ELECTRESS MARIE-ANTOINE TO FRIEDRICH.
“DRESDEN, 5th October, 1763.
“SIRE,–Your Majesty has given me such assurance of your goodness and your friendship, that I will now appeal to that promise. You have assured us, too, that you would with pleasure contribute to secure Poland for us. The moment is come for accomplishing that promise. The King is dead [died this very day; see if _I_ lose time in sentimental lamentations!]–with him these grievances of Russia [our stiffness on Courland and the like] must be extinct; the rather as we [the now reigning] will lend ourselves willingly to everything that can be required of us for perfect reconcilement with that Power.
“You can do all, if you will it; you can contribute to this reconcilement. You can render it favorable to us. You will, give me that proof of the flattering sentiments I have been so proud of hitherto,”–won’t you, now? “Russia cannot disapprove the mediation you might deign to offer on that behalf;–our intentions being so honestly amicable, and all ground of controversy having died with the late King. Russia reconciled, our views on the Polish Crown might at once be declared (ECLATER).” Oh, do it, your Majesty;–“my gratitude shall only end with life!–M. A.” [
Frederic,
Friedrich, who is busy negotiating his Treaty with Russia (perfected 11th April next), and understands that they will mean not to have a Saxon, but to have a Piast, and perhaps dimly even what Piast (Stanislaus Poniatowski, the EMERITUS Lover), who will be their own, and not Saxony’s at all,–must have been a little embarrassed by such an appeal from his fair friend at this moment. “Wait a little; don’t answer yet,” would have occurred to the common mind. But that was not Friedrich’s resource: he answers by return of post, as always in such cases;–and in the following adroit manner brushes off, without hurt to it, with kisses to it rather, the beautiful hand that has him by the button:–
TO THE ELECTRESS MARIE-ANTOINE (at Dresden).
“BERLIN, 8th October, 1763.
“MADAM MY SISTER,–I begin by making my condolences and my congratulations to your Electoral Highness on the death of the King your Father-in-law, and on your Accession to the Electorate.
“Your Electoral Highness will remember what I wrote, not long since, on the affairs of Poland. I am afraid, Madam, that Russia will be more contrary to you than you think. M. de Woronzow [famous Grand-Chancellor of Russia; saved himself dexterously in the late Peter-Catharine overturn; has since fallen into disfavor for his notions about our Gregory Orlof, and is now on his way to Italy, “for health’s sake,” in consequence], who is just arrived here, [“Had his audience 7th October” (yesterday): Rodenbeck, ii. 224.] told me, too, of some things which raise an ill augury of this affair. If you do not disapprove of my speaking frankly to you, it seems to me that it would be suitable in you to send some discreet Diplomatist to that Court to notify the King’s death; and you would learn by him what you have to expect from her Czarish Majesty [the Empress, he always calls her, knowing she prefers that title]. It seems to me, Madam, that it would be precipitate procedure should I wish to engage you in an Enterprise, which appears to myself absolutely dubious (HASARDEE), unless approved by that Princess. As to me, Madam, I have not the ascendant there which you suppose: I act under rule of all the delicacies and discretions with a Court which separated itself from my Enemies when all Europe wished to crush me: but I am far from being able to regulate the Empress’s way of thinking.
“It is the same with the quarrels about the Duke of Courland; one cannot attempt mediation except by consent of both parties. I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that the Court of Russia does not mean to terminate that business by foreign mediation. What I have heard about it (what, however, is founded only on vague news) is, That the Empress might prevail upon herself (POURRAIT SE RESOUDRE) to purchase from Bruhl the Principality of Zips [Zips, on the edge of Hungary; let readers take note of that Principality, at present in the hand of Bruhl,–who has much disgusted Poland by his voracity for Lands; and is disgorging them all again, poor soul!], to give it to Prince Karl in compensation: but that would lead to a negotiation with the Court of Vienna, which might involve the affair in other contentions.
“I conjure you, Madam, I repeat it, Be not precipitate in anything; lest, as my fear is, you replunge Europe into the troubles it has only just escaped from! As to me, I have found, since the Peace, so much to do within my own borders, that I have not, I assure you, had time, Madam, to think of going abroad. I confine myself to forming a thousand wishes for the prosperity of your Electoral Highness, assuring you of the high esteem with which I am,–F.” [
After some farther Letters, of eloquently pressing solicitation on the part of the Lady, and earnest advising, as well as polite fencing, on the part of Friedrich, the latter writes:–
FRIEDRICH TO ELECTRESS.
“MADAM MY SISTER,–At this moment I receive a Letter from the
Empress of Russia, the contents of which do not appear to me favorable, Madam, to your hopes. She requires (EXIGE) that I should instruct my Minister in Poland to act entirely in concert with the Count Kayserling; and she adds these very words: ‘I expect, from the friendship of your Majesty, that you will not allow a passage through your territory, nor the entry into Poland, to Saxon troops, who are to be regarded there absolutely as strangers.’
“Unless your Letters, Madam [Madam had said that she had written to the Empress, assuring her &c.] change the sentiments of the Empress, I do not see in what way the Elector could arrive at the throne of Poland; and consequently, whether I deferred to the wishes of the Empress in this point, or refused to do so, you would not the more become Queen; and I might commit myself against a Power which I ought to keep well with (MENAGER). I am persuaded, Madam, that your Electoral Highness enters into my embarrassment; and that, unless you find yourself successful in changing the Empress’s own ideas on this matter, you will not require of me that I should embroil myself fruitlessly with a neighbor who deserves the greatest consideration from me.
“All this is one consequence of the course which Count Bruhl induced his late Polish Majesty to take with regard to the interests of Prince Karl in Courland; and your Electoral Highness will remember, that I often represented to you the injury which would arise to him from it.
“I will wish, Madam, that other opportunities may occur, where it may be in my power to prove to your Electoral Highness the profound esteem and consideration with which I am–“–F. [
de Frederic,
ELECTRESS TO FRIEDRICH.
“DRESDEN, 11th November, 1763.
“SIRE,–I am not yet disheartened. I love to flatter myself with your friendship, Sire, and I will not easily renounce the hope that you will give me a real mark of it in an affair which interests me so strongly. Nobody has greater ascendency over the mind of the Empress of Russia than your Majesty; use it, Sire, to incline it to our favor. Our obligation will be infinite. … Why should she be absolutely against us? What has she to fear from us? The Courland business, if that sticks with her, could be terminated in a suitable manner.”–Troops into Poland, Sire? “My Husband so little thinks of sending troops thither, that he has given orders for the return of those already there. He does not wish the Crown except from the free suffrages of the Nation: if the Empress absolutely refuse to help him with her good offices, let her, at least, not be against him. Do try, Sire.” [Ib. xxiv. 53.]–Friedrich answers, after four days, or by return of post–But we will give the rest in the form of Dialogue.
FRIEDRICH (after four days). … “If, Madam, I had Crowns to give away, I would place the first on your head, as most worthy to bear it. But I am far from such a position. I have just got out of a horrible War, which my enemies made upon me with a rage almost beyond example; I endeavor to cultivate friendship with all my neighbors, and to get embroiled with nobody. With regard to the affairs of Poland, an Empress whom I ought to be well with, and to whom I owe great obligations, requires me to enter into her measures; you, Madam, whom I would fain please if I could, you want me to change the sentiments of this Empress. Do but enter into my embarrassment! … According to all I hear from Russia, it appears to me that every resolution is taken there; and that the Empress is resolved even to sustain the party of her partisans in Poland with the forces she has all in readiness at the borders. As for me, Madam, I wish, if possible, not to meddle at all with this business, which hitherto is not complicated, but which may, any day, become so by the neighbors of Poland taking a too lively part in it. Ready, otherwise, on all occasions, to give to your Electoral Highness proofs of my–” [
Electress (after ten days). … “Why should the Empress be so much against us? We have not deserved her hatred. On the contrary, we seek her friendship. She declares, however, that she will uphold the freedom of the Poles in the election of their King. You, Sire” –[Ib. xxiv. 55: “Dresden, 26th November, 1763.”] But we must cut short, though it lasts long months after this. Great is the Electress’s persistence,–“My poor Husband being dead, cannot our poor Boy, cannot his uncle Prince Xavier try? O Sire!” Our last word shall be this of Friedrich’s; actual Election-time now drawing nigh:–
FRIEDRICH. “I am doing like the dogs who have fought bitterly till they are worn down: I sit licking my wounds. I notice most European Powers doing the same; too happy if, whilst Kings are being manufactured to right and left, public tranquillity is not disturbed thereby, and if every one may continue to dwell in peace beside his hearth and his household gods.” [“Sans-Souci, 26th June, 1764” (Ib. p. 69).] Adieu, bright Madam.
No reader who has made acquaintance with Polish History can well doubt but Poland was now dead or moribund, and had well deserved to die. Anarchies are not permitted in this world. Under fine names, they are grateful to the Populaces, and to the Editors of Newspapers; but to the Maker of this Universe they are eternally abhorrent; and from the beginning have been forbidden to be. They go their course, applauded or not applauded by self and neighbors,–for what lengths of time none of us can know; for a long term sometimes, but always for a fixed term; and at last their day comes. Poland had got to great lengths, two centuries ago, when poor John Casimir abdicated his Crown of Poland, after a trial of twenty years, and took leave of the Republic in that remarkable SPEECH to the Diet of 1667.
This John is “Casimir V.,” last Scion of the Swedish House of Vasa,–with whom, in the Great Elector’s time, we had some slight acquaintance; and saw at least the three days’ beating he got (Warsaw, 28th-30th July, 1656) from Karl Gustav of Sweden and the Great Elector, [Supra, v. 284-286.] ancestors respectively of Karl XII. and of our present Friedrich. He is not “Casimir the Great” of Polish Kings; but he is, in our day, Casimir the alone Remarkable. It seems to me I once had IN EXTENSO this Valedictory Speech of his; but it has lapsed again into the general Mother of Dead Dogs, and I will not spend a week in fishing for it. The gist of the Speech, innumerable Books and Dead Dogs tell you, [HISTOIRE DES TROIS DEMEMBREMENS does, and many others do;–copied in
Biographie Universelle,
“lamentation over the Polish Anarchies” and “a Prophecy,” which is very easily remembered. The poor old Gentleman had no doubt eaten his peck of dirt among those Polacks, and swallowed chagrins till he felt his stomach could no more, and determined to have done with it. To one’s fancy, in abridged form, the Valediction must have run essentially as follows:–
“Magnanimous Polack Gentlemen, you are a glorious Republic, and have NIE POZWALAM, and strange methods of business, and of behavior to your Kings and others. We have often fought together, been beaten together, by our enemies and by ourselves; and at last I, for my share, have enough of it. I intend for Paris; religious- literary pursuits, and the society of Ninon de l’Enclos. I wished to say before going, That according to all record, ancient and modern, of the ways of God Almighty in this world, there was not heretofore, nor do I expect there can henceforth be, a Human Society that would stick together on those terms. Believe me, ye Polish Chivalries, without superior except in Heaven, if your glorious Republic continue to be managed in such manner, not good will come of it, but evil. The day will arrive [this is the Prophecy, almost IN IPSISSIMIS VERBIS], the day perhaps is not so far off, when this glorious Republic will get torn into shreds, hither, thither; be stuffed into the pockets of covetous neighbors, Brandenburg; Muscovy, Austria; and find itself reduced to zero, and abolished from the face of the world.
“I speak these words in sorrow of soul; words which probably you will not believe. Which only Fate can compel you to believe, one day, if they are true words:–you think, probably, they are not? Me at least, or interest of mine, they do not regard. I speak them from the fulness of my heart, and on behest of friendship and conviction alone; having the honor at this moment to bid you and your Republic a very long farewell. Good-morning, for the last time!” and so EXIT: to Rome (had been Cardinal once); to Paris and the society of Ninon’s Circle for the few years left him of life. [“Died 16th December, 1672, age 63.”]
This poor John had had his bitter experiences: think only of one instance. In 1662, the incredible Law of LIBERUM VETO had been introduced, in spite of John and his endeavors. LIBERUM VETO; the power of one man to stop the proceedings of Polish Parliament by pronouncing audibly “NIE POZWALAM, I don’t permit!”–never before or since among mortals was so incredible a Law. Law standing indisputable, nevertheless, on the Polish Statute-Book for above two hundred years: like an ever-flowing fountain of Anarchy, joyful to the Polish Nation. How they got any business done at all, under such a Law? Truly they did but little; and for the last thirty years as good as none. But if Polish Parliament was universally in earnest to do some business, and Veto came upon it, Honorable Members, I observe, gathered passionately round the vetoing Brother; conjured, obtested, menaced, wept, prayed; and, if the case was too urgent and insoluble otherwise, the NIE POZWALAM Gentleman still obstinate, they plunged their swords through him, and in that way brought consent. The commoner course was to dissolve and go home again, in a tempest of shrieks and curses.
The Right of Confederation, too, is very curious: do readers know it? A free Polack gentleman, aggrieved by anything that has occurred or been enacted in his Nation, has the right of swearing, whether absolutely by himself I know not, but certainly with two or three others of like mind, that he will not accept said occurrence or enactment, and is hereby got into arms against its abettors and it. The brightest jewel in the cestus of Polish Liberty is this right of confederating; and it has been, till of late, and will be now again practised to all lengths: right of every Polish, gentleman to confederate with every other against, or for, whatsoever to them two may seem good; and to assert their particular view of the case by fighting for it against all comers, King and Diet included. It must be owned, there never was in Nature such a Form of Government before; such a mode of social existence, rendering “government” impossible for some generations past.
On the strength of Saxony and its resources and connections, the two Augusts had contrived to exist with the name of Kings; with the name, but with little or nothing more. Under this last August, as we heard, there have been about forty Diets, and in not one of them the least thing of business done; all the forty, after trying their best, have stumbled on NIE POZWALAM, and been obliged to vanish in shrieks and curses. [Buchholz (
Geschichte,
Latterly, as we observed, there has been little of confederating; indeed, for the last thirty years, as Rulhiere copiously informs us, there has been no Government, consequently no mutiny needed; little or no National business of any kind,–the Forty Diets having all gone the road we saw. Electing of the Judges,–that, says Rulhiere, and wearisomely teaches by example again and ever again, has always been an interesting act, in the various Provinces of Poland; not with the hope of getting fair or upright Judges, but Judges that will lean in the desirable direction. In a country overrun with endless lawsuits, debts, credits, feudal intricacies, claims, liabilities, how important to get Judges with the proper bias! And these once got, or lost till next term,–what is there to hope or to fear? Russia does our Politics, fights her Seven-Years War across us; and we, happy we, have no fighting;–never till this of Courland was there the least ill-nature from Russia! We are become latterly the peaceable stepping-stone of Russia into Europe and out of it;–what may be called the door-mat of Russia, useful to her feet, when she is about paying visits or receiving them! That is not a glorious fact, if it be a safe and “lucky” one; nor do the Polish Notabilities at all phrase it in that manner. But a fact it is; which has shown itself complete in the late Czarina’s and late August’s time, and which had been on the growing hand ever since Peter the Great gained his Battle of Pultawa, and rose to the ascendency, instead of Karl and Sweden.
The Poles put fine colors on all this; and are much contented with themselves. The Russians they regard as intrinsically an inferior barbarous people; and to this day you will hear indignant Polack Gentlemen bursting out in the same strain: “Still barbarian, sir; no culture, no literature,”–inferior because they do not make verses equal to ours! How it may be with the verses, I will not decide: but the Russians are inconceivably superior in respect that they have, to a singular degree among Nations, the gift of obeying, of being commanded. Polack Chivalry sniffs at the mention of such a gift. Polack Chivalry got sore stripes for wanting this gift. And in the end, got striped to death, and flung out of the world, for continuing blind to the want of it, and never acquiring it.
Beyond all the verses in Nature, it is essential to every Chivalry and Nation and Man. “Polite Polish Society for the last thirty years has felt itself to be in a most halcyon condition,” says Rulhiere: [Rulhiere, i. 216 (a noteworthy passage).] “given up to the agreeable, and to that only;” charming evening-parties, and a great deal of flirting; full of the benevolences, the philanthropies, the new ideas,–given up especially to the pleasing idea of “LAISSEZ-FAIRE, and everything will come right of itself.” “What a discovery!” said every liberal Polish mind: “for thousands of years, how people did torment themselves trying to steer the ship; never knowing that the plan was, To let go the helm, and honestly sit down to your mutual amusements and powers of pleasing!”
To this condition of beautifully phosphorescent rot-heap has Poland ripened, in the helpless reigns of those poor Augusts;–the fulness of time not now far off, one would say? It would complete the picture, could I go into the state of what is called “Religion” in Poland. Dissenterism, of various poor types, is extensive; and, over against it, is such a type of Jesuit Fanaticism as has no fellow in that day. Of which there have been truly savage and sanguinary outbreaks, from time to time; especially one at Thorn, forty years ago, which shocked Friedrich Wilhelm and the whole Protestant world. [See supra, vi. 64 (and many old Pamphlets on it).] Polish Orthodoxy, in that time, and perhaps still in ours, is a thing worth noting. A late Tourist informs me, he saw on the streets of Stettin, not long since, a drunk human creature staggering about, who seemed to be a Baltic Sailor, just arrived; the dirtiest, or among the dirtiest, of mankind; who, as he reeled along, kept slapping his hands upon his breast, and shouting, in exultant soliloquy, “Polack, Catholik!” _I_ am a Pole and Orthodox, ye inferior two-legged entities!.–In regard to the Jesuit Fanaticisms, at Thorn and elsewhere, no blame can attach to the poor Augusts, who always leant the other way, what they durst or could. Nor is specialty of blame due to them on any score; it was “like People, like King,” all along;–and they, such their luck, have lived to bring in the fulness of time.
The Saxon Electors are again aspirants for this enviable Throne. We have seen the beautiful Electress zealously soliciting Friedrich for help in that project; Friedrich, in a dexterously graceful manner, altogether declining. Hereditary Saxons are not to be the expedient this time, it would seem; a grandiose Czarina has decided otherwise. Why should not she? She and all the world are well aware, Russia has been virtual lord of Poland this long time. Credible enough that Russia intends to continue so; and also that it will be able, without very much expenditure of new contrivance for that object.
So far as can be guessed and assiduously deduced from RULHIERE, with your best attention, Russian Catharine’s interference seems first of all to have been grounded on the grandiose philanthropic principle. Astonishing to the liberal mind; yet to appearance true. Rulhiere nowhere says so; but that is gradually one’s own perception of the matter; no other refuge for you out of flat inconceivability. Philanthropic principle, we say, which the Voltaires and Sages of that Epoch are prescribing as one’s duty and one’s glory: “O ye Kings, why won’t you do good to mankind, then?” Catharine, a kind of She-Louis Quatorze, was equal to such a thing. To put one’s cast Lover into a throne,–poor soul, console him in that manner;–and reduce the long-dissentient Country to blessed composure under him: what a thing! Foolish Poniatowski, an empty, windy creature, redolent of macassar and the finer sensibilities of the heart: him she did make King of Poland; but to reduce the long-dissentient Country to composure,–that was what she could not do. Countries in that predicament are sometimes very difficult to compose. The Czarina took, for above five years, a great deal of trouble, without losing patience. The Czarina, after every new effort, perceived with astonishment that she was farther from success than ever. With astonishment; and gradually with irritation, thickening and mounting towards indignation.
There is no reason to believe that the grandiose Woman handled, or designed to handle, a doomed Poland in the merciless feline- diabolic way set forth with wearisome loud reiteration in those distracted Books; playing with the poor Country as cat does with mouse; now lifting her fell paw, letting the poor mouse go loose in floods of celestial joy and hope without limit; and always clutching the hapless creature back into the blackness of death, before eating and ending it. Reason first is, that the Czarina, as we see her elsewhere, never was in the least a Cat or a Devil, but a mere Woman; already virtual proprietress of Poland, and needing little contrivance to keep it virtually hers. Reason second is, that she had not the gift of prophecy, and could not foreknow the Polish events of the next ten years, much less shape them out beforehand, and preside over them, like a Devil or otherwise, in the way supposed.
My own private conjecture, I confess, has rather grown to be, on much reading of those RULHIERES and distracted Books, that the Czarina,–who was a grandiose creature, with considerable magnanimities, natural and acquired; with many ostentations, some really great qualities and talents; in effect, a kind of She-Louis Quatorze (if the reader will reflect on that Royal Gentleman, and put him into petticoats in Russia, and change his improper females for improper males),–that the Czarina, very clearly resolute to keep Poland hers, had determined with herself to do something very handsome in regard to Poland; and to gain glory, both with the enlightened Philosophe classes and with her own proud heart, by her treatment of that intricate matter. “On the one hand,” thinks she, or let us fancy she thinks, “here is Poland; a Country fallen bedrid amid Anarchies, curable or incurable; much tormented with religious intolerance at this time, hateful to the philosophic mind; a hateful fanaticism growing upon it for forty years past [though it is quite against Polish Law]; and the cries of oppressed Dissidents [Dissenters, chiefly of the Protestant and of the Greek persuasion] becoming more and more distressing to hear. And, on the other hand, here is Poniatowski who, who–!”
Readers have not forgotten the handsome, otherwise extremely paltry, young Polack, Stanislaus Poniatowski, whom Excellency Williams took with him 8 or 9 years ago, ostensibly as “Secretary of Legation,” unostensibly as something very different? Handsome Stanislaus did duly become Lover of the Grand-Duchess; and has duly, in the course of Nature, some time ago (date uncertain to me), become discarded Lover; the question rising, What is to be done with that elegant inane creature, and his vaporous sentimentalisms and sublime sorrows and disappointments? “Let us make him King of Poland!” said the Czarina, who was always much the gentleman with her discarded Lovers (more so, I should say, than Louis Quatorze with his;–and indeed it is computed they cost her in direct moneys about twenty millions sterling,–being numerous and greedy; but never the least tiff of scolding or ill language): [Castera (
elaborate Appendix on this part of his subject.]–“King of Poland, with furnishings, and set him handsomely up in the world! We will close the Dissident Business for him, cure many a curable Anarchy of Poland, to the satisfaction of Voltaire and all leading spirits of mankind. He shall have outfit of Russian troops, poor creature; and be able to put down Anarchies, and show himself a useful and grateful Viceroy for us there. Outfit of 10,000 troops, a wise Russian Manager: and the Question of the Dissidents to be settled as the first glory of his reign!”
Ingenuous readers are invited to try, in their diffuse vague RULHIERES, and unintelligible shrieky Polish Histories, whether this notion does not rise on them as a possible human explanation, more credible than the feline-diabolic one, which needs withal such a foreknowledge, UNattainable by cat or devil? Poland must not rise to be too strong a Country, and turn its back on Russia. No, truly; nor, except by miraculous suspension of the Laws of Nature, is there danger of that. But neither need Poland lie utterly lame and prostrate, useless to Russia; and be tortured on its sick-bed with Dissident Questions and Anarchies, curable by a strong Sovereign, of whom much is expected by Voltaire and the leading spirits of mankind.
What we shall have to say with perfect certainty, and what alone concerns us in our own affair, is, FIRST, that Catharine did proceed by this method, of crowning, fitting out and otherwise setting up Stanislaus; did attempt settlement (and at one time thought she had settled) the Dissident Question and some curable Anarchies,–but stirred up such legions of incurable, waxing on her hands, day after day, year after year, as were abundantly provoking and astonishing:–and that within the next eight years she had arrived, with Poland and her cargo of anarchies, at results which struck the whole world dumb. Dumb with astonishment, for some time; and then into tempests of vociferation more or less delirious, which have never yet quite ended, though sinking gradually to lower and lower stages of human vocality. Fact FIRST is abundantly manifest. Nor is fact SECOND any longer doubtful, That King Friedrich, in regard to all this, till a real crisis elsewhere had risen, took little or no visible interest whatever; had one unvarying course of conduct, that of punctually following Czarish Majesty in every respect; instructing his Minister at Warsaw always to second and reinforce the Russian one, as his one rule of policy in that Country,–whose distracted procedures, imbecilities and anarchies, are, beyond this point of keeping well with a grandiose Czarina concerned in it, of no apparent practical interest to Prussia or its King.
Friedrich, for a long time, passed with the Public for contriver of the Catastrophe of Poland,–“felonious mortal,” “monster of maleficence,” and what not, in consequence. Rulhiere, whose notion of him is none of the friendliest nor correctest, acquits him of this atrocity; declares him, till the very end, mainly or altogether passive in it. Which I think is a little more than the truth,–and only a little, as perhaps may appear by and by. Beyond dispute, these Polish events did at last grow interesting enough to Prussia and its King;–and it will be our task, sufficient in this place, to extricate and riddle out what few of these had any cardinal or notable quality, and put them down (dated, if possible, and in intelligible form), as pertinent to throwing light on this distressing matter, with careful exclusion of the immense mass which can throw only darkness.
EX-LOVER PONIATOWSKI BECOMES KING OF POLAND (7th Sept. 1764), AND IS CROWNED WITHOUT LOSS OF HIS HAIR.
WARSAW, 7th SEPTEMBER 1764, Stanislaus Poniatowski, by what management of an Imperial Catharine upon an anarchic Nation readers shall imagine AD LIBITUM, was elected, what they call elected, King of Poland. Of course there had been preliminary Diets of Convocation, much dieting, demonstrating and electing of imaginary members of Diet,–only “ten persons massacred” in the business. There was a Saxon Party; but no counter-candidate of that or any other nation. King Friedrich, solicited by a charming Electress- Dowager, decides to remain accurately passive. Polish emissaries came entreating him. A certain Mockranowski, who had been a soldier under him (never of much mark in that capacity, though now a flamingly conspicuous “General” and Politician, in the new scene he has got into), came passionately entreating (Potsdam, Summer of 1764, is all the date), “DONNEZ NOUS LE PRINCE HENRI, Give us Prince Henri for a King!” the sound of which almost made Friedrich turn pale: “Have you spoken or hinted of this to the Prince?” “No, your Majesty.” “Home, then, instantly; and not a whisper of it again to any mortal!” [Rulhiere, ii. 268; Hermann, vi. 355-364.] which, they say, greatly irritated Prince Henri, and left a permanent sore-place in his mind, when he came to hear of it long after.
“A question rises here,” says one of my Notes, which perhaps I had better have burnt: “At or about what dates did this glorious Poniatowski become Lover of the Grand-Duchess, and then become Ex-Lover? Nobody will say; or perhaps can? [Preuss (iv. 12) seems to try, but does not succeed.] Would have been a small satisfaction to us, and it is denied! ‘Ritter Williams’ (that is, Hanbury) must have produced him at Petersburg some time in 1756; ’11th January, 1757,’ finding it would suit, Poniatowski appeared there on his own footing as ‘Ambassador from Warsaw,'”–(easy to get that kind of credential from a devoted Warsaw, if you are succeeding at the Court of Petersburg; “Warsaw watchfully makes that the rule of distributing its honors; and, from freezing-point upwards, is the most delicate thermometer,” says Hermann somewhere). And this, is our one date, “Poniatowski in business, SPRING, 1757;” of “Poniatowski fallen bankrupt,” date is totally wanting.
“Poniatowski’s age is 32 gone;–how long out of Russia, readers have to guess. Made his first public appearance on the streets of Warsaw, in the late Election time, as a Captain of Patriot Volunteers,–‘Independence of Poland! Shall Poland be dictated to!” cried Stanislaus and an indignant Public at one stage of the affair. His Uncles Czartoryski were piloting him in; and in that mad element, the cries, and shiftings of tack, had to be many. [In HERMANN, v. 362-380 (still more in RULHIERE, ii. 119-289), wearisome account of every particular.] He is Nephew, by his mother, of these Czartoryskis; but is not by the father of very high family. ‘Ought he to be King of Poland?’ argued some Polish Emissary at Petersburg: ‘His Grandfather was Land-steward to the Sapiehas.’ ‘And if he himself had been it!’ said the Empress, inflexible, though with a blush.–It seems the family was really good, though fallen poor; and, since that Land-steward phasis, had bloomed well out again. His Father was conspicuous as a busy, shifting kind of man, in the Charles-Twelfth and other troubles; had died two years ago, as ‘Castellan of Cracow;’ always a dear friend of Stanislaus Leczinski, who gets his death two years hence [in 1766, as we have seen].
“King Stanislaus Poniatowski had five Brothers: two of them dead long before this time; a third, still alive, was Bishop of Something, Abbot of Something; ate his revenues in peace, and demands silence from us. The other two, Casimir and Andreas, are better worth naming,–especially the Son of one of them is. Casimir, the eldest, is ‘Grand Crown-Chamberlain’ in the days now coming, is also ‘Starost of Zips [a Country you may note the name of!]–and has a Son,’ who is NOT the remarkable one. Andreas, the second Brother (died 1773), was in the Austrian Service, ‘Ordnance- Master,’ and a man of parts and weight;–who has been here at Warsaw, ardently helping, in the late Election time. He too had a Son (at this time a child in arms),–who is really the remarkable ‘Nephew of King Stanislaus,’ and still deserves a word from us.
“This Nephew, bred as an Austrian soldier, like his Father, is the JOSEPH PONIATOWSKI, who was very famous in the Newspapers fifty years ago. By all appearance, a man of some real patriotism, energy and worth. He had tried to believe (though, I think, never rightly able) what his omnipotent Napoleon had promised him, that extinct Poland should be resuscitated; and he fought and strove very fiercely, his Poles and he, in that faith or half-faith. And perished, fiercely fighting for Napoleon, fiercely covering Napoleon’s retreat when his game was lost: horse and man plunged into the Elster River (Leipzig Country, October 19th, 1813, evening of the ‘Battle of the Nations’ there), and sank forever;–and the last gleam of Poland along with him. [
Universelle
“Besides these three Brothers, King Stanislaus had two Sisters still living: one of them Wife of a very high Zamoiski; the other of a ditto Branicki (pronounce BraniTZki)–him whom our German Books call KRON-GROSSFELDHERR; (Grand Crown-General,’ if the Crown have any soldiers at all; the sublime, debauched old Branicki, of whom Rulhiere is continually talking, and never reports anything but futilities in a futile manner. So much is futile, and not worth reporting, in this Polish element!–King Stanislaus himself was born 17th January, 1732; played King of shreds and patches till 1790,–or even farther (not till 1795 did Catharine pluck the paper tabard quite off him); he died in Petersburg, February 11th or 12th) 1798.” After such a life!–
Stanislaus was crowned 25th November, 1764. He needs, as preliminary, to be anointed, on the bare scalp of him, with holy oil before crowning; ought to have his head close-shaved with that view. Stanislaus, having an uncommonly fine head of hair, shuddered at the barbarous idea; absolutely would not: whereupon delay, consultation; and at length some artificial scalp, or second skull, of pasteboard or dyed leather, was contrived for the poor man, which comfortably took the oiling in a vicarious way, with the ambrosial locks well packed out of sight under it, and capable of flowing out again next day, as if nothing had happened. [Rulhiere.] Not a sublime specimen of Ornamental Human Nature, this poor Stanislaus! Ornamental wholly: the body of him, and the mind of him, got up for representation; and terribly plucked to pieces on the stage of the world. You may try to drop a tear over him, but will find mostly that you cannot.
FOR SEVERAL YEARS THE DISSIDENT QUESTION CANNOT BE GOT SETTLED; CONFEDERATION OF RADOM (23d June, 1767-5th March, 1768) PUSHES IT INTO SETTLEMENT.
For several years after this feat of the false scalp, through long volumes, wearisome even in RULHIERE, there turns up nothing which can now be called memorable. The settling of the Dissident Question proves extremely tedious to an impatient Czarina; as to curing of the other curable Anarchies, there is absolutely nothing but a knitting up by A, with a ravelling-out again by B, and no progress discernible whatever. Impatient Czarina ardently pushes on some Dissident settlement,–seconded by King Friedrich and the chief Protestant Courts, London included, and by the European leading spirits everywhere,–through endless difficulties: finds native Orthodoxy an unexpectedly stiff matter; Bishops generally having a fanaticism which is wonderful to think of, and which keeps mounting higher and higher. Till at length there will Images of the Virgin take to weeping,–as they generally do in such cases, when in the vicinity of brew-houses and conveniences; [Nicolai, in his TRAVELS OVER GERMANY, doggedly undertook to overhaul one of those weeping Virgins (somewhere in Austria, I think); and found her, he says, to depend on subterranean percolation of steam from a Brewery not far off.]–a Carmelite Monk go about the country working miracles; and, in short, an extremely ugly phasis of religious human nature disclose itself to the afflicted reader. King Friedrich thinks, had it not been for this Dissident Question, things would have taken their old Saxon complexion, and Poland might have rotted on as heretofore, perhaps a good while longer.
As to the knitting-up and ravelling-out again, which is called curing of the other anarchies, no reader can or need say anything: it seems to be a most painful knitting-up, by the Czartoryskis chiefly, then an instant ravelling out by malign Opposition parties of various indistinct complexion; the knitting, the ravelling, and the malign Opposition parties, alike indistinct and without interest to mankind. A certain drunken, rather brutal Phantasm of a Prince Radzivil, who hates the Czartoryskis, and is dreadfully given to drink, to wasteful ambitions and debaucheries, figures much in these businesses; is got banished and confiscated, by some Confederation formed; then, by new Confederations, is recalled and reinstated,–worse if possible than ever. The thing is reality; but it reads like a Phantasmagory produced by Lapland Witches, under presidency of Diabolus (very certainly the Devil presiding, as you see at all turns),–and is not worth understanding, were it even easy.
Much semi-intelligible, wholly forgettable stuff about King Stanislaus and his difficulties, and his duplicities and treacherous imbecilities, [Hermann, v. 400, &c.; Rulhiere PASSIM.] now of interest to no mortal. Stanislaus is at one time out with the uncles Czartoryski, at another in with these worthy gentlemen: a man not likely to cure Anarchies, unless wishing would do it. On the Dissident Question itself he needs spurring: a King of liberal ideas, yes; but with such flames of fanaticism under the nose of him. In regard to the Dissident and all other curative processes he is languid, evasive, for moments recalcitrant to Russian suggestions; a lost imbecile,–forget him, with or without a tear. He has still a good deal of so-called gallantry on his hands; flies to his harem when outside things go contradictory. [Hermann, v. 402, &c.] Think of malign Journalists printing this bit of Letter at one time, to do him ill in a certain quarter: “Oh, come to me, my Princess! Dearer than all Empresses:–imperial charms, what were they to thine for a heart that has–” with more of the like stuff, for a Czarina’s behoof.
WINTER OF 1766, Imperial Majesty, whether after or before that miraculous Carmelite Monk, I do not remember, became impatient of these tedious languors and tortuosities about the Dissident Question, and gave express order, “Settle it straightway!” To which end, Confederations and the other machinery were set agoing: Confederations among the Protestants and Dissidents themselves, about Thorn and such places (got up by Russian engineering), and much more extensively in the Lithuanian parts; Confederations of great extent, imperative, minatory; ostensibly for reinstating these poor people in their rights (which, by old Polish Law, they quite expressly were, if that were any matter), but in reality for bringing back drunken Radzivil, who has covenanted to carry that measure. And so,
JUNE 23d, 1767, These multiplex Polish-Lithuanian Confederations, twenty-four of them in all, with their sublime marshals and officials, and above 80,000 noblemen in them, meet by deputies at Radom, a convenient little Town within wind of Warsaw (lies 60 miles to south of Warsaw); and there coalesce into one general “Confederation of Radom,” [Hermann, v. 420.] with drunken Radzivil atop, who, glad to be reinstated in his ample Domains and Wine- cellars, and willing at any rate to spite the Czartoryskis and others, has pledged himself to carry that great measure in Diet, and quash any NIE POZWALAMS and difficulties there may be. This is the once world-famous, now dimly discoverable, CONFEDERATION OF RADOM, which–by preparatory declaring, under its hand and seal, That the Law of the Land must again become valid, and “Free Polacks of Dissident opinions concerning Religion (NOS DISSIDENTES DE RELIGIONE),” as the old Law phrases it, “shall have equal rights of citizenship”–was beautifully instrumental in achieving that bit of Human Progress, and pushing it through the Diet, and its difficulties shortly ensuing.
Not that the Diet did not need other vigorous treatment as well, the flame of fanaticism being frightfully ardent; many of the poor Bishops having run nearly frantic at this open spoliation of Mother Church, and snatching of the sword from Peter. So that Imperial Majesty had to decide on picking out a dozen, or baker’s dozen, of the hottest Bishops; and carrying them quietly into Russia under lock and key, till the thing were done. Done it was, surely to the infinite relief of mankind;–I cannot say precisely on what day: October 13th-14th (locking up of the dozen Bishops), was one vital epoch of it; November 19th, 1767 (report of Committee on it, under Radzivil’s and Russia’s coercion), was another: first and last it took about five months baking in Diet. Diet met Oct. 4th, 1767, Radzivil controlling as Grand-Marshal, and Russia as minatory Phantom controlling Radzivil; Diet, after adjournments, after one long adjournment, disappeared 5th March, 1768; and of work mentionable it had done this of the Dissidents only. That of contributing to “the sovereign contempt with which King Stanislaus is regarded by all ranks of men,” is hardly to be called peculiar work or peculiarly mentionable.
At this point, to relieve the reader’s mind, and, at any rate, as the date is fully come, we will introduce a small NEWSPAPER ARTICLE from a very high hand, little guessed till long afterwards as the writer,–namely, from King Friedrich’s own. It does not touch on the Dissident Question, or the Polish troubles; but does, in a back-handed way, on Prussian Rumors rising about them; and may obliquely show more of the King’s feeling on that subject than we quite suppose. It seems the King had heard that the Berlin people were talking and rumoring of “a War being just at hand;” whereupon–“MARCH 5th, 1767, IN THE VOSSISCHE ZEITUNG (Voss’s Chronicle), No. 28,” an inquisitive Berlin public read as follows:–
“We are advised from Potsdam, that, on the 27th of February, towards evening, the sky began to get overcast; black clouds, presaging a tempest of unexampled fury, covered all the horizon: the thunder, with its lightnings, forked bolts of amazing brilliancy, burst out; and, under its redoubled peals, there descended such a torrent of hail as within man’s memory had not been seen. Of two bullocks yoked in their plough, with which a peasant was hastening home, one was struck on the head by a piece of it, and killed outright. Many of the common people were wounded in the streets; a brewer had his arm broken. Roofs are destroyed by the weight of this hail; all the windows that looked windward while it fell were broken. In the streets, hailstones were found of the size of pumpkins (CITROUILLES), which had not quite melted two hours after the storm ceased. This singular phenomenon has made a very great impression. Scientific people say, the air had not buoyancy enough to support these solid masses when congealed to ice; that the small hailstones in these clouds getting so lashed about in the impetuosity of the winds, had united the more the farther they fell, and had not acquired that enormous magnitude till comparatively near the earth. Whatever way it may have happened, it is certain that occurrences of that kind are rare, and almost without example.” [VOSSISCHE ZEITUNG, ubi supra:
OEuvres de Frederic,
Another singularity is, “Professor Johann Daniel Titius of Wittenberg,” who teaches NATURAL PHILOSOPHY in that famous University, one may judge with what effect, wrote a Monograph on this unusual Phenomenon! [Rodenbeck (ii. 285) gives the Title of it, “CONSIDERATIONS ON THE POTSDAM HAIL OF LAST YEAR (Wittenberg, 1768).”]
CONFEDERATION OF BAR ENSUES, ON THE PER-CONTRA SIDE (March 28th, 1768); AND, AS FIRST RESULT OF ITS ACHIEVEMENTS (October 6th, 1768), A TURK-RUSSIAN WAR.
The Confederation of Radom, and its victorious Diet, had hardly begun their Song of Triumph, when there ensued on the per-contra side a flaming CONFEDERATION OF BAR;–which, by successive stages, does at last burn out the Anarchies of Poland, and reduce them to ashes. Confederation of Bar; and then, as progeny of that, for and against, such a brood of Confederations, orthodox, heterodox, big, little, short-lived, long-lived, of all complexions and degrees of noisy fury, potent, at any rate, each of them for murder and arson, within a certain radius, as the Earth never saw before. Now was the time of those inextricable marchings (as inroads and outroads) through the Lithuanian Bogs, of those death-defiant, unparalleled exploits, skirmishings, scaladings, riding by the edge of precipices, of Pulawski, Potocki and others,–in which Rulhiere loses himself and turns on his axis, amid impatient readers.
For the Russian troops (summoned by a trembling Stanislaus and his Senate, in terms of Treaty 1764), and in more languid manner, the Stanislaus soldiery, as per law of the case, proceeded to strike in,–generally, my impression was, with an eye to maintain the King’s Peace and keep down murder and arson:–and sure enough, the small bodies of drilled Russians blew an infuriated orthodox Polack chivalry to right and left at a short notice; but as to the Constable’s Peace or King’s, made no improvement upon that, far the reverse. It is certain the Confederate chivalry were driven about, at a terrible rate,–over the Turk frontier for shelter; began to appeal to the Grand Turk, in desperate terms: “Brother of the Sun and Moon, saw you ever such a chance for finishing Russia? Polack chivalry is Orthodox Catholic, but also it is Anti-Russian!” The Turk beginning to give ear to it, made the matter pressing and serious. Here, more specifically, are some features and successive phases,–unless the reader prefer to skip.
“BAR, MARCH, 1768. The Confederation of Radom, as efficient preliminary, and chief agent in that Diet of emancipation to the Dissident human mind, might long have been famous over Poland and the world; but there instantly followed as corollary to it a CONFEDERATION OF BAR, which quite dimmed the fame of Radom, and indeed of all Confederations prior or posterior! As the Confederation of Bar and its Doings, or rather sufferings and tragical misdoings and undoings, still hang like fitful spectralities, or historical shadows, of a vague ghastly complexion, in the human memory, one asks at least: Since they were on this Planet, tell us where? Bar is in the Waiwodship Podol (what we call Podolia), some 400 miles southeast of Warsaw; not far from the Dniester River:–not far very from that mystery of the Dniester, the Zaporavian Cossacks,–from those rapids or cataracts (quasi-cataracts of the Dniester, with Islands in them, where those Cossack robbers live unassailable):–across the Dniester lies Turkey, and its famed Fortress of Choczim. This is a commodious station for Polish Gentlemen intending mutiny by law.
“MARCH 8th, 1768, Three short days after the Diet of Radom had done its fine feat, and retired to privacy, news came to Warsaw, That Podolia and the Southern parts are all up, confederating with the highest animation; in hot rage against such decision of a Diet, contrary to Holy Religion and to much else; and that the said decision will have to fight for itself, now that it has done voting. This interesting news is true; and goes on intensifying and enlarging itself, one dreadful Confederation springing up, and then another and ever another, day after day; till at last we hear that on the 27th of the month, MARCH 27th, 1768, at Bar, a little Town on the Southern or Turkish Frontier, all these more or less dreadful Confederations have met by delegates, and coalesced into one ‘Confederatiou of Bar,’–which did surely prove dreadful enough, to itself especially, in the months now ensuing!”
No history of Bar Confederation shall we dream of; far be such an attempt from us. It consists of many Confederations, and out of each, PRO and CONTRA, spring many. Like the Lernean Hydra, or even Hydras in a plural condition. A many-headed dog: and how many whelps it had,–I cannot give even the cipher of them, or I would! One whelp Confederation, that of Cracow, is distinguished by having frequently or generally been “drunk;” and of course its procedures had often a vinous character. [In HERMANN (v. 431-448); and especially in RULHIERE (ii. livre 8 et seq.), details in superabundance.] I fancy to have read somewhere that the number of them was one hundred and twenty-five. The rumor and the furious barking of Bar and its whelps goes into all lands: such rabid loud baying at mankind and the moon; and then, under Russia’s treatment, such shrill yelping and shrieking, was not heard in the world before, though perhaps it has since.
Poor BAR’S exploits in the fighting way were highly inconsiderable; all on the same scale; and spread over such a surface of country, mostly unknown, as renders it impossible to give them head-room, were you never so unfurnished. They can be read in eloquent Rulhiere; but by no mortal held in memory. Anarchy is not a thing to be written of; a Lernean Hydra, several Lernean Hydras, in chaotic genesis, getting their heads lopped off, and at the same time sprouting new ones in such ratio, where is the Zoologist that will give account of it? There was not anything considerable of fighting; but of bullying, plundering, murdering and being murdered, a frightful amount. There are seizures of castles, convents, defensible houses; marches at a rate like that of antelopes, through the Lithuanian parts, boggy, hungry, boundless, opening to the fancy the Infinitude of Peat, in the solid and the fluid state. This, perhaps, is the finest species of feats, though they never lead to anything. There are heroes famed for these marches.
The Pulawskis, for example,–four of them, Lawyer people,–showed much activity, and a talent for impromptu soldiering, in that kind. The Magnates of the Confederation, I was surprised to learn, had all quitted it, the instant it came to strokes: “You Lawyer people, with your priests and orthodox peasantries, you do the fighting part; ours is the consulting!” And except Potocki (and he worse than none), there is presently not a Magnate of them left in Poland,–the rest all gone across the Austrian Border, to Teschen, to Bilitz, a handy little town and domain in that Duchy of Teschen;–and sit there as “Committee of Government:” much at their ease in comparison, could they but agree among themselves, which they cannot. Bilitz is one of the many domains of Magnate Sulkowski:–do readers recollect the Sulkowski who at one time “declared War” on King Friedrich; and was picked up, both War and he, so compendiously by General Goltz, and locked in Glogau to cool? This is the same Sulkowski; much concerned now in these matters; a rich Magnate, glad to see his friends about him as Governing Committee; but gets, and gives, a great deal of vexation in it, the element proving again too hot!–
I said there were four famed Pulawskis; [Hermann, v. 465.] a father, once Advocate in Warsaw, with three sons and a nephew; who, though extremely active people, could do no good whatever. The father Pulawski had the fine idea of introducing the British Constitution; clothing Poland wholly in British tailorage, and so making it a new Poland: but he never could get it done. This poor gentleman died in Turkish prison, flung into jail at Constantinople, on calumnious accusation and contrivance by a rival countryman; his sons and nephew, poor fellows, all had their fame, more or less, in the Cause of Freedom so called; but no other profit in this world, that I could hear of. Casimir, the eldest son, went to America; died there, still in the Cause of Freedom so called; Fort Pulawski, in the harbor of Charleston (which is at present, on very singular terms, RE-engaged in the same so-called Cause!), was named in memory of this Casimir. He had defended Czenstochow (if anybody knew what Czenstochow was, or could find it in the Polish map); and it was also he that contrived that wonderful plan of suddenly snapping up King Stanislaus from the streets of Warsaw one night, [“3d November, 1771.”] and of locking him away (by no means killing him), as the source of all our woes. O my Pulawskis, men not without manhood, what a bedlam of a Time have you and I fallen into, and what Causes of Freedom it has got in hand!
Bar, a poor place, with no defences but a dry ditch and some miserable earthworks, the Confederates had not the least chance to maintain; Kaminiec, the only fortress of the Province, they never even got into, finding some fraction of royal soldiery who stood for King Stanislaus there, and who fired on the Confederates when applied to. Bar a small Russian division, with certain Stanislaus soldieries conjoined, took by capitulation; and (date not given) entered in a victorious manner. The War-Epic of the Confederates, which Rulhiere sings at such length, is blank of meaning.
Of “Cloister Czenstochow,” a famed feat of Pulawski’s, also without result, I could not from my Rulhiere discover (what was altogether an illuminative fact to me!) that the date of Czenstochow was not till 1771. A feat of “Cloister BERDICZOW,” almost an exact facsimile by the same Pulawski, also resultless, I did, under Hermann’s guidance, at once find;–and hope the reader will be satisfied to accept it instead: Cloister Berdiczow, which lies in the Palatinate of Kiow; and which has a miraculous Holy Virgin, not less venerated far and wide in those eastern parts, than she of Cloister Czenstochow in the western: THIS Cloister Berdiczow and its salutary Virgin, Pulawski (the Casimir, now of Charleston Harbor) did defend, with about 1,000 men, in a really obstinate way, The Monastery itself had in it gifts of the faithful, accumulated for ages; and all the richest people in those Provinces, Confederate or not, had lodged their preciosities there, as in an impregnable and sure place, in those times of trouble. Intensely desirous, accordingly, the Russians were to take it, but had no cannon; desperately resolute Pulawski and his 1,000 to defend. Pulawski and his 1,000 fired intensely, till their cannon- balls were quite done; then took to firing with iron-work, and hard miscellanies of every sort, especially glad when they could get a haul of glass to load with;–and absolutely would not yield till famine came; though the terms offered were good,–had they been kept.
So that Pulawski, it would appear, did Two Cloister Defences? Two, each with a miraculous Holy Virgin; an eastern, and then a westerly. This of Berdiczow, not dated to me farther, is for certain of the year 1768; and Pulawski, owing to famine, did yield here. In 1771, at miraculous Cloister Czenstochow, in the western parts, Pulawski did an external feat, or consented to see it done, –that of trying to snuff out poor King Stanislaus on the streets (3d November, 10 P.M., “miraculously” in vain, as most readers know),–which brought its obloquies and troubles on the Defender of Czenstochow. Obloquies and troubles: but as to surrendering Czenstochow on call of obloquy, or of famine itself, Pulawski would not, not he for his own part; but solemnly left his men to do it, and walked away by circuitous uncertain paths, which end in Charleston Harbor, as we have seen. [At Savannah, in a stricter sense. “Perished at the Siege [futile attempt to storm, by the French, which they called a Siege] of Savannah, 9th October, 1779.”] Defence of Czenstochow in 1771 shall not concern us farther. Truly these two small defences of monasteries by Pulawski are almost all, I do not say of glorious, but even of creditable or human, that reward the poor wanderer in that Polish Valley of Jehoshaphat, much of it peat-country; wherefore I have, as before, marked the approximate localities, approximate dates, for behoof of ingenuous readers.
The Russians, ever since 1764, from the beginnings of those Stanislaus times, are pledged to maintain peace in Poland; and it is they that have to deal with this affair,–they especially, or almost wholly, poor Stanislaus having scarcely any power, military or other, and perhaps being loath withal. There was more of investigating and parleying, bargaining and intriguing, than of fighting, on Stanislaus’s part. “June 11th, 1768,” says a Saxon Note from Warsaw, “Mokranowski, Stanislaus’s General [the same that was with Friedrich], has been sent down to Bar to look into those Confederates. Mokranowski does not think there are above 8,000 of them; about 3,000 have got their death from Russian castigation. The 8,000 might be treated with, only Russians are so dreadfully severe, especially so intent on wringing money from them. Confederates have been complaining to the Turk; Turk ambiguous; gives them no definite ground of hope. ‘What then, is your hope?’ I inquired. ‘Little or none, except in Heaven,’ several answered: ‘it is for our religion and our liberty:’ religion cut to pieces by this Dissident Toleration-blasphemy; liberty ditto by the Russian guarantee of peace among us: ‘what can we do but trust in God and our own despair?'” [“Essen’s Report, 11th June, 1768” (in HERMANN, v. 441).] “Prave worts, Ancient Pistol,”–but much destitute of sense, and not to be realized in present circumstances. Here is something much more critical:–
JUNE-JULY, 1768. “The peasants in the Southern regions, Palatinates Podol, Kiow, Braclaw, called UKRAINE or Border-Country by the Poles, are mostly of Greek and other schismatic creeds. Their Lords are of an orthodox religion, and not distinguished by mild treatment of such Peasantry, upon whom civil war and plunder have been latterly a sore visitation. To complete the matter, the Confederates in certain quarters, blown upon by fanatical priests, set about converting these poor peasants, or forcing them, at the point of the bayonet, to swear that they adopt the ‘Greek united rite,’ which I suppose to be a kind of half-way house towards perfect orthodoxy. In one Village, which was getting converted in this manner, the military party seemed to be small; the Village boiled over upon it; trampled orthodoxy and military both under foot, in a violent and sanguinary manner; and was extremely frightened when it had done. Extremely frightened, not the Village only, but the schismatic mind generally in those parts, dreading vengeance for such a paroxysm. But the atrocious Russians whispered them, ‘We are here to protect you in your religions and rights, in your poor consciences and skins.’ Upon which hint of the atrocious Russians, the schismatic mind and population one and all rose; and, ‘with the cannibal’s ferocity, gave way to their appetite for plunder!’ …
“Nay, the Russian Government [certain Russian Officials hard pressed] had invited the Zaporavian Cossacks to step over from their Islands in the Dniester, and assist in defending their Religion [true Greek, of course]; who at once did so; and not only extinguished the last glimmer of Confederation there, but overwhelmed the Country, thousands on thousands of them, attended by revolted peasants,–say a 20,000 of peasants under command of these Zaporavians,–who went about plundering and burning. That they plundered the Jew pot-houses of their brandy, and drank it, was a small matter. Very furious upon Jews, upon Noblemen, Landlords, upon Catholic Priests. ‘On one tree [tree should have been noted] was found hanged a specimen of each of those classes, with a Dog adjoined, as fit company.’ In one little Town, Town of HUMAN [so called in that foreign dialect], getting some provocation or other, they set to massacring; and if brandy were plentiful, we can suppose they made short work. By the lowest computation the number of slain Jews and Catholics amounted to 10,000 odd [Hermann, v. 444; Rulhiere, iii. 93.]–Rulhiere says ‘50,000, by some accounts 200,000.'” This I guess to have been at its height about the end of June; this leads direct to the Catastrophe, as will presently be seen.
Foreign States don’t seem to pay much attention,–indeed, what sane person would like to interfere, or hope to do it with profit? France, Austria, both wish well to Poland, at least ill to Russia; Choiseul has no finance, can do nothing but intrigue, and stir up trouble everywhere: a devout Kaiserinn goes with Holy Church, and disapproves of these Dissident Tolerations: it is remarked that all through 1768 the Confederates of Bar are permitted to retire over the Austrian Frontier into Austrian Silesia, and find themselves there in safety. Permitted to buy arms, to make preparations, issue orders: at Sulkowski’s Bilitz, in the Duchy of Teschen, supreme Managing Committee sits there; no Kaunitz or Official person meddling with it. About the beginning of next year (1769), it is, ostensibly, a little discountenanced; and obliged to go to Eperjes, on the Hungarian Frontier [See Busching: for Eperjes, ii. 1427; for Bilitz, viii. 885.] (as a more decent or less conspicuous place),–such trouble now rising; a Turk War having broken out, momentous not to the Confederation alone. March, 1769, the ever- intriguing Choiseul–fancy with what rapturous effect–had sent some kind of Agent or Visitor to Teschen; Vergennes in Turkey, from the beginning of these things, has been plying night and day his diplomatic bellows upon every live-coal (“I who myself kindled this Turk-War!” brags he afterwards);–not till next year (1770) did Choiseul send his Dumouriez to the Bilitz neighborhoods; not till next again, when Choiseul was himself out, [Thrown out “2d December, 1770,”–by Louis’s NEW Pompadour.] did his Viomenil come: [Hermann, v. 469-471; in RULHIERE (iv. 241-289) account of Dumouries and his fencings and spyings, still more of Viomenil, who had “French Volunteers,” and did some bits of real fighting on the small scale.] neither of whom, by their own head alone, without funds, without troops, could do other than with fine effort make bad worse.
It is needless continuing such a subject. Here is one glimpse two years later, and it shall be our last: “NEAR LUBLIN, 25th SEPTEMBER, 1770. It is frightful, all this that is passing in these parts,–about the Town of Labun, for example. The dead bodies remain without burial; they are devoured by the dogs and the pigs. … Everywhere reigns Pestilence; nor do we fear contagion so much as famine. Offer 100 ducats for a fowl or for a bit of bread, I swear you won’t get it. General von Essen [Russian, we will hope] has had to escape from Laticzew, then from” some other place, “Pestilence chasing him everywhere.”
To apply to the Turks,–afflicted Polish Patriots prostrating themselves with the hope of despair, “Save us, your sublime Clemency; throw a ray of pity on us, Brother of the Sun and Moon: oh, chastise our diabolic oppressors!”–this was one of the first resources of the Bar Confederates. The Turks did give ear; not inattentive, though pretending to be rather deaf. M. de Vergennes,–of whose “diplomatic bellows” we just heard (in fact, for diligence in this Turk element, in this young time, the like of him was seldom seen; we knew him long afterwards as a diligent old gentleman, in French-Revolution days),–M. de Vergennes zealously supports; zealous to let loose the Turk upon Anti-French parties. The Turks seem to wag their heads, for some time; and their responses are ambiguous. For some time, not for long. Here, fast enough, comes, in disguised shape, the Catastrophe itself, ye poor plaintive Poles!
JULY-OCTOBER, 1768. Those Zaporavian and other Cossacks, with 20,000 peasants plundering about on both sides of the Dniester, had set fire to the little Town of Balta, which is on the south side, and belongs to the Turks: a very grave accident, think all political people, think especially the Foreign Excellencies at Warsaw, when news of it arrives. Burning of Balta, not to be quenched by the amplest Russian apologies, proved a live-coal at Constantinople; and Vergennes says, he set population and Divan on fire by it: a proof that the population and Divan had already been in a very inflammable state. Not a wise Divan, though a zealous. Plenty of fury in these people; but a sad deficiency of every other faculty. They made haste, in their hot humor, to declare War (6th October, 1768); [Hermann, v. 608-611.] not considering much how they would carry it on. Declared themselves in late Autumn,–as if to give the Russians ample time for preparing; those poor Turks themselves being as yet ready with nothing, and even the season for field-operations being over.
King Friedrich, who has still a Minister at the Porte, endeavored to dissuade his old Turk friends, in this rash crisis; but to no purpose; they would listen to nothing but Vergennes and their own fury. Friedrich finds this War a very mad one on the part of his old Turk friends; their promptitude to go into it (he has known them backward enough when their chances were better!), and their way of carrying it on, are alike surprising to him. He says: “Catharine’s Generals were unacquainted with the first elements of Castrametation and Tactic; but the Generals of the Sultan had a still more prodigious depth of ignorance; so that to form a correct idea of this War, you must figure a set of purblind people, who, by constantly beating a set of altogether blind, end by gaining over them a complete mastery.” [
It is but six months since Polish Patriotism, so effulgent to its own eyes in Orthodoxy, in Love of glorious Liberty, confederated at Bar, and got into that extraordinary whirlpool, or cesspool, of miseries and deliriums we have been looking at; and now it has issued on a broad highway of progress,–broad and precipitous,–and will rapidly arrive at the goal set before it. All was so rapid, on the Polish and on the Turkish part. The blind Turks, out of mere fanaticism and heat of humor, have rushed into this adventure;–and go rushing forward into a series of chaotic platitudes on the huge scale, and mere tragical disasters, year after year, which would have been comical, had they not been so hideous and sanguinary: constant and enormous blunders on the Turk part, issuing in disasters of like magnitude; which in the course of Two Campaigns had quite finished off their Polish friends, in a very unexpected way; and had like to have finished themselves off, had not drowned Poland served as a stepping-stone.
Not till March 26th, 1769, six months after declaring in such haste, did the blind Turks “display their Banner of Mahomet,” that is, begin in earnest to assemble and make ready. Nor were the Russians shiningly strategic, though sooner in the field,–a Prince Galitzin commanding them (an extremely purblind person); till replaced by Romanzow, our old Colberg acquaintance, who saw considerably better. Galitzin, early in the season, made a rush on Choczim (ChoTzim), the first Turk Fort beyond the Dniester; and altogether failed,–not by Turk prowess, but by his own purblind mal-arrangements (want of ammunition, want of bread, or I will forget what);–which occasioned mighty grumblings in Russia: till in a month or two, by favor of Fortune and blindness of the Turk, matters had come well round again; and Galitzin, walking up to Choczim the second time, found there was not a Turk in the place, and that Choczim was now his on those uncommonly easy terms!
Instead of farther details on such a War,–the shadow or reflex of which, as mirrored in the Austrian mind, has an importance to Friedrich and us; but the self or substance of which has otherwise little or none,–we will close here with a bit of Russian satire on it, which is still worth reading. The date is evidently Spring, 1769; the scene what we are now treating of: Galitzin obliged to fall back from Choczim; great rumor–“What a Galitzin; what a Turk War his, in contrast to the last we had!” [Turk War of 1736-1739, under Munnich (supra, vii. 81-126).]–no Romanzow yet appointed in his room. And here is a small Manuscript, which was then circulating fresh and new in Russian Society; and has since gone over all the world (though mostly in an uncertain condition, in old Jest-Books and the like), as a genuine bit of CAVIARE from those Northern parts:–
MANUSCRIPT CIRCULATING IN RUSSIAN SOCIETY. Galitzin, much grieved about Choczim, could not sleep; and, wandering about in his tent, overheard, one night, a common soldier recounting his dream to the sentry outside the door.
“A curious dream,” said the soldier: “I dreamt I was in a battle; that I got my head cut off; that I died; and, of course, went to Heaven. I knocked at the door: Peter came with a bunch of Keys; and made such rattling that he awoke God; who started up in haste, asking, ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Why,’ says Peter, ‘there is a great War on earth between the Russians and the Turks.’ ‘And who commands my Russians?’ said the Supreme Being. ‘Count Munnich,’ answered Peter. ‘Very well; I may go to sleep again!’–But this was not the end of my dream,” continued the soldier; “I fell asleep and dreamt again, the very same as before, except that the War was not Count Munnich’s, but the one we are now in. Accordingly, when God asked, ‘Who commands my Russians?’ Peter answered, ‘Prince Galitzin.’ ‘Galitzin? Then get me my boots!’ said the [Russian] Supreme Being.” [W. Richardson (then at Petersburg, Tutor to Excellency Cathcart’s Children; afterwards Professor at Glasgow, and a man of Some reputation in his old age),
Empire, in a Series of Letters written a few years ago from St. Petersburg
Chapter IV.
PARTITION OF POLAND.
These Polish phenomena were beginning to awaken a good deal of attention, not all of it pleasant, on the part of Friedrich. From the first he had, as usual, been a most clear-eyed observer of everything; and found the business, as appears, not of tragical nature, but of expensive-farcical, capable to shake the diaphragm rather than touch the heart of a reflective on-looker. He has a considerable Poem on it,–WAR OF THE CONFEDERATES by title (in the old style of the PALLADION, imitating an unattainable JEANNE D’ARC),–considerable Poem, now forming itself at leisure in his thoughts, [“LA GUERRE DES CONFEDERES [
Much a laughing-stock to this King hitherto, such a “War of the Confederates,”–consisting of the noisiest, emptiest bedlam tumults, seasoned by a proportion of homicide, and a great deal of battery and arson. But now, with a Russian-Turk War springing from it, or already sprung, there are quite serious aspects rising amid the laughable. By Treaty, this War is to cost the King either a 12,000 of Auxiliaries to the Czarina, or a 72,000 pounds (480,000 thalers) annually; [
vi. 13.]–which latter he prefers to pay her, as the alternative: not an agreeable feature at all; but by no means the worst feature. Suppose it lead to Russian conquests on the Turk, to Austrian complicacies, to one knows not what, and kindle the world round one again! In short, we can believe Friedrich was very willing to stand well with next-door neighbors at present, and be civil to Austria and its young Kaiser’s civilities.
FIRST INTERVIEW BETWEEN FRIEDRICH AND KAISER JOSEPH (Neisse, 25th-28th August, 1769).
In 1766, the young Kaiser, who has charge of the Military Department, and of little else in the Government, and is already a great traveller, and enthusiastic soldier, made a pilgrimage over the Bohemian and Saxon Battle-fields of the Seven-Years War. On some of them, whether on all I do not know, he set up memorial- stones; one of which you still see on the field of Lobositz;–of another on Prag field, and of reverent salutation by Artillery to the memory of Schwerin there, we heard long ago. Coming to Torgau on this errand, the Kaiser, through his Berlin Minister, had signified his “particular desire to make acquaintance with the King in returning;” to which the King was ready with the readiest;– only that Kaunitz and the Kaiserinn, in the interim, judged it improper, and stopped it. “The reported Interview is not to take place,” Friedrich warns the Newspapers; “having been given up, though only from courtesy, on some points of ceremonial.” [“FRIEDRICH TO ONE OF HIS FOREIGN AMBASSADORS” (the common way of announcing in Newspapers): Preuss, iv. 22 n.]
The young Kaiser felt a little huffed; and signified to Friedrich that he would find a time to make good this bit of uncivility, which his pedagogues had forced upon him. And now, after three years, August, 1769, on occasion of the Silesian Reviews, the Kaiser is to come across from his Bohemian businesses, and actually visit him: Interview to be at Neisse, 25th August, 1769, for three days. Of course the King was punctual, everybody was punctual, glad and cordial after a sort,–no ceremony, the Kaiser, officially incognito, is a mere Graf von Falkenstein, come to see his Majesty’s Reviews. There came with him four or five Generals, Loudon one of them; Lacy had preceded: Friedrich is in the palace of the place, ready and expectant. With Friedrich are: Prince Henri; Prince of Prussia; Margraf of Anspach: Friedrich’s Nephew (Lady Craven’s Margraf, the one remnant now left there); and some Generals and Military functionaries, Seidlitz the notablest figure of these. And so, FRIDAY, AUGUST 25th, shortly after noon– But the following Two Letters, by an Eye-witness, will be preferable; and indeed are the only real Narrative that can be given:–
No. 1. ENGINEER LEFEBVRE TO PERPETUAL SECRETARY FORMEY (at Berlin).
“NEISSE, 26th [partly 25th] August, 1769.
“MY MOST WORTHY FRIEND,-I make haste to inform you of the Kaiser’s arrival here at Neisse, this day, 25th August, 1769, at one in the afternoon. The King had spent the morning in a proof Manoeuvre, making rehearsal of the Manoeuvre that was to be. When the Kaiser was reported just coming, the King went to the window of the grand Episcopal Saloon, and seeing him alight from his carriage, turned round and said, ‘JE L’AI VU (I have seen him).’ His Majesty then went to receive him on the grand staircase [had hardly descended three or four steps], where they embraced; and then his Majesty led by the hand his august Guest into the Apartments designed for him, which were all standing open and ready,”–which, however, the august Guest will not occupy except with a grateful imagination, being for the present incognito, mere Graf von Falkenstein, and judging that THE THREE-KINGS Inn will be suitabler.
“Arrived in the Apartments, they embraced anew; and sat talking together for an hour and half.–
[The talk, unknown to Lefebvre, began in this strain. KAISER: “Now are my wishes fulfilled, since I have the honor to embrace the greatest of Kings and Soldiers.” KING: “I look upon this day as the fairest of my life; for it will become the epoch of uniting Two Houses which have been enemies too long, and whose mutual interests require that they should strengthen, not weaken one another.” KAISER: “For Austria there is no Silesia farther.” [Preuss, v. 23;
Frederic,
–“The Kaiser [continues our Engineer] had brought with him the Prince of Sachsen-Teschen [his august Brother-in-law, Duke of Teschen, son of the late Polish Majesty of famous memory]: afterwards there came Feldmarschall Lacy, Graf von Dietrichstein, General von Loudon,” and three others of no account to us. “At the King’s table were the Kaiser, the Prince of Prussia [dissolute young Heir-Apparent, of the polygamous tendency], Prince Henri, the Margraf of Anspach [King’s Nephew, unfortunate Lady- Craven Margraf, ultimately of Hammersmith vicinity]; the above Generals of the Austrian suite, and Generals Seidlitz and Tauentzien. The rest of the Court was at two other tables.” Of the dinner itself an Outside Individual will say nothing.
“The Kaiser, having expressly requested the King to let him lodge in an Inn (THREE KINGS), under the name of Graf von Falkenstein, would not go into the carriage which had stood expressly ready to conduct him thither. He preferred walking on foot [the loftily scornful Incognito] in spite of the rain; it was like a lieutenant of infantry stepping out of his quarters. Some moments after, the King went to visit him; and they remained together from 5 in the evening till 8. It was thought they would be present (ASSISTER) at a Comic Opera which was to be played: but after waiting till 7 o’clock, the people received orders to go on with the Piece;”–both Majesties did afterwards look in; but finding it bad, soon went their way again. (MAJOR LEFEBVRE STOPS WRITING FOR THE NIGHT.)
“This morning, 26th, the Manoeuvre [rehearsed yesterday] has been performed before both their Majesties; the troops, by way of finish, filing past them in the highest order. The Kaiser accompanied the King to his abode; after which he returned to his own. This is all the news I have to-day: the sequel by next Post [apparently a week hence). I am, and shall ever be,–your true Friend, LEFEBVRE.”
No. 2. SAME TO SAME.
“NEISSE, 2d September, 1769.
“MONSIEUR AND DEAREST FRIEND,–We had, as you heard, our first Manoeuvre on Saturday, 26th, in presence of the Kaiser and the King, and of the whole Court of each. That evening there was Opera; which their Majesties honored by attending. Sunday was our Second Manoeuvre; OPERETTE in the evening. Monday, 28th, was our last Manoeuvre; at the end of which the two Majesties, without alighting from horseback, embraced each other; and parted, protesting mutually the most constant and inviolable friendship. One took the road for Breslau; the other that of Konigsgratz. All the time the Kaiser was here, they have been continually talking together, and exhibiting the tenderest friendship,–from which I cannot but think there will benefit result.
“I am almost in the mind of coming to pass this Winter at Berlin; that I may have the pleasure of embracing you,–perhaps as cordially as King and Kaiser here. I am, and shall always be, with all my heart,–your very good Friend, “LEFEBVRE.” [Formey,
145-148.]
The Lefebvre that writes here is the same who was set to manage the last Siege of Schweidnitz, by Globes of Compression and other fine inventions; and almost went out of his wits because he could not do it. An expert ingenious creature; skilful as an engineer; had been brought into Friedrich’s service by the late Balbi, during Balbi’s ascendency (which ended at Olmutz long ago). At Schweidnitz, and often elsewhere, Friedrich, who had an esteem for poor Lefebvre, was good to him; and treated his excitabilities with a soft hand, not a rough. Once at Neisse (1771, second year after these Letters), on looking round at the works done since last review, in sight of all the Garrison he embraced Lefebvre, while commending his excellent performance; which filled the poor soul with a now unimaginable joy.
“HELAS,” says Formey, “the poor Gentleman wrote to me of his endless satisfaction; and how he hoped to get through his building, and retire on half-pay this very season, thenceforth to belong to the Academy and me; he had been Member for twenty years past.” With this view, thinks Formey, he most likely hastened on his buildings too fast: certain it is, a barrack he was building tumbled suddenly, and some workmen perished in the ruins. “Enemies at Court suggested,” or the accident itself suggested without any enemy, “Has not he been playing false, using cheap bad materials?”–and Friedrich ordered him arrest in his own Apartments, till the question were investigated. Excitable Lefebvre was like to lose his wits, almost to leap out of his skin. “One evening at supper, he managed to smuggle away a knife; and, in the course of the night, gave himself sixteen stabs with it; which at length sufficed. The King said, ‘He has used himself worse than I should have done;’ and was very sorry.” Of Lefebvre’s scientific structures, globes of compression and the rest, I know not whether anything is left; the above Two Notes, thrown off to Formey, were accidentally a hit, and, in the great blank, may last a long while.
The King found this young Kaiser a very pretty man; and could have liked him considerably, had their mutual positions permitted. “He had a frankness of manner which seemed natural to him,” says the King; “in his amiable character, gayety and great vivacity were prominent features.” By accidental chinks, however, one saw “an ambition beyond measure” burning in the interior of this young man, [
de 1763 jusqu’a
It was long believed, by persons capable of seeing into millstones, that, under cover of this Neisse Interview, there were important Political negotiations and consultings carried on;–that here, and in a Second Interview or Return-Visit, of which presently, lay the real foundation of the Polish Catastrophe. What of Political passed at the Second Interview readers shall see for themselves, from an excellent Authority. As to what passed at the present (“mutual word-of-honor: should England and France quarrel, we will stand neutral” [
it is too insignificant for being shown to readers. Dialogues there were, delicately holding wide of the mark, and at length coming close enough; but, at neither the one Interview nor the other, was Poland at all a party concerned,–though, beyond doubt, the Turk War was; silently this first time, and with clear vocality on the second occasion.
In spite of Galitzin’s blunders, the Turk War is going on at a fine rate in these months; Turks, by the hundred thousand, getting scattered in panic rout:–but we will say nothing of it just yet. Polish Confederation–horror-struck, as may be imagined, at its auxiliary Brother of the Sun and Moon and his performances–is weltering in violently impotent spasms into deeper and ever deeper wretchedness, Friedrich sometimes thinking of a Burlesque Poem on the subject;–though the Russian successes, and the Austrian grudgings and gloomings, are rising on him as a very serious consideration. “Is there no method, then, of allowing Russia to prosecute its Turk War in spite of Austria and its umbrages?” thinks Friedrich sometimes, in his anxieties about Peace in Europe:–“If the Ukraine, and its meal for the Armies, were but Russia’s! At present, Austria can strike in there, cut off the provisions, and at once put a spoke in Russia’s wheel.” Friedrich tells us, “he (ON,” the King himself, what I do not find in any other Book) “sent to Petersburg, under the name of Count Lynar, the seraphic Danish Gentleman, who, in 1757, had brought about the Convention of Kloster-Zeven, a Project, or Sketch of Plan, for Partitioning certain Provinces of Poland, in that view;” –the Lynar opining, so far as I can see, somewhat as follows: “Russia to lay hold of the essential bit of Polish Territory for provisioning itself against the Turk, and allow to Austria and Prussia certain other bits; which would content everybody, and enable Russia and Christendom to extrude and suppress AD LIBITUM that abominable mass of Mahometan Sensualism, Darkness and Fanaticism from the fairest part of God’s Creation.” An excellent Project, though not successful! “To which Petersburg, intoxicated with its own outlooks on Turkey, paid not the least attention,” says the King. [
He gives no date to this curious statement; nor does anybody else mention it at all; but we may fancy it to have been of Winter, 1769-1770,–and leave it with the curious, or the idly curious, since nothing came of it now or afterwards.
POTSDAM, 20th-29th OCTOBER, 1769. Only two months after Neisse, what kindles Potsdam into sudden splendor, Electress Marie-Antoine makes a Visit of nine days to the King. “In July last,” says a certain Note of ours, “the Electress was invited to Berlin, to a Wedding; ‘would have been delighted to come, but letter of invitation arrived too late. Will, however, not give up the plan of seeing the great Friedrich.’ Comes to Potsdam 20th-29th October. Stays nine days; much delighted, both, with the visit. ‘Magnificent palaces, pleasant gardens, ravishing concerts, charming Princes and Princesses: the pleasantest nine days I ever had in my life,’ says the Electress. Friedrich grants, to her intercession, pardon for some culprit. ‘DIVA ANTONIA’ he calls her henceforth for some time; she him, ‘PLUS GRAND DES MORTELS,’ ‘SALOMON DU NORD,’ and the like names.” [
Frederic,
POTSDAM, 3d MAY, 1768. … “Jesuits have got all cut adrift: A dim rumor spreads that his Holiness will not rest with that first anathema, but that a fulminating Bull is coming out against the Most Christian, the Most Catholic and the Most Faithful. If that be so, my notion is, Madam, that the Holy Father, to fill his table, will admit the Defender of the Faith [poor George III.] and your Servant; for it does not suit a Pope to sit solitary. …
“A pity for the human race, Madam, that men cannot be tranquil,– but they never and nowhere can! Not even the little Town of Neufchatel but has had its troubles; your Royal Highness will be astonished to learn how. A Parson there [this was above seven years ago, in old Marischal’s reign [See Letters to Marischal, “Leipzig, 9th March, 1761,” “Breslau, 14th May, 1762:” in
Frederic,
POTSDAM, 1st DECEMBER, 1766. “At present I have with me my Niece [Sister’s Daughter, of Schwedt], the Duchess of Wurtemberg; who remembers with pleasure to have had the happiness of seeing your Royal Highness in former times. She is very unhappy and much to be pitied; her Husband [Eugen of Wurtemberg, whom we heard much of, and last at Colberg] gives her a deal of trouble: he is a violent man, from whom she has everything to fear; who gives her chagrins, and makes her no allowances. I try my best to bring him to reason;”–but am little successful. Three years after this, “May 3d, 1769,” we find Eugen, who once talked of running his august Reigning Brother through the body, has ended by returning to Stuttgard and him; where, or at Mumpelgard, his Apanage, he continued thenceforth. And was Reigning Duke himself, long afterwards, for two years, at the very end of his life. [“Succeeded,” on his Brother Karl’s death, “20th May, 1795; died 23d December, 1797, age 75.”] At this date of 1766, “my poor Niece and he” have been married thirteen years, and have half a score of children;–the eldest of them Czar Paul’s Second Wife that is to be, and Mother of the now Czars.
DECEMBER 17th, 1765. … “I have had 12,360 houses and barns to rebuild, and am nearly through with that. But how many other wounds remain yet to be healed!”
JULY 22d, 1766. … “Wedding festivities of Prince of Prussia. Duchess of Kingston tipsy on the occasion!”–But we must not be tempted farther. [
xxiv. 90-155.]
NEXT YEAR THERE IS A SECOND INTERVIEW; FRIEDRICH MAKING A RETURN-VISIT DURING THE KAISER’S MORAVIAN REVIEWS (Camp of Mahrisch-Neustadt, 3d-7th September, 1770).
The Russian-Turk especially in Second Campaign of it, “Liberation of Greece,” or, failing that, total destruction of the Turk Fleet in Greek waters; conquest of Wallachia, as of Moldavia; in a word, imminency of total ruin to the Turk by land and sea,–all this is blazing aloft at such a pitch, in Summer, 1770, that a new Interview upon it may well, to neighbors so much interested, seem more desirable than ever. Interview accordingly there is to be: 3d September, and for four days following.
Kaunitz himself attends, this time; something of real business privately probable to Kaunitz. Prince Henri is not there; Prince Henri is gone to Sweden; on visit to his Sister, whom he has not seen since boyhood: of which Visit there will be farther mention. Present with the King were: [Rodenbeck, iii. 21.] the Prince of Prussia (luckier somewhat in his second wedlock, little red-colored Son and Heir born to him just a month ago); [Friedrich Wilhelm III., “born 3d August, 1770.”] Prince Ferdinand; two Brunswick Nephews, ERBPRINZ whom we used to hear of, and Leopold a junior, of whom we shall once or so. No Seidlitz this time. Except Lentulus, no General to name. But better for us than all Generals, in the Kaiser’s suite, besides Kaunitz, was Prince de Ligne,–who holds a PEN, as will appear.
“Liberation of the Greeks” had kindled many people, Voltaire among the number, who is still intermittently in correspondence with Friedrich: “A magnificent Czarina about to revivify that true Temple of Mankind, or at least to sweep the blockhead Turks out of it; what a prospect!” Friedrich is quite cool on Greece; not too hot on any part of this subject, though intensely concerned about it. Besides his ingenious Count-Lynar Project, and many other businesses, Friedrich has just been confuting Baron d’Holbach’s
SYSTEME DE LA NATURE [in
ix. 153 et seq.], finished July, 1770.”]–writing to Voltaire, POTSDAM, 18th AUGUST, 1770, on this subject among others, he adds: “I am going for Silesia, on the Reviews. I am to see the Kaiser, who has invited me to his Camp in Mahren. That is an amiable and meritorious Prince; he values your Works, reads them as diligently as he can; is anything but superstitious: in brief, a Kaiser such as Germany has not for a great while had. Neither he nor I have any love for the blockhead and barbaric sort;–but that is no reason for extirpating them: if it were, your Turks [oppressors of Greece] would not be the only victims!” [
In a lengthy Letter, written by request, TO STANISLAUS, KING OF POLAND, 1735, or at a distance of fifteen years from this Interview at Neustadt, Prince de Ligne, who was present there, has left us some record or loose lively reminiscence of it; [Prince de Ligne,
i. 3-21.]–sputtering, effervescing, epigrammatic creature, had he confined himself to a faithful description, and burnt off for us, not like a pretty fire-work, but like an innocent candle, or thing for seeing by! But we must take what we have, and endeavor to be thankful. By great luck, the one topic he insists on is Friedrich and his aspect and behavior on the occasion: which is what, of all else in it, we are most concerned with.
“You have ordered me, Sire [this was written for him in 1785], to speak to you of one of the greatest men of this Age. You admire him, though his neighborhood has done you mischief enough; and, placing yourself at the impartial distance of History, feel a noble curiosity on all that belongs to this extraordinary genius. I will, therefore, give you an exact account of the smallest words that I myself heard the great Friedrich speak. … The I (LE JE) is odious to me; but nothing is indifferent when”–Well, your account, then, your account, without farther preambling, and in a more exact way than you are wont!–
“By a singular chance, in 1770 [3d-7th September, if you would but date], the Kaiser was [for the second time] enabled to deliver himself to the personal admiration which he had conceived for the King of Prussia; and these Two great Sovereigns were so well together, that they could pay visits. The Kaiser permitted me to accompany; and introduced me to the King: it was at Neustadt in Moravia [MAHRISCH-NEUSTADT, short way from AUSTERLITZ, which is since become a celebrated place]. I can’t recollect if I had, or had assumed, an air of embarrassment; but what I do well remember is, that the Kaiser, who noticed my look, said to the King, ‘He has a timid expression, which I never observed in him before; he will recover presently.’ This he said in a graceful merry way; and the two went out, to go, I believe, to the Play. On the way thither, the King for an instant quitting his Imperial Friend, asked me if my LETTER TO JEAN JACQUES [now an entirely forgotten Piece], which had been printed in the Papers, was really by me? I answered, ‘Sire, I am not famous enough to have my name forged’ [as a certain Other name has been, on this same unproductive topic]. He felt what I meant. It is known that Horace Walpole took the King’s name to write his famous LETTRE A JEAN JACQUES [impossible to attend to the like of it at present], which contributed the most to drive mad that eloquent and unreasonable man of genius.
“Coming out of the Play, the Kaiser said to the King of Prussia: ‘There is Noverre, the famous Composer of Ballets; he has been in Berlin, I believe.’ Noverre made thereupon a beautiful dancing- master bow. ‘Ah, I know him,’ said the King: ‘we saw him at Berlin; he was very droll; mimicked all the world, especially our chief Dancing Women, to make you split with laughing.’ Noverre, ill content with this way of remembering him, made another beautiful third-position bow; and hoped possibly the King would say something farther, and offer him the opportunity of a small revenge. ‘Your Ballets are beautiful,’ said the King to him; ‘your Dancing Girls have grace; but it is grace in a squattish form (DE LA GRACE ENGONCEE). I think you make them raise their shoulders and their arms too much. For, Monsieur Noverre, if you remember, our principal Dancing Girl at Berlin wasn’t so.’ ‘That is why she was at Berlin, Sire,’ replied Noverre [satirically, all he could].
“I was every day asked to sup with the King; too often the conversation addressed itself to me. In spite of my attachment to the Kaiser, whose General I like to be, but not whose D’Argens or Algarotti, I had not beyond reason abandoned myself to that feeling. When urged by the King’s often speaking to me, I had to answer, and go on talking. Besides, the Kaiser took a main share in the conversation; and was perhaps more at his ease with the King than the King with him. One day, they got talking of what one would wish to be in this world; and they asked my opinion. I said, I should like to be ‘a Pretty Woman till thirty; then, till sixty, a fortunate and skilful General;’–and not knowing what more to say, but for the sake of adding something, whatever it might be, ‘a Cardinal till eighty.’ The King, who likes to banter the Sacred College, made himself merry on this; and the Kaiser gave him a cheap bargain of Rome and its upholders (SUPPOTS). That supper was one of the gayest and pleasantest I have ever seen. The Two Sovereigns were without pretension and without reserve; what did not always happen on other days; and the amiability of two men so superior, and often so astonished to see themselves together, was the agreeablest thing you can imagine. The King bade me come and see him the first time he and I should have three or four hours to ourselves.
“A storm such as there never was, a deluge compared with which that of Deucalion was a summer shower, covered our Hills with water [cannot say WHICH day of the four], and almost drowned our Army while attempting to manoeuvre. The morrow was a rest-day for that reason. At nine in the morning, I went to the King, and stayed till one. He spoke to me of our Generals; I let him say, of his own accord, the things I think of Marshals Lacy and Loudon; and I hinted that, as to the others, it was better to speak of the dead than of the living; and that one never can well judge of a General who has not in his lifetime actually played high parts in War. He spoke to me of Feldmarschall Daun: I said, ‘that against the French I believed he might have proved a great man; but that against him [you], he had never quite been all he was; seeing always his opponent as a Jupiter, thunder-bolt in hand, ready to pulverize his Army.’ That appeared to give the King pleasure: he signified to me a feeling of esteem for Daun; he spoke favorably of General Brentano [one of the Maxen gentlemen]. I asked his reason for the praises I knew he had given to General Beck. ‘Why (MAIS), I thought him a man of merit,’ said the King. ‘I do not think so, Sire; he didn’t do you much mischief.’ ‘He sometimes took Magazines from me.’ ‘And sometimes let your Generals escape.’ (Bevern at REICHENBACH, for instance, do you reckon that his blame?)–‘I have never beaten him,’ said the King. ‘He never came near enough for that: and I always thought your Majesty was only appearing to respect him, in order that we might have more confidence in him, and that you might give him the better slap some day, with interest for all arrears.’
KING. “‘Do you know who taught me the little I know? It was your old Marshal Traun: that was a man, that one.–You spoke of the French: do they make progress?’
EGO. “‘They are capable of everything in time of war, Sire: but in Peace,–their chiefs want them to be what they are not, what they are not capable of being.’
KING. “‘How, then; disciplined? They were so in the time of M. de Turenne.’
EGO. “‘Oh, it isn’t that. They were not so in the time of M. de Vendome, and they went on gaining battles. But it is now wished that they become your Apes and ours; and that does n’t suit them.’
KING. “‘Perhaps so: I have said of their busy people (FAISEURS,’ St. Germains and Army-Reformers), ‘that they would fain sing without knowing music.’
EGO. “‘Oh, that is true! But leave them their natural notes; profit by their bravery, their alertness (LEGERETE), by their very faults,–I believe their confusion might confuse their enemies sometimes.’
KING. “‘Well, yes, doubtless, if you have something to support them with.’
EGO. “‘Just so, Sire,–some Swiss and Germans.’
KING. “”T is a brave and amiable nation, the French; one can’t help loving them:–but, MON DIEU, what have they made of their Men of Letters; and what a tone has now come up among them! Voltaire, for example, had an excellent tone. D’Alembert, whom I esteem in many respects, is too noisy, and insists too much on producing effect in society:–was it the Men of Letters that gave the Court of Louis XIV. its grace, or did they themselves acquire it from the many amiable persons they found there? He was the Patriarch of Kings, that one [in a certain sense, your Majesty!]. In his lifetime a little too much good was said of him; but a great deal too much ill after his death.’
EGO. “‘A King of France, Sire, is always the Patriarch of Clever People (PATRIARCHE DES GENS D’ESPRIT:’ You do not much mean this, Monsieur? You merely grin it from the teeth outward?)
KING. “‘That is the bad Number to draw: they are n’t worth a doit (NE VALENT PAS LE DIABLE, these GENS D’ESPRIT) at Governing. Better be Patriarch of the Greek Church, like my sister the Empress of Russia! That brings her, and will bring, advantages. There’s a religion for you; comprehending many Countries and different Nations! As to our poor Lutherans, they are so few, it is not worth while being their Patriarch.’
EGO. “‘Nevertheless, Sire, if one join to them the Calvinists, and all the little bastard Sects, it would not be so bad a post. [The King appeared to kindle at this; his eyes were full of animation. But it did not last when I said:] If the Kaiser were Patriarch of the Catholics, that too wouldn’t be a bad place.’
KING. “‘There, there: Europe divided into Three Patriarchates. I was wrong to begin; you see where that leads us: Messieurs, our dreams are not those of the just, as M. le Regent used to say. If Louis XIV. were alive, he would thank us.’
“All these patriarchal ideas, possible and impossible to realize, made him, for an instant, look thoughtful, almost moody.
KING. “‘Louis XIV., possessing more judgment than cleverness (ESPRIT), looked out more for the former quality than for the latter. It was men of genius that he wanted, and found. It could not be said that Corneille, Bossuet, Racine and Conde were people of the clever sort (DES HOMMES D’ESPRIT).’
EGO. “‘On the whole, there is that in the Country which really deserves to be happy, It is asserted that your Majesty has said, If one would have a fine dream, one must–‘
KING. “‘Yes, it is true,–be King of France.’
EGO. “‘If Francis I. and Henri IV. had come into the world after your Majesty, they would have said, “be King of Prussia.”‘
KING. “‘Tell me, pray, is there no citable Writer left in France?’
“This made me laugh; the King asked the reason. I told him, He reminded me of the RUSSE A PARIS, that charming little piece of verse of M. de Voltaire’s; and we remembered charming things out of it, which made us both laugh. He said,
KING. “‘I have sometimes heard the Prince de Conti spoken of: what sort of man is he?’
EGO. “‘He is a man composed of twenty or thirty men. He is proud, he is affable,'”–he is fiddle, he is diddle (in the seesaw epigrammatic way, for a page or more); and is not worth pen and ink from us, since the time old Marshal Traun got us rid of him,–home across the Rhine, full speed, with Croats sticking on his skirts. [Supra, viii. 475.]
“This portrait seemed to amuse the King. One had to captivate him by some piquant detail; without that, he would escape you, give you no time to speak. The success generally began by the first words, no matter how vague, of any conversation; these he found means to make interesting; and what, generally, is mere talk about the weather became at once sublime; and one never heard anything vulgar from him. He ennobled everything; and the examples of Greeks and Romans, or of modern Generals, soon dissipated everything of what, with others, would have remained trivial and commonplace.
“‘Have you ever,’ said he, ‘seen such a rain as yesterday’s? Your orthodox Catholics will say, “That comes of having a man without religion among us: what are we to do with this cursed (MAUDIT) King; a Protestant at lowest?” for I really think I brought you bad luck. Your soldiers would be saying, “Peace we have; and still is this devil of a man to trouble us!”‘
EGO. “‘Certainly, if your Majesty was the cause, it is very bad. Such a thing is only permitted to Jupiter, who has always good reasons for everything; and it would have been in his fashion, after destroying the one set by fire, to set about destroying the others by water. However, the fire is at an end; and I did not expect to revert to it.’
KING. “‘I ask your pardon for having plagued you so often with that; I regret it for the sake of all mankind. But what a fine Apprenticeship of War! I have committed errors enough to teach you young people, all of you, to do better. MON DIEU, how I love your grenadiers! How well they defiled in my presence! If the god Mars were raising a body-guard for himself, I should advise him to take them hand over head. Do you know I was well pleased (BIEN CONTENT) with the Kaiser last night at supper? Did you hear what he said to me about Liberty of the Press, and the Troubling of Consciences (LA GENE DES CONSCIENCES)? There will be bits of difference between his worthy Ancestors and him, on some points!’
EGO. “‘I am persuaded, he will entertain no prejudices on anything; and that your Majesty will be a great Book of Instruction to him.’
KING. “‘How adroitly he disapproved, without appearing to mean anything, the ridiculous Vienna Censorship; and the too great fondness of his Mother (without naming her) for certain things which only make hypocrites. By the by, she must detest you, that High Lady?’
EGO. “‘Well, then, not at all. She has sometimes lectured me about my strayings, but very maternally: she is sorry for me, and quite sure that I shall return to the right path. She said to me, some time ago, “I don’t know how you do, you are the intimate friend of Father Griffet; the Bishop of Neustadt has always spoken well of you; likewise the Archbishop of Malines; and the Cardinal [name Sinzendorf, or else not known to me, dignity and red hat sufficiently visible] loves you much.”‘
“Why cannot I remember the hundred luminous things which escaped the King in this conversation! It lasted till the trumpet at Head- quarters announced dinner. The King went to take his place; and I think it was on this occasion that, some one having asked why M. de Loudon had not come yet, he said, ‘That is not his custom: formerly he often arrived before me. Please let him take this place next me; I would rather have him at my side than opposite.'”
That is very pretty. And a better authority gives it, The King said to Loudon himself, on Loudon’s entering,
aupres de moi, M. de Loudon; j’aime mieux vous avoir a cote de moi que vis-a-vis.”
“constantly called him M. LE FELDMARECHAL [delicate hint of what should have been, but WAS not for seven years yet]; and, at parting, gave him [as he did to Lacy also] two superb horses, magnificently equipped.” [Pezzl,
“Another day,” continues Prince de Ligne, “the Manoeuvres being over in good time, there was a Concert at the Kaiser’s. Notwithstanding the King’s taste for music, he was pleased to give me the preference; and came where I was, to enchant me with the magic of his conversation, and the brilliant traits, gay and bold, which characterize him. He asked me to name the general and particular Officers who were present, and to tell him those who had served under Marshal Traun: ‘For, ENFIN,’ he said, ‘as I think I have told you already, he is my Master; he corrected me in the Schooling I was at.’
EGO. “‘Your Majesty was very ungrateful, then; you never paid him his lessons. If it was as your Majesty says, you should at least have allowed him to beat you; and I do not remember that you ever did.’
KING. “‘I did not get beaten, because I did not fight.’
EGO. “‘It is in this manner that the greatest Generals have often conducted their wars against each other. One has only to look at the two Campaigns of M. de Montecuculi and M. de Turenne, in the Valley of the Rench [Strasburg Country, 1674 and 1675, two celebrated Campaigns, Turenne killed by a cannon-shot in the last].