The Boys' Book of Rulers

Though the prince had been brought by his terrors and sorrows to make such an humble appeal, his father’s anger was not entirely removed. The prince was still forced to dwell in the town of Cüstrin, in a house poorly furnished; and though allowed to wear his sword, his uniform was forbidden him. He was debarred all amusements, and was forbidden to read, write, or speak French, and was denied his flute, of which he was exceedingly fond. Three persons were appointed constantly to watch him. His only recreation was the order to attend the sittings of the Chamber of Counsellors in that district. At last, through the intercession of his sister Wilhelmina, the king consented to allow Fritz to come home.

In March, 1732, the crown prince was betrothed to Princess Elizabeth, the daughter of the duke of Bevern. The sufferings of this unhappy princess cannot now be related. The queen of Prussia received her with bitter hatred because this match would crush her cherished plans of marrying her son to Princess Amelia of England; and Fritz himself, forced to be betrothed against his will, treated her with utter neglect.

In June, 1733, the crown prince was married to Elizabeth, she being eighteen, and he twenty-one years of age.

Frederick I. of Prussia had reared a very magnificent palace in Berlin; and in spite of all his stinginess in his household, Frederick William added masses of silver to the ornamentation of this palace, for he prided himself on his army and his money, as giving him power and influence in Europe. He had stored away many barrels of money in the vaults of his palace, and as there do not seem to have been banking institutions in his realms in those days, he ordered vast quantities of silver to be wrought into chandeliers, mirror-frames, and balconies, which gave him a great reputation for wealth, and could at any time be converted into money. This hoarded wealth saved his son from ruin, when involved in after wars which exhausted his treasury.

The crown prince having married a niece of the emperor of Germany, and being also of age, his father lost much of his control over him. Frederick was now the rising sun, and his father the setting luminary. All the courts of Europe were anxious to gain the favor of the coming king of Prussia. The king allowed his son a petty income, but the crown prince borrowed large sums of money from the empress of Germany, from Russia, and from England, who were quite ready to supply his wants, being assured of payment when he should receive the throne. Fritz did not forget his sister Wilhelmina, but gave her money to relieve her wants. War now broke out between France and Germany, and Frederick William became an ally of the emperor.

The crown prince accompanied the king of Prussia to the siege of Philipsburg. The campaign continued for some time, but the prince saw little of active service. The king of Prussia being broken down in health by gout and intemperance, now became very ill, and was obliged to return home.

Though Frederick returned from this campaign neither socially nor morally improved, he had become very ambitious of high intellectual culture and of literary renown. He was now living at the village of Reinsburg, in a castle which the king had purchased and assigned to his son. He here gathered around him a number of scholarly men, and commenced and persevered in a severe course of study, devoting his mornings to his books, and the remainder of the day to recreation and music. The old king grumbled at his son’s studies and his recreations, but Frederick was now a full-grown man, whose heirship to the crown made him a power in Europe; and the snarling old king was confined to his room with dropsy and gout, growling away his last hours. The companions of Frederick’s hours of recreation were gay and profligate young men, who scoffed at religion and every virtue. No wonder that with such godless companions, and with such an inconsistent and irreligious example in his father, even while professing the most fanatical devotion to the church and religion, the mind of the talented young prince should have been turned into the wandering wilds of unbelief. Voltaire was at this time about forty years of age. His renown as a man of genius already filled Europe. Frederick became an ardent admirer of Voltaire, and a correspondence was commenced between them.

But now the grim old king of Prussia is forced to meet a still grimmer antagonist, who will not take “no” for an answer. He has fought the world, fought all human affections, fought all feelings of humanity, fought every good spirit within his heart except a brutal fanaticism, which he ignorantly and superstitiously called religion; fought gout, dropsy, and manifold complaints of the flesh; fought his wife, fought his children, tried to fight the devil, but ended in being his slave; but he cannot fight grim Death, which now clutches him in his ghastly grasp. But not to be outdone, even by this enemy, while the death-gurgle was even rattling in his throat, he solemnly abdicated in favor of his son Frederick, and with his fingers trembling with the chill of the grave, he signed the deed, and falling back, expired. So the obstinate old king was determined that his will, not death, should hand over the crown of Prussia, which he could no longer clutch with his own cruel hands.

Voltaire said of his reign, “It must be owned Turkey is a republic in comparison to the despotism exercised by Frederick William.”

Frederick the Great was twenty-eight years of age when he became king of Prussia. He was very handsome and of graceful presence. In rapid succession the young king announced certain sentiments which were so amazing in the eyes of the rulers of that age as to be considered phenomena. The day after his accession to the throne he summoned his ministers and declared, “Our grand care will be to further the country’s well-being, and to make every one of our subjects contented and happy.”

Strange ideas! when all sovereigns had hitherto thought only of their own contentment. Next, he abolished the use of torture in criminal trials. More wonderful still, the world said. Soon he issued this marvellous edict, which struck consternation in the midst of the upholders of bigotry and fanatical superstition: —

“All religions must be tolerated, and the king’s solicitor must have an eye that none of them make unjust encroachments on the other; for in this country every man must get to heaven his own way.”

Europe was electrified, priests trembled, bigotry and religious persecution hung their heads and slunk away. But more surprises! “The press is free!” thundered forth this powerful young Frederick the Great; and all these phenomena accomplished in the first year of his reign. No wonder Europe turned their eyes to the rising monarch. Sad pity that he did not continue in this line of action, bringing blessings instead of woes upon mankind. But the angel of wise reform was soon driven from his heart and mind by the subtle and poisonous demon of selfish ambition.

The young king soon abolished the Giant Guards. He no longer coveted fine clothes, no longer indulged in the luxury of slippers and French dressing-gown, which had raised the ire of his ease-hating father. His hours were rigidly counted, and various duties assigned them, in regular routine.

Though he treated his nominal wife, Queen Elizabeth, politely in company, he utterly neglected her in his domestic life, and in later years rarely ever addressed a word to her.

On the south-west frontier of Prussia was an Austrian realm, Silesia. For more than a century it had been a portion of the Austrian kingdom. Maria Theresa had inherited the crown of Austria. Frederick, wishing to enlarge his own domains, determined to invade Silesia. History has severely condemned this unprovoked invasion. In January, 1741, the Prussian army were encamped before Neisse. On Sunday morning, Jan. 15, the deadly fire of shot and shell was opened upon the crowded city, where women and children, wounded and bleeding, ran to and fro, frantic with terror. For five days the deadly missiles rained down upon the city almost without intermission.

Not wishing entirely to destroy the city, Frederick then converted the siege into a blockade, and leaving his troops before the place, returned to Berlin. Frederick, in this six weeks’ campaign, had let loose the dogs of war, and he must now meet the consequences. The chivalry of Europe were in sympathy with the young and beautiful Austrian queen. Every court in Europe was aware of the fact that it was owing to the intervention of the father of Maria Theresa that the life of Frederick was spared, and that he was rescued from the scaffold, when the exasperated and ferocious Frederick William had condemned his own son to death. France had no fear of Prussia, but France did fear the supremacy of Austria over Europe; therefore, France was leaning towards the side of Frederick. England was the foe of France, therefore England sympathized with Austria. The puerile king of England, George II., hated his nephew, Frederick of Prussia, which hatred Frederick vigorously returned. Spain was at war with England and ready for alliance with her foes. The father of the infant czar of Russia was the brother of Frederick’s neglected wife Elizabeth. Russia had not yet displayed her partisanship to either side. Minor powers might be constrained by terror or led by bribes.

Meanwhile the heroic Maria Theresa was resolved not to part with one inch of her territory, and the patriotism of the Austrian court, inspired by her, determined them to seek to drive the Prussians out of Silesia. A rumor comes that England, Poland, and Russia are contemplating invasion of the Prussian realms. Frederick immediately despatched a force to Hanover to seize upon that continental possession of the king of England upon the slightest indication of hostility. This menace alarmed George II. Young Prince Leopold had assaulted and captured Glogau from the Austrians, which Frederick considered an important achievement, and sent Prince Leopold a present of ten thousand dollars.

Frederick next proceeded to push the siege of Neisse, but upon nearing that place, he found that General Neipperg, with a large force of Austrians, were coming against him. The siege of Neisse was abandoned, and the entire Prussian army gathered around the king. The night before the contemplated battle, Frederick wrote to his brother, Augustus William, – who, as Frederick had no children, was heir to the throne and crown prince of Prussia, – informing him of his danger, of the coming battle, and bidding farewell to himself and his mother in case of his death. No word of affectionate remembrance was sent to his neglected wife.

On the morrow, which was Sunday, a snow-storm raged so furiously that neither army could move. On Monday the battle began. The Prussians advanced boldly with waving banners and martial music, and valiantly charged the enemy. But the Austrians returned the charge with such fury that the Prussian right wing, where Frederick himself commanded, was routed and put to flight. Frederick, struck with terror, lost his presence of mind, and ingloriously fled with the rest. As with his little band of fugitives he rushed into the gloom of night, he exclaimed in despair, “O my God, my God, this is too much!”

But as the crestfallen king waits under the shelter of a mill, a courier rides up and cries, “The Prussian army has gained the victory!” Thus the Prussian king had been galloping from the battle-field in fear and terror, while his valiant troops were achieving the victory. This incident caused unlimited merriment amongst the sarcastic foes of Frederick, and he himself was never known to allude to this humiliating adventure. The picture of the heroic and intrepid Maria Theresa encouraging her troops to patriotism and valor in the very face of her foes, and that of the terror-stricken Frederick rushing from the field of battle, do not form a comparison very flattering to the bravery of the young Prussian king. But as some actors on the stage who have had the worst stage-frights have afterwards made the most brilliant stars, so the ignominious flight of the king did not prevent him from becoming one of the greatest generals of the world. Gradually the secret alliance of France, Bavaria, and Prussia was made known. Under the threatening danger which menaced ruin, Maria Theresa, urged by her council and by the English court, consented to propose terms of compromise to Frederick. To the English ministers, sent from Vienna to offer a million dollars to the Prussian king if he would consent to relinquish this enterprise and retire from Silesia, Frederick answered: “Retire from Silesia, and for money? Do you take me for a beggar? Retire from Silesia in the conquest of which I have expended so much blood and treasure! No, sir, no! I am at the head of an army which has already vanquished the enemy, and which is ready to meet the enemy again. The country which alone I desire is already conquered and securely held. If the queen do not now grant me all I require, I shall in four weeks demand four principalities more. I now demand the whole of Lower Silesia, Breslau included. With that answer you can return to Vienna.”

These tidings caused consternation in the Austrian council. Again the high-spirited queen was forced by her circumstances and influenced by her council and England to accede to the compromise, and she agreed to surrender the whole of Lower Silesia to Frederick. But when such word was brought to the Prussian camp, the king replied, “I will not see the minister; the time has past. I will not now listen to a compromise.” Now followed a dark and deceitful manœuvre on the part of Frederick, which even the stratagems of war cannot warrant. He entered into secret negotiations with Austria that if Silesia was delivered to him, he would form an alliance with them against the French, whose armies were already joined with his own; at the same time apparently keeping faith with the French, but promising to betray them to the Austrians, meanwhile stating that he must keep up sham attacks to deceive the French.

Frederick now invested Neisse, and pretending a sham attack, he really so vigorously assaulted it that it surrendered, and having thus obtained the last fortress in Silesia, he caused himself to be crowned sovereign duke of Lower Silesia, and returned to Berlin in triumph.

Having by this stratagem obtained Silesia, he assured the French of his unchanging fidelity, and denied that he had ever entered into any arrangements with Austria. In commencing this war he had said, “Ambition, interest, and the desire to make the world speak of me vanquished all, and war was determined on.” He had indeed made the world speak of him. All Europe spoke of him. Some extolled him, others denounced his amazing perfidy. Admiration for his sagacity and fear of his power made many courts of Europe seek his alliance. Carlyle thus comments on these events: —

“Of the political morality of this game of fast-and-loose, what have we to say, except that the dice on both sides seem to be loaded; that logic might be chopped upon it forever; that a candid mind will settle what degree of wisdom (which is always essential veracity) and what of folly (which is always falsity) there was in Frederick and the others; and, in fine, it will have to be granted that you cannot work in pitch and keep hands evidently clean. Frederick has got into the enchanted wilderness populous with devils and their work. Alas! it will be long before he get out of it again; his life waning toward night before he get victoriously out.”

This selfish rapacity of the Prussian king set the example to others. The whole world sprang to arms. Macaulay says: “On the head of Frederick is all the blood which was shed in a war which raged during many years, and in every quarter of the globe, – the blood of the column of Fontenoy, the blood of the brave mountaineers who were slaughtered at Culloden. The evils produced by this wickedness were felt in lands where the name of Prussia was unknown. In order that he might rob a neighbor whom he had promised to defend, black men fought on the coast of Coromandel, and red men scalped each other by the great lakes of North America.”

In the winter of 1742 Frederick was engaged in a campaign to deliver Moravia, which was overrun by the Austrians. But in this he was not successful. On the morning of the 17th of May, 1742, Frederick again faced the Austrians at the battle of Chotusitz. In this famous battle Frederick was victorious, and the Austrians, under Prince Charles, were obliged to retreat. It required nine acres of ground to bury the dead after this bloody conflict.

Frederick did not pursue the Austrians after this victory, and on the 11th of June the treaty of Breslau was signed. By this treaty Silesia was ceded to Frederick, and he agreed to withdraw from the French alliance and enter into friendly relations with Maria Theresa. In 1744, however, Maria Theresa, having been joined by England, had been achieving so many victories on the field, that Frederick, deciding that she was gathering her forces to reconquer Silesia, again entered into an alliance with France and took the field against the Austrians. But in this campaign Frederick himself narrowly escaped being taken prisoner, and returned a defeated monarch, leaving a shattered army behind him. He had already exhausted nearly all the resources which his father had accumulated. Already the sumptuous chandeliers and silver balconies had been melted up. His disastrous Bohemian campaign had cost him three hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month. The least sum with which he could commence a new campaign for the protection of Silesia was four million five hundred thousand dollars. In spite of these apparently insurmountable difficulties, the administrative genius of Frederick made a way by which he succeeded in raising another army. On the 4th of June, 1745, the battle of Hohenfriedberg was fought, by which victory Frederick escaped utter destruction, and the Austrians were forced sullenly to retire. All Europe was now in war, caused by the personal ambition of one man, who did not pretend that it involved any question of human rights. Frederick had openly avowed that he drew his sword and led his hundred thousand soldiers to death and destruction that he might enlarge his territories and achieve renown. All the nations of Europe wished to borrow. None but England had money to lend, and England was fighting Frederick, and supplying his foes with aid and money. Frederick realized that Maria Theresa, whom he had despised as a woman, was fully his equal in ability to raise and direct armies and in diplomatic intrigue. Berlin was almost defenceless. All Saxony was rising behind Frederick. In this hour of peril, with an army of twenty-six thousand men, Frederick was obliged to meet his foes at Sohr. Defeat to Frederick would have been utter ruin; but the brave determination of the Prussian king animated his troops with desperate valor to conquer or die. And conquer they did, and the victory of Frederick was complete.

On the 25th of December, 1745, the peace of Dresden was signed. The demands of Frederick were acceded to. Augustus III. of Saxony, Maria Theresa of Austria, and George II. of England became parties to the treaty. Frederick now entered upon a period of ten years of peace. The Prussian king now constructed for himself a beautiful villa, on a pleasant hilltop near Potsdam, which he called Sans Souci, which Carlyle quaintly translates “No Bother.” He had three other palaces, far surpassing Sans Souci in magnificence, – Charlottenburg, at Berlin, the new palace at Potsdam, and his palace at Reinsberg.

Voltaire made a long visit to the Prussian king. Frederick had been for many years greatly fascinated with that talented writer, but gradually Voltaire lost favor with the king. Frederick prided himself upon his literary abilities, and at first Voltaire flattered him; but on one occasion, when the king had sent him a manuscript to revise, he sarcastically exclaimed to the royal messenger, “When will his Majesty be done with sending me his dirty linen to wash?”

This speech was repeated to the king. Frederick did not lose his revenge. Voltaire had been made chamberlain. His duties were to give an hour a day to the Prussian king, and, as Voltaire said, “to touch up a bit his works in prose and verse.”

But Voltaire used his sarcastic pen against the king, and especially against the president of the academy founded by the king at Berlin. A bitter pamphlet, entitled La Diatribe du Docteur Akakia, appeared, and the satire was so scathing that the Prussian king ordered all copies to be burned. Voltaire, though allowing the whole edition to be destroyed before his eyes, managed to send a copy to some safe place, where it was again published, and arrived at Berlin by post from Dresden. People fought for the pamphlet. Everybody laughed; the satire was spread over all Europe. Frederick was enraged, and Voltaire thought it safe to leave Prussia. The king had previously presented him with a copy of his own poems, and fearing that Voltaire had him now in his power – as this volume contained some very wicked and licentious burlesques, in which Frederick had scoffed at everything and everybody – he ordered Voltaire to be arrested at Frankfort, and the book of poems recovered. Either by Frederick’s malice or the stupidity of his agent, Freytag, Voltaire and his friends were subjected to an imprisonment for twelve days in a miserable hostelry. The intimacy between Frederick and Voltaire was thus destroyed, and a lasting friendship made impossible.

In 1756 Frederick invaded Saxony. Thus was commenced the Seven Years’ War, which proved to be one of the most bloody and cruel strifes ever waged. It gave Frederick the renown of being one of the ablest generals of the world. In 1757 France, Russia, Austria, Poland, and Sweden were combined against Frederick. The entire force of the Prussian king did not exceed eighty thousand men. There were marching against him combined armies amounting to four hundred thousand men. On the battle-field of Leuthen Frederick met and conquered his foes.

But still, peace was out of the question without further fighting. England, at last alarmed at the growing power of France, came to the aid of Frederick. But France, Austria, Sweden, and Russia prepared for a campaign against him.

On Aug. 25, 1758, occurred the bloody battle of Zorndorf, between the Russians and the Prussians. It was an awful massacre. The stolid Russians refused to fly. The Prussians sabred them and trampled them beneath their horses’ feet. It is considered the most bloody battle of the Seven Years’ War, and some claim it was the most furious ever fought. Frederick was again victorious. But in October, 1758, on the field of Hochkirch, Frederick was defeated by the Austrians. Just after the dreadful defeat came the tidings of the death of his sister Wilhelmina. Thus ended the third campaign in clouds and darkness for the Prussian king.

The destinies of Europe were now held in the hands of three women: Maria Theresa, who by common consent had good cause for war, and was fighting in self-defence; Madame de Pompadour, who, virtually sovereign of France, by reason of her supreme control of the infamous Louis XV., as Frederick had stung her by some insult, did not hesitate to deluge Europe in blood; and Catherine II., empress of Russia, who was also Frederick’s foe on account of personal pique.

Frederick himself was undeniably an unscrupulous aggressor, and some call him “a highway robber.”

The cause of Maria Theresa alone could have been called honorable. In the fourth campaign of 1759 the terrible battle of Kunersdorf was fought in August. At first the Prussians were victorious, but the Russians at length routed them with fearful loss. So great was the despair of Frederick that it is said he contemplated suicide.

For a year the struggle continued. The Prussian army left in Silesia was utterly destroyed by the Austrians. But at length the tide turned, and Frederick routed the Austrians at the battle of Liegnitz. But the position of Frederick was still most hazardous. He was in the heart of Silesia, surrounded by hostile armies, three times larger than his own. Weary weeks of marching, fighting, blood, and woe, passed on. Sieges, skirmishes, battles innumerable, ensued.

At length the allies captured Berlin; whereupon Frederick marched quickly to the rescue of his capital. At his dread approach the allies fled. Frederick followed the Austrians.