History of Friedrich II of Prussia V 11 [15]
all,--strange as it may sound
to readers. His hopes at this time are many;--and among them,
I perceive, there is not wanting secretly, in spite of his
experiences, some hope that he himself may be a good deal
"happier" than formerly. Nor is there any ascetic humor, on his
part, to forbid trial. He is much determined to try.
Probably enough, as we guess and gather, his agreeablest
anticipations, at this time, were of Reinsberg: How, in the
intervals of work well done, he would live there wholly to the
Muses; have his chosen spirits round him, his colloquies, his
suppers of the gods. Why not? There might be a King of Intellects
conceivable withal; protecting, cherishing, practically guiding
the chosen Illuminative Souls of this world. A new Charlemagne,
the smallest new Charlemagne of Spiritual type, with HIS Paladins
round him; how glorious, how salutary in the dim generations now
going!--These too were hopes which proved signally futile.
Rigorous Time could not grant these at all;--granted, in his own
hard way, other things instead. But, all along, the Life-element,
the Epoch, though Friedrich took it kindly and never complained,
was ungenial to such a man.
"Somewhat of a rotten Epoch, this into which Friedrich has been
born, to shape himself and his activities royal and other!"--
exclaims Smelfungus once: "In an older earnest Time, when the
eternally awful meanings of this Universe had not yet sunk into
dubieties to any one, much less into levities or into mendacities,
into huge hypocrisies carefully regulated,--so luminous, vivid and
ingenuous a young creature had not wanted divine manna in his
Pilgrimage through Life. Nor, in that case, had he come out of it
in so lean a condition. But the highest man of us is born brother
to his Contemporaries; struggle as he may, there is no escaping
the family likeness. By spasmodic indignant contradiction of them,
by stupid compliance with them,--you will inversely resemble, if
you do not directly; like the starling, you can't get out!--Most
surely, if there do fall manna from Heaven, in the given
Generation, and nourish in us reverence and genial nobleness day
by day, it is blessed and well. Failing that, in regard to our
poor spiritual interests, there is sure to be one of two results:
mockery, contempt, disbelief, what we may call SHORT-DIET to the
length of very famine (which was Friedrich's case); or else slow-
poison, carefully elaborated and provided by way of
daily nourishment.
"Unhappy souls, these same! The slow-poison has gone deep into
them. Instead of manna, this long while back, they have been
living on mouldy corrupt meats sweetened by sugar-of-lead;
or perhaps, like Voltaire, a few individuals prefer hunger, as the
cleaner alternative; and in contemptuous, barren, mocking humor,
not yet got the length of geniality or indignation, snuff the
east-wind by way of spiritual diet. Pilgriming along on such
nourishment, the best human soul fails to become very ruddy!--
Tidings about Heaven are fallen so uncertain, but the Earth and
her joys are still Interesting: 'Take to the Earth and her joys;--
let your soul go out, since it must; let your five senses and
their appetites be well alive.' That is a dreadful 'Sham-Christian
Dispensation' to be born under! You wonder at the want of heroism
in the Eighteenth Century. Wonder rather at the degree of heroism
it had; wonder how many souls there still are to be met with in it
of some effective capability, though dieting in that way,--nothing
else to be had in the shops about. Carterets, Belleisles,
Friedrichs, Voltaires; Chathams, Franklins, Choiseuls: there is an
effective stroke of work, a fine fire of heroic pride, in this man
and the other; not yet extinguished by spiritual famine or slow-
poison; so robust is Nature the mighty Mother!--
"But in general, that sad Gospel, 'Souls extinct, Stomachs well
alive!' is the credible one, not articulately preached, but
practically believed by the abject generations, and acted on as it
never was before. What immense
to readers. His hopes at this time are many;--and among them,
I perceive, there is not wanting secretly, in spite of his
experiences, some hope that he himself may be a good deal
"happier" than formerly. Nor is there any ascetic humor, on his
part, to forbid trial. He is much determined to try.
Probably enough, as we guess and gather, his agreeablest
anticipations, at this time, were of Reinsberg: How, in the
intervals of work well done, he would live there wholly to the
Muses; have his chosen spirits round him, his colloquies, his
suppers of the gods. Why not? There might be a King of Intellects
conceivable withal; protecting, cherishing, practically guiding
the chosen Illuminative Souls of this world. A new Charlemagne,
the smallest new Charlemagne of Spiritual type, with HIS Paladins
round him; how glorious, how salutary in the dim generations now
going!--These too were hopes which proved signally futile.
Rigorous Time could not grant these at all;--granted, in his own
hard way, other things instead. But, all along, the Life-element,
the Epoch, though Friedrich took it kindly and never complained,
was ungenial to such a man.
"Somewhat of a rotten Epoch, this into which Friedrich has been
born, to shape himself and his activities royal and other!"--
exclaims Smelfungus once: "In an older earnest Time, when the
eternally awful meanings of this Universe had not yet sunk into
dubieties to any one, much less into levities or into mendacities,
into huge hypocrisies carefully regulated,--so luminous, vivid and
ingenuous a young creature had not wanted divine manna in his
Pilgrimage through Life. Nor, in that case, had he come out of it
in so lean a condition. But the highest man of us is born brother
to his Contemporaries; struggle as he may, there is no escaping
the family likeness. By spasmodic indignant contradiction of them,
by stupid compliance with them,--you will inversely resemble, if
you do not directly; like the starling, you can't get out!--Most
surely, if there do fall manna from Heaven, in the given
Generation, and nourish in us reverence and genial nobleness day
by day, it is blessed and well. Failing that, in regard to our
poor spiritual interests, there is sure to be one of two results:
mockery, contempt, disbelief, what we may call SHORT-DIET to the
length of very famine (which was Friedrich's case); or else slow-
poison, carefully elaborated and provided by way of
daily nourishment.
"Unhappy souls, these same! The slow-poison has gone deep into
them. Instead of manna, this long while back, they have been
living on mouldy corrupt meats sweetened by sugar-of-lead;
or perhaps, like Voltaire, a few individuals prefer hunger, as the
cleaner alternative; and in contemptuous, barren, mocking humor,
not yet got the length of geniality or indignation, snuff the
east-wind by way of spiritual diet. Pilgriming along on such
nourishment, the best human soul fails to become very ruddy!--
Tidings about Heaven are fallen so uncertain, but the Earth and
her joys are still Interesting: 'Take to the Earth and her joys;--
let your soul go out, since it must; let your five senses and
their appetites be well alive.' That is a dreadful 'Sham-Christian
Dispensation' to be born under! You wonder at the want of heroism
in the Eighteenth Century. Wonder rather at the degree of heroism
it had; wonder how many souls there still are to be met with in it
of some effective capability, though dieting in that way,--nothing
else to be had in the shops about. Carterets, Belleisles,
Friedrichs, Voltaires; Chathams, Franklins, Choiseuls: there is an
effective stroke of work, a fine fire of heroic pride, in this man
and the other; not yet extinguished by spiritual famine or slow-
poison; so robust is Nature the mighty Mother!--
"But in general, that sad Gospel, 'Souls extinct, Stomachs well
alive!' is the credible one, not articulately preached, but
practically believed by the abject generations, and acted on as it
never was before. What immense