I cannot, unfortunately, say the same of the elder.

He sulks at me (IL ME BODE), and has sulkily retired to Torgau, from whence, I hear, he is gone to Wittenberg.

I shall leave him to his caprices and to his bad conduct; and I prophesy nothing good for the future, unless the younger guide him." ["Kirschleben, near Erfurt, 17th September, 1757" (_OEuvres de Frederic,_ xxvii.i.

306).]...
This is part of a long sad Letter to Wilhelmina; parts of which we may recur to, as otherwise illustrative.

But before going into that tragic budget of bad news, let us give the finale of Gotha, which occurred the next day,--tragi-comic in part,--and is the last bit of action in those dreary four weeks.
GOTHA, 18th SEPTEMBER.