ay; Peace with Russia and the INFAME
CATIN, by help of English briberies (Friedrich sent an agent this winter
with plenty of English guineas, but he got no farther than the Frontier,
not allowed even to try): sometimes, as again this winter, it is hope of
Denmark joining him (in alarm against the Russian views on Holstein; but
that, too, comes to nothing); above all, there is perennially, budding
out yearly, the brighter after every disappointment, a hope in the
Grand Turk and his adherencies. Grand Turk, or failing him, the Cham of
Tartary,--for certain, some of these will be got to fasten on the heels
of Austria, of Russia; and create a favorable diversion? Friedrich took
an immense deal of trouble about this latter hope. It is almost pathetic
to see with what a fond tenacity he clings to it; and hopes it over
again, every new Spring and Summer. [Preuss, ii. 121 et seq., 292 &c.;
Schoning, ii. iii. PASSIM.]

The hope that an INFAME CATIN might die some day (for she is now deep
in chaotic ailments, deepish even in brandy) seems never to have
struck him; at least there is nowhere any articulate hint of it,--the
eagle-flight of one's imagination soaring far above such a pettiness!
Hope is very beautiful; and even fallacious hope, in such a Friedrich.
The one hope that did not deceive him, was hope in his own best exertion
to the very death; and no fallacy ever for a moment slackened him in
that. Stand to thyself: in the wide domain of Imagination, there is no
other certainty of help. No other certainty;--and yet who knows through
what pettinesses Heaven may send help!

Chapter IX.--PRELIMINARIES TO A FIFTH CAMPAIGN.

It was April 25th before Friedrich quitted Freyberg, and took Camp; not
till the middle of June that anything of serious Movement came. Much
discouragement prevails in his Army, we hear: and indeed, it must
be owned, the horoscope of these Campaigns grows yearly darker. Only
Friedrich himself must not be discouraged! Nor is;--though there seldom
lay ahead of any man a more dangerous-looking Year than this that is
now dimly shaping itself to Friedrich. His fortune seems to have quitted
him; his enemies are more confident than ever.

This Year, it seems, they have bethought them of a new device against
him. "We have 90 million Population," count they; "he has hardly 5; in
the end, he must run out of men! Let us cease exchanging prisoners with
him." At Jagerndorf, in April, 1758 (just before our march