History of Friedrich II of Prussia, vol 1 | Page 6

a century is considerably altered. The
Drawcansir equipments getting gradually torn off, the natural size is
seen better; translated from the bulletin style into that of fact and
history, miracles, even to the shilling- gallery, are not so miraculous. It
begins to be apparent that there lived great men before the era of
bulletins and Agamemnon. Austerlitz and Wagram shot away more
gunpowder,--gunpowder probably in the proportion of ten to one, or a
hundred to one; but neither of them was tenth-part such a beating to
your enemy as that of Rossbach, brought about by strategic art, human
ingenuity and intrepidity, and the loss of 165 men. Leuthen, too, the
battle of Leuthen (though so few English readers ever heard of it) may
very well hold up its head beside any victory gained by Napoleon or
another. For the odds were not far from three to one; the soldiers were
of not far from equal quality; and only the General was consummately
superior, and the defeat a destruction. Napoleon did indeed, by
immense expenditure of men, and gunpowder, overrun Europe for a
time: but Napoleon never, by husbanding and wisely expending his
men and gunpowder, defended a little Prussia against all Europe, year
after year for seven years long, till Europe had enough, and gave up the
enterprise as one it could not manage. So soon as the Drawcansir

equipments are well torn off, and the shilling-gallery got to silence, it
will be found that there were great kings before Napoleon,--and
likewise an Art of War, grounded on veracity and human courage and
insight, not upon Drawcansir rodomontade, grandiose Dick-Turpinism,
revolutionary madness, and unlimited expenditure of men and
gunpowder. "You may paint with a very big brush, and yet not be a
great painter," says a satirical friend of mine! This is becoming more
and more apparent, as the dust-whirlwind, and huge uproar of the last
generation, gradually dies away again.
2. EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
One of the grand difficulties in a History of Friedrich is, all along, this
same, That he lived in a Century which has no History and can have
little or none. A Century so opulent in accumulated falsities,--sad
opulence descending on it by inheritance, always at compound interest,
and always largely increased by fresh acquirement on such immensity
of standing capital;--opulent in that bad way as never Century before
was! Which had no longer the consciousness of being false, so false
had it grown; and was so steeped in falsity, and impregnated with it to
the very bone, that--in fact the measure of the thing was full, and a
French Revolution had to end it. To maintain much veracity in such an
element, especially for a king, was no doubt doubly remarkable. But
now, how extricate the man from his Century? How show the man,
who is a Reality worthy of being seen, and yet keep his Century, as a
Hypocrisy worthy of being hidden and forgotten, in the due abeyance?
To resuscitate the Eighteenth Century, or call into men's view, beyond
what is necessary, the poor and sordid personages and transactions of
an epoch so related to us, can be no purpose of mine on this occasion.
The Eighteenth Century, it is well known, does not figure to me as a
lovely one; needing to be kept in mind, or spoken of unnecessarily. To
me the Eighteenth Century has nothing grand in it, except that grand
universal Suicide, named French Revolution, by which it terminated its
otherwise most worthless existence with at least one worthy
act;--setting fire to its old home and self; and going up in flames and
volcanic explosions, in a truly memorable and important manner. A

very fit termination, as I thankfully feel, for such a Century. Century
spendthrift, fraudulent-bankrupt; gone at length utterly insolvent,
without real MONEY of performance in its pocket, and the shops
declining to take hypocrisies and speciosities any farther:--what could
the poor Century do, but at length admit, "Well, it is so. I am a
swindler-century, and have long been,-- having learned the trick of it
from my father and grandfather; knowing hardly any trade but that in
false bills, which I thought foolishly might last forever, and still bring
at least beef and pudding to the favored of mankind. And behold it ends;
and I am a detected swindler, and have nothing even to eat. What
remains but that I blow my brains out, and do at length one true
action?" Which the poor Century did; many thanks to it, in the
circumstances.
For there was need once more of a Divine Revelation to the torpid
frivolous children of men, if they were not to sink altogether into the
ape condition. And in that whirlwind of the Universe,-- lights
obliterated, and the torn wrecks of Earth and Hell