Kitabı oku: «The Boys' Book of Rulers», sayfa 24
FREDERICK THE GREAT
A.D. 1712-1786
“Kings are like stars, – they rise and set, they have
The worship of the world, but no repose.” – Shelley.
“A man’s a man;
But when you see a king, you see the work
Of many thousand men.” – George Eliot.
CARLYLE accused Schiller of “oversetting fact, disregarding reality, and tumbling time and space topsy-turvy.” That there is great danger of doing the latter, in condensing such a life as that of Frederick the Great into the small space allotted to these sketches, cannot be denied; but fiction itself could scarcely overstate the facts connected with this weird but most fascinating glimpse of historical events. Carlyle says: “With such wagon-loads of books and printed records as exist on the subject of Frederick, it has always seemed possible, even for a stranger, to acquire some real understanding of him; though practically, here and now, I have to own it proves difficult beyond conception. Alas! the books are not cosmic; they are chaotic.”
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.
“The new monarch, who assumed the crown with the title of Frederick William, not with that of Frederick II., to the utter consternation of the court dismissed nearly every honorary official of the palace, from the highest dignitary to the humblest page. His flashing eye and determined manner were so appalling that no one ventured to remonstrate. A clean sweep was made, so that the household was reduced to the lowest footing of economy consistent with the supply of indispensable wants. Eight servants were retained at six shillings a week. His father had thirty pages; all were dismissed but three. There were one thousand saddle-horses in the royal stables; Frederick William kept thirty. Three-fourths of the names were struck from the pension list. For twenty-seven years this strange man reigned. He was like no other monarch. Great wisdom and shrewdness were blended with unutterable folly and almost maniacal madness. Though a man of strong powers of mind, he was very illiterate. ‘For spelling, grammar, penmanship, and composition, his semi-articulate papers resemble nothing else extant, – are as if done by the paw of a bear; indeed, the utterance generally sounds more like the growling of a bear than anything that could be handily spelled or parsed. But there is a decisive human sense in the heart of it, and such a dire hatred of empty bladders, unrealities, and hypocritical forms and pretenses, which he calls wind and humbug, as is very strange indeed.’
“His energy inspired the whole kingdom, and paved the way for the achievements of his son. The father created the machine with which the son attained such wonderful results. He commuted the old feudal service into a fixed money payment. He goaded the whole realm into industry, compelling even the apple-women to knit at the stalls.
“The crown lands were farmed out. He drained bogs, planted colonies, established manufactures, and in every way encouraged the use of Prussian products. He carried with him invariably a stout rattan cane. Upon the slightest provocation, like a madman, he would thrash those who displeased him. He was an arbitrary king, ruling at his sovereign will, and disposing of the liberty, the property, and the lives of his subjects at his pleasure. Every year he accumulated large masses of coin, which he deposited in barrels in the cellar of his palace. He had no powers of graceful speech, but spent his energetic, joyless life in grumbling and growling. He would allow no drapery, no stuffed furniture, no carpets in his apartments. He sat upon a plain wooden chair. He ate roughly of roast beef, despising all delicacies. His dress was a close military blue coat, with red cuffs and collar, buff waistcoat and breeches, and white linen gaiters to the knee. His sword was belted around his waist. A well-worn, battered triangular hat covered his head. He walked rapidly through the streets which surrounded his palaces at Potsdam and Berlin. If he met any one, he would abruptly inquire, ‘Who are you?’ When his majesty took a walk, every human being fled before him, as if a tiger had broken loose from a menagerie. If he met a lady in the street, he gave her a kick, and told her to go home and mind her children. If he saw a clergyman staring at the soldiers, he admonished the reverend gentleman to betake himself to study and prayer, and enforced his pious advice by a sound caning administered on the spot. But it was in his own house that he was most unreasonable and ferocious. His palace was hell, and he the most execrable of fiends.”
And now we will turn this unlovely picture of the bearish Frederick William to the wall, while we examine a portrait of the young Fritz, afterwards Frederick the Great.
In the palace of Berlin, on the 24th of January, 1712, a small infant opened its eyes upon this world. Though small, he was of great promise and possibility, “and thrice and four times welcome to all sovereign and other persons in the Prussian court and Prussian realms in those cold winter days. His father, they say, was like to have stifled him with his caresses, so overjoyed was the man, or at least to have scorched him in the blaze of the fire, when happily some much suitabler female nurse snatched this little creature from the rough paternal paws, and saved it for the benefit of Prussia and mankind.”
Then they christened this wee fellow, aged one week, with immense magnificence and pomp of ceremony, Karl Frederick; but the Karl dropped altogether out of practice, and Frederick (Rich in Peace) became his only title; until his father became king of Prussia, and Fritz stepped into the rank of crown prince, and subsequently became the most renowned sovereign of his nation, and took his place in the foremost rank of the famous rulers of the world.
Frederick William had married, when eighteen years of age, his pretty cousin, Sophie Dorothee, daughter of George I. of England. Little Fritz had an elder sister, named Wilhelmina. There were several younger children afterwards, but our story mostly concerns Fritz and his sister Wilhelmina, for whom he showed greater affection than for any other person.
Frederick William was very desirous that Fritz should be a soldier, but the beautiful laughing Fritz, with his long golden curls and sensitive nature, was fonder of books and music than of war and soldiering, which much offended his stern father; and so great was his abhorrence of such a feminine employment as he esteemed music, that little Fritz and Wilhelmina must needs practice in secret; and had it not been for the aid of their mother, the Queen Sophie Dorothee, they would have been denied this great pleasure. But the music-masters were sent to the forests or caves by the queen, and there the prince Fritz and Wilhelmina took their much-prized music-lessons. But one day the stern king found Fritz and Wilhelmina marching around together, while the laughing prince was proudly beating a drum, much to his own and sister’s delight. The king was so overjoyed at this manifestation of supposed military taste in his son, that he immediately called the queen to witness the performance, and then employed an artist to transfer the scene to canvas. This picture still hangs upon the walls of the Charlottenburg Palace.
When Fritz was but six years old, a military company was organized for him, consisting of about three hundred lads. This band was called “The Crown Prince Cadets.” Fritz was very thoroughly drilled in his military duties, and a uniform was provided for him. An arsenal was built on the palace grounds at Potsdam, where he mounted batteries and practised gunnery with small brass ordnance. Until Fritz was seven years of age, his education had been under the care of a French governess; but at that age he was taken from his lady teachers and placed under tutors. These tutors were military officers of great renown.
The following directions were drawn up by Frederick William, regarding his son’s education: —
“My son must be impressed with love and fear of God, as the foundation of our temporal and eternal welfare. No false religions or sects of Atheist, Arian, Socinian, or whatever name the poisonous things have, which can easily corrupt a young mind, are to be even named in his hearing. He is to be taught a proper abhorrence of Papistry, and to be shown its baselessness and nonsensicality. Impress on him the true religion, which consists essentially in this: that Christ died for all men. He is to learn no Latin, but French and German, so as to speak and write with brevity and propriety. Let him learn arithmetic, mathematics, artillery, economy, to the very bottom; history in particular; ancient history only slightly, but the history of the last one hundred and fifty years to the exactest pitch. He must be completely master of geography, as also of whatever is remarkable in each country. With increasing years you will more and more, to an especial degree, go upon fortification, the formation of a camp, and other war sciences, that the prince may from youth upward be trained to act as officer and general, and to seek all his glory in the soldier profession.”
Frederick William took little Fritz with him from early childhood on all his military reviews, and in going from garrison to garrison the king employed a common vehicle called a sausage-car. This consisted of a mere stuffed pole, some ten or twelve feet long, upon which they sat astride. It rested upon wheels, and the riders, ten or a dozen, were rattled along over the rough roads through dust and rain, in winter’s cold and summer’s heat. This iron king robbed his child even of sleep, saying, “Too much sleep stupefies a fellow.” Sitting astride of this log carriage, the tender and delicate Fritz, whose love was for music, poetry, and books, was forced to endure all kinds of hardship and fatigue. When Fritz was ten years of age, his exacting father made out a set of rules which covered all the hours of this poor boy’s life. Not even Saturday or Sunday was left untrammelled by his stern requirements.
Fritz was a remarkably handsome boy, with a fine figure, small and delicate hands and feet, and flowing blonde hair. His father, despising all the etiquette and social manners of life and dress, ordered his beautiful hair to be cut off, and denied him every luxury of the toilet and adornment. Frederick William early displayed an aversion for his handsome son, which soon amounted to actual hatred. As Wilhelmina and the mother of Fritz both took his part against the angry and brutal king, the wrath of that almost inhuman monster was also meted out to them.
When Fritz was fourteen years of age, he was appointed by his father as captain of the Potsdam Grenadier Guards. This regiment was the glory of the king, and was composed entirely of giants. The shortest of the men were nearly seven feet high, and the tallest nearly nine feet in height. Frederick William did not scruple to take any means of securing these coveted giants, and his recruiting officers were stationed in many places for the purpose of seizing any large men, no matter what their nationality or position. When the rulers of neighboring realms complained at this unlawful seizure of their subjects, the Prussian king pretended that it was done without his knowledge. If any young woman was found in his kingdom of remarkable stature, she was compelled to marry one of the king’s giants. This guard consisted of 2,400 men.
The queen-mother, Sophie Dorothee, had set her mind upon bringing about a double marriage, between Wilhelmina and her cousin Fred, son of the king of England, and Fritz and his cousin, the princess Amelia, the sister of Fred. But though all her schemes came to naught, they occasioned much trouble in her family, and brought down upon the heads of poor Wilhelmina and Fritz much brutal persecution from their inhuman father.
Frederick William took his son Fritz to visit Augustus, king of Poland. This king was an exceedingly profligate man, and the young Fritz learned vicious habits at this court, which lured him into evil ways which ever after left their blot upon his character and morals. This fatal visit to Dresden occurred when Fritz was sixteen years of age, and the dissipation of those four weeks introduced the crown prince to habits which have left an indelible stain upon his reputation, and which poisoned his life. The king’s previous dislike to his son was now converted into contempt and hatred, as he became aware of his vicious habits; for though the iron king was a maniac in temper, and cruel as a savage, he had no weakness towards an immoral life. King Frederick William was now confined to his chair with gout, and poor Wilhelmina and Fritz were the victims upon whom his severest tyrannies fell. The princess Wilhelmina was very beautiful, and had it not been for his love for this sister, upon whom the whole weight of his father’s resentment would then fall, Fritz would have escaped from his home and the terrible ill-treatment he there received.
We have not space to give the pictures of the family broils in this unhappy household. Now the crabbed old man would snatch the plates from the table at dinner and fling them at the heads of his children, usually at hapless Wilhelmina or Fritz; then, angered at Wilhelmina because she refused to take whatever husband her cruel father might select, irrespective of her inclination or wishes, he shut the poor princess up in her apartment, and tried to starve her into submission; for, as she writes, “I was really dying of hunger, having nothing to eat but soup made with salt and water and a ragout of old bones, full of hairs and other dirt.” At last she yielded to her father’s demands; but then she incurred the anger of her mother, who had set her heart upon the match with the prince of Wales.
So the poor princess’ days were full of bitterness. But, fortunately, the prince of Baireuth, whom she married, turned out to be a kind husband; but as he was absent most of the time on regimental duty, and had but his small salary, and the old marquis of Baireuth, her husband’s father, was penurious, irascible, and an inebriate, she often suffered for the necessaries of life. The home of her step-parents was unendurable, and the home of her childhood was still more so. Unhappy princess! and yet, in the midst of all this misery, her bright and graphic letters form one of the greatest delights to students of history, and give true pictures of the home of Frederick the Great, which can be found nowhere else.
Fritz had now so seriously offended his father, that the king openly exposed him to contempt. He even flogged the prince with his rattan in the presence of others; and the young heir-apparent to the throne of Prussia, beautiful in person, high-spirited, and of superior genius, was treated by his father with studied insult, even in the presence of monarchs, of lords and ladies, of the highest dignitaries of Europe; and after raining blows upon his head, he exclaimed in diabolical wrath, as if desirous of goading his son to suicide: “Had I been so treated by my father, I would have blown my brains out. But this fellow has no honor. He takes all that comes.”
But at last Fritz decided not to take longer all that came, and so he prepared for flight. On the 15th of July, 1730, the king of Prussia set out with a small train, accompanied by Fritz, to take a journey to the Rhine. When near Augsburg, Fritz wrote to Lieutenant Katte, one of his profligate friends, stating that he should embrace the first opportunity to escape to the Hague; that there he should assume the name of the Count of Alberville. He wished Katte to join him there, and to bring with him the overcoat and the one thousand ducats which he had left in his hands. Just after midnight the prince stole out to meet his valet, who had been commanded to bring some horses to the village green. But as Keith, the valet, appeared with the horses, he was accosted by one of the king’s guard; and the prince, although disguised with a red overcoat, was recognized and forced to withdraw to his own quarters and give up the attempt for that time. The king was informed of these things, and now the poor prince was put in the care of three of the guard, and they were informed if the prince was allowed to escape, death would be their doom. Upon the king’s arrival at Wesel, he ordered his culprit son to be brought before him. A terrible scene ensued. As the king would give no assurance that his friends who had aided him should be pardoned, the crown prince evaded all attempts to extort from him confessions which would implicate them. “Why,” asked the king, furiously, “did you attempt to desert?”
“I wished to escape,” the prince boldly replied, “because you did not treat me like a son, but like an abject slave.”
“You are a cowardly deserter,” the father exclaimed, “devoid of all feelings of honor.”
“I have as much honor as you have,” the son replied; “and I have only done that which I have heard you say a hundred times you would have done yourself, had you been treated as I have been.”
The infuriated king was now beside himself with rage. He drew his sword and seemed upon the point of thrusting it through the heart of his son, when General Mosel threw himself before the king, exclaiming, “Sire, you may kill me, but spare your son.” The prince was then placed in a room where two sentries watched over him with fixed bayonets. As the prince had held the rank of colonel in the army, his unjust father declared he was a deserter, and merited death. Frederick William, whose brutal cruelty exceeds our powers of belief, then sent a courier with the following despatch to his wife: —
“I have arrested the rascal Fritz. I shall treat him as his crime and his cowardice merit. He has dishonored me and all my family. So great a wretch is no longer worthy to live.”
His Majesty is in a flaming rage. He arrests, punishes, and banishes where there is trace of co-operation with deserter Fritz and his schemes. It is dangerous to have spoken kindly to the crown prince, or even to have been spoken to by him. Doris Ritter, a young girl who was a good musician, and whom the unfortunate Fritz had presented with music and sometimes joined in her singing in the presence of the girl’s mother, is condemned to be publicly whipped through the streets by the beadle, and to be imprisoned for three years, forced to the hard labor of beating hemp. The excellent tutor of the crown prince is banished, the accusation against him being that he had introduced French literature to the prince, which had caused him to imbibe infidel notions. The wicked old king never seemed to think that his own brutal conduct might have influenced the prince to be indifferent to the religion which he hypocritically professed to believe, but so poorly practised.
Meanwhile the crown prince was conveyed from Wesel to the castle of Mittenwalde, where he was imprisoned in a room without furniture or bed. Here Grumkow, one of the king’s ministers, was sent to interrogate him. Though the cruel old minister threatened the rack of torture to force him to confess, Fritz had the nerve to reply: —
“A hangman, such as you, naturally takes pleasure in talking of his tools and of his trade, but on me they will produce no effect. I have owned everything, and almost regret to have done so. I ought not to degrade myself by answering the questions of a scoundrel such as you are.”
The next day the crown prince was sent to the fortress of Cüstrin, about seventy miles from Berlin.
“The strong, dungeon-like room in which he was incarcerated consisted of bare walls, without any furniture, the light being admitted by a single aperture so high that the prince could not look out of it. He was divested of his uniform, of his sword, of every mark of dignity. Coarse brown clothes of plainest cut were furnished him. His flute was taken from him, and he was deprived of all books but the Bible and a few devotional treatises. He was allowed a daily sum amounting to twelve cents for his food, – eight cents for his dinner and four for his supper. His food was purchased at a cook-shop near by and cut for him. He was not permitted the use of a knife. The door was opened three times a day for ventilation, – morning, noon, and night, – but not for more than four minutes each time. A single tallow candle was allowed him; but that was to be extinguished at seven o’clock in the evening.”
For long months this prince of nineteen was imprisoned in absolute solitude, awaiting the doom of his merciless father. But the savage king had reserved still greater torture for the unfortunate Fritz. By the order of the king, Fritz, who also had been condemned to die, was brought down into a lower room of the fortress, and there compelled to witness the execution of Lieutenant Katte, his friend, whom the king had condemned as guilty of high treason. As Fritz was led into the lower apartment of the fortress, the curtains which concealed the window were drawn back, and Fritz, to his horror, beheld the scaffold draped in black placed directly before the window. The frantic young prince was in an agony of despair, and exclaimed, with eyes full of tears, “In the name of God, I beg you to stop the execution till I write to the king! I am ready to renounce all my rights to the crown if he will pardon Katte.” But the attendants knew the iron will of the merciless monarch, and his cries and tears were unheeded. As the condemned was led by the window to ascend the scaffold, Fritz cried out to him, in tones of deepest anguish, “Pardon me, my dear Katte, pardon me! Oh, that this should be what I have done for you!”
“Death is sweet for a prince I love so well,” replied the heroic Katte with calm fortitude, and ascending the scaffold, the bloody execution was performed, while four grenadiers held Fritz with his face to the window so that he must perforce look upon the ghastly scene. But as Katte’s gory head rolled upon the scaffold, the prince fainted.
When the poor tortured prince regained his consciousness, his misery plunged him into a fever, and in his wild delirium he sought to take his life. When the fever abated, he sank into hopeless despair, looking forward to nothing but a like horrible death.
With strange inconsistency, the ferocious king, who could thus torture the body and mind of the prince, expressed the greatest anxiety for the salvation of his soul. It is not strange that the example of such a father staggered the faith of his son, and failing to see that the religion professed by his father was bigoted fanaticism instead of the religion of the pure and saving truths inculcated by a sinless Christ, the crown prince became in after-life an infidel.
In accordance with a promise made by the king that his life should be spared if he would acknowledge his guilt, which word was brought to the lonely captive by Chaplain Müller, the crown prince took an oath of submission to the king, and soon after wrote this letter to his father: —
“All-serenest and All-graciousest Father, – To your royal majesty, my all-graciousest father, I have, by my disobedience as their subject and soldier, not less than by my undutifulness as their son, given occasion to a just wrath and aversion against me. With the all-obedientest respect I submit myself wholly to the grace of my most all-gracious father, and beg him most all-graciously to pardon me, as it is not so much the withdrawal of my liberty in a sad arrest as my own thoughts of the fault I have committed that have brought me to reason, who, with all-obedientest respect and submission, continue till my end my all-graciousest king’s and father’s faithfully-obedient servant and son, Frederick.”
