He sits down to dinner precisely at noon. Of late he allows more time to this repast than formerly. It is generally after three before he leaves the company. Eight or nine of his officers are commonly invited to dine with him. Since our coming to Potsdam, Count Nesselrode, and the Abbé Bastiani, two men of letters, were the only company, besides the officers, who dined with the King, while he lived in his usual way at the Old Palace of Sans-Souci; and those two were then of his party almost every day. The Count has now left this Court; the Abbé has an apartment in the Palace. He is an Italian by birth, a man of wit, and an excellent companion.
At table, the King likes that every person should appear to be on a footing, and that the conversation should be carried on with perfect freedom. The thing, by the way, is impossible. That confidential unrestrained flow of the heart, which takes place in a society of equals, is a pleasure which a despotic Prince can never taste. However, his Majesty desires that it may be so, and they make the best of it they can.
At one of these meetings, when the King was in a gay humour, he said to Bastiani,—When you shall obtain the tiara, which your exemplary piety must one day procure you, how will you receive me when I arrive at Rome to pay my duty to your Holiness?—I will immediately give orders, replied the Abbé, with great readiness, Qu’on fasse entrer l’aigle noir,—qu’il me couvre de ses ailes, mais—qu’il m’épargne de son bec.
Nobody says more lively things in conversation than the King himself. Many of his bons mots are repeated here, I shall only mention one, which is at once an instance of his wit, and greatness of mind, in rendering justice to the merit of a man who has caused him more vexation than perhaps any other person alive.—When the King of Prussia had a personal meeting some years since with the Emperor; they always dined together, a certain number of their principal officers being with them. One day, General Laudohn was going to place himself at the bottom of the table, when the King, who was at the head, called to him, Venez, je vous en prie, Monsieur Laudohn, placez vous ici. J’aime infiniment mieux vous avoir de mon cotè que vis-à-vis.
Though all the cordiality of friendship, and the full charms of unreserved society, cannot exist where the fortune of every other individual depends on the will of one of the company; yet the King endeavours to put every one as much at his ease as the nature of the case will admit, and I have heard of his bearing some very severe retorts with perfect good humour. He has too much wit himself, and is too fond of it in others, to repel its attacks with any other weapons than those which it furnishes. None but the most absurd of dunces could attempt to rally, without being able to allow of raillery; and only the meanest of souls would think of revenging the liberties taken with a companion by the power of a King.
A very striking instance of the freedom which may be used with him occurred a little before the late reviews, and what makes it more remarkable, it happened, not during the gaiety of the table, but on the very scene of military strictness.
Two regiments were in the field. That of General —— was one of them. This officer is fond of company, and passes more of his time in the society of strangers, and with the foreign ministers, than most others in the Prussian service.—Something, it is probable, had chagrined the King that morning. While the regiment advanced in a line, he said to the General, who stood near him, Votre regiment n’est pas aligné, Monsieur ——, et ce n’est pas surprenant, vous jouez tant aux cartes. The General called out instantly with a loud voice to the regiment, Alte! and they immediately stopped: then, turning to the King, he said, Il n’est pas question, Sire, de mes cartes—Mais, ayez la bonté de regarder si ce regiment n’est pas aligné.—The regiment was in a very straight line, and the King moved away without speaking, and seemingly displeased, not with the General, but with himself.—This manly officer never had reason afterwards to believe that the King had taken his freedom amiss.
I have already said, that it is absolutely impossible for any man to enjoy an office in the King of Prussia’s service without performing the duty of it. He is himself active and assiduous, and he makes it a point that all his ministers and servants shall be so too. But to those who know their business, and perform it exactly, he is an easy and equitable master.
A gentleman, who has been many years about his person, and is now one of his aid-de-camps, assured me of this:—The King understands what ought to be done: and his servants are never exposed to the ridiculous or contradictory orders of ignorance, or the mortifications of caprice.
His favourites, of whatever kind, never were able to acquire influence over him in any thing regarding business. Nobody ever knew better how to discriminate the merit of those who serve him in the important departments of state, from theirs who contribute to his amusement. A man who performs the duty of his office with alertness and fidelity, has nothing to apprehend from the King’s being fond of the company and conversion of his enemy. Let the one be regaled at the King’s table every day, while the other never receives a single invitation; yet the real merit of both is known:—and if his adversary should ever try to turn the King’s favour to the purposes of private hatred or malice, the attempt will be repelled with disdain, and the evil he intended to another, will fall on himself.