From the same cause, I doubt not, this Year, for the first time in human memory, came that complete abeyance of the Gift-moneys (DOUCEUR-GELDER), which are become a standing expectation, quasi-right, and necessary item of support to every Prussian Officer, from a Lieutenant upwards: not a word, in the least official, said of them this Year; still less a penny of them actually forthcoming to a wornout expectant Army. One of the greatest sins charged upon Friedrich by Prussian or Prussian-Military public opinion: not to be excused at all;--Prussian-Military and even Prussian-Civil opinion having a strange persuasion that this King has boundless supply of money, and only out of perversity refuses it for objects of moment. In the Army as elsewhere much ha8 gone awry;[See Mollendorf's two or three LETTERS (Preuss, iv. 407-411).] many rivets loose after such a climbing of the Alps as there has been, through dense and rare.
It will surprise everybody that Friedrich, with his copper and other resources, actually raised his additional 60,000; and has for himself 70,000 to recover Schweidnitz, and bring Silesia to its old state; 40,000 for Prince Henri and Saxony, with a 10,000 of margin for Sweden and accidental sundries. This is strange, but it is true. [Stenzel, v. 297, 286; Tempelhof, vi. 2, 10, 63.] And has not been done without strivings and contrivings, hard requisitions on the places liable; and has involved not a little of severity and difficulty,--especially a great deal of haggling with the collecting parties, or at least with Prince Henri, who presides in Saxony, and is apt to complain and mourn over the undoable, rather than proceed to do it. The King's Correspondence with Henri, this Winter, is curious enough; like a Dialogue between Hope on its feet, and Despair taking to its bed. "You know there are Two Doctors in MOLIERE," says Friedrich to him once; "a Doctor TANT-MIEUX (So much the Better) and a Doctor TANT-PIS (So much the Worse): these two cannot be expected to agree!"--Instead of infinite arithmetical details, here is part of a Letter of Friedrich's to D'Argens; and a Passage, one of many, with Prince Henri;--which command a view into the interior that concerns us.
THE KING TO D'ARGENS (at Berlin).
"BRESLAU, 18th January, 1762.
... "You have lifted the political veil which covered horrors and perfidies meditated and ready to burst out [Bute's dismal procedures, I believe; who is ravenous for Peace, and would fain force Friedrich along with him on terms altogether disgraceful and inadmissible [See D'Argens's Letter (to which this is Answer), <italic> OEuvres de Frederic, <end italic> xix. 281, 282.]]: you judge correctly of the whole situation I am in, of the abysses which surround me; and, as I see by what you say, of the kind of hope that still remains to me. It will not be till the month of February [Turks, probably, and Tartar Khan; great things coming then!] that we can speak of that; and that is the term Icontemplate for deciding whether I shall hold to CATO [Cato,--and the little Glass Tube I have!] or to CAESAR'S COMMENTARIES," and the best fight one can make.
"The School of patience I am at is hard, long-continued, cruel, nay barbarous. I have not been able to escape my lot: all that human foresight could suggest has been employed, and nothing has succeeded. If Fortune continues to pursue me, doubtless I shall sink; it is only she that can extricate me from the situation I am in. I escape out of it by looking at the Universe on the great scale, like an observer from some distant Planet; all then seems to me so infinitely small, and I could almost pity my enemies for giving themselves such trouble about so very little. What would become of us without philosophy, without this reasonable contempt of things frivolous, transient and fugitive, about which the greedy and ambitious make such a pother, fancying them to be solid!
This is to become wise by stripes, you will tell me; well, if one do become wise, what matters it how?--I read a great deal; I devour my Books, and that brings me useful alleviation. But for my Books, I think hypochondria would have had me in bedlam before now.
In fine, dear Marquis, we live in troublous times and in desperate situations:--I have all the properties of a Stage-Hero; always in danger, always on the point of perishing. One must hope the conclusion will come; and if the end of the piece be lucky, we will forget the rest. Patience then, MON CHER, till February 20th [By which time, what far other veritable star-of-day will have risen on me!]. ADIEU, MON CHER.--F." [<italic> OEuvres de Frederic, <end italic> xix. 282, 283.]
TIFF OF QUARREL BETWEEN KING AND HENRI (March-April, 1762).