LIFE’S CLOSING SCENES.
Character of the Crown Prince.--Stratagem of the Emperor Joseph
II.--Death of the Empress Catharine of Russia.--Matrimonial
Alliance of Russia and Prussia.--Death of the King of Bavaria.--
Attempt to Annex Bavaria to Austria.--Unexpected Energy of
Frederick.--Court Intrigues.--Preparations for War.--Address to
the Troops.--Declaration of War.--Terror in Vienna.--Irritability
of Frederick.--Death of Voltaire.--Unjust Condemnation of the
Judges.--Death of Maria Theresa.--Anecdote.--The King’s Fondness
for Children.--His Fault-finding Spirit.--The King’s Appearance.--
The Last Review.--Statement of Mirabeau.--Anecdote related by Dr.
Moore.--Frederick’s Fondness for Dogs.--Increasing Weakness.--
Unchanging Obduracy toward the Queen.--The Dying Scene.
Toward the end of the year 1775 the king had an unusually severe attack
of the gout. It was erroneously reported that it was a dangerous attack
of the dropsy, and that he was manifestly drawing near to his end.
The Crown Prince, who was to succeed him, was a man of very little
character. The Emperor of Germany, Joseph II., thought the death of
Frederick would present him an opportunity of regaining Silesia for
Austria. The Austrian army was immediately put in motion and hurried
to the frontiers of Silesia, to seize the province the moment the king
should expire. This was openly done, and noised abroad. Much to the
disappointment of the emperor, the king got well. Amidst much ridicule,
the troops returned to their old quarters.[190]
Frederick was probably not surprised at this act on the part of the
emperor. He undoubtedly had sufficient candor to admit that it was
exactly what he should have done under similar circumstances.
Catharine of Russia had a son, Paul, her heir to the throne. It so
chanced that she died just at the time Prince Henry of Prussia was
visiting St. Petersburg. Through his agency Paul was induced to take as
a second wife a niece of Frederick’s, the eldest daughter of Eugene of
Würtemberg. Thus the ties between Russia and Prussia were still more
strengthened, so far as matrimonial alliances could strengthen them.
The wedding took place in Berlin on the 18th of October, 1776.
Several years now passed away with nothing specially worthy of record.
Frederick did not grow more amiable as he advanced in years. Though
Frederick was often unreasonable, petulant, and unjust, and would
seldom admit that he had been in the wrong, however clear the case,
it can not be doubted that it was his general and earnest desire that
justice should be exercised in all his courts.
In September, 1777, the King of Bavaria died. The emperor thought it
a good opportunity to annex Bavaria to Austria. “Do but look on the
map,” says Carlyle, in his peculiar style of thought and expression:
“you would say, Austria without Bavaria is like a human figure with its
belly belonging to somebody else. Bavaria is the trunk or belly of the
Austrian dominions, shutting off all the limbs of them each from the
other; making for central part a huge chasm.”
France would hardly object, since she was exhausted with long wars.
England was busy in the struggle with her North American colonies.
Russia was at war with the Turks. There was no power to be feared but
Prussia.
“Frederick,” said Kaunitz, “is old and broken. He can not live long.
Having suffered so much, he has an absolute horror of war. We need not
fear that he will again put his armies in motion.”
But no sooner did Frederick get an intimation that Austria was
contemplating this enlargement of her domains than he roused himself
to prevent it with all the vigor of his earlier years. It was a very
delicate matter; for Charles Theodore, the elector, and his nephew
August Christian, heir to the electorate, a young gentleman of very
illustrious pedigree, but of a very slender purse, had both been bribed
by Austria secretly to co-operate in the movement. The reader will be
interested in Carlyle’s account, slightly abbreviated, of Frederick’s
skill in diplomacy:
“Heir is a gallant enough young gentleman. Frederick judges that
he probably will have haggled to sign any Austrian convention for
dismemberment of Baiern, and that he will start into life upon it so
soon as he sees hope.
“‘A messenger to him,’ thinks Frederick; ‘a messenger instantly; and
who?’ For that clearly is the first thing. And a delicate thing it
is; requiring to be done in profoundest secrecy, by hint and innuendo
rather than speech--by somebody in a cloak of darkness, who is of
adroit quality, and was never heard of in diplomatic circles before,
not to be suspected of having business of mine on hand.
“Frederick bethinks him that in a late visit to Weimar he had noticed,
for his fine qualities, a young gentleman named Görtz, late tutor
to the young Duke Karl August, a wise, firm, adroit-looking young
gentleman, who was farther interesting as brother to Lieutenant General
Von Görtz, a respectable soldier of Frederick’s. Ex-tutor at Weimar, we
say, and idle for the moment; hanging about court there, till he should
find a new function.
“Of this ex-tutor Frederick bethinks him; and in the course of that
same day--for there is no delay--Frederick, who is at Berlin, beckons
General Görtz to come over to him from Potsdam instantly.
“‘Hither this evening, and in all privacy meet me in the palace at such
an hour’ (hour of midnight or thereby); which of course Görtz, duly
invisible to mankind, does. Frederick explains: an errand to München;
perfectly secret, for the moment, and requiring great delicacy and
address; perhaps not without risk, a timorous man might say: will your
brother go for me, think you? Görtz thinks he will.
“‘Here is his instruction, if so,’ adds the king, handing him an
autograph of the necessary outline of procedure--not signed, nor with
any credential, or even specific address, lest accident happen. ‘Adieu,
then, herr general lieutenant; rule is, shoes of swiftness, cloak of
darkness: adieu!’
“And Görtz senior is off on the instant, careering toward Weimar,
where he finds Görtz junior, and makes known his errand. Görtz junior
stares in the natural astonishment; but, after some intense brief
deliberation, becomes affirmative, and in a minimum of time is ready
and on the road.
“Görtz junior proved to have been an excellent choice on the king’s
part, and came to good promotion afterward by his conduct in this
affair. Görtz junior started for München on the instant, masked
utterly, or his business masked, from profane eyes; saw this person,
saw that, and glided swiftly about, swiftly and with sure aim; and
speedily kindled the matter, and had smoke rising in various points.
And before January was out, saw the Reisch-Diet, at Regensburg, much
more the general gazetteerage every where, seized of this affair, and
thrown into paroxysms at the size and complexion of it: saw, in fact, a
world getting into flame--kindled by whom or what nobody could guess
for a long time to come. Görtz had great running about in his cloak of
darkness, and showed abundant talent of the kind needed. A pushing,
clear-eyed, stout-hearted man; much cleverness and sureness in what
he did and forebore to do. His adventures were manifold; he had much
traveling about: was at Regensburg, at Mannheim; saw many persons whom
he had to judge of on the instant, and speak frankly to, or speak
darkly, or speak nothing; and he made no mistake.
“We can not afford the least narrative of Görtz and his courses:
imagination, from a few traits, will sufficiently conceive them. He had
gone first to Karl Theodor’s minister: ‘Dead to it, I fear; has already
signed?’ Alas! yes. Upon which to Zweibrück, the heir’s minister, whom
his master had distinctly ordered to sign, but who, at his own peril,
gallant man, delayed, remonstrated, had not yet done it; and was able
to answer:
“‘Alive to it, he? Yes, with a witness, were there hope in the world!’
which threw Görtz upon instant gallop toward Zweibrück Schloss in
search of said heir, the young Duke August Christian; who, however, had
left in the interim (summoned by his uncle, on Austrian urgency, to
consent along with him), but whom Görtz, by dexterity and intuition of
symptoms, caught up by the road, with what a mutual joy! As had been
expected, August Christian, on sight of Görtz, with an armed Frederick
looming in the distance, took at once into new courses and activities.
From him no consent now; far other: treaty with Frederick; flat refusal
ever to consent: application to the Reich, application even to France,
and whatever a gallant young fellow could do.
“Frederick was in very weak health in these months; still considered
by the gazetteers to be dying. But it appears he is not yet too weak
for taking, on the instant necessary, a world-important resolution; and
of being on the road with it, to this issue or to that, at full speed
before the day closed. ‘Desist, good neighbor, I beseech you. You must
desist, and even you shall:’ this resolution was entirely his own, as
were the equally prompt arrangements he contrived for executing it,
should hard come to hard, and Austria prefer war to doing justice.”[191]
While pushing these intrigues of diplomacy, Frederick was equally busy
in marshaling his armies, that the sword might contribute its energies
to the enforcement of his demands. One hundred thousand troops were
assembled in Berlin, in the highest state of discipline and equipment,
ready to march at a moment’s warning.
On Sunday, April 5, 1778, Frederick reviewed these troops, and
addressed his officers in a speech, which was published in the
newspapers to inform Austria what she had to expect. Eager as Frederick
was to enlarge his own dominions, he was by no means disposed to grant
the same privilege to other and rival nations. The address of Frederick
to his officers was in reality a declaration to the Austrian court.
“Gentlemen,” said Frederick, “I have assembled you here for a public
object. Most of you, like myself, have often been in arms with one
another, and are grown gray in the service of our country. To all
of us is well known in what dangers, toils, and renown we have been
fellow-sharers. I doubt not in the least that all of you, as myself,
have a horror of bloodshed; but the danger which now threatens our
countries not only renders it a duty, but puts us in the absolute
necessity, to adopt the quickest and most effectual means for
dissipating at the right time the storm which threatens to break out
upon us.
“I depend with complete confidence on your soldierly and patriotic
zeal, which is already well and gloriously known to me, and which,
while I live, I will acknowledge with the heartiest satisfaction.
Before all things I recommend to you, and prescribe as your most sacred
duty, that in every situation you exercise humanity on unarmed enemies.
In this respect, let there be the strictest discipline kept among those
under you.
“To travel with the pomp of a king is not among my wishes, and all of
you are aware that I have no pleasure in rich field-furniture; but my
increasing age, and the weakness it brings, render me incapable of
riding as I did in my youth. I shall, therefore, be obliged to make use
of a post-chaise in times of marching, and all of you have liberty to
do the same. But on the day of battle you shall see me on horseback;
and there, also, I hope my generals will follow that example.”
Kaunitz, the Austrian prime minister, was by no means prepared for this
decisive action. In less than a week Frederick had one hundred thousand
soldiers on the frontiers. Austria had not ten thousand there to meet
them. Kaunitz, quite alarmed, assumed a supplicatory tone, and called
for negotiation.
“Must there be war?” he said. “I am your majesty’s friend. Can we not,
in mutual concession, find agreement?”
The result was a congress of three persons, two Prussians and one
Austrian, which congress met at Berlin on the 24th of May, 1778. For
two months they deliberated. The Austrians improved the delay in making
very vigorous preparations for war. Frederick really wished to avoid
the war, for he had seen enough of the woes of battle. They could come
to no agreement.
On the 3d of July Frederick issued his declaration of war. On that very
day his solid battalions, one hundred thousand strong, with menacing
banners and defiant bugle-notes, crossed the border, and encamped on
Bohemian ground. At the same moment, the king’s brother, Prince Henry,
with another army of one hundred thousand men, commenced a march from
the west to co-operate in an impetuous rush upon Vienna. These tidings
caused the utmost consternation in the Austrian capital. An eye-witness
writes:
“The terror in Vienna was dreadful. I will not attempt to describe the
dismay the tidings excited among all ranks of people. Maria Theresa,
trembling for her two sons who were in the army, immediately dispatched
an autograph letter to Frederick with new proposals for a negotiation.”
Frederick had not grown old gracefully. He was domineering, soured, and
irritable, finding fault with every body and every thing. As his troops
were getting into camp at Jaromirtz on the 8th of July, the king,
weary with riding, threw himself upon the ground for a little rest,
his adjutants being near him. A young officer was riding by. Frederick
beckoned to him, and wrote, with his pencil, an order of not the
slightest importance, and said to the officer, aloud, in the hearing of
all, purposely to wound their feelings,
“Here, take that order to General Lossow, and tell him that he is not
to take it ill that I trouble him, as I have none in my suite that can
do any thing.” It often seemed to give Frederick pleasure, and never
pain, to wound the feelings of others.
“On arriving with his column,” writes General Schmettau, “where the
officer--a perfectly skillful man--had marked out the camp, the king
would lift his spy-glass, gaze to right and left, riding round the
place at perhaps a hundred yards distance, and begin, ‘Look here, sir,
what a botching you have made of it again!’
“And then, grumbling and blaming, would alter the camp till it was all
out of rule, and then say,
“‘See there; that is the way to mark out camps.’”[192]
Through the efforts of Maria Theresa there was another brief
conference, but it amounted to nothing. Neither party wished for
war. But Austria craved the annexation of Bavaria, and Frederick was
determined that Austria should not thus be enlarged. Thus the summer
passed away in unavailing diplomacy and in equally unavailing military
manœuvrings. While engaged in these adventures, Frederick received
the tidings of the death of Voltaire, who breathed his last on the
20th of May, 1778. The soul of Frederick was too much seared by life’s
stern conflicts to allow him to manifest, or probably to feel, any
emotion on the occasion. He, however, wrote a eulogy upon the renowned
_littérateur_, which, though written by a royal pen, attracted but
little attention.
During the winter Russia and France interposed in behalf of peace. The
belligerents agreed to submit the question to their decision. Austria
was permitted to take a small slice of Bavaria, and for a time the
horrors of war were averted.
Soon after this an event occurred very characteristic of the king--an
event which conspicuously displayed both his good and bad qualities. A
miller was engaged in a lawsuit against a nobleman. The decree of the
court, after a very careful examination, was unanimously in favor of
the nobleman; the king, who had impulsively formed a different opinion
of the case, was greatly exasperated. He summoned the four judges
before him, denounced them in the severest terms of vituperation, would
listen to no defense, and dismissed them angrily from office.
“May a miller,” he exclaimed, fiercely, “who has no water, and
consequently can not grind, have his mill taken from him? Is that just?
Here is a nobleman wishing to make a fish-pond. To get more water for
his pond, he has a ditch dug to draw into it a small stream which
drives a water-mill. Thereby the miller loses his water, and can not
grind. Yet, in spite of this, it is pretended that the miller shall pay
his rent, quite the same as at the time when he had full water for his
mill. Of course he can not pay his rent. His incomings are gone.
“And what does the court of Cüstrin do? It orders the mill to be sold,
that the nobleman may have his rent! Go you, sir,” addressing the grand
chancellor, “about your business, this instant. Your successor is
appointed; with you I have nothing more to do.” The other three were
assailed in the same way, but still more vehemently, as the king’s
wrath flamed higher and higher. “Out of my sight,” he exclaimed at
last; “I will make an example of you which shall be remembered.”
[Illustration: CONDEMNATION OF THE JUDGES.]
The next day, December 11, 1779, the king issued the following protocol
in the newspapers:
“The king’s desire always was and is that every body, be he high or
low, rich or poor, get prompt justice. Wherefore, in respect to this
most unjust sentence against the miller Arnold, pronounced in the
Neumark, and confirmed here in Berlin, his majesty will establish an
emphatic example, to the end that all the courts of justice in the
king’s provinces may take warning thereby, and not commit the like
glaring unjust acts. For let them bear in mind that the least peasant,
yea, what is still more, that even a beggar, is, no less than his
majesty, a human being, and one to whom due justice must be meted out.
All men being equal before the law, if it is a prince complaining
against a peasant, or _vice versa_, the prince is the same as the
peasant before the law.
“Let the courts take this for their rule; and whenever they do not
carry out justice in a straightforward manner, without any regard of
person and rank, they shall have to answer to his majesty for it.”
The discarded judges were arrested, imprisoned for a year, and fined a
sum of money equal to the supposed loss of the miller. In this case the
judges had heard both sides of the question, and the king but one side.
The question had been justly decided. The case was so clear that the
new judges appointed by the king, being conscientious men, could not
refrain from sustaining the verdict. Still the king, who would never
admit that he was in the wrong, ordered no redress for those who had
thus suffered for righteousness sake. After Frederick’s death the court
compelled the miller to refund the money which had been so unjustly
extorted for damages.
On the 29th of November, 1780, Maria Theresa died. The extraordinary
character which she had developed through life was equally manifested
in the hour of death. She died of congestion of the lungs, which
created a painful and suffocating difficulty of breathing. Her
struggles for breath rendered it impossible for her to lie upon the
bed. Bolstered in her chair, she leaned her head back as if inclined to
sleep.
“Will your majesty sleep, then?” inquired an attendant.
“No,” the empress replied; “I could sleep, but I must not. Death is too
near. He must not steal upon me. These fifteen years I have been making
ready for him; I will meet him awake.”
For fifteen years she had been a mourning widow. Her husband had died
on the 18th of August. The 18th day of every month had since then been
a day of solitary prayer. On the 18th of every August she descended
into the tomb, and sat for a season engaged in prayer by the side of
the mouldering remains of her spouse.
[Illustration: MARIA THERESA AT THE TOMB OF HER HUSBAND.]
The Emperor Joseph had been embarrassed in his ambitious plans by the
conscientious scruples of his mother. He now entered into a secret
alliance with the Czarina Catharine, by which he engaged to assist her
in her advance to Constantinople, while she, in her turn, was to aid
him in his encroachments and annexations to establish an empire in the
West as magnificent as the czarina hoped to establish in the East.
Delighted with this plan, and sanguine in the hope of its successful
accomplishment, the czarina named her next grandson Constantine.
Austria and Russia thus became allied, with all their sympathies
hostile to Frederick. Old age and infirmities were stealing upon the
king apace. Among the well-authenticated anecdotes related of him, the
following is given by Carlyle:
“Loss of time was one of the losses Frederick could least stand. In
visits, even from his brothers and sisters, which were always by his
own express invitation, he would say some morning (call it Tuesday
morning), ‘You are going on Wednesday, I am sorry to hear’ (what _you_
never heard before). ‘Alas! your majesty, we must.’ ‘Well, I am sorry;
but I will lay no constraint on you. Pleasant moments can not last
forever.’ This trait is in the anecdote-books; but its authenticity
does not rest on that uncertain basis. Singularly enough, it comes to
me individually, by two clear stages, from Frederick’s sister, the
Duchess of Brunswick, who, if any body, would know it well.”
We have often spoken of the entire neglect with which the king treated
his virtuous and amiable queen. Preuss relates the following incident:
“When the king, after the Seven Years’ War, now and then in carnival
season dined with the queen in her apartments, he usually said not a
word to her. He merely, on entering, on sitting down at table, and
leaving it, made the customary bows, and sat opposite to her. Once the
queen was ill of gout. The table was in her apartments, but she was not
there. She sat in an easy-chair in the drawing-room. On this occasion
the king stepped up to the queen and inquired about her health. The
circumstance occasioned among the company present, and all over the
town, as the news spread, great wonder and sympathy. This is probably
the last time he ever spoke to her.”[193]
“The king was fond of children; he liked to have his grand-nephews
about him. One day, while the king sat at work in his cabinet, the
younger of the two, a boy of eight or nine, was playing ball about the
room, and knocked it once and again into the king’s writing operation,
who twice or oftener flung it back to him, but next time put it in his
pocket, and went on. ‘Please your majesty, give it me back,’ begged the
boy, and again begged: majesty took no notice; continued writing. Till
at length came, in the tone of indignation, ‘Will your majesty give
me my ball, then?’ The king looked up; found the little Hohenzollern
planted firm, hands on haunches, and wearing quite a peremptory air.
‘Thou art a brave little fellow. They won’t get Silesia out of thee?’
cried he, laughing, and flinging him his ball.”[194]
The fault-finding character of the king, and his intense devotion to
perfecting his army, both increased with his advancing years. After one
of his reviews of the troops in Silesia, in the year 1784, he wrote in
the following severe strain to the commanding general:
“Potsdam, September 7, 1784.
“MY DEAR GENERAL,--While in Silesia I mentioned to you, and will
now repeat in writing, that my army in Silesia was at no time
so bad as at present. Were I to make shoemakers or tailors into
generals, the regiments could not be worse. Regiment Thadden
is not fit to be the most insignificant militia battalion of a
Prussian army. Of the regiment Erlach, the men are so spoiled by
smuggling they have no resemblance to soldiers; Keller is like
a heap of undrilled boors; Hager has a miserable commander; and
your own regiment is very mediocre. Only with Graf Von Anhalt,
with Wendessen, and Markgraf Heinrich could I be content. See
you, that is the state I found the regiments in, one after one. I
will now speak of their manœuvring.
“Schwartz, at Neisse, made the unpardonable mistake of not
sufficiently besetting the height on the left wing; had it been
serious, the battle had been lost. At Breslau, Erlach, instead of
covering the army by seizing the heights, marched off with his
division straight as a row of cabbages into that defile; whereby,
had it been earnest, the enemy’s cavalry would have cut down our
infantry, and the fight was gone.
“It is not my purpose to lose battles by the base conduct of my
generals; wherefore I hereby appoint that you, next year, if I
be alive, assemble the army between Breslau and Ohlau; for four
days before I arrive in your camp, carefully manœuvre with the
ignorant generals, and teach them what their duty is. Regiment
Von Arnim and regiment Von Kanitz are to act the enemy; and
whoever does not then fulfill his duty shall go to court-martial;
for I should think it a shame of any country to keep such people,
who trouble themselves so little about their business.”
The king seemed to think it effeminate and a disgrace to him as a
soldier ever to appear in a carriage. He never _drove_, but constantly
_rode_ from Berlin to Potsdam. In the winter of 1785, when he was quite
feeble, he wished to go from Sans Souci, which was exposed to bleak
winds, and where they had only hearth fires, to more comfortable winter
quarters in the new palace. The weather was stormy. After waiting a few
days for such a change as would enable him to go on horseback, and the
cold and wind increasing, he was taken over in a sedan-chair in the
night, when no one could see him.
In August, 1785, the king again visited Silesia to review his troops.
A private letter, quoted by Carlyle, gives an interesting view of his
appearance at the time:
“He passed through Hirschberg on the 18th of August. A concourse of
many thousands had been waiting for him several hours. Outriders
came at last; then he himself, the unique; and, with the liveliest
expression of reverence and love, all eyes were directed on one point.
I can not describe to you my feelings, which, of course, were those of
every body, to see him, the aged king; in his weak hand the hat; in
those grand eyes such a fatherly benignity of look over the vast crowd
that encircled his carriage, and rolled tide-like, accompanying it.
Looking round, I saw in various eyes a tear trembling.
“His affability, his kindliness, to whoever had the honor of speech
with this great king, who shall describe it! After talking a good while
with the merchants’ deputation from the hill country, he said, ‘Is
there any thing more, then, from any body?’ Upon which the president
stepped forward and said, ‘The burned-out inhabitants of Greiffenberg
have charged me to express once more their most submissive gratitude
for the gracious help in rebuilding; their word of thanks is indeed
of no importance; but they daily pray God to reward such royal
beneficence.’ The king was visibly affected, and said, ‘You don’t need
to thank me; when my subjects fall into misfortune, it is my duty to
help them up again; for that reason am I here.’”
On Monday, the 22d of August, the great review commenced near Strehlen.
It lasted four days. All the country mansions around were filled with
strangers who had come to witness the spectacle.
“The sure fact, and the forever memorable, is that on Wednesday,
the third day of it, from four in the morning, when the manœuvres
began, till well after ten o’clock, when they ended, there was rain
like Noah’s; rain falling as from buckets and water-spouts; and that
Frederick, so intent upon his business, paid not the slightest regard
to it, but rode about, intensely inspecting, in lynx-eyed watchfulness
of every thing, as if no rain had been there. Was not at the pains
even to put on his cloak. Six hours of such down-pour; and a weakly
old man of seventy-three past! Of course he was wetted to the bone. On
returning to head-quarters, his boots were found full of water; ‘when
pulled off, it came pouring from them like a pair of pails.’”[195]
[Illustration: THE LAST REVIEW.]
Lafayette, Lord Cornwallis, and the Duke of York were his guests
at the dinner-table that day. The king suffered from his exposure,
was very feverish, and at an early hour went to bed. The next day
he completed his review; and the next day “went--round by Neisse,
inspection not to be omitted there, though it doubles the distance--to
Brieg, a drive of eighty miles, inspection work included.”[196]
From this exhausting journey for so old a man the king returned to
Potsdam through a series of state dinners, balls, and illuminations. On
the night of the 18th of September he was awoke by a very severe fit of
suffocation. It was some time before he could get any relief, and it
was thought that he was dying. The next day gout set in severely. This
was followed by dropsy. The king suffered severely through the winter.
There is no royal road through the sick-chamber to the tomb. The weary
months of pain and languor came and went. The renowned Mirabeau visited
the king in his sick-chamber on the 17th of April, 1786. He writes:
“My dialogue with the king was very lively; but the king was in such
suffering, and so straitened for breath, I was myself anxious to
shorten it. That same evening I traveled on.”
That same evening Marie Antoinette wrote from Versailles to her sister
Christine at Brussels:
“The King of Prussia is thought to be dying. I am weary of the
political discussions on this subject as to what effects his death must
produce. He is better at this moment, but so weak he can not resist
long. Physique is gone. But his force and energy of soul, they say,
have often supported him, and in desperate crises have even seemed to
increase. Liking to him I never had. His ostentatious immorality has
much hurt public virtue, and there have been related to me barbarities
which excite horror.
“He has done us all a great deal of ill. He has been king for his own
country, but a trouble-feast for those about him--setting up to be the
arbiter of Europe, always assailing his neighbors, and making them pay
the expense. As daughters of Maria Theresa, it is impossible we can
regret him; nor is it the court of France that will make his funeral
oration.”[197]
The Prince of Ligne, a very accomplished courtier, about this time
visited the sick and dying king. During his brief stay he dined daily
with the king, and spent his evenings with him. In an interesting
account which he gives of these interviews, he writes:
“Daily for five hours the universality of his conversation completed
my enchantment at his powers. The arts, war, medicine, literature,
religion, philosophy, morality, history, and legislation passed in
review by turns. The great times of Augustus and Louis XIV.; the good
society among the Romans, the Greeks, and the French; the chivalry of
Francis I.; the valor of Henry IV.; the revival of letters, and their
changes since Leo X.; anecdotes of men of talent of former days, and
their errors; the eccentricities of Voltaire; the sensitive vanity of
Maupertuis; the agreeableness of Algarotti; the wit of Jordan; the
hypochondriacism of the Marquis D’Argens, whom the king used to induce
to keep his bed for four-and-twenty hours by merely telling him he
looked ill--and what not besides? All that could be said of the most
varied and agreeable kind was what came from him, in a gentle tone of
voice, rather low, and very agreeable from his manner of moving his
lips, which possessed an inexpressible grace.”[198]
Dr. Moore gives the following account of a surprising scene,
considering that the king was an infirm and suffering man seventy-three
years of age:
“A few days ago I happened to take a very early walk about a mile from
Potsdam, and seeing some soldiers under arms in a field at a small
distance from the road, I went toward them. An officer on horseback,
whom I took to be the major, for he gave the word of command, was
uncommonly active, and often rode among the ranks to reprimand or
instruct the common men. When I came nearer I was much surprised to
find that this was the king himself.
“He had his sword drawn, and continued to exercise the corps for an
hour after. He made them wheel, march, form the square, and fire by
divisions and in platoons, observing all their motions with infinite
attention; and, on account of some blunder, put two officers of the
Prince of Prussia’s regiment in arrest. In short, he seemed to exert
himself with all the spirit of a young officer eager to attract the
notice of his general by uncommon alertness.”[199]
[Illustration: FREDERICK AND HIS DOGS.]
Frederick was very fond of dogs. This was one of his earliest passions,
and it continued until the end of his life. He almost invariably had
five or six Italian greyhounds about him, leaping upon the chairs, and
sleeping upon the sofas in his room. Dr. Zimmermann describes them as
placed on blue satin chairs and couches near the king’s arm-chair, and
says that when Frederick, during his last illness, used to sit on his
terrace at Sans Souci in order to enjoy the sun, a chair was always
placed by his side, which was occupied by one of his dogs. He fed them
himself, took the greatest possible care of them when they were sick,
and when they died buried them in the gardens of Sans Souci. The
traveler may still see their tombs--flat stones with the names of the
dogs beneath engraved upon them--at each end of the terrace of Sans
Souci, in front of the palace.
“The king was accustomed to pass his leisure moments in playing with
them, and the room where he sat was strewed with leather balls with
which they amused themselves. As they were all much indulged, though
there was always one especial favorite, they used to tear the damask
covers of the chairs in the king’s apartment, and gnaw and otherwise
injure the furniture. This he permitted without rebuke, and used only
to say,
“‘My dogs destroy my chairs; but how can I help it? And if I were to
have them mended to-day, they would be torn again to-morrow. So I
suppose I must bear with the inconvenience. After all, a Marquise De
Pompadour would cost me a great deal more, and would neither be as
attached nor as faithful.’”
One of Frederick’s dogs, Biche, has attained almost historic celebrity.
We can not vouch for the authenticity of the anecdote, but it is stated
that the king took Biche with him on the campaign of 1745. One day the
king, advancing on a reconnoissance, was surprised and pursued by a
large number of Austrians. He took refuge under a bridge, and, wrapping
Biche in his cloak, held him close to his breast. The sagacious animal
seemed fully conscious of the peril of his master. Though of a very
nervous temperament, and generally noisy and disposed to bark at the
slightest disturbance, he remained perfectly quiet until the Austrians
had passed.
At the battle of Sohr, Biche was taken captive with the king’s baggage.
The animal manifested so much joy upon being restored to its master
that the king’s eyes were flooded with tears.
On the 4th of July the king rode out for the last time. Not long after,
the horse was again brought to the door, but the king found himself too
weak to mount. Still, while in this state of extreme debility and pain,
he conducted the affairs of state with the most extraordinary energy
and precision. The minutest questions received his attention, and every
branch of business was prosecuted with as much care and perfection as
in his best days.
“He saw his ministers, saw all who had business with him, many who had
little; and in the sore coil of bodily miseries, as Hertzberg observed
with wonder, never was the king’s intellect clearer, or his judgment
more just and decisive. Of his disease, except to the doctors, he spoke
no word to any body.
“The body of Frederick is a ruin, but his soul is still here, and
receives his friends and his tasks as formerly. Asthma, dropsy,
erysipelas, continual want of sleep; for many months past he has
not been in bed, but sits day and night in an easy-chair, unable to
get breath except in that posture. He said one morning to somebody
entering, ‘If you happened to want a night-watcher, I could suit you
well.’”[200]
There is something truly sublime in the devotion with which he, in
disregard of sleeplessness, exhaustion, and pain, gave himself to work.
His three clerks were summoned to his room each morning at four o’clock.
“My situation forces me,” he said, “to give them this trouble, which
they will not have to suffer long. My life is on the decline. The time
which I still have belongs not to me, but to the state.”
He conversed cheerfully upon literature, history, and the common topics
of the day. But he seemed studiously to avoid any allusion to God, to
the subject of religion, or to death. He had from his early days very
emphatically expressed his disbelief in any God who took an interest in
the affairs of men. Throughout his whole life he had abstained from any
recognition of such a God by any known acts of prayer or worship. Still
Mr. Carlyle writes:
“From of old, life has been infinitely contemptible to him. In death,
I think, he has neither fear nor hope. Atheism, truly, he never could
abide: to him, as to all of us, it was flatly inconceivable that
intellect, moral emotion, could have been put into _him_ by an Entity
that had none of its own. But there, pretty much, his Theism seems to
have stopped. Instinctively; too, he believed, no man more firmly, that
Right alone has ultimately any strength in this world: ultimately,
yes; but for him and his poor brief interests, what good was it? Hope
for himself in divine Justice, in divine Providence, I think he had
not practically any: that the unfathomable Demiurgus should concern
himself with such a set of paltry, ill-given animalcules as one’s self
and mankind are, this also, as we have often noticed, is in the main
incredible to him.
“Inarticulate notions, fancies, transient aspirations, he might have,
in the background of his mind. One day, sitting for a while out of
doors, gazing into the sun, he was heard to murmur, ‘Perhaps I shall be
nearer thee soon;’ and, indeed, nobody knows what his thoughts were in
these final months. There is traceable only a complete superiority to
fear and hope; in parts, too, are half glimpses of a great motionless
interior lake of sorrow, sadder than any tears or complainings, which
are altogether wanting to it.”
Dr. Zimmermann, whose work on Solitude had given him some renown,
had been sent for to administer to the illustrious patient. His
prescriptions were of no avail. On the 10th of August, 1786, Frederick
wrote to his sister, the Duchess Dowager of Brunswick:
“MY ADORABLE SISTER,--The Hanover doctor has wished to make
himself important with you, my good sister; but the truth is, he
has been of no use to me. The old must give place to the young,
that each generation may find room clear for it; and life, if we
examine strictly what its course is, consists in seeing one’s
fellow-creatures die and be born. In the mean while, I have felt
myself a little easier for the last day or two. My heart remains
inviolably attached to you, my good sister. With the highest
consideration, my adorable sister, your faithful brother and
servant,
FREDERICK.”
The last letter which it is supposed that he wrote was the following
cold epistle to his excellent wife, whom, through a long life, he had
treated with such cruel neglect:
“MADAM,--I am much obliged by the wishes you deign to form; but a
heavy fever I have taken hinders me from answering you.”
Scarcely any thing can be more sad than the record of the last days
and hours of this extraordinary man. Few of the children of Adam have
passed a more joyless life. Few have gone down to a grave shrouded with
deeper gloom. None of those Christian hopes which so often alleviate
pain, and take from death its sting, cheered his dying chamber. To him
the grave was but the portal to the abyss of annihilation.
Days of pain and nights of sleeplessness were his portion. A hard cough
racked his frame. His strength failed him. Ulcerous sores broke out
upon various parts of his body. A constant oppression at his chest
rendered it impossible for him to lie down. Gout tortured him. His
passage to the grave led through eighteen months of constant suffering.
Dr. Zimmermann, in his diary of the 2d of August, writes:
“The king is very chilly, and is always enveloped in pelisses, and
covered with feather-beds. He has not been in bed for six weeks, but
sleeps in his chair for a considerable time together, and always
turned to the right side. The dropsical swelling augments. He sees
it, but will not perceive what it is, or at least will not appear to
do so, but talks as if it were a swelling accompanying convalescence,
and proceeding from previous weakness. He is determined not to die if
violent remedies can save him, but to submit to punctures and incisions
to draw off the water.”
Again, on the 8th, Dr. Zimmermann wrote: “The king is extraordinarily
ill. On the 4th erysipelas appeared on the leg. This announces bursting
and mortification. He has much oppression, and the smell of the wound
is very bad.”
On the 15th, after a restless night, he did not wake until eleven
o’clock in the morning. For a short time he seemed confused. He then
summoned his generals and secretaries, and gave his orders with all his
wonted precision. He then called in his three clerks and dictated to
them upon various subjects. His directions to an embassador, who was
about leaving, filled four quarto pages.
As night came on he fell into what may be called the death-sleep.
His breathing was painful and stertorous; his mind was wandering
in delirious dreams; his voice became inarticulate. At a moment of
returning consciousness he tried several times in vain to give some
utterance to his thoughts. Then, with a despairing expression of
countenance, he sank back upon his pillow. Fever flushed his cheeks,
and his eyes assumed some of their wonted fire. Thus the dying hours
were prolonged, as the friendless monarch, surrounded by respectful
attendants, slowly descended to the grave.
His feet and legs became cold. Death was stealing its way toward the
vitals. About nine o’clock Wednesday evening a painful cough commenced,
with difficulty of breathing, and an ominous rattle in the throat. One
of his dogs sat by his bedside, and shivered with cold; the king made a
sign for them to throw a quilt over it.
Another severe fit of coughing ensued, and the king, having with
difficulty got rid of the phlegm, said, “The mountain is passed; we
shall be better now.” These were his last words. The expiring monarch
sat in his chair, but in a state of such extreme weakness that he was
continually sinking down, with his chest and neck so bent forward that
breathing was almost impossible. One of his faithful valets took the
king upon his knee and placed his left arm around his waist, while the
king threw his right arm around the valet’s neck.
It was midnight. “Within doors all is silence; around it the dark earth
is silent, above it the silent stars.” Thus for two hours the attendant
sat motionless, holding the dying king. Not a word was spoken; no sound
could be heard but the painful breathing which precedes death.
At just twenty minutes past two o’clock the breathing ceased, the
spirit took its flight, and the lifeless body alone remained. Life’s
great battle was ended, and the soul of the monarch ascended to that
dread tribunal where prince and peasant must alike answer for all the
deeds done in the body. It was the 17th of August, 1786. The king had
reigned forty-six years, and had lived seventy-six years, six months,
and twenty-four days.
One clause in the king’s will was judiciously disregarded. As a last
mark of his contempt for his own species, Frederick had directed that
he should be buried at Sans Souci by the side of his dogs.
In the king’s will, the only reference to any future which might be
before him was the following:
“After having restored peace to my kingdom; after having conquered
countries, raised a victorious army, and filled my treasury; after
having established a good administration throughout my dominions; after
having made my enemies tremble, I resign, without regret, this breath
of life to Nature.”
He left a small sum for the support of his amiable, blameless, and
neglected queen, saying, “She never gave me the least uneasiness during
my whole reign, and she merits every attention and respect for her many
and unshaken virtues.”
“All next day the body lay in state in the palace; thousands crowding,
from Berlin and the other environs, to see that face for the last time.
Wasted, worn, but beautiful in death, with the thin gray hair parted
into locks, and slightly powdered.”[201]
At eight o’clock in the evening his body was borne, accompanied by a
battalion of the Guards, to Potsdam; eight horses drew the hearse. An
immense concourse, in silence and sadness, filled the streets. He was
buried in a small chapel in the church of the garrison at Potsdam.
There the remains of Frederick and his father repose side by side.
“Life’s labor done, securely laid
In this, their last retreat:
Unheeded o’er their silent dust
The storms of life shall beat.”
FOOTNOTES
[1] “He got no improvement in breeding, as we intimated; none at
all: fought, on the contrary, with his young cousin, afterward our
George II., a boy twice his age, though of weaker bone, and gave him a
bloody nose, to the scandal and consternation of the French Protestant
gentlemen and court dames in their stiff silks. ‘Ahee your electoral
highness!’ This had been a rough unruly boy from the first discovery of
him.”--CARLYLE.
[2] _Geständnisse eines Œsterreichischen Veterans_, i., p. 64.
[3] “When his majesty took a walk, every human being fled before him,
as if a tiger had broken loose from a menagerie. If he met a lady in
the street, he gave her a kick, and told her to go home and mind her
brats. If he saw a clergyman staring at the soldiers, he admonished the
reverend gentleman to betake himself to study and prayer, and enforced
this pious advice by a sound caning administered on the spot. But it
was in his own house that he was most unreasonable and ferocious. His
palace was hell, and he the most execrable of fiends.”--MACAULAY.
[4] “It was the queen-mother who encouraged the prince in his favorite
amusement, and who engaged musicians for his service. But so necessary
was secrecy in all these negotiations that if the king, his father,
had discovered he was disobeyed, all these sons of Apollo would have
incurred the danger of being hanged. The prince frequently took
occasion to meet his musicians a-hunting, and had his concerts either
in a forest or cavern.”--BURNEY, _Present State of Music in Germany_,
ii., 139.
[5] “One of the preceptors ventured to read the ‘Golden Bull’ in the
original Latin with the prince royal. Frederick William entered the
room, and broke out, in his usual kingly style, ‘Rascal, what are
you at there?’ ‘Please your majesty,’ answered the preceptor, ‘I was
explaining the “Golden Bull” to his royal highness.’ ‘I’ll Golden Bull
you, you rascal!’ roared the majesty of Prussia. Up went the king’s
cane, away ran the terrified instructor, and Frederick’s classical
studies ended forever.”--MACAULAY.
[6] “Frederick William and George II., though brothers-in-law, and,
in a manner, brought up together, could never endure each other, even
when children. This personal hatred and settled antipathy had like to
have proved fatal to their subjects. The King of England used to style
the King of Prussia _my brother the sergeant_. The King of Prussia
called the King of England _my brother the player_. This animosity soon
infected their dealings, and did not fail to have its influence on the
most important events.”--_Memoirs of the House of Brandenburg, by_
FREDERICK II., vol. ii., p. 69.
[7] “It was a marriage much beneath what this princess might have
pretended to. But Frederick William loved such alliances--first,
because they were at hand, and brought about without trouble, and thus
his daughters were taken off his hands at an early age; and, secondly,
because to these little princes the honor of obtaining a Princess of
Prussia was sufficient, whereas great sovereigns would have required a
more considerable dower than the avaricious habits of Frederick William
permitted him to give.”--_Life of Frederick II._, _by_ LORD DOVER.
[8] “The sad truth, dimly indicated, is sufficiently visible. His
life for the next four or five years was extremely dissolute. Poor
young man, he has got into a disastrous course; consorts chiefly with
debauched young fellows, as Lieutenants Katte, Keith, and others of
their stamp, who lead him on ways not pleasant to his father, nor
conformable to the laws of this universe. Health, either of body
or mind, is not to be looked for in his present way of life. The
bright young soul, with its fine strengths and gifts wallowing like a
rhinoceros in the mud bath. Some say it is wholesome for a human soul;
not we.”--CARLYLE, ii., p. 21.
[9] “Never in any romance or stage play was young lady, without blame,
without furtherance, and without hinderance of her own, so tormented
about a settlement in life--passive she all the while, mere clay in
the hands of the potter, and begging the universe to have the extreme
goodness only to leave her alone.”--CARLYLE.
[10] The Prussian minister Reichenbach, at London, wrote to M. Grumkow,
under date of March 14, 1730: “Reichenbach flatters himself that the
king will remain firm, and not let his enemies deceive him. If Grumkow
and Seckendorf have opportunity, they may tell his Prussian majesty
that the whole design of this court is to render his country a province
dependent on England. When once the Princess Royal of England shall be
wedded to the Prince Royal of Prussia, the English, by that means, will
form such a party at Berlin that they will altogether tie his Prussian
majesty’s hands.”
[11] Carlyle.
[12] _Memoires de la Margrave De Bareuth._
[13] “A Captain Fouqué comes to Cüstrin on duty or as a volunteer
by-and-by. He is an old friend of the prince’s; a ready-witted,
hot-tempered, highly-estimable man. He is often with the prince.
Their light is extinguished precisely at seven o’clock. ‘Very well,
lieutenant,’ he would say, ‘you have done your orders to the Crown
Prince’s light. But his majesty has no concern with Captain Fouqué’s
candles,’ and thereupon would light a pair. Nay, I have heard of
lieutenants who punctually blew out the prince’s light, as a matter of
duty and command, and then kindled it again as a civility left free
to human nature. In short, his majesty’s orders can only be fulfilled
to the letter. Even in the letter his majesty’s orders are severe
enough.”--CARLYLE, vol. ii., p. 218.
[14] Voltaire, in his unreliable “_Vie Privée du Roi de Prusse_,”
t. ii., p. 51, says that, when Frederick became king, he settled
upon Doris, who was then married and poor, an annuity of seventy-six
dollars. Thiebault, far more accurate, in his “_Souvenirs de Vingt Ans
de Séjour à Berlin_,” says he gave her a pension of one hundred and
fifty-six dollars. It does not speak well for Frederick that he could
have so meanly requited so terrible a wrong.
[15] “The first idea of Frederick William was to deliver his son over
to be condemned by the ordinary tribunal of Prussia, well knowing
that his judges would never venture to decide except according to his
wishes. Indeed, he took a very summary as well as a very certain mode
of effecting this object; for, whenever their sentiments were not
approved by him, he was in the habit of going into the court where
they sat and there distributing kicks and blows to all the judges in
turn, at the same time calling them rogues and blackguards! From men so
circumstanced Frederick would have no chance of acquittal.”--_The Life
of Frederick II._, _by_ LORD DOVER, vol. i., p. 33.
[16] “The prince had been some weeks in his prison at Cüstrin when one
day an old officer, followed by four grenadiers, entered his chamber
weeping. Frederick had no doubt that he was to be made a head shorter.
But the officer, still in tears, ordered the grenadiers to take him to
the window and hold his head out of it, that he might be obliged to
look on the execution of his friend Katte upon a scaffold expressly
built for that purpose. He saw, stretched out his hand, and fainted.
The father was present at this exhibition.”--_Memoirs of the Life of
Voltaire_, p. 26.
[17] “General Ginkel, the Dutch embassador, here told me of an
interview he had with the king. The king harbors most monstrous wicked
designs, not fit to be spoken of in words. It is certain, if he
continue in the mind he is in at present, we shall see scenes here as
wicked and bloody as any that were ever heard of since the creation
of the world. He will sacrifice his whole family--every body, except
Grumkow, being, as he imagines, in conspiracy against him. All these
things he said with such imprecations and disordered looks, foaming
at the mouth all the while, as it was terrible either to see or
hear.”--DICKENS’s _Dispatch, 7th December, 1730_.
[18] Carlyle.
[19] _Life of Frederick II._, _by_ LORD DOVER, vol. i., p. 127.
[20] The grandmother was a very gay, fashionable woman, entirely
devoted to pleasure.
[21] The prince used a harsher term, which we can not quote.
[22] A ruble was about eighty-five cents of our money.
[23] To Frederick cultivating tranquillity.
[24] Her husband.
[25] The above extracts are taken from _Correspondance Familière et
Amicale de Frédéric II., Roi de Prusse, avec U. F. de Suhm_.
[26] Thibault, _Souvenirs de Vingt Ans de Séjours à Berlin_.
[27] William III. of England.
[28] Baron Bielfeld, in his letters, gives the following account of
the prince’s admission to the masonic fraternity: “On the 14th the
whole day was spent in preparations for the lodge. A little after
midnight we saw the Prince Royal arrive, accompanied by Count W----.
The prince presented this gentleman as a candidate whom he recommended,
and whose reception he wished immediately to succeed his own. He
desired us likewise to omit, in his reception, not any one rigorous
ceremony that was used in similar cases; to grant him no indulgence
whatever; but gave us leave, on this occasion, to treat him merely as
a private person. In a word, he was received with all the usual and
requisite formalities. I admired his intrepidity, the serenity of his
countenance, and his graceful deportment even in the most critical
moments. After the two receptions we opened the lodge, and proceeded
to our work. He appeared delighted, and acquitted himself with as much
dexterity as discernment.”--_Letters of Baron Bielfeld_, vol. iii., p.
36.
[29] Baron Bielfeld gives the following account of the personal
appearance of the king at this time: “If we judge by his portraits,
he was in his youth very handsome. But it must be confessed that he
does not now retain any traces of beauty. His eyes are indeed lively,
but his looks are frightful. His complexion is composed of a mixture
of high red, blue, yellow, and green. His head is large. His neck is
quite sunk between his shoulders, and his figure is short and
gross.”--_Letters_, vol. iii., p. 67.
[30] Frederick had taken the fancy of calling his companions by
classical names. Suhm was Diaphanes; Keyserling was called Cæsarion,
etc.
[31] Bielfeld informs us that “about one in the afternoon he sent for
Ellert, his first physician, and asked him if he thought that his life
and his sufferings could continue long, and if the agonies of his last
moments would be great. The physician answered, ‘Your majesty has
already arrived at that period. I feel the pulse retire. It now beats
below your elbow.’
“The king inquired, ‘Where will it retire at last?’
“‘To the heart,’ the doctor replied. ‘And in about an hour it will
cease to beat at all.’
“On which the king said, with perfect resignation, ‘God’s will be
done!’”--_Letters_, vol. iii., p. 127.
[32] Frederick William, in his reviews of the giant guard, was
frequently attended by the foreign ministers who chanced to be at his
court. On one of these occasions he asked the French minister if he
thought that an equal number of the soldiers of France would venture
to engage with these troops. With politeness, characteristic of the
nation, the minister replied that it was impossible that men of the
ordinary stature should think of such an attempt. The same question was
asked of the English embassador. He replied, “I can not affirm that an
equal number of my countrymen would beat them, but I think that I may
safely say that half the number would try.”
[33] Voltaire, after he had quarreled with Frederick, gave the
following amusing account of a gift he received from the king soon
after his accession to the throne: “He began his reign by sending an
embassador extraordinary to France, one Camas, who had lost an arm. He
said that, as there was a minister from the French court at Berlin who
had but one hand, he, that he might acquit himself of all obligation
toward the most Christian king, had sent him an embassador with one
arm. Camas, as soon as he arrived safe at his inn, dispatched a lad
to tell me that he was too much fatigued to come to my house, and
therefore begged that I would come to him instantly, he having the
finest, greatest, and most magnificent present that was ever presented
to make me on the part of the king his master. ‘Run, run, as fast as
you can,’ said Madame Du Châtelet; ‘he has assuredly sent you the
diamonds of the crown.’ Away I ran, and found my embassador, whose only
baggage was a small keg of wine, tied behind his chaise, sent from the
cellar of the late king by the reigning monarch, with a royal command
for me to drink. I emptied myself in protestations of astonishment and
gratitude for these _liquid_ marks of his majesty’s bounty, instead of
the _solid_ ones I had been taught to expect, and divided my keg with
Camas.”--_Memoirs_, p. 34.
[34] “As the bishops of Liege had been in possession of the contested
districts for more than a century, and as Frederick William had not,
any more than his predecessors, adopted any vigorous measures to gain
possession of them, it is not probable that the claim of Frederick was
very well founded. At all events, his conduct was violent and unjust.
The inhabitants of these districts had been guilty of no crime but that
of avowing their allegiance to the prince whom they had been accustomed
to obey, and whom they appear to have considered as their lawful
sovereign. When Frederick, therefore, sent his troops to live upon the
inhabitants of those districts at discretion, he committed an act of
tyranny and of cruelty which nothing in the circumstances of the case
could justify.”--_Memoirs of Voltaire_, p. 44.
[35] _Memoirs_, p. 47, 48.
[36] “His majesty,” says M. Bielfeld, “did not appear to be greatly
moved. But what followed convinces me that he possesses the art of
composing his countenance, and that the emotion passed within; for he
rose soon after, sent for M. Von Eichel, secretary of the cabinet,
and commanded him to write to Marshal Schwerin and M. Von Podewils,
Minister for Foreign Affairs, and order them to come immediately to
Reinsberg. These gentlemen arrived forthwith. They daily held long and
very secret conferences with his majesty. They say that sovereigns have
sometimes authority even over their infirmities. The fever has shown
itself docile to the will of the monarch, for after two slight attacks
it has entirely left him.”--_Letters_, vol. iv., p. 18.
[37] Macaulay, speaking of the claims of Frederick to Silesia,
says: “They amount to this, that the house of Brandenburg had some
ancient pretensions to Silesia, and had, in the previous century,
been compelled, by hard usage on the part of the court of Vienna, to
waive those pretensions. It is certain that, whoever might have been
originally in the right, Prussia had submitted. Prince after prince of
the house of Brandenburg had acquiesced in the existing arrangement.
Nay, the court of Berlin had recently been allied with that of Vienna,
and had guaranteed the integrity of the Austrian states. Is it not
perfectly clear that, if antiquated claims are to be set up against
recent treaties and long possession, the world can never be at peace
for a day?”--_Life of Frederick the Great_, by MACAULAY, p. 62.
[38] “The King of Prussia, the _Anti-Machiavel_, had already fully
determined to commit the great crime of violating his plighted faith,
of robbing the ally whom he was bound to defend, and of plunging all
Europe into a long, bloody, and desolating war, and all this for no
other end whatever except that he might extend his dominions and see
his name in the gazettes. He determined to assemble a great army
with speed and secrecy to invade Silesia before Maria Theresa should
be apprised of his design, and to add that rich province to his
kingdom.”--_Life of Frederick the Great_, by MACAULAY, p. 61.
[39]
No, notwithstanding your virtues, notwithstanding your attractions,
My soul is not satisfied.
No, you are but a coquette;
You subjugate the hearts of others, and do not give your own.
[40] In this wicked world power seldom respects weakness. No sooner
was the emperor dead than four claimants sprang up to wrest from Maria
Theresa a part or the whole of the kingdoms she had inherited from
her father; and this, notwithstanding nearly all the powers of Europe
had guaranteed the Pragmatic Sanction. The Elector of Bavaria claimed
Bohemia, from an article in the will of the Emperor Ferdinand I., made
two centuries before. The King of Poland demanded the whole Austrian
succession, in virtue of the right of his wife, who was the eldest
daughter of the Emperor Joseph, elder brother of Charles VI. The King
of Spain claimed all the Austrian possessions, in consequence of his
descent from the wife of Philip II., who was daughter of the Emperor
Maximilian. The King of Sardinia hunted up an obsolete claim to the
duchy of Milan. But for the embarrassment into which these claims
plunged Maria Theresa, Frederick would hardly have ventured to invade
the province of Silesia. The woes which, in consequence, desolated the
nations of Europe, no mind but that of the omniscient God can gauge.
[41] The husband of Maria Theresa.
[42] Voltaire’s _Age of Louis XV._, vol. i., p. 54.
[43] Id.
[44] _Military Instructions_, p. 171.
[45] The army with which Frederick invaded Silesia consisted of a
general force of 28,000 men, which was followed by a rear-guard of
12,000. He had, in all, about 12,000 cavalry. The remainder were
foot soldiers. The artillery consisted of 20 three-pounders, 4
twelve-pounders, 4 howitzers, and 4 large mortars of fifty-pounds
calibre. His artillerymen numbered 166.
[46]
Straverunt alii nobis, nos posteritati:
Omnibus at Christus stravit ad astra viam.
[47] Charles Etienne Jordan was thirty-six years of age. He was the son
of wealthy parents in Berlin, and had been a preacher. The death of a
beloved wife, leaving him with an only daughter, had plunged him into
the profoundest melancholy. Frederick, when Crown Prince, took a great
fancy to him, making him nominally his reader, giving him charge of
his library. He is represented as a man of small figure, genial, and
affectionate, of remarkable vivacity, very courteous, and one who was
ever careful never, by word or action, to give pain to others.
[48] His next younger brother, Augustus William, who had accompanied
him on the expedition.
[49] Colonel Keyserling was a Courlander of good family. He had been
officially named as “Companion” of the Crown Prince in his youthful
days. Frederick entitled him _Cæsarion_, and ever regarded him as one
of the choicest of his friends. He was a man of very eccentric manners,
but warm-hearted and exceedingly companionable.
[50] Algarotti was a Venetian gentleman of much elegance of manners
and dress. He was very fervent in his utterance, and could talk
fluently upon every subject. He was just of the age of Frederick.
Being the son of wealthy parents, he had enjoyed great advantages of
study and travel, had already published several works, and was quite
distinguished as a universal genius, a logician, a poet, a philosopher,
and a connoisseur in all the arts. He was a great favorite of
Frederick, and accompanied him to Strasbourg and on this expedition to
Silesia. Wilhelmina describes him as “one of the first _beaux esprits_
of the age,” and “as one who does the expenses of the conversation.”
[51] Leopold of Anhalt-Dessau was one of the most extraordinary men of
any age. His life was but a constant whirlwind of battle, almost from
his birth in 1676, to his death in 1747. His face was of the “color of
gunpowder,” and his fearless, tumultuous soul was in conformity with
the rugged body in which it was incased. The whole character of the
man may be inferred from the following prayer, which it is said he was
accustomed to offer before entering battle: “O God! assist our side. At
least, avoid assisting the enemy, and leave the result to me.” Leopold,
called the _Old Dessauer_, and his son, the _Young Leopold_, were of
essential service to Frederick in his wars. Pages might be filled
illustrative of the character of this eccentric man.
[52] _Military Instructions_, p. 113.
[53] It was the day before. But it is not surprising that the
bewildered young king should have been somewhat confused in his dates.
[54] Monsieur le Baron Bielfeld, _Lettres Familières et Autres_, tome
i., p. 3.
[55] “Some men,” says a quaint writer, “have a God to swear by, though
they have none to pray to.”
[56] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xi., p. 90.
[57] “Valori was one night with him, and, on rising to take leave, the
fat hand, sticking probably in the big waistcoat pocket, twitched out a
little diplomatic-looking Note, which Frederick, with gentle adroitness
(permissible in such circumstances), set his foot upon, till Valori had
bowed himself out.”--CARLYLE, vol. iii., p. 330.
[58] _The Iron Crown._ It was so called because there was entwined,
amidst its priceless gems and exquisitely wrought frosted gold, some
iron wire, said to be drawn from one of the spikes which had been
driven through one of the hands of our Savior.
[59] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, vol. ii., p. 84.
[60] “Sure enough, the Sea Powers are checkmated now. Let them make
the least attempt in favor of the queen if they dare. Holland can
be overrun from Osnabrück quarter at a day’s warning. Little George
has his Hanoverians, his subsidized Hessians, Danes, in Hanover; his
English on Lexden Heath. Let him come one step over the marches,
Maillebois and the Old Dessauer swallow him. It is a surprising stroke
of theatrical-practical Art, brought about, to old Fleury’s sorrow, by
the genius of Belleisle, and they say of Madame Châteauroux; enough
to strike certain Governing Persons breathless for some time, and
denotes that the Universal Hurricane, or World Tornado has broken
out.”--CARLYLE, vol. iii., p. 357.
[61] Count Brühl was for many years the first minister of the king. He
was a weak, extravagant man, reveling in voluptuousness. His decisions
could always be controlled by an ample bribe. His sole object seemed to
be his own personal luxurious indulgence. “Public affairs,” he said,
“will carry themselves on, provided we do not trouble ourselves about
them.”
Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, in his letters from Dresden, writes:
“Now, as every thing of every kind, from the highest affairs of the
state down to operas and hunting, are all in Count Brühl’s immediate
care, I leave you to judge how his post is executed. His expenses
are immense. He keeps three hundred servants and as many horses. It
is said, and I believe it, that he takes money for every thing the
king disposes of in Poland, where they frequently have very great
employments to bestow.”
[62] _Histoire de mon Temps._
[63] _Campagnes de le Roi de Prusse_, p. 5.
[64] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, xvii., p. 196.
[65] _Campaigns of the King of Prussia_, p. 57.
[66] _Correspondance de Frédéric II._
[67] “Huge huzzaing, herald-trumpeting, bob-major-ing, burst forth from
all Prussian towns, especially from all Silesian ones, in those June
days, as the drums beat homeward; elaborate illuminations in the short
nights, with bonfires, with transparencies; transparency inscribed
‘Frederico Magno (To Frederick _the Great_),’ in one small instance,
still of premature nature.”--CARLYLE.
[68] Bielfeld, 251.
[69] _Histoire de mon Temps._
[70] Bielfeld, p. 251.
[71] It would seem that Voltaire was sent to Frederick as the secret
agent and spy of the French minister. “Voltaire,” writes Macaulay, “was
received with every mark of respect and friendship. The negotiation
was of an extraordinary description. Nothing can be conceived more
whimsical than the conferences which took place between the first
literary man and the first practical man of the age, whom a strange
weakness had induced to change their parts. The great poet would
talk of nothing but treaties and guarantees, and the king of nothing
but metaphors and rhymes. On one occasion Voltaire put into his
majesty’s hand a paper on the state of Europe, and received it back
with verses scrawled on the margin. In secret they both laughed at
each other. Voltaire did not spare the king’s poems, and the king has
left on record his opinion of Voltaire’s diplomacy, saying, ‘He had no
credentials, and the whole mission was a mere farce.’”
As a specimen of the character of the document above alluded to, we
give the following. Voltaire, in what he deemed a very important state
paper, had remarked,
“The partisans of Austria burn with the desire to open the campaign
in Silesia again. Have you, in that case, any ally but France? And,
however potent you are, is an ally useless to you?”
The king scribbled on the margin,
“Mon ami,
Don’t you see
We will receive them
A la Barbari!”
[72] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, XXVII., vol. i., p. 387.
[73] Letters of Bielfeld, vol. i., p. 188.
[74] In Pöllnitz’s memoirs and letters he repeated the rumor that the
great elector’s second wife, an ancestor of Frederick, had attempted to
poison her step-son.
[75] Voltaire is proverbially inaccurate in details. It was the king’s
invariable custom to rise at _four_ in summer and six in winter.
[76] “In his retreat Frederick is reported to have lost above thirty
thousand men, together with most of his heavy baggage and artillery,
and many wagons laden with provisions and plunder.”--TOWER’S _Life and
Reign of Frederick_, vol. i., p. 209.
[77] Carlyle, vol. iv., p. 50.
[78] Carlyle, vol. iv., p. 76.
[79] Carlyle, vol. iv., p. 54.
[80] Carlyle, vol. i., p. 302.
[81] Carlyle, vol. iv., p. 80.
[82] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. ii., p. 218.
[83] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. iii., p. 123.
[84] Scamander, a small stream in Asia Minor, celebrated in the songs
of Homer.
[85] Robinson’s Dispatch, August 4, 1745.
[86] _Histoire de mon Temps._
[87] In this, as in most other similar cases, there is considerable
diversity of statement as to the precise number of troops engaged
on either side. But there is no question that the Austrians were in
numbers far superior to the Prussians.
[88] Müller, _Tableaux des guerres de Frédéric le Grand_.
[89] _Mémoires de Frédéric, Baron de Trenck._
[90] Carlyle, vol. iv., p. 171.
[91] Id. ibid.
[92] Voltaire, speaking of this action, says: “It was the famous old
Prince of Anhalt who gained this decisive victory. He had been a
warrior fifty years, and was the first who had entered into the lines
of the French army at Turin in 1707. For conducting the infantry he was
esteemed the most experienced officer in Europe. This great battle was
the last that filled up the measure of his military glory--the only
glory which he had enjoyed, for fighting was his only province.”--_Age
of Louis XV._, chap. xvii.
[93] “About three pounds ten shillings, I think--better than ten
pounds in our day to a common man, and better than one hundred pounds
to a Linsenbarth.”--CARLYLE.
[94] _Commentaire Historique sur les Œuvres de l’Auteur de la Henriade._
[95] _Supplément aux Œuvres Posthumes de Frédéric_, ii.
[96] Voltaire boasted that he had gained the cause, because the Jew was
fined thirty shillings. But he knew full well, as did every one else,
that the result of the suit covered him with dishonor.
[97] This was a private letter which reflected severely upon the
character of Maupertuis.
[98] Thiebault, _Souvenirs de Vingt Ans de Séjour à Berlin_.
[99] _Biographie Universelle._
[100] In a letter which the Prince of Prussia, Augustus William, wrote
to the king, remonstrating against those encroachments which were
arraying all Europe against him, he says: “Russia is persuaded that
your designs upon her occasioned the applications which you have made
to the court of Vienna to substitute a truce of two years in room of
a solemn treaty of peace. She believes that you wanted to tie up the
hands of the empress queen so as to put it out of her power to succor
her ally; that a war against Russia was the principal object of your
intrigues in Sweden; that you have designs upon Courland; that Polish
Prussia and Pomerania would be very convenient to you; and that you
find Russia the greatest obstacle to this rounding of your dominions.
In short, she believes that she has the same interest in your abasement
as the house of Austria.”--_Vie de Frédéric II., Roi de Prusse_, t.
ii., p. 318.
[101] Age of Louis XV., chapter xxxii.
[102] Archenholtz, _Histoire de la Guerre de cet Homme_.
[103] An uncle of the great Mirabeau.
[104] The Duchess of Pompadour.
[105] In the years 1508–1509 the celebrated league of Cambrai was
formed by Louis XII. of France, Maximilian, Emperor of Germany,
Ferdinand, King of Spain, and Pope Julius II., against Venice. The
league was called _Holy_ because the pope took part in it.
[106]
“Ainsi mon seul asile en mon unique port
Se trouve, chère sœur, dans les bràs de la mort.”
[107] _Correspondance Familière et Amicale_, tome i., p. 31.
[108] “Heaven!” This was probably a slip of the pen. Frederick would
have been perplexed to explain who or what he meant by “Heaven.” It
would, however, subsequently appear that he used the word as synonymous
with _fate_ or _destiny_.
[109] The atheistic pen of Frederick will sometimes slip.
[110] _Memoires pour servir à la Vie de M. De Voltaire._
[111] Carlyle, vol. v., p. 168.
[112] Archenholtz, vol. i., p. 209.
[113]
“Gieb dass ich thu’ mit Fleiss was mir zu thun gebühret,
Wozu mich dein Befehl in meinem Stande führet,
Gieb dass ich’s thue bald, zu der Zeit da ich’s soll;
Und wenn ich’s thu’, so gieb dass es gerathe wohl.”
[114] “Indeed, there is in him, in those grim days, a tone as of
trust in the Eternal, as of real religious piety and faith, scarcely
noticeable elsewhere in his history. His religion, and he had, in
withered forms, a good deal of it, if we will look well, being almost
always in a strictly voiceless state--nay, ultra voiceless, or voiced
the wrong way, as is too well known!”--CARLYLE.
[115]
“Nun danket alle Gott
Mit Herzen, Mund und Händen,
Der grosse Dinge thut,
An uns und allen Enden.”
[116] _Vie de Frédéric II., Roi de Prusse, Strasbourg_, 1788, t. ii.,
p. 317.
[117] Carlyle.
[118] The son of the late Prince of Prussia. He was now heir to the
crown.
[119] Carlyle.
[120] London Magazine, vol. xxvii., p. 670.
[121] This confession of the king is worthy of notice. His _philosophy_
afforded him no consolation in these hours of anguish. It is faith in
Christ alone which can “take from death its sting, and from the grave
its victory.”
[122] _Correspondance de Voltaire avec le Roi de Prusse._
[123] Archenholtz, _Histoire de la Guerre de Sept Ans_.
[124] _Histoire de la Guerre de Sept Ans, par Frédéric II._
[125] “The loss of his Wilhelmina, had there been no other grief, has
darkened all his life to Frederick. Readers are not prepared for the
details of grief we could give, and the settled gloom of mind they
indicate. A loss irreparable and immeasurable; the light of life, the
one heart that loved him, gone. All winter he dwells internally on the
sad matter, though soon falling silent on it to others.”--CARLYLE,
vol. v., p. 318.
[126] Carlyle, vol. v., p. 314.
[127] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xix., p. 56.
[128] _Mémoires pour servir à la Vie de M. De Voltaire, Ecrit par
Lui-même._
[129] The Duchess of Pompadour.
[130] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xxiii., p. 53.
[131] _Histoire de la Guerre de Sept Ans, par Frédéric II._
[132] General Haddick was in command of an Austrian force marching to
join the Russians. Frederick had surprised one of his detachments.
[133] General Finck, one of the most efficient of Frederick’s generals,
to whom we shall often hereafter refer.
[134] This was a mistake. Frederick had probably been misinformed.
[135] There were three horses shot under Frederick; but from the third
the king dismounted before he fell.
[136] Haddick and Loudon were two of the most able generals in the army
of Soltikof.
[137] Prince Henry.
[138] This was a slip of the pen. The battle of Kunersdorf was on the
12th.
[139] “I pray God!” Even the heart of the atheist in hours of calamity
yearns for a God.
[140] The king here undoubtedly refers to the vial of poison which he
invariably carried in his waistcoat pocket.
[141] “Of the 14,000 men who had made the expedition with him, only
3000 remained unwounded at the time of the capitulation.”--_Life of
Frederick II._, by LORD DOVER, vol. ii., p. 134.
[142] Carlyle, vol. v., p. 469.
[143] _Biographie Universelle._
[144] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xxii., p. 61.
[145] Voltaire’s niece, Madame Denis, was with him when he was arrested
at Frankfort, and she was terribly frightened.
[146] _Œuvres de Voltaire_, t. lxxx., p. 313.
[147] Archenholtz, vol. ii., p. 53.
[148] “The symptoms we decipher in these letters, and otherwise, are
those of a man drenched in misery; but used to his black element,
unaffectedly defiant of it, or not at the pains to defy it; occupied
only to do his very utmost in it, with or without success, till the end
come.”--CARLYLE.
[149] Annual Register, vol. iii., p. 209.
[150] Life of Frederick II., by Lord Dover, vol. ii., p. 152.
[151] The king had a coat torn from him by a rebounding cannon-ball,
and a horse shot under him.
[152] _Œuvres Posthumes de Frédéric II._
[153] “No human intellect in our day could busy itself with
understanding these thousandfold marchings, manœuvrings, assaults,
surprisals, sudden facings about (retreat changed to advance);
nor could the powerfulest human memory, not exclusively devoted
to study the art military under Frederick, remember them when
understood.”--CARLYLE, vol. vi., p. 59.
[154] Great in small things, small in great things.
[155] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xix., p. 139.
[156]
When one has lost every thing, when one has no longer hope,
Life is a disgrace, and death a duty.
[157] Carlyle.
[158] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xix., p. 204.
[159] _Correspondance Familière et Amicale de Frédéric, Roi de Prusse_,
t. ii., p. 140.
[160] Carlyle.
[161] Life of Frederick II., by Lord Dover, vol. ii., p. 170.
[162] Walpole’s Letters to Sir Horace Mann, vol. i., p. 6, 7.
[163] Maria Theresa of Austria, Elizabeth, Empress of Russia, and the
Marchioness of Pompadour, who was virtually Queen of France.
[164] _Vie de Frédéric II., Roi de Prusse_, t. ii., p. 141.
[165] _Prusse_, t. ii., p. 282.
[166] Küster, _Charakterzüge des General Lieutenant v. Saldern_, p. 40
[167] Carlyle.
[168] Archenholtz, vol. ii., p. 262.
[169] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xix., p. 281.
[170] Carlyle.
[171] Carlyle.
[172] Carlyle.
[173] Military Instructions, written by the King of Prussia, p. 176.
[174] Archenholtz, _Histoire de la Guerre de Sept Ans_.
[175] “Northern tourists, Wraxall and others, passing that way, speak
of this princess down to recent times as a phenomenon of the place.
Apparently a high and peremptory kind of lady, disdaining to be bowed
too low by her disgraces. She survived all her generation, and the next
and the next, and, indeed, into our own. Died 18th February, 1840, at
the age of ninety-six.”--CARLYLE.
[176] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. vi., p. 23.
[177] _Œuvres Posthumes de D’Alembert_, t. i., p. 197, cited by
Carlyle, vol. vi., p. 283.
[178] _Histoire ou Anecdotes sur la Révolution de Russie en l’année
1762, par M. Rulhière._
[179] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. vi., p. 26.
[180] _Correspondance avec l’Electrice Marie-Antoine._
[181] Pezzl, _Vie de Loudon_, vol. ii., p. 29.
[182] “Kaunitz,” writes Frederick, “had a clear intellect, greatly
twisted by perversities of temper, especially by a self-conceit and
arrogance which were boundless. He did not talk, but preach. At the
smallest interruption he would stop short in indignant surprise. It has
happened that at the council-board in Schönbrunn, when her imperial
majesty has asked some explanation of a word or thing not understood by
her, Kaunitz made his bow and quitted the room.”
[183] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xxvi., p. 30.
[184] Schnitzler, vol. ii., p. 247.
[185] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. xxvi., p. 345.
[186] Hormayr, _Taschenbuch_, 1831, S. 66, cited by Dr. J. D. E.
Preuss, Historiographer of Brandenburg, in his life of _Friedrich der
Grosse_, vol. iv., p. 38.
[187] Preuss, vol. iv., p. 39.
[188] G. Freytag, _Neue Bilder aus dem Leben des deutschen Volkes_,
cited by Carlyle, vol. vi., p. 378.
[189] Freytag, p. 397.
[190] _Œuvres de Frédéric_, t. vi., p. 124.
[191] Carlyle, vol. vi., p. 446–449.
[192] Schmettau, vol. xxv., p. 30.
[193] Preuss, t. iv., p. 187.
[194] Fischer, vol. ii., p. 445, as cited by Carlyle.
[195] Carlyle, vol. vi., p. 529.
[196] Carlyle.
[197] _Correspondance Inédite de Marie Antoinette_, p. 137.
[198] _Mémoires et Mélanges Historiques et Littéraires, par le Prince
de Ligny._
[199] Dr. Moore, View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland,
and Germany.
[200] Carlyle, vol. vi., p. 535.
[201] Rödenbeck, vol. iii., p. 365.
INDEX.
A.
Abdication of Frederick William contemplated, 50.
Absolutism of Frederick William (_note_), 43.
Academy of Sciences established in Berlin, 191;
Frederick’s interest in the, 390.
Adelbert, Bishop of Prag, his missionary spirit, 18.
Adolph Frederick of Sweden marries Frederick’s sister Ulrique, 323.
Alarm of the monarchies of Europe at the successes of Frederick the
Great, 267;
of the British Cabinet, 286.
Alembert, D’, a French Philosopher and friend of Frederick, 540.
Algarotti, Count, Italian, at Reinsberg, 171;
_Note_, 233;
describes a Review of the Guards, 379.
Alliance of European Powers against Frederick threatened, 238.
Amelia, Princess, of England, her constancy to Frederick, 150.
Anecdote of Frederick William, 20;
of the Berlin Student, 27;
of Frederick William, 38;
of M. Von Bentenreider, 44;
of Scenes in the Tobacco Parliament, 48;
of Frederica Louisa, 56;
of Frederick William in the Music-room, 67;
of Wilhelmina and Fritz, 78;
of a Raven, 115;
of Frederick William, 161;
of the French Minister (_note_), 192;
of Frederick the Great and Voltaire (_note_), 199;
of Count Dufour, 200;
of Frederick the Great, 272, 300;
of the Old Dessauer, 346;
of Frederick and the Protestant Peasants, 353;
of the Hungarian Count, 378;
of Colonel Chasot and an Austrian Officer, 380;
of Frederick, 399;
of the Prussian Dragoon, 416;
of Frederick and the Austrians, 443;
of Frederick before the Battle of Zorndorf, 460;
of Frederick, 517, 518, 525, 536;
of Elizabeth of Brunswick, wife of the Crown Prince, 537;
of Frederick, 556, 557, 561;
of one of Frederick’s Dogs, 568.
Animosity between Frederick William and George II. of England
(_note_), 55.
Announcement of Prussian Victory at Mollwitz--Frederick’s
Chagrin, 259.
Anspach, Marquis of, marries a sister of Frederick, 66.
Anti-Machiavel, Frederick’s protestations in, 217.
Archenholtz: he writes of Frederick after Kolin, 417;
of Frederick’s treatment of his Captives, 499.
Argens, Marquis D’, his character, 396.
Attack upon Frederick’s Supply-train from Troppau described, 453.
Augustus William, brother of Frederick, betrothed, 210;
his Grief and Death, 451.
Augustus III., King of Poland, Frederick’s counsels to him, 298;
his Exasperation against Frederick, 305.
Aulic Council held at Presburg, 284.
Austria favors Catholicism, 224.
Austrian Envoy, the, his suspicions of Frederick, 219.
Austrian Retreat after Leuthen, 442;
after Torgau, 514.
Austrians, Cruelty of the, 364;
defeated by Prince Henry, 533.
B.
Baireuth, Frederick, Duke of, 76;
he visits Berlin, 120;
received with favor by Wilhelmina, 121;
Character of the old Marquis of, 147;
Frederick the Great visits Wilhelmina in her home at, 161.
Barberina, Señora, her Adventures, 318, 319.
Bathyani, General, and his Pandours, 332.
Baumgarten, Conflict at, 241;
Neipperg at, 283.
Belgard, Frederick William reviews a Regiment at, 179.
Belleisle, Lord, commands French troops, 284;
his Interview with Frederick, 315.
Berlin, Palace of, its Splendor, 37;
Frederick William arrives at, 97;
Grand Review at, 119;
Description of the Palace of, 129;
Wilhelmina writes of, 134;
Grand Entrèe of Frederick with his Bride, 151;
the Princess Royal resides at, 154;
Frederick William returns from Lithuania to, 180;
he bids a final farewell to, 180;
Wilhelmina visits, 210;
Frederick the Great returns from Silesia to, 236;
Frederick again returns to, 297;
the Gayety of, 322;
Alarm in, 348;
Carousal at, 385;
an Austrian Division on the march to attack, 428;
Terror at, 488;
besieged by the Allies, 508;
the Garrison retires, and the City surrenders, 509;
Illuminations in, after the Treaty of Peace, 535;
Congress at, 555.
Berneck, Wilhelmina writes Frederick of, 156.
Bernstadt, Frederick surprises and scatters an Austrian Division
at, 424.
Besserer, M., Chaplain of the Garrison at Cüstrin, 107.
Bevern, Prince, holds Breslau, 434.
Bielfeld, Baron, describes the Princess Elizabeth Christina, 144;
his Account of a Carousal at Reinsberg, 169;
an Accident to, 171;
his Account of the Crown Prince, 171, 172;
of Frederick William (_note_), 181;
he relates a Dialogue (_note_), 187;
his Conversation with Frederick after the Death of his Father, 189;
he writes (_note_), 212;
of Frederick, 268;
he describes Frederick’s Manner at the Marriage of his Brother, 297;
he relates Frederick’s Passage through Frankfort, 314;
he describes the Leave-taking of Ulrique, and the Berlin Court, 324.
Bohemia, Prussian Forces enter, 330.
Borck, Baron von, counsels Frederick William, 61;
his proposal to Sophie Dorothee, 76;
he commands at Maaseyk, 208;
he is charged with proposals to General Roth, the Austrian
Commander, 234.
Borne, short but bloody Conflict at, 438.
Botta, Marquis of, the Austrian Envoy, 220.
Brandenburg, the Duchy of, 18;
its Capital, 19.
Breslau, Capital of Silesia, 228;
Terms of Surrender offered, 229;
terms of its surrender to Frederick, 281;
Frederick crowned Sovereign Duke of Silesia at, 294;
afterward retaken by Austria, 435;
Frederick concentrates troops at, 507;
he establishes Winter Quarters at, 527.
Brieg, Siege of, raised, 250;
Frederick encamped around, 265.
Britz, immense Concourse at, to meet Frederick on his return to
Berlin, 373.
Broglio, Marshal, commandant in Strasbourg, 200.
Browne, General, an Austrian commander in Silesia, 223;
his skillful Manœuvre to relieve the Saxons, 408.
Brühl, Count, Prime Minister of Augustus III., 299;
his Character (_note_), 299.
Brünn, Frederick besieges, 304.
Brunswick, secret Conclave, and Initiation of the Crown Prince into
the Order of Freemasons at, 176.
Buddenbrock, General, his mean office, 91.
Budischau, Castle of, used as Saxon Barracks, 302.
Budweis, Frederick takes possession of, 333.
Bunzelwitz, Camp of, celebrated in history, 523.
C.
Captain of Giant Guards, 43.
Caroline, Queen of England, Sophie Dorothee writes to, 74.