But Frederic II. wrote, after the battle of Lowositz, to Schwerin: "Never have any troops done such wonders of valour since I have had the honour of commanding them."

He whose narrative we have had was one of them.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE STATE OF FREDERIC THE GREAT.

(1700.)

What was it that after the Thirty Years' War fixed the eyes of politicians upon the small State on the north-eastern frontier of Germany, towards Sweden and Poland, that was struggling against the Hapsburgers and Bourbons? The heritage of the Hohenzollerns was no favoured fertile country, in which the peasant dwelt comfortably on well-cultivated acres, or to which rich merchants brought in galleons, Italian silks, and the spices and ingots of the new world. It was a poor devastated, sandy country; the cities were burnt, the huts of the country people demolished, the fields uncultivated, many square miles denuded of men and beasts of burden, and nature restored to its primitive state. When Frederic William, in 1640, assumed the Electoral hat, he found nothing but contested claims to scattered territories, of about 1450 square miles,[[11]] and in all the fortresses of his family domains, were established domineering conquerors. Out of an insecure desert did this clever double-dealing Prince establish his State, with a cunning and recklessness in regard to his neighbours which excited a sensation even in that unscrupulous period, but at the same time with an heroic vigour and enlarged views, by which he more than once attained to a higher conception of German honour, than the Emperor or any other prince of the Empire.

Nevertheless, when the astute politician died in 1688, what he left behind was still only a small nation, not to be reckoned among the Powers of Europe. For though his sovereignty comprehended 2034 square miles, the population, at the utmost, only amounted to 1,300,000. When Frederic II., a century later, assumed the dominions of his ancestors, he only inherited a population of 2,240,000 souls, far less than is now to be found in the one province of Silesia. What was it then, that, immediately after the battles of the Thirty Years' War, excited the jealousy of all the governments, especially of the Imperial house, and that made such bitter opponents of the hitherto warm friends of the Brandenbergers? For two centuries, both Germans and foreigners placed their hopes on this new State; equally long have Germans and foreigners, first with scorn and then with hatred, called it an artificial superstructure, which could not maintain itself against violent storms, and which had unjustifiably intruded itself among the Powers of Europe. How came it at last that, after the death of Frederic the Great, unprejudiced judges declared that it would be better to cease prophesying the downfall of this much-hated State? After each prostration it rose so vigorously, its injuries and wounds from war were so quickly healed, as has not been the case with any other; wealth and intelligence assumed larger proportions there than in any portion of Germany!

Undoubtedly it was a peculiar nature, a new phase of German character, which shewed itself in the Hohenzollerns and their people in the conquered Sclavonian territory. It appears that there were greater contrasts of character there; for the virtues and failings of its governors, the greatness and weakness of their policy, appeared there in glaring contrast: narrow-mindedness became more striking, shortcomings appeared more conspicuous, and that which was worthy of admiration, more wonderful. It appeared that this State produced everything that was most strange and uncommon, and only the quiet mediocrity, which may elsewhere be useful and bearable, could not exist there without injury.

Much of this arose from the position of the country: it had as contiguous neighbours Swedes, Sclavonians, French, and Dutch. There was scarcely a question of European politics which did not produce welfare or injury to this State; scarce a complication which active princes did not take advantage of to put in claims. The failing power of Sweden, the already beginning process of dissolution in Poland, occasioned perplexity of views; the preponderating power of France, the suspicious friendship of Holland, necessitated prompt and vigorous foresight. After the first year in which the Elector Frederic William took possession, by force and cunning, of his own fortresses, it became manifest that there, in a corner of the German soil, a powerful, circumspect military government would not be wanting for the preservation of Germany. After the beginning of the French war, in 1674, Europe beheld with astonishment the wary policy that proceeded from this little spot, which undertook, with heroic daring, to defend the west frontier of Germany against the all-powerful King of France.

There was, also, perhaps something peculiar in the character of the Brandenburg people, in which both princes and subjects had an equal share. The district of Prussia, up to the time of Frederic the Great, had given to Germany comparatively few men of learning, poets, or artists; even the passionate zeal of the period of the Reformation appeared there to be damped. The people who dwelt in the frontier countries, mostly of Lower Saxon origin, with a small mixture of Sclavonian blood, were a hard, rough race, not very pleasing in their modes of life, of uncommonly sharp understanding and sober judgment. In the capital they had been, from ancient times, sarcastic and voluble in speech; but in all the provinces they were capable of great exertion, laborious, tenacious, and of great power of endurance.