“I will not dispute the superiority of your arms,” replied Albert; “I will only beg of you to remember, that mine will be at your service whenever you want or wish for them.”
This temperate and friendly reply entirely calmed Laniska. “What would become of Augustus Laniska,” said he, giving Albert his hand, “if he had not such a friend as you are? My mother may well say this, as she does ten times a-day; but now take it in your sober manner, what can we do for this poor woman? for something must be done.”
After some consideration, Albert and Laniska determined to draw up a petition for Sophia, and to present it to the king, who was known to pay ready and minute attention to every application made to him in writing, even by the meanest of his subjects. The petition was presented, and an answer anxiously expected. Frederick, when at Potzdam, often honoured the Countess Laniska with a visit. She was a woman of considerable information and literature, acquirements not common amongst the Polish or Prussian ladies; and the king distinguished the countess by his approbation, in order to excite some emulation amongst his female subjects. She held a sort of conversazione at her house, which was frequented by all foreigners of distinction, and especially by some of the French literati, who were at this time at Frederick’s court.
One evening—it was a few days after Sophia Mansfeld’s petition had been presented—the king was at the Countess Laniska’s, and the company were conversing upon some literary subject, when Frederick, who had been unusually silent, suddenly turned to the English traveller, who was one of the company, and asked him whether his countryman, Mr. Wedgewood, had not made a beautiful imitation of the Barberini, or Portland Vase?
The Englishman replied, that the imitation was so exquisite, as scarcely to be known by the best judges from the original: and he went on, with much eagerness, to give a description of the vase, that he might afterward, for the honour of his country, repeat some lines written upon the subject by an English poet{3}. Frederick was himself a poet, and a judge of poetry; he listened to the lines with attention; and, as soon as the Englishman had finished speaking, he exclaimed, “I will write a description of the Prussian vase myself.”
{Footnote 3: Darwin.—See his description of the Barberini vase in the Botanic Garden. We hope our readers will pardon this anachronism.}
“The Prussian Vase!” said the English traveller: “I hope I may have the honour of seeing it before I leave Berlin.”
“If you prolong your stay another month, your curiosity will probably be gratified,” replied Frederick. “The Prussian Vase is not yet in being; but I have this day determined to offer a reward, that I know will produce a vase worthy of Prussia. Those who have the command of motives, and know their power, have also the command of all that the arts, or what is called a genius for the arts, can produce. The human mind, and human fingers, are much the same in Italy, in England, and in Prussia. Then, why should not we have a Prussian as as well as a Wedgewood’s or a Barberini Vase? We shall see. I do not understand mon métier de roi, if I cannot call forth talents where I know them to exist. There is,” continued the king, fixing his eyes full upon Laniska, “there is, in my porcelain manufactory at Berlin, a woman of considerable talents, who is extremely anxious to return, along with some lovers of hers, to Saxony. Like all other prisoners of war, she must purchase her liberty from the conqueror; and if she cannot pay her ransom in gold, let her pay it by her talents. I do not give premiums to idleness or obstinacy. The king must be obeyed, whether he knows how to command or not: let all the world, who are able to judge, decide.” Frederick, as soon as he had finished this speech, which he pronounced in a peremptory tone, left the room; and Laniska’s friend, who perceived that the imprudent words he had uttered in Berlin had reached the king’s ear, gave the young man up for lost. To their surprise, however, the king took no further notice of what had happened, but received Laniska the next day at Sans Souci with all his usual kindness. Laniska, who was of an open, generous temper, was touched by this conduct; and, throwing himself at Frederick’s feet, he exclaimed:—
“My king! forgive me, if in a moment of indignation I called you a tyrant.”
“My friend, you are yet a child, and I let children and fools speak of me as they please,” replied Frederick. “When you are an older man, you will judge more wisely, or, at least, you will speak with more discretion within twenty miles of a tyrant’s palace. Here is my answer to your Sophia Mansfeld’s petition,” added he, giving Laniska the paper, which Albert had drawn up; at the bottom of which was written, in the king’s own hand, these words:—