CHAPTER V
THE SECOND STRUGGLE FOR SILESIA, 1742–1745
After following Frederick’s career through many phases in a dozen years, we observe him with interest as he quits the whirlpool of foreign adventure for the calm of government at home. We may well enquire how far three crowded and strenuous campaigns have transformed our hero. It is impossible that the deeds done at Breslau, Mollwitz, Klein Schnellendorf, Olmütz, and Chotusitz and the strenuous toil of twenty months in departments new to him should have left no mark upon himself. The story outlined in the foregoing chapter suggests that he moved from place to place and from task to task with great speed and that his life, perhaps even his throne, were more than once in danger. But it can convey no adequate idea of the inundation of ambassadors, generals, messengers, officials, and busybodies which daily surged in upon the King. Frederick, it must be remembered, was his own commander-in-chief and his own prime minister at a time when, as he himself confessed in later years, he had not the least knowledge of war, when, owing to his father’s jealous absolutism, he had had the briefest possible experience of diplomacy, and when his powers both in war and in diplomacy were taxed by the problems of a newly-won province which must be conciliated at all costs.
THE PARADE GROUND AT POTSDAM.
The strain was indeed severe. Under it Frederick became more statesmanlike but not more humane. After a course of the waters at Aix-la-Chapelle, he diverted himself as of old with literature and the society of wits. But he made no effort to improve his domestic life. His queen had retired to Schönhausen, a modest country-house in the dreary plain which lies on the north side of Berlin—a dwelling so remote that the swift expansion of recent years has not yet brought it within the city. The King’s thoughts ran already upon a bachelor establishment at Potsdam, the Sans Souci of later years, where he might escape from the society of his relations to enjoy that of his friends. For his subjects he attempted to provide few benefits beyond a codification of the law—little enough for one who had held out hope of a revolution in the art of kingship. It is true that he built the great Opera House at Berlin, that he lavished money upon actors and musicians, and that he endowed an Academy of Sciences. But he made French the only vehicle of learned and literary thought; and though Berlin might shine in Europe, the Prussian people gained little benefit thereby.
The King even enjoyed for a time the society of Voltaire, at that time the King of Letters. The transaction is characteristic of the age. The brilliant Frenchman, having quarrelled with his peers at home, obtained from Louis XV. an informal commission to pry into the secrets of Prussia. Before leaving France, he vented his spleen in a parcel of epigrams upon Louis and his subjects, which he sent in all secrecy to his affectionate admirer, Frederick. The latter, thinking to close the doors of France to his guest and so to cage him at Berlin, published them all at Paris. Both betrayals failed. As a diplomat Voltaire extracted only banter from his patron and disciple, while Frederick found that Louis XV. was indeed what Voltaire had termed him—“the most stupid of kings,” for the epigrams did not sting him.
Frederick’s wider experience of life, it is clear, had rather hardened his heart than softened it. As a king he had developed, faster doubtless than in time of peace, along the lines with which we are already familiar. He was still conspicuously energetic, imperious, and mercantile. His energy is the more striking by contrast with the habit of his contemporaries. Philip of Spain was sluggishly obeying his wife. Louis of France, whom Frederick termed a good man whose only fault was that he was King, was toying with mistresses, patronising sieges, and pointing out the faults in a policy which he was too indolent to cheek. Augustus of Saxony was sacrificing his armies lest he should be late for the opera. The Czarina Elizabeth has been described as “bobbing about in that unlovely whirlpool of intrigues, amours, devotions, and strong liquor, which her history is.” In a word, the princes of Europe still in great part looked on their office as an inheritance to be enjoyed. Meanwhile, the King of Prussia was rising at dawn, reviewing troops, inspecting fortresses, drafting and conning despatches, superintending his players, and constituting himself a judge of appeal for all his kingdom.
Whether judge, general, or stage-manager, he was always the King of Prussia, and his naturally imperious temper mounted higher day by day. His stern treatment of the Old Dessauer and the alienation of Schwerin have already been mentioned. In time of peace his ministers met with no greater forbearance. They were treated at best as clerks, and often as dogs. The faithful Podewils, who had just rendered priceless services to his master in the negotiations with Austria, presumed to suggest that the King should remain for a time in Silesia. “Attend to your own affairs, Sir,” was the reply, “and do not presume to dictate whether I ought or ought not to go. Negotiate as I order you, and do not be the weak tool of English and Austrian impudence.” With the same imperious brutality Frederick wrote to the honourable nobleman who represented him at Vienna. “Do not forget, Sir, with what master you have to do, and if you take heed of nothing else, take heed for your head.”
As with his dependents, so with states weaker than his own, Frederick always played the dictator. To grace his new opera he had engaged the famous dancer Barberina, who was then at Venice. Her English lover persuaded her to break the contract and remain there and the Doge and Senate professed themselves powerless to interfere. Frederick therefore seized a Venetian ambassador in Berlin and held him as a hostage, until the Venetians in their turn violated justice by sending Barberina a prisoner to Berlin.
With an imperiousness equal to that of his father Frederick combined the traditional Hohenzollern willingness to buy and sell. He failed to buy Silesia, but he succeeded in buying Glatz. The county of Glatz belonged to Bohemia, and in 1741 Frederick recognised Charles Albert as King of Bohemia. From him he purchased territory which the Bavarian had never possessed and which he could never hope to possess without foreign aid. The Prussians conquered the country and in 1742 Maria Theresa offered to cede it. Thereupon the King accepted from Austria what he had declared to belong to Bavaria and announced that he was no longer bound to pay the purchase money agreed upon.