The Idyllium of Reinsberg--of which, except in the way of sketchy
suggestion, there can no history be given--lasted less than four years;
and is now coming to an end, unexpectedly soon. A pleasant Arcadian
Summer in one's life;--though it has not wanted its occasional discords,
flaws of ill weather in the general sunshine. Papa, always in uncertain
health of late, is getting heavier of foot and of heart under his heavy
burdens; and sometimes falls abstruse enough, liable to bewilderments
from bad people and events: not much worth noticing here. [See Pollnitz,
ii. 509-515; Friedrich's Letter to Wilhelmina ("Berlin, 20th January,
1739:" in _OEuvres,_ xxvii. part 1st, pp. 60, 61); &c. &c.] But the
Crown-Prince has learned to deal with all this; all this is of
transient nature; and a bright long future seems to lie ahead at
Reinsberg;--brightened especially by the Literary Element; which, in
this year of 1739, is brisker than it had ever been. Distinguished
Visitors, of a literary turn, look in at Reinsberg; the Voltaire
Correspondence is very lively; on Friedrich's part there is copious
production, various enterprise, in the form of prose and verse; thoughts
even of going to press with some of it: in short, the Literary Interest
rises very prominent at Reinsberg in 1739. Biography is apt to forget
the Literature there (having her reasons); but must at last take some
notice of it, among the phenomena of the year.
To the young Prince himself, "courting tranquillity," as his door-lintel
intimated, [_"Frederico tranquillitatem colenti"_ (Infra, p. 123).]
and forbidden to be active except within limits, this of Literature was
all along the great light of existence at Reinsberg; the supplement
to all other employments or wants of employment there. To Friedrich
himself, in those old days, a great and supreme interest; while again,
to the modern Biographer of him, it has become dark and vacant; a thing
to be shunned, not sought. So that the fact as it stood with Friedrich
differs far from any description that can be given of the fact. Alas, we
have said already, and the constant truth is, Friedrich's literatures,
his distinguished literary visitors and enterprises, which were once
brand-new and brilliant, have grown old as a garment, and are a sorrow
rather than otherwise to existing mankind! Conscientious readers, who
would represent to themselves the vanished scene at Reinsberg, in this
point more especially, must make an effort.
As biographical documents, these Poetries and Proses of the young man
give a very pretty testimony of him; but are not of value otherwise. In
fact, they promise, if we look well into them, That here is probably a
practical faculty and intellect of the highest kind; which again, on
the speculative, especially on the poetical side, will never be
considerable, nor has even tried to be so. This young soul does not deal
in meditation at all, and his tendencies are the reverse of sentimental.
Here is no introspection, morbid or other, no pathos or complaint,
no melodious informing of the public what dreadful emotions you labor
under: here, in rapid prompt form, indicating that it is truth and not
fable, are generous aspirations for the world and yourself, generous
pride, disdain of the ignoble, of the dark, mendacious;--here, in short,
is a swift-handed, valiant, STEEL-bright kind of soul; very likely for a
King's, if other things answer, and not likely for a Poet's. No doubt he
could have made something of Literature too; could have written Books,
and left some stamp of a veracious, more or less victorious intellect,
in that strange province too. But then he must have applied himself to
it, as he did to reigning: done in the cursory style, we see what it has
come to.
It is certain, Friedrich's reputation suffers, at this day, from his
writing. From his NOT having written nothing, he stands lower with the
world. Which seems hard measure;--though perhaps it is the law of the
case, after all. "Nobody in these days," says my poor Friend, "has the
least notion of the sinful waste there is in talk, whether by pen or
tongue. Better probably that King Friedrich had written no Verses; nay
I know not that David's Psalms did David's Kingship any good!" Which
may be truer than it seems. Fine aspirations, generous convictions,
purposes,--they are thought very fine: but it is good, on various
accounts, to keep them rather silent; strictly unvocal, except on
call of real business; so dangerous are they for becoming conscious of
themselves! Most things do not ripen at all except underground. And it
is a sad but sure truth, that every time you SPEAK of a fine purpose,
especially if with eloquence and to the admiration of by-standers,
there is the LESS chance of your ever making a fact of it in your poor
life.--If Reinsberg, and its vacancy of great employment, was the cause
of Friedrich's verse-writing, we will not praise Reinsberg on that
head! But the truth is, Friedrich's verses came from him with uncommon
fluency; and were not a deep matter, but a shallow one, in any sense.
Not much more to him than speaking with a will; than fantasying on the
flute in an animated strain. Ever and anon through his life, on small
hint from without or on great, there was found a certain leakage of
verses, which he was prompt to utter;--and the case at Reinsberg, or
afterwards, is not so serious as we might imagine.
PINE'S HORACE; AND THE ANTI-MACHIAVEL.
In late months Friedrich had conceived one notable project; which
demands a word in this place. Did modern readers ever hear of "John
Pine, the celebrated English Engraver"? John Pine, a man of good
scholarship, good skill with his burin, did "Tapestries of the House
of Lords," and other things of a celebrated nature, famous at home and
abroad: but his peculiar feat, which had commended him at Reinsberg, was
an Edition of HORACE: exquisite old FLACCUS brought to perfection, as it
were; all done with vignettes, classical borderings, symbolic marginal
ornaments, in fine taste and accuracy, the Text itself engraved; all by
the exquisite burin of Pine. ["London, 1737" (_Biographie Universelle,_
xxxiv. 465).] This Edition had come out last year, famous over the
world; and was by and by, as rumor bore, to be followed by a VIRGIL done
in the like exquisite manner.
The Pine HORACE, part of the Pine VIRGIL too, still exist in the
libraries of the curious; and are doubtless known to the proper parties,
though much forgotten by others of us. To Friedrich, scanning the Pine
phenomenon with interest then brand-new, it seemed an admirable tribute
to classical genius; and the idea occurred to him, "Is not there, by
Heaven's blessing, a living genius, classical like those antique Romans,
and worthy of a like tribute?" Friedrich's idea was, That Voltaire being
clearly the supreme of Poets, the HENRIADE, his supreme of Poems, ought
to be engraved like FLACCUS; text and all, with vignettes, tail-pieces,
classical borderings beautifully symbolic and exact; by the exquisite
burin of Pine. Which idea the young hero-worshipper, in spite of his
finance-difficulties, had resolved to realize; and was even now busy
with it, since his return from Loo. "Such beautiful enthusiasm," say
some readers; "and in behalf of that particular demi-god!" Alas, yes; to
Friedrich he was the best demi-god then going; and Friedrich never had
any doubt about him.
For the rest, this heroic idea could not realize itself; and we
are happy to have nothing more to do with Pine or the HENRIADE.
Correspondences were entered into with Pine, and some pains taken:
Pine's high prices were as nothing; but Pine was busy with his VIRGIL;
probably, in fact, had little stomach for the HENRIADE; "could not for
seven years to come enter upon it:" so that the matter had to die away;
and nothing came of it but a small DISSERTATION, or Introductory Essay,
which the Prince had got ready,--which is still to be found printed
in Voltaire's Works [_OEuvres, xiii. 393-402._] and in Friedrich's, if
anybody now cared much to read it. Preuss says it was finished, "the
10th August, 1739;" and that minute fact in Chronology, with the above
tale of Hero-worship hanging to it, will suffice my readers and me.
But there is another literary project on hand, which did take
effect;--much worthy of mention, this year; the whole world having risen
into such a Chorus of TE DEUM at sight of it next year. In this year
falls, what at any rate was a great event to Friedrich, as literary man:
the printing of his first Book,--assiduous writing of it with an eye to
print. The Book is that "celebrated ANTI-MACHIAVEL," ever-praiseworthy
Refutation of Machiavel's PRINCE; concerning which there are such
immensities of Voltaire Correspondence, now become, like the Book
itself, inane to all readers. This was the chosen soul's employment of
Friedrich, the flower of life to him, at Reinsberg, through the yea?
1739. It did not actually get to press till Spring 1740; nor actually
come out till Autumn,--by which time a great change had occurred in
Friedrich's title and circumstances: but we may as well say here what
little is to be said of it for modern readers.
"The Crown-Prince, reading this bad Book of Machiavel's, years ago, had
been struck, as all honest souls, especially governors or apprentices
to governing, must be, if they thought of reading such a thing, with
its badness, its falsity, detestability; and came by degrees, obliquely
fishing out Voltaire's opinion as he went along, on the notion of
refuting Machiavel; and did refute him, the best he could. Set down,
namely, his own earnest contradiction to such ungrounded noxious
doctrines; elaborating the same more and more into clear logical
utterance; till it swelled into a little Volume; which, so excellent
was it, so important to mankind, Voltaire and friends were clear for
publishing. Published accordingly it was; goes through the press next
Summer (1740), under Voltaire's anxious superintendence: [Here, gathered
from Friedrich's Letters to Voltaire, is the Chronology of the little
Enterprise:--1738, MARCH 21, JUNE 17, "Machiavel a baneful man,"
thinks Friedrich. "Ought to be refuted by somebody?" thinks he (date not
known). 1739, MARCH 22, Friedrich thinks of doing it himself. Has done
it, DECEMBER 4;--"a Book which ought to be printed," say Voltaire and
the literary visitors. 1740, APRIL 26, Book given up to Voltaire for
finished; Book appears, "end of SEPTEMBER," when a great change had
occurred in Friedrich's title and position.] for the Prince has at
length consented; and Voltaire hands the Manuscript, with mystery yet
with hints, to a Dutch Bookseller, one Van Duren at the Hague, who
is eager enough to print such an article. Voltaire himself--such his
magnanimous friendship, especially if one have Dutch Lawsuits, or
business of one's own, in those parts--takes charge of correcting;
lodges himself in the 'Old Court' (Prussian Mansion, called VIEILLE
COUR, at the Hague, where 'Luiscius,' figuratively speaking, may 'get
an alms' from us); and therefrom corrects, alters; corresponds with the
Prince and Van Duren, at a great rate. Keeps correcting, altering, till
Van Duren thinks he is spoiling it for sale;--and privately determines
to preserve the original Manuscript, and have an edition of that, with
only such corrections as seem good to Van Duren. A treasonous step
on this mule of a Bookseller's part, thinks Voltaire; but mulishly
persisted in by the man. Endless correspondence, to right and left,
ensues; intolerably wearisome to every reader. And, in fine, there came
out, in Autumn next,"--the Crown-Prince no longer a Crown-Prince by
that time, but shining conspicuous under Higher Title,--"not one
ANTI-MACHIAVEL only, but a couple or a trio of ANTI-MACHIAVELS; as
printed 'at the Hague;' as reprinted 'at London' or elsewhere; the
confused Bibliography of which has now fallen very insignificant. First
there was the Voltaire text, Authorized Edition, 'end of September,
1740;' then came, in few weeks, the Van Duren one; then, probably, a
third, combining the two, the variations given as foot-notes:--in short,
I know not how many editions, translations, printings and reprintings;
all the world being much taken up with such a message from the upper
regions, and eager to read it in any form.
"As to Friedrich himself, who of course says nothing of the
ANTI-MACHIAVEL in public, he privately, to Voltaire, disowns all these
editions; and intends to give a new one of his own, which shall be the
right article; but never did it, having far other work cut out for him
in the months that came. But how zealous the worlds humor was in that
matter, no modern reader can conceive to himself. In the frightful
Compilation called HELDEN-GESCHICHTE, which we sometimes cite, there
are, excerpted from the then 'Bibliotheques' (NOUVELLE BIBLIOTHEQUE
and another; shining Periodicals of the time, now gone quite dead),
two 'reviews' of the ANTI-MACHIAVEL, which fill modern readers with
amazement: such a DOMINE DIMITTAS chanted over such an article!--These
details, in any other than the Biographical point of view, are now
infinitely unimportant."
Truly, yes! The Crown-Prince's ANTI-MACHIAVEL, final correct edition (in
two forms, Voltaire's as corrected, and the Prince's own as written),
stands now in clear type; [Preuss, _OEuvres de Frederic,_ viii.
61-163.] and, after all that jumble of printing and counter-printing, we
can any of us read it in a few hours; but, alas, almost none of us
with the least interest, or, as it were, with any profit whatever.
So different is present tense from past, in all things, especially
in things like these! It is sixscore years since the ANTI-MACHIAVEL
appeared. The spectacle of one who was himself a King (for the
mysterious fact was well known to Van Duren and everybody) stepping
forth to say with conviction, That Kingship was not a thing of attorney
mendacity, to be done under the patronage of Beelzebub, but of human
veracity, to be set about under quite Other patronage; and that, in
fact, a King was the "born servant of his People" (DOMESTIQUE Friedrich
once calls it), rather than otherwise: this, naturally enough, rose upon
the then populations, unused to such language, like the dawn of a new
day; and was welcomed with such applauses as are now incredible, after
all that has come and gone! Alas, in these sixscore years, it has been
found so easy to profess and speak, even with sincerity! The actual
Hero-Kings were long used to be silent; and the Sham-Hero kind grow
only the more desperate for us, the more they speak and profess!--This
ANTI-MACHIAVEL of Friedrich's is a clear distinct Treatise; confutes,
or at least heartily contradicts, paragraph by paragraph, the incredible
sophistries of Machiavel. Nay it leaves us, if we sufficiently force
our attention, with the comfortable sense that his Royal Highness is
speaking with conviction, and honestly from the heart, in the affair:
but that is all the conquest we get of it, in these days. Treatise
fallen more extinct to existing mankind it would not be easy to name.
Perhaps indeed mankind is getting weary of the question altogether.
Machiavel himself one now reads only by compulsion. "What is the use of
arguing with anybody that can believe in Machiavel?" asks mankind,
or might well ask; and, except for Editorial purposes, eschews any
ANTI-MACHIAVEL; impatient to be rid of bane and antidote both. Truly
the world has had a pother with this little Nicolo Machiavelli and his
perverse little Book:--pity almost that a Friedrich Wilhelm, taking
his rounds at that point of time, had not had the "refuting" of him;
Friedrich Wilhelm's method would have been briefer than Friedrich's! But
let us hope the thing is now, practically, about completed. And as to
the other question, "Was the Signor Nicolo serious in this perverse
little Book; or did he only do it ironically, with a serious inverse
purpose?" we will leave that to be decided, any time convenient, by
people who are much at leisure in the world!--
The printing of the ANTI-MACHIAVEL was not intrinsically momentous in
Friedrich's history; yet it might as well have been dispensed with.
He had here drawn a fine program, and needlessly placarded it for the
street populations: and afterwards there rose, as could not fail on
their part, comparison between program and performance; scornful cry,
chiefly from men of weak judgment, "Is this King an ANTI-Machiavel,
then? Pfui!" Of which,--though Voltaire's voice, too, was heard in
it, in angry moments,--we shall say nothing: the reader, looking
for himself, will judge by and by. And herewith enough of the
ANTI-MACHIAVEL. Composition of ANTI-MACHIAVEL and speculation of the
Pine HENRIADE lasted, both of them, all through this Year 1739, and
farther: from these two items, not to mention any other, readers can
figure sufficiently how literary a year it was.
FRIEDRICH IN PREUSSEN AGAIN; AT THE STUD OF TRAKEHNEN. A TRAGICALLY
GREAT EVENT COMING ON.
In July this year the Crown-Prince went with Papa on the Prussian
Review-journey. ["Set out, 7th July" (_OEuvres,_ xxvii. part 1st, 67
n.).] Such attendance on Review-journeys, a mark of his being well with
Papa, is now becoming usual; they are agreeable excursions, and cannot
but be instructive as well. On this occasion, things went beautifully
with him. Out in those grassy Countries, in the bright Summer, once more
he had an unusually fine time;--and two very special pleasures befell
him. First was, a sight of the Emigrants, our Salzburgers and other, in
their flourishing condition, over in Lithuania yonder. Delightful to see
how the waste is blossoming up again; busy men, with their industries,
their steady pious husbandries, making all things green and fruitful:
horse-droves, cattle-herds, waving cornfields;--a very "SCHMALZGRUBE
(Butter-pit)" of those Northern parts, as it is since called. [Busching,
Erdbeschreibung, ii. 1049.] The Crown-Prince's own words on this matter
we will give; they are in a Letter of his to Voltaire, perhaps already
known to some readers;--and we can observe he writes rather copiously
from those localities at present, and in a cheerful humor with
everybody.
"INSTERBURG, 27th JULY, 1739 (Crown-Prince to Voltaire).... Prussian
Lithuania is a Country a hundred and twenty miles long, by from sixty
to forty broad; ["Miles ENGLISH," we always mean, UNLESS &c.] it was
ravaged by Pestilence at the beginning of this Century; and they say
three hundred thousand people died of disease and famine." Ravaged by
Pestilence and the neglect of King Friedrich I.; till my Father, once
his hands were free, made personal survey of it, and took it up, in
earnest.
"Since that time," say twenty years ago, "there is no expense that the
King has been afraid of, in order to succeed in his salutary views.
He made, in the first place, regulations full of wisdom; he rebuilt
wherever the Pestilence had desolated: thousands of families, from the
ends of Europe," seventeen thousand Salzburgers for the last item, "were
conducted hither; the Country repeopled itself; trade began to flourish
again;--and now, in these fertile regions, abundance reigns more than it
ever did.
"There are above half a million of inhabitants in Lithuania; there are
more towns than there ever were, more flocks than formerly, more wealth
and more productiveness than in any other part of Germany. And all
this that I tell you of is due to the King alone: who not only gave the
orders, but superintended the execution of them; it was he that devised
the plans, and himself got them carried to fulfilment; and spared
neither care nor pains, nor immense expenditures, nor promises nor
recompenses, to secure happiness and life to this half-million of
thinking beings, who owe to him alone that they have possessions and
felicity in the world.
"I hope this detail does not weary you. I depend on your humanity
extending itself to your Lithuanian brethren, as well as to your French,
English, German, or other,--all the more as, to my great astonishment,
I passed through villages where you hear nothing spoken but French.--I
have found something so heroic, in the generous and laborious way in
which the King addressed himself to making this desert flourish with
inhabitants and happy industries and fruits, that it seemed to me you
would feel the same sentiments in learning the circumstances of such
a re-establishment. I daily expect news of you from Enghien" [in those
Dutch-Lawsuit Countries].... The divine Emilie;... the Duke [D'Aremberg,
Austrian Soldier, of convivial turn,--remote Welsh-Uncle to a certain
little Prince de Ligne, now spinning tops in those parts; [Born 23d
May, 1735, this latter little Prince; lasted till 13th December, 1814
("DANSE, MAIS IL NE MARCHE PAS").] not otherwise interesting], whom
Apollo contends for against Bacchues.... Adieu. NE M'OUBLIEZ PAS, MON
CHER AMI." [_OEuvres,_ xxi. 304, 305.]
This is one pleasant scene, to the Crown-Prince and us, in those grassy
localities. And now we have to mention that, about a fortnight later,
at Konigsberg one day, in reference to a certain Royal Stud or
Horse-breeding Establishment in those same Lithuanian regions, there had
a still livelier satisfaction happened him; satisfaction of a personal
and filial nature. The name of this Royal Stud, inestimable on such
ground, is Trakehnen,--lies south of Tilsit, in an upper valley of the
Pregel river;--very extensive Horse-Establishment, "with seven farms
under it," say the Books, and all "in the most perfect order," they need
hardly add, Friedrich Wilhelm being master of it. Well, the Royal
Party was at Konigsberg, so far on the road homewards again from those
outlying parts, when Friedrich Wilhelm said one day to his Son, quite in
a cursory manner, "I give thee that Stud of Trakehnen; thou must go back
and look to it;" which struck Fritz quite dumb at the moment.
For it is worth near upon 2,000 pounds a year (12,000 thalers); a
welcome new item in our impoverished budget; and it is an undeniable
sign of Papa's good-humor with us, which is more precious still. Fritz
made his acknowledgments, eloquent with looks, eloquent with voice,
on coming to himself; and is, in fact, very proud of his gift, and
celebrates it to his Wilhelmina, to Camas and others who have a right to
know such a thing. Grand useful gift; and handed over by Papa grandly,
in three business words, as if it had been a brace of game: "I give it
thee, Fritz!" A thing not to be forgotten. "At bottom, Friedrich Wilhelm
was not avaricious" (not a miser, only a man grandly abhorring waste,
as the poor vulgar cannot do), "not avaricious," says Pollnitz once;
"he made munificent gifts, and never thought of them more." This of
Trakehnen,--perhaps there might be a whiff of coming Fate concerned in
it withal: "I shall soon be dead, not able to give thee anything, poor
Fritz!" To the Prince and us it is very beautiful; a fine effulgence of
the inner man of Friedrich Wilhelm. The Prince returned to Trakehnen, on
this glad errand; settled the business details there; and, after a
few days, went home by a route of his own;--well satisfied with this
Prussian-Review journey, as we may imagine.
[SEE EARLIER---Prussian Review-journey (placing of hyphen)]
One sad thing there was, though Friedrich did not yet know how sad, in
this Review-journey: the new fit of illness that overtook his Majesty.
From Pollnitz, who was of the party, we have details on that head.
In his Majesty's last bad illness, five years ago, when all seemed
hopeless, it appears the surgeons had relieved him,--in fact recovered
him, bringing off the bad humors in quantity,--by an incision in the
foot or leg. In the course of the present fatigues, this old wound broke
out again; which of course stood much in the way of his Majesty; and
could not be neglected, as probably the causes of it were. A regimental
surgeon, Pollnitz says, was called in; who, in two days, healed the
wound,--and declared all to be right again; though in fact, as we may
judge, it was dangerously worse than before. "All well here," writes
Friedrich; "the King has been out of order, but is now entirely
recovered (TOUT A FAIT REMIS)." ["Konigsberg, 30th July, 1739," to his
Wife (_OEuvres,_ xxvi. 6).]
Much reviewing and heavy business followed at Konigsberg;--gift of
Trakehnen, and departure of the Crown-Prince for Trakehnen, winding it
up. Directly on the heel of which, his Majesty turned homewards, the
Crown-Prince not to meet him till once at Berlin again. Majesty's first
stage was at Pillau, where we have been. At Pillau, or next day at
Dantzig, Pollnitz observed a change in his Majesty's humor, which had
been quite sunshiny all this journey hitherto. At Dantzig Pollnitz
first noticed it; but at every new stage it grew worse, evil accidents
occurring to worsen it; and at Berlin it was worst of all;--and, alas,
his poor Majesty never recovered his sunshine in this world again! Here
is Pollnitz's account of the journey homewards:--
"Till now," till Pillau and Dantzig, "his Majesty had been in especially
good humor; but in Dantzig his cheerfulness forsook him;--and it never
came back. He arrived about ten at night in that City [Wednesday, 12th
August, or thereby]; slept there; and was off again next morning at
five. He drove only thirty miles this day; stopped in Lupow [coast road
through Pommern], with Herr von Grumkow [the late Grumkow's Brother],
Kammer President in this Pommern Province. From Lupow he went to a poor
Village near Belgard, EIGHTY miles farther;"--last village on the great
road, Belgard lying to left a little, on a side road;--"and stayed there
overnight.
"At Belgard, next morning, he reviewed the Dragoon Regiment von
Platen; and was very ill content with it. And nobody, with the least
understanding of that business, but must own that never did Prussian
Regiment manoeuvre worse. Conscious themselves how bad it was, they lost
head, and got into open confusion. The King did all that was possible
to help them into order again. He withdrew thrice over, to give the
Officers time to recover themselves; but it was all in vain. The King,
contrary to wont, restrained himself amazingly, and would not show his
displeasure in public. He got into his carriage, and drove away with
the Furst of Anhalt," Old Dessauer, "and Von Winterfeld," Captain in the
Giant Regiment, "who is now Major-General von Winterfeld; [Major-General
since 1743, of high fame; fell in fight, 7th September, 1757.] not
staying to dine with General von Platen, as was always his custom with
Commandants whom he had reviewed. He bade Prince Wilhelm and the rest of
us stay and dine; he himself drove away,"--towards the great road again,
and some uncertain lodging there.
"We stayed accordingly; and did full justice to the good cheer,"--though
poor Platen would certainly look flustered, one may fancy. "But as the
Prince was anxious to come up with his Majesty again, and knew not where
he would meet him, we had to be very swift with the business.
"We found the King with Anhalt and Winterfeld, by and by; sitting in
a village, in front of a barn, and eating a cold pie there, which the
Furst of Anhalt had chanced to have with him; his Majesty, owing to what
he had seen on the parade-ground, was in the utmost ill-humor (HOCHST
UBLER LAUNE). Next day, Saturday, he went a hundred and fifty or two
hundred miles; and arrived in Berlin at ten at night. Not expected there
till the morrow; so that his rooms were locked,--her Majesty being over
in Monbijou, giving her children a Ball;" [Pollnitz, ii. 534-537.]--and
we can fancy what a frame of mind there was!
Nobody, not at first even the Doctors, much heeded this new fit of
illness; which went and came: "changed temper," deeper or less deep
gloom of "bad humor," being the main phenomenon to by-standers. But the
sad truth was, his Majesty never did recover his sunshine; from Pillau
onwards he was slowly entering into the shadows of the total Last
Eclipse; and his journeyings and reviewings in this world were all done.
Ten months hence, Pollnitz and others knew better what it had been!--