerations, about "Cocceji" (King's Aide-de-Camp,
once Keith's, who carries this Letter), about a "Herr von Edelsheim,"
a "Bailli de Froulay", and the possible "Conditions of Peace,"--not of
consequence to us just now. [_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xviii. 174, 173,
172. Correspondence on this subject lasts from 22d September, 1759, to
8th May, 1760: IB. pp. 170-186. In that final Letter of 8th May is the
phrase, hardly worth restoring to its real ownership, though the context
considerably redeems it there,--"the prejudice I can't get rid of, that,
in war, DIEU EST POUR LES GROS ESCADRONS."]

As to Voltaire again, and the new Friedrich-Voltaire Style of
Correspondence, something more of detail will be requisite. Ever since
the black days of 1757, when poor Wilhelmina, with Rossbach and Leuthen
still hidden from her in a future gloomy as death, desperately brought
Voltaire to bear upon Cardinal Tencin in this matter, without success,
there has been a kind of regular corresponding between Voltaire and
Friedrich; characteristic on both sides. A pair of Lovers hopelessly
estranged and divorced; and yet, in a sense, unique and priceless to one
another. The Past, full of heavenly radiances, which issued, alas, in
flames and sooty conflagrations as of Erebus,--let us forget it, and be
taught by it! The Past is painful, and has been too didactic to some
of us: but here still is the Present with its Future; better than blank
nothing. Pleasant to hear the sound of that divine voice of my loved
one, were it only in commonplace remarks on the weather,--perhaps
intermixed with secret gibings on myself:--let us hear it while we can,
amid those world-wide crashing discords and piping whirlwinds of war.

Friedrich sends his new Verses or light Proses, which he is ever and
anon throwing off; Voltaire sends his, mostly in print, and of more
elaborate turn: they talk on matters that are passing round them, round
this King, the centre of them,--Friedrich usually in a rather swaggering
way (lest his Correspondent think of blabbing), and always with
something of banter audible in him;--as has Voltaire too, but in a finer
TREBLE tone, being always female in this pretty duet of parted lovers.
It rarely comes to any scolding between them; but there is or can be
nothing of cordiality. Nothing, except