to submit to the domination of the pope. These events are distinctly figured out in the imprisonment of the red-cross knight in the castle of Orgoglio, and in Duessa's assuming the trappings and seven-headed palfrey of the whore of Babylon. Here the poet also seems dimly to have shadowed forth what was not too plainly to be named-the persecution in the days of queen Mary.

But all the floor (too filthy to be told)
With blood of guiltless babes and in-

nocents true

Which there were slain as sheep out of the fold, Defiled was, that dreadful was to view;

And sacred ashes over it was strowed

new.

The conquest of Orgoglio and Duessa, therefore, plainly figure forth the downfal of popery in Eng land, as the enlargement of the redcross knight signifies the freedom of the protestant church, happily ac complished by the accession of Elizabeth.

The affection of Timias for Belphæbe, is allowed, on all hands, to allude to sir Walter Raleigh's pretended admiration of queen Elizabeth; and his disgrace, on account of a less platonic intrigue with the daughter of sir Nicolas Throgmorton, together with his restoration to favour, are plainly pointed out in the subsequent events. But no commentator has noticed the beautiful insinuation by which the poet points out the error of his friend, and of his friend's wife. Timias finds Amoret in the arms of Corflambo, or Sensual Passion; he combats the monster unsuccessfully, and wounds the lady in his arms.

For the Literary Magazine.

ANECDOTES AND CHARACTER OF FREDERIC THE GREAT OF PRUSSIA.

THE earlier years of Frederic's life were spent in the school of ad

versity. Whether the influence of this discipline, commonly propitious to the character of great men, was exerted in chastening his principles, and in calling forth and regulating those feelings which the education of a court tends either to stifle or pervert, may be learnt from his conduct immediately after he came to the crown; while, as yet, his heart could not have become callous from the habits of uncontrouled dominion, nor his principles unsettled by the cares of his turbulent career. When William discovered his son's plan for escaping from Prussia, he caused him to be arrested, together with his confidential friend De Catt, and instantly brought to trial before a military commission. The interposition of Austria alone saved the prince's life; but he was thrown into prison at the fort of Custrin, where his friend was beheaded on a scaffold raised before his apartment to the level of the window, from which he was forced to view this afflicting spectacle. He was so much overpowered, that he sunk senseless into the chair which had been placed to keep him at the window, and only recovered to bewail, with every ap. pearance of the most poignant feeling, the fate of this unhappy young man, who had fallen a sacrifice to his faithful attachment. The savage conduct of William, indeed, left him scarce any other occupation; his confinement was as strict, and his treatment as harsh as that of the. meanest felon. By degrees, however, his guards watched him less closely, and he was even permitted to steal out under cover of night, by circuitous paths, to a chateau in the neighbourhood, the residence of an amiable nobleman's family, who received him with the greatest kindness, and exposed themselves to constant risk on his account. Among them he spent as much of his time, for above a year, as he could gain from the humanity or treachery of his jailor. It was chiefly with music and reading that he consoled himself in the gloom of his prison; and they not only furnished him with books

and candles, but made little concerts for him in the evenings, when he could escape to enjoy their society. The young Wrechs, for that was the name of this family, were sufficiently accomplished and sprightly to gain Frederic's esteem. He delighted much in their company, and though they were so numerous, that the baron was kept in narrow circumstances by the necessary expences of their maintenance and education, he contrived, by straitening himself still more, to scrape together supplies of money to the amount of above six thousand rixdollars, with which he assisted, from time to time, his royal guest.

Such were the obligations which Frederic owed, during this eventful period of his life, first to the house of Austria, whose spirited and decisive interference saved him from the scaffold; next, to the unfortu, nate de Catt, who had sacrificed his life in the attempt to aid his escape; and, lastly, to the amiable family of the Wrechs, who, at the imminent risk of their lives, and a certain expence little suited to their circumstances, had tenderly alleviated the hardships of his confinement. As Frederic mounted the throne a short time after he was set at liberty, we might naturally expect that the impression of favours like these would outlive the ordinary period of royal memory. The first act of his reign was to invade the hereditary dominions of Austria, and reduce to the utmost distress the daughter and representative of the monarch whose timely interposition had saved his life, by heading a powerful combination against her, after unjustly stripping her of an invaluable province. The family relations of de Catt never received, during the whole of his reign, even a smile of royal favour. To the Wrechs he not only never repaid a creutzer of the money which they had pinched themselves to raise for his accommodation, but manifested a degree of coldness amounting to displeasure: so that this worthy and accomplished family were in a kind of disgrace

during his time, never received well at court, nor promoted to any of the employments which form in some sort the patrimony of the aristocracy. They were favoured by prince Henry; and all that they could boast of owing to the king, was, to use an expression of his panegyrist, that " he did not persecute them" on account of his brother's patronage.

In defence of this base conduct it has been said, that Frederic, from the moment he became king, devoted every feeling of his mind to his royal station, and reduced himself to a mechanical observance of its strict duties. The Prussian law prohibits the loan of money to princes of the blood, and declares all debts contracted by them null. But since the king was to govern himself by the enactments of this law, it would have been well if the prince had considered them. We have heard of Louis XII proudly declaring that it was unworthy the king of France to revenge the wrongs of the duke of Orleans. It was reserved for the unfeeling meanness of Frederic to show us that the king was not bound by the highest obligations of the prince of Prussia; that he could shelter himself from the claims of honour and gratitude, by appealing to laws which had been generously violated in his behalf.

But it may be fair to mention the solitary instance of a contrary description. The king had been assist, ed, in his musical relaxations at Potsdam, by the daughter of a citi zen, who, without any personal charms, had the accomplishment most valuable to the prince, secluded as he was from all society, and depending for amusement almost entirely on his flute. His father no sooner heard of this intimacy than he supposed there must be some criminal intercourse between the young amateurs, and proceeded to meet the tender passion by the universal remedy which he was in the habit of administering to his subjects. The lady was seized, delivered over to the executioner, and

publicly whipped through the streets of Potsdam. This cruel disgrace of course put an end to the concerts, and to her estimation in society. When Frederic came to the throne, she was reduced to the humble station of a hackney-coachman's wife; and, with a rare effort of gratitude and generosity, he was pleased to settle upon her a pension of very little less than thirty-five pounds

a-year.

The admirers of Frederic relate the following stories in proof of his sensibility. When one of Frederic's nephews, an amiable and accomplished prince, died suddenly of the small-pox, he composed a pompous eloge, which he intended for the academy of Berlin. He accordingly sent for Thiebault, a French savant in his pay, and requested him to read it before that learned body, after correcting the French, and giving his further remarks, which meant expressing his admiration of it, in writing. But, first of all, he wished him to make a clean copy of it, and gave him particular directions to this effect. "However," added he, "you don't know my hand, and may perhaps find it difficult to decypher, for I scrawl rather than write; therefore, in order that you may guess my meaning more easily, I shall read this piece to you, such as it is." The king then took the paper and began to read, with the appearance, says Thiebault, of a man who wishes to command himself. He spoke slowly, and made frequent pauses to strengthen his voice. He had scarcely turned a couple of pages, however, before his eyes were filled with tears, and his utterance began to fail; he went on with many interruptions, and tried every means to conceal his agitation; but, before he could finish the fourth page, he was obliged to stop altogether, and hand the discourse to Thiebault, who stood admiring to see this great man accessible, like other mortals, to the feelings of humanity. M. de Catt, entering his apartment during one of the most critical periods of the seven years' war, found him en

gaged in reading Bourdaloue; it was immediately after he had received the account of his eldest sister, the margravine of Bareuth's death, and in two days he gave him a manuscript, desiring him to keep it. M. de Catt found it was a sermon which the king had composed.

These circumstances, together with his well-known behaviour on de Catt's death, evince a certain kind of sensibility. The physical effect, however, produced upon a person's nerves, by the sight of some shocking spectacle, must be carefully distinguished from the changes which real grief works in the mind. Tears are at least as good evidence of a bodily or mental weakness, as of the tenderness of heart which we denominate sensibility. A man, whose feelings are abundantly callous, may weep copiously at seeing an intimate companion beheaded on the outside of his window, for an action in which he was himself the principal; and he may cherish this sorrow in the idleness of a dungeon, whom the most trifling interruption would have restored to his wonted gaiety or thoughtlessness, in the regions of the living world. But still more equivocal are the marks of feeling that are summoned by the exertions which a man voluntarily uses for procuring the luxurious indulgence of grief; and most of all are we disposed to question the purity of the tears which flow to the strains of the weeper's own eloquence. When an infidel scoffer, in some other mood of this sort, occupies himself with writing a sermon, we naturally conclude that there is more whim than feeling called forth by the occasion. And, after all, though we were to admit that Frederic could feel, because a few instances of this kind are collected, why did he so very seldom obey those impulses of his nature? why did he constantly stifle them, except in two or three wretched cases, where no advantage was to be sacrificed by the indulgence, and no bad passions interfered? A worse picture surely cannot be figured,

than that of a heart which beats by the calculations of interest; which is dead to the influence of feeling, and only wakes at the excitements of passion.

In one of his battles, happening to turn his head round, he saw his nephew, the hereditary prince, fall to the ground, his horse being killed under him. Frederic, thinking the rider was shot, cried, without stop. ping, "Ah! there's the prince of Prussia killed; let his saddle and bridle be taken care of!"

William Augustus, the king's elder brother, and heir apparent to the crown, had for many years been his principal favourite. He was a prince of great abilities, and singularly amiable character; modest almost to timidity, and repaying the friendship of Frederic by a more than filial devotion. He had served near his person in all his campaigns, had constantly distinguished himself in war, and, after the disastrous battle of Collin, was entrusted with the command of half the retreating army. While the king succeeded in bringing off his own division safe into Saxony, the prince, attacked on all hands by the whole force of the Austrians, suffered several inconsiderable losses on his march, and gained the neighbourhood of Dresden with some difficulty. He was received, as well as his whole staff, with the greatest marks of displeasure. For several days the king spoke to none of them; and then sent a message by one of his generals, " que pour bien faire, il devoit leur faire trancher la tête, excepté au general Winterfeldt." The

prince was of too feeling a disposi tion not to suffer extremely from this treatment; he addressed a letter to the king, in which he stated, that the fatigues of the campaign, and his distress of mind, had totally injured his health; and received for answer a permission to retire, couched in the most bitter and humiliating reproaches. From this time he lived entirely in the bosom of his family, a prey to the deepest melancholy, but retaining for the

king his sentiments of warm attach ment, and respect bordering upon veneration, though never permitted to approach his person. One interview only brought the brothers together after their unhappy separation. The different members of the royal family, during the most disas trous period of the seven years' war, when the existence of the house of Brandenburgh seemed to depend on a dimunition in the number of its enemies, united their voices in exhorting the king to attempt making such a peace with France and Sweden, as might be consistent with the honour of his crown. Prince William was entreated to lay their wishes before him; and oppressed as he was with disease, trembling to appear in his brother's presence, scarcely daring to hope even a de corous reception, he yet thought his duty required this effort, and supplicated an audience. Frederic allowed him to detail fully his whole views, and heard from him the unanimous prayer of his rela tions. "Il prie," says Thiebault, "il conjure, il emploie les larmes les plus abondantes; il embrasse les genoux de son frere." No senti. ment of pity for the cause he pleaded, nor any spark of his ancient affection kindled in Frederic's bosom at so touching a scene. He remained silent and stern during the whole interview, and then put an end to it by these words: "Monsieur, vous partirez demain pour Berlin: allez faire des enfans: vous n'êtes bon qu'à cela." The prince did not long survive this memorable audience.

The princess Amelia was in her youth the object of almost universal adoration; no less for the extreme beauty of her person and the excel. lence of her understanding, than for the mild and benevolent virtues that formed her character. She possessed, besides, many distinguished accomplishments; and it was in my time still recollected, that at Berlin, where the science of music is generally cultivated, there was no one who had surpassed her in the knowledge and perfection of that