History of Friedrich II of Prussia, vol 4 | Page 9

joining battle, he audibly utters, with bared head,
some growl of rugged prayer, far from orthodox at times, but muoh in
earnest: that lifting of his hat for prayer, is his last signal on such
occasions. He is very cunning as required, withal; not disdaining the
serpentine method when no other will do. With Friedrich Wilhelm, who
is his second-cousin (Mother's grand-nephew, if the reader can count
that), he is from of old on the best footing, and contrives to be his
Mentor in many things besides War. Till his quarrel with Grumkow, of
which we shall hear, he took the lead in political advising, too; and had

schemes, or was thought to have, of which Queen Sophie was in much
terror.
A tall, strong-boned, hairy man; with cloudy brows, vigilant swift eyes;
has "a bluish tint of skin," says Wilhelmina, "as if the gunpowder still
stuck to him." He wears long mustaches; triangular hat, plume and
other equipments, are of thrifty practical size. Can be polite enough in
speech; but hides much of his meaning, which indeed is mostly
inarticulate, and not always joyful to the by-stander. He plays rough
pranks, too, on occasion; and has a big horse-laugh in him, where there
is a fop to be roasted, or the like. We will leave him for the present, in
hope of other meetings.
Remarkable men, many of those old Prussian soldiers: of whom one
wishes, to no purpose, that there had more knowledge been attainable.
But the Books are silent; no painter, no genial seeing-man to paint with
his pen, was there. Grim hirsute Hyperborean figures, they pass mostly
mute before us: burly, surly; in mustaches, in dim uncertain garniture,
of which the buff-belts and the steel, are alone conspicuous. Growling
in guttural Teutsoh what little articulate meaning they had: spending, of
the inarticulate, a proportion in games, of chance, probably too in
drinking beer; yet having an immense overplus which they do not so
spend, but endeavor to utter in such working as there may be. So have
the Hyperboreans lived from of old. From the times of Tacitus and
Pytheas, not to speak of Odin and Japhet, what hosts of them have
marched across Existence, in that manner;--and where is the memory
that would, even if it could, speak of them all!--
We will hope the mind of our little Fritz has powers of assimilation.
Bayle-Calvin logics, and shadows of Versailles, on this hand, and
gunpowder Leopolds and inarticulate Hyperboreans on that: here is a
wide diversity of nutriment, all rather tough in quality, provided for the
young soul. Innumerable unconscious inferences he must have drawn
in his little head! Prince Leopold's face, with the whiskers and blue skin,
I find he was wont, at after periods, to do in caricature, under the figure
of a Cat's;-- horror and admiration not the sole feelings raised in him by
the Field-Marshal.--For bodily nourishment he had "beer-soup;" a

decided Spartan tone prevailing, wherever possible, in the breeding and
treatment of him.
And we need not doubt, by far the most important element of his
education was the unconscious Apprenticeship he continually served to
such a Spartan as King Friedrich Wilhelm. Of whose works and ways
he could not help taking note, angry or other, every day and hour; nor
in the end, if he were intelligent, help understanding them, and learning
from them. A harsh Master and almost half-mad, as it many times
seemed to the poor Apprentice; yet a true and solid one, whose real
wisdom was worth that of all the others, as he came at length to
recognize.

Chapter III.
FBIEDRICH WILHELM IS KING.
With the death of old King Friedrich, there occurred at once vast
changes in the Court of Berlin; a total and universal change in the mode
of living and doing business there. Friedrich Wilhelm, out of filial piety,
wore at his father's funeral the grand French peruke and other
sublimities of French costume; but it was for the last time: that sad duty
once done, he flung the whole aside, not without impatience, and on no
occasion wore such costume again. He was not a friend to French
fashions, nor had ever been; far the contrary. In his boyhood, say the
Biographers, there was once a grand embroidered cloth-of-gold, or
otherwise supremely magnificent, little Dressing-gown given him; but
he would at no rate put it on, or be concerned with it; on the contrary,
stuffed it indignantly "into the fire;" and demanded wholesome useful
duffel instead.
He began his reform literally at the earliest moment. Being summoned
into the apartment where his poor Father was in the last struggle, he
could scarcely get across for KAMMERJUNKER, KAMMERHERRN,
Goldsticks, Silversticks, and the other solemn histrionic functionaries,
all crowding there to do their sad