FREDERICK II., KING OF PRUSSIA, ÆT. 58.
True it is, it is not want of material, but the overwhelming multiplicity of documents, which renders it difficult to trace out a clear-cut sketch of Frederick the Great; and that we may do it more concisely, and yet entertainingly, a series of panoramic pictures will perhaps be the best method of achieving the desired end.
“About one hundred years ago there used to be seen sauntering on the terraces of Sans Souci for a short time in the afternoon—or you might have met him elsewhere at an earlier hour, riding or driving in a rapid business manner on the open roads, or through the scraggy woods and avenues of that intricate, amphibious Potsdam region—a highly interesting, lean little old man, of alert though slightly stooping figure, whose name among strangers was King Friedrich the Second, or Frederick the Great of Prussia, and at home among the common people, who much loved and esteemed him, was Vater Fritz, Father Fred.
“He is a king, every inch of him, though without the trappings of a king. He presents himself in a Spartan simplicity of vesture: no crown but an old military cocked hat, generally old, or trampled and kneaded into absolute softness if new; no sceptre but one like Agamemnon’s—a walking-stick cut from the woods, which serves also as a riding-stick; and for royal robes a mere soldier’s blue coat with red facings, coat likely to be old, and sure to have a good deal of Spanish snuff on the breast of it; rest of the apparel dim, unobtrusive in color or cut, ending in high over-knee military boots, which may be brushed, but are not permitted to be blackened or varnished.
“The man is not of god-like physiognomy, any more than of imposing stature or costume: close-shut mouth with thin lips, prominent jaws and nose, receding brow, by no means of Olympian height; head, however, is of long form, and has superlative gray eyes in it; not what is called a beautiful man, nor yet, by all appearance, what is called a happy. The face bears evidence of many sorrows, of much hard labor done in this world. Quiet stoicism, great unconscious, and some conscious, pride, well tempered with a cheery mockery of humor, are written on that old face, which carries its chin well forward in spite of the slight stoop about the neck; snuffy nose rather flung into the air, under its old cocked hat, like an old snuffy lion on the watch, and such a pair of eyes as no man, or lion, or lynx, of that century bore elsewhere. Those eyes, which, at the bidding of his great soul, fascinated you with seduction or with terror; most excellent, potent, brilliant eyes, swift-darting as the stars, steadfast as the sun; gray, we said, of the azure-gray color; large enough, not of glaring size; the habitual expression of them vigilance and penetrating sense, and gives us the notion of a lambent outer radiance springing from some great inner sea of light and fire in the man. The voice, if he speak to you, is clear, melodious, and sonorous; all tones are in it: ingenuous inquiry, graceful sociality, light-flowing banter up to definite word of command, up to desolating word of rebuke and reprobation.”
Such is the picture of Frederick the Great in his later days; but now we will turn back our panoramic views, and behold the setting of his early years: and, to a clearer understanding of those events, an aid may be found in glancing at his native country, Prussia. For many centuries the country on the southern coasts of the Baltic Sea was inhabited by wild tribes of barbarians, almost as savage as the beasts which roamed in their forests. After a time the tribes, tamed and partly civilized, produced a race of tall and manly proportions, fair in complexion, with flaxen hair, stern aspect, great physical strength, and most formidable foes in battle. Centuries passed, of which history notes only wars and woes, when from this chaotic barbarism order emerged. Small states were organized, and a political life began. In 1700 one of the petty provinces was called the Marquisate of Brandenburg, whose marquis was Frederick, of the family of Hohenzollern. To the east of this province was a duchy, called Prussia, which was at length added to the domains of Frederick, the marquis of Brandenburg, and he obtained from the emperor of Germany the recognition of his dominions as a kingdom, and assumed the title of Frederick I. of Prussia. On the 16th of November, 1700, his ambassador returned triumphantly from Vienna. “The Kaiser has consented; we are to wear a royal crown on the top of our periwig.” Thus Prussia became a kingdom. When Frederick was crowned king of Prussia, most gorgeous was the pomp, most royal was the grandeur, of the imposing ceremonies. Carlyle says:—
“The magnificence of Frederick’s processionings into Konigsburg, and of his coronation ceremonials there, what pen can describe it! what pen need! Folio volumes with copper-plates have been written on it, and are not yet all pasted in band-boxes or slit into spills. ‘The diamond buttons of his majesty’s coat’ (snuff-colored or purple, I cannot recollect) cost £1,500 apiece. By this one feature judge what an expensive Herr. Streets were hung with cloth, carpeted with cloth, no end of draperies and cloth; your oppressed imagination feels as if there was cloth enough of scarlet and other bright colors to thatch the Arctic Zone; with illuminations, cannon-salvos, fountains running wine. Frederick himself put the crown on his head, ‘King here in my own right, after all,’ and looked his royalest, we may fancy,—the kind eyes of him, almost fierce for moments, and the ‘cheerfulness of pride’ well blending with something of awful.”
And now we must hang up the picture of Frederick the grandfather, for there has another Frederick come to claim our attention. “Courage, poor old grandfather! Poor old man! he got his own back half broken by a careless nurse letting him fall, and has slightly stooped ever since, much against his will, for he would fain have been beautiful. But here is a new edition of a Frederick, the first having gone off with so little effect. This one’s back is still unbroken. Who knows but Heaven may be kinder to this one? Heaven was much kinder to this one. Him Heaven had kneaded of a more potent stuff; a mighty fellow, this one, and a strange; of a swift, far-darting nature this one, like an Apollo clad in sunbeams and in lightnings, and with a back which all the world could not succeed in breaking.”
Between the old grandfather and this famous Frederick there hangs the picture of still another Frederick, only a little less famous,—Frederick Wilhelm, crown prince of Prussia when his famous son was born, afterwards second king of Prussia, and withal most ferocious in his nature, part bear and part maniac; his picture is thus graphically sketched.