Unless Friedrich do step forward again, what is to become of us!"-- The mutual hintings, negotiatings, express interviews, bargainings and secret-instructions, dimly traceable in Voltaire's LETTERS, had been going on perhaps since May last, time of those ACADEMY failures, of those Broglio Despatches from the Donau Countries, "No staying here, your Majesty!"-- and I think it was, in fact, about the time when Broglio blew up like gunpowder and tumbled home on the winds, that Voltaire set out on his mission.

"Visit to Friedrich," they call it;--"invitation" from Friedrich there is, or can, on the first hint, at any point of the Journey be.
Voltaire has lingered long on the road; left Paris, middle of June; [His Letters (_OEuvres,_ lxxiii.

42, 48).] but has been exceedingly exerting himself, in the Hague, at Brussels, and wherever else present, in the way of forwarding his errand, Spying, contriving, persuading; corresponding to right and left,--corresponding, especially much, with the King of Prussia himself, and then with "M.

Amelot, Secretary of State," to report progress to the best advantage.

There are curious elucidative sparks, in those Voltaire Letters, chaotic as they are; small sparks, elucidative, confirmatory of your dull History Books, and adding traits, here and there, to the Image you have formed from them.
Yielding you a poor momentary comfort; like reading some riddle of no use; like light got incidentally, by rubbing dark upon dark (say Voltaire flint upon Dryasdust gritstone), in those labyrinthic catacombs, if you are doomed to travel there.