296 ALEXANDER VON HUMBOLDT. 



greatest pleasures,' he wrote, ' for which I have ever had to thank 

 you.' In July, he was informed by the king that for the pre- 

 sent at least, a grant of 500 thalers had been agreed upon, and 

 he admonished his young friend not to lose hope of its con- 

 tinuance, even if the grant should be limited to a few years. 

 ' If you are but cheered by this news,' he adds, ' I do not doubt 

 the continuance of your work with renewed energy. However 

 your military drama may terminate, I will obtain your discharge 

 from the Minister of War. You see that you are not deserted 

 by all the world.' The genuineness of the feeling dictating 

 these words is shown in the following letter of October 29, 

 1846, which, as an interesting proof of delicate sympathy, we 

 give unabridged : 



' I cannot tell you, my dearest Eisenstein, how greatly I re- 

 joice that you have so far mastered yourself as to come and 

 see me once more, and pour out the feelings of your heart. 

 This joy, I admit, is not unmingled with sadness. You are 

 quite right in supposing that my affection for you is not 

 grounded merely on the remarkable gifts with which you 

 are endowed ; my heart has been drawn to you by your gentle, 

 amiable character, and by your proneness to melancholy, to 

 which I would implore you, for Heaven's sake, not to give way. 

 You must not continue to avoid all society ; the idea that other 

 people do not care for us should never be allowed to cross our 

 minds. Pray come soon and see me, my dear Eisenstein. 

 Notwithstanding my increasing age, I am sure that words of 

 kind sympathy would cheer your desolate heart. Make an 

 effort to pay me a visit once a week throughout the winter ; 

 I can always make time to see you. We must think of some 

 means of diversion, and give distraction to your thoughts by 

 presenting before you ideas with which you are unfamiliar, to 

 which you are perhaps even averse (such as art treasures, the 

 theatre, music, or the Botanic Gardens), whereby you may 

 become incited to some light, but imperative occupation, the 



preparation of a new lecture I notice that you have 



so far yielded to the gratification of your melancholy, as to 

 be quite dead to the outer world, or, in your letter of yester- 

 day, you would not have omitted all allusion to the pros- 

 pect of escaping from military service. The occupation of 



