Old Fritz: The Chamber Hussar's Tale(s)
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rheinsbergWe've recently come across a gold mine, to wit, firstly, the account of Fritz' chamber hussar, Schöning about our anti hero's day to day schedule during the last decades of his life, and secondly, the disgruntled comments by Fritz' other chamber hussar, Neumann. The main gist of this post are the Schöning quotes, but first, have some context.
So who is Schöning? Well, he shows up as a key source of two publishers of Frederician anecdotes shortly after Fritz' death, Büsching and Nicolai, as well as in Johann Georg Zimmermann's book "Über Friedrich den Großen und meine Unterredung mit ihm kurz vor seinem Tode" (this is not Zimmermann's most infamous contribution to Frtzian lore, but an earlier one), as the Chamber Hussar who tells the good doctor that Fritz isn't taking the medicine which the royal physician Dr. Seele ordered him to take at all, except for a digestive made of "Rhabarber und Glaubersalz". Schöning's own direct account was published after his death under the title "Friedrich der Zweite, König von Preußen. Über seine Person und sein Privatleben. Ein berichtigender Nachtrag zur Charakteristik desselbem, vom verstorbenen Geheimen Rathe Schöning. 1808."
Not in Schöning's own account but in Büsching's anecdote collection is the tale that Fritz was so cheap that he only had torn up shirts available at the time of his death, so in order to bury him in a new and clean one, Schöning had to donate one of his.
felis:Relevant part from Büsching:
Because none of the shirts of the deceased king were good, but all torn, none of them could be put on his body. But one could not take the time to have a new one made, and so the current Geheime Kriegsrat Schöning gave one of his unused shirts, which his bride had given him, and in this the body was buried. I found this credibly told fact to be true when I examined it closely.
also, endnotes: Schöning, Geheimer Kriegsrath, former Kammerhusar [...] contributed a lot to this book
Since we were talking about that in another thread, he also mentions that Schöning said the king had expressed disgust at the idea of an autopsy.
Schöning shows up quite a bit in the Schatullrechnungen - as chamber husar - between 1783 and 1786, and the index includes a note saying that there's a Schöning listed as a "barber husar" between 1771 and 1772 in the state archive, but it's unclear if that's the same guy. Among the things Schöning apparently got/payed money for are Glaubersalz, leeches ("Blutigel" :D - this shows up quite often, did they do the bleeding that way?), scissors, a wooden medicine case, enema syringes, white paint for his room, and money for poor people (quite often!).
I haven't found a copy of Schöning's own book, but a very thorough Volz review - Friedrich der Große und sein Kammerdiener Schöning. Ein Beitrag zur Anekdotenliteratur - which is almost as good. Volz doesn't just talk about Schöning, but also puts him in perspective and calls him reliable, saying that Unger for example included every absurd thing he could find, whereas Büsching owed a lot to Schöning, even has parts in his book that show up almost verbatim in Schöning's, so Büsching's "he contributed a lot" is apparently well earned and Büsching already had the manuscript that was published in 1808 and seems to have been directed mostly against Unger (and Zimmermann!).
Volz also gives some more information on Schöning: With Fritz since 1766 as a footman (so NOT a first hand witness for Glasow) and chamber husar since 1769 and - as the Schatullrechnungen corroborate as well - he seems to have been responsible for Fritz' medical care towards the end, also corresponding with Selle for example. FWII made him Geh. Kriegsrath for his loyal services. Volz says he seems to have been well educated, knew French and used Latin expressions. In his book, Schöning also included anecdotes that Fritz used to tell at the table and Volz quotes a few of those, adding extensive notes.
Additional info via Volz: this was apparently slightly edited by the 1808 editor (after Schöning's death) and is based on several things Schöning wrote - for Büsching, against Unger/Zimmermann, ... - starting right after Fritz' death. In the state archive, Volz also found a 1795 manuscript Schöning sent to one of FWII's ministers in 1795 (per request), which contains a mix of all that. The quotes that Volz gives in the article I linked above are (mostly) anecdotes from the 1795 manuscript that aren't in the published 1808 one.
selenak: Zimmermann in his "Unterredung" is very complimentary about Schöning as well, introducing him thusly, in an early scene where the good Doctor is in conversation with an unnamed courtier after having been summoned to Sanssouci in the summer of 1786, which Fritz would not survive:
"But Sir, how is the King, and who is the King's Doctor?"
"The King," he replied, "is very ill, and he has no other doctor but his chamber hussar."
"His Chamber Hussar is his doctor?"
"Yes, and in between and mainly the King himself is his own doctor. This Chamber Hussar is the King's valet. He's called Herr Schöning. He will now lead you to the King."
Herr Schöning entered, and greeted me politely and with good manners, but very seriously, and with great alacrity. In this moment I thought: Next to the King, I need to get along best with Herrr Schöning. So I pulled myself together and said and did what a lifetime of knowing people had taught me in order to study and win over the chamber hussar as much as I was able.
Herr Schöning soon showed me his true nature. I found him to be a man of good sense, of feeling and of intelligence, who spoke with great deliberation, yet truthfully, and very well. He seemed to know the King through and through. Soon Herr Schöning showed himself to be a Herzensfreund of Professor Selle of Berlin, whom the King had dismissed for a good while. This heightened the good opinion I had already formed of Herr Schöning, for this wasn't courtier behavior. (To show friendshp for a fired official.) But as it had to grieve him that I, a stranger, replaced his Herzensfreund at the King's side, this thought, or rather this suspicion made us equal and made us be very delicate in all we said and did to each other.
Lest you believe that everyone was a fan of Schöning's: certainly not.felis next unearthed the other chamber hussar serving Fritz in his final years, Gottfried Neumann.
felis, summarzing Neumann's account: written 1789 (and) basically all about how Zimmermann was an arrogant and self-important person, who talked too much instead of doing his job, made up lies, was in it for the money, and fawned over Schöning (who was the second! chamber husar, he, Neumann, was the first!) while totally ignoring other people (read: Neumann), who might have known a few things, too.
Also, that guy Schöning? Totally sucked up to FWII and that's why he got made Geheimer Kriegsrath. Neumann only serves one sun at a time, thank you very much, no rising sun for him. Oh, and that Büsching guy got ahead of himself, too. And he, Neumann, has half a mind to duel himself with all those other people who have been publishing insulting lies about the great king since his death.
According to Neumann, their respective duties were:
Schöning: SECOND chamber hussar OMG SECOND: shaving Fritz, giving Fritz his medications, taking care of Fritz' enemas, otherwise "just like every other servant"'s duties, whereas
Neumann: FIRST chamber hussar: waking Fritz in the morning, dressing him, creating Fritz' tail, selecting a wig, handing both coffee and water to Fritz, bring any and each letters addressed to the King to him, as well as execute any orders of the day Fritz may give.
According to yet another foonote, Neumann was born in 1752 in one of the 17 villages Peterdorf, Silesia, started his work for Fritz as a runner in 1772, ended up as First Chamber Husar and adminstrator of the royal private purse (Privatschatulle des Königs) until Fritz' death. Neumann himself died as chief of police (Polizei-Direktor) in Liegnitz on June 24th 1799.
With the scene thus set, let's proceed to what Schöning actually had to say about Old Fritz: The Autumn Years, once a complete copy of his book was found.
A general observation: the early 19th century editor with his comments is very early 19th century - this being 1808, he's suffering from the national humiliation of Prussia having been beaten by Napoleon, so thinking about the Fritzian glory days is great, but he does slightly chide Fritz for his Schöning-testified attitude towards religion, saying that the great King could not see where all this encouragement of mockery of religion would lead to, the horrible excesses from which consequences we're all suffering today. (He means the French Revolution, without which no Napoleon.)
Let's start of with Schöning's description of Fritz in old age: Friedrich II was about 5 feet 5 inches tall. The strength of the body was appropriate for his medium size. His stature was well proportioned, the chest raised and broad, the body not at all skinny, not fat, and the head hanging a little to the right, which probably came from playing the flute. The nose was long but well built; the eyes not too big, not too small, but lively and fiery; the gait a little sloppy, but quick and proud.
What makes the Schöning volume an invaluable resource is the detailed description of Fritz' day to day routine.
The sleep of the King was supposed to consist only of seven hours in the second half of his life; it actually lasted up to eight or nine hours, partly because he liked to sleep on healthy days, partly because waiting for transpiration, which he regarded as a benefit of nature, made it necessary. In the first half of his life, he was very busy, in a very good mood a friend of pleasures and petit soupers. He often sat at the table until midnight and still rose early in the morning in order to practice the flute and to let soldiers practice at exercising. In his younger years, he never believed he'd get old, and thus wanted to prolong the enjoyment of life by skipping over sleep. He often told the story: "When I was with my father's army at the Rhine, I decided together with some other young people to remain constantly awake and thus to live as much in eight days as others who went to sleep in fourteen. For four days, I was able to endure this through strong coffee, but nature demanded its rights, and I was so feverish through all the coffee and the lack of sleep that I had to stop for my health's sake."
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older, and that a commanding general had to rise early; thus, he stopped having supper during the 7 Years War, and never started again. Until the Bavarian War (1778), the King played the flute, and his days were scheduled in the following way.
During the months of November, December, January and February, the King got to bed between nine and ten pm, and rose between five and six am. During this time, no one was with him, nor did light burn in his bedroom; in the antechambre, two common footmen were keeping watch. He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted. Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer. He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace. For this was lighted in summer and winter time regardless; for the King sweated so strongly that his nightdress and his sheets had to get dried at the fireplace every time. As soon as he'd gotten dressed, he sat down to read from the intake of arriving letters those he was most interested in while his hairtail was combed; the rest, he sent for summarizing and excerpting to the cabinet secretary. After having read all and put it next to himself on a small table, he rose, washed and put his wig and the hat on him which he always wore, except when sitting at a table or when talking to persons of rank, and went to the first adjoining room to accept the report of the AD of the first bataillon there, or to give him some commands regarding the military. He drank a few glasses of water, which during the last years of his life were mixed with Fenchel extracts, and afterwards two or three small cups of coffee, sometimes with and sometimes without milk. Coffee he drank in his younger years very strongly, later in a weaker mixture, but always, for the kick of it, mingled with mustard. During the last years of his life he also ate at different times of the day several small dry bars of chocolate. Otherwise, he rarely indulged in chocolate, and drank it mainly just when he was taking the waters, or if he had been riding out in bad weather, or if he suspected he was due to an attack of gout, and thought the chocolate would help to spread the gout from the torso to the outer extremities. After having drunk his coffee, he took the flute and played on it, walking from one room to the next, for two hours passages he knew by heart.
Once he put the flute away, he accepted, around 9 or 10 am, the summarzing and excerpts from the Cabinet Secretary, read it, ordered the cabinet councillors to him one by one and told them what the reply to the incoming depeches would be, but he didn't lock himself into his cabinet as has been reported. The door was closed now and then but often remained completely open.
Now he finished his getting dressed, which means he took of his nightshirt, put some gellantine in his hair, got himself powdered, washed his face and hands with a towel and put on the uniform which only lasted five minutes if he didn't get shaved as well. In the time between ten and eleven, he told the commanders the password of the day, replied to some family letters, talked to some visitors he'd ordered to come, read out loud to himself, practiced, if time permitted, some concert sections, and went to lunch at 12 o'clock sharp.
The table usually was seated with seven to ten people, and about eight very well filled plates were put on the table, but as for dessert only fruit of the season. Always, beautiful porcellain was used; every guest was at liberty to eat as much or little as they wanted, and to drink as much Mosel or Pontac as they wished. Champagne and Hungarian Wine were only served if the King ordered them especially. The King's usual drink was Bergerac mixed with water; on some occasions, he also drank Champagne or Hungarian Wine.
(Passage of how Fritz with his fondness for spicy Italian and French food at times invited colics.)
It's true that the King loved lunching; all his vivaciousness and good mood followed him to the table. He talked nearly exclusively in French there, and those of his guests who didn't understand the language were mere listeners. Conversational topics were different subjects: politics, religion, history, military affairs etc. Occasionally, trivial matters were talked about, and religion was soundly mocked. *
*woeful footnote from the editor, summarized: Fritz, that's how we got the French Revolution and Napoleon, dammit!
(Another thing where attitude of 19th century editor and attitude of 18th century citizen Schöning clash is this:
Schöning (on exceptions from Fritz' general miserliness): "Now and then the King did waste huge sums on unworthy people; his motivation shall not be mentioned here."
Editor in footnote: "Whatever motivation could be so shady that the author cannot spell it out here? Surely it can't be certain that if the sum went to unworthy people the King knew them to be unworthy? Doesn't it make more sense to assume that he misjudged them?"
Heinrich: I am very loudly not commenting on this. )
Back to the daily routine:
Often, the table rounds lasted four to five hours, sometimes even longer; just as long, the King kept drinking, and it may be asked whether his heart then was in his tongue. Immediately afterwards, he played the flute again for an hour or half an hour, signed the letters the cabinet had written, went through the menu for the following day with the kitchen, and drank coffee. Once business had ended in the fourth hour, he kept reading until five, at which point the so called reader arrived - he didn't have one who really did the reading until a year before his death - with whom he talked until six o'clock while walking between the chambers and the great hall.
Before the concert, which usually started at 6 pm, he played preludes for about fifteen minutes, then played three concerts in a row, or at times listened to one by Quantz, or to a solo played on the cello, or to an aria sung by a singer, and then the music was usually done for the day. After the concert, the Marquis d'Argens arrived, and after his death Colonel Quintus Icilius. The monarch himself read to them, and after he had ended reading, he debated about the paragraph he'd read with his learned visitors.
These learned conversations usually lasted until 9 or 10 pm. The King then dismissed his companion, undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants with the order to awaken him the next morning, and usually soon fell asleep. Two common footmen kept watch in the antechambre. If the King wanted a glass of water or something else, he rang; it is wrong what the papers wrote, that they had to bring Burgundian wine to the King's bed when he rang. During his last twenty years, the King didn't drink any wine at night, and certainly no Burgundian wine, which he couldn't stand.
AS the King had scheduled his winter months, he also scheduled the summer. In that time of the year, there was more emphasis on bodily exercise. That's why he went to bed earlier and rose earlier in order to get used again to the early rising for the revues. As the month of February was ending, he ordered himself to be woken a bit earlier week by week and went to bed sooner, so that he could rise for the Berlin revue at 2 1/2 am and sit on his horse at 4 am. On such days, there wasn't much practice on the flute, the letters were only read, and the replies happened once he'd returned from the revue. As soon as the revue was over, he lengthened his nightly rest bit by bit again. In the month of march, he rode out on horseback at 10 or 11 in the morning if the weather was good. Near the end of March or, if the weather was bad, in April at the latest, he left the Potsdam palace and moved to Sanssouci, attended, if illness didn't stop him, five times a week the exercising of the garnison, commanded it in person each time; on the other days of the week, too, he rode at least for an hour.
Near the end of April or in May he went to Charlottenburg and had the Berlin Special Revue presented. On these occasions, he nearly always rode into town, partly to visit his sister, the Princess Amalie, partly to inspect the buildings in progress. Around noon, he returned to Charlottenburg to dine with the assembled chiefs and commanders of the regiments. On May 17 or 18, the big Potsdam Revue was presented. On the 19th, the King rode to Spandau in order to inspect the regiments of his brothers Prince Heinrich and Prince Ferdinand; from there, he rode to Charlottenburg, where he ate and remained for the night. As long as his brothers still appeared with their regiments, he always lunched after the special revue with his brother Prince Heinrich at Spandau. On the morning of the 20th, he rode to Berlin, inspected in passing Kowalsky's garnison regiment, afterwards the other foreign regiments, and arrived around nine or ten at the Berlin town palace. After having done his cabinet work, he went to the great hall, gave the assembled chiefs of staff the watchwords and dispositions, and went to lunch with his guests. The revue took place from 21 - 23rd May in Berlin, afterwards from May 26 - 28 in Magdeburg. Then, on June 1st, he arrived at Küstrin, inspected the dragoon regiments there immediately and held revue the next morning. From there, he went to Stargardt the next day on June 2nd, where on the 3rd and the fourth and in (East) Prussia the revue took place on the 8th, 9th and 10th June. On June 12th or 13 the King usually arrived back at Sanssouci.
From the end of the Prussian journey to the start of the Silesian one, all the ministers of the general directory arrived at Sanssouci, and the yearly budget was concluded. Afterwards, the King drank Eger waters, and lived at the New Palais for ten to fourteen days while his siblings visited him.
(Schöning observes that the King only went to this most expensive of buildings on the ground during those sibling visits, otherwise he much preferred Sanssouci.)
However, he only lived in half of it, consisting of three rooms, an alcove and the library; the other half was for the princes, generals and ministers whom the King had ordered to him.
(Schöning says the two rooms at Sanssouci for lunches were too small to host all the officers during the grand revues, which is why Fritz hosted them at the New Chambres instead. He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.)
The King had a very good memory, a very eloquent tongue, saw reasonably well things that were near him but needed glasses for anything further away. For reading or writing, he did not need glasses.
The flute, he played masterfully as a King; he had knowledge about general basso and composition, and has composed some arias, some concerts and over a hundred solos; he also could play the piano a bit. He performed a superb adagio. The only ones allowed at his concerts were the musicians involved and now and then a few musical connaisseurs. His concerts were simple, but pleasant. The flute was accompagnied by two violins, a viola, a cello, a fagot and the fortepiano. After the King wasn't able to play music anymore, he didn't want to listen to it, either, and only rarely attended concerts.
I remember the "Fritz and Music" author arguing with this statement, and using as evidence the various Berlin newspapers reporting Fritz' regular attendance to various opera performances and concerts in the 1780s (these are the years Schöning is talking about, since Fritz lost the ability to play the flute with the majority of his teeth in the Bavarian war). My speculation: it's a matter of perspective. Compared with the huge number of daily performances, see my previous translated excerpt, Schöning can say Fritz only attended rarely concerts anymore. To normal people, two or three times a week is often.
The King's behaviour towards his servants was very strict; especially if he noticed they were consorting with the other sex. He punished them with harsh words, beatings with his stick or with his fists, arrests or dismissals ,and sometimes he put them in the army.
Footnote from the editor here, in a rare spirit of criticism saying Fritz was wrong to do so, because if you treat the army as a deposit for people you want to punish, you're not making it look attractive and honorable, and maybe that's why Prussia lost against Napoleon. Again, reminder that Schöning himself was among the servants who married.
In his last years, his behavior towards them grew gentler, and he began to make little presents to those who were around him after he had endured illnesses, or at Christmas. Those who had managed to make themselves indispensable received larger presents in those last years, and those he favoured larger ones still.
Insert obvious comment about son of FW repeating patterns of abuse here.
Meanwhile, guests who weren't servants:
The King's companions at the table and the scholars who kept him company in the evening were treated very graciously by him and hardly noticed their host was wearing a crown; though he mocked everyone leaving themselves open to it relentlessly. He had a stock collection of anecdotes regarding emperors, kings, and other worthies; these, he told often and kept repeating them, especially when strangers had joined the company who weren't familiar with them yet; meanwhile, the people who were around him for many years couldn't enjoy the repetitions and the often heard tales.
This is pretty much the same which Lucchessin i notes down in his diary; that Fritz, like many old people, kept retelling the same stories.
The King's physical exercise consisted of the many slow and fast ridings as well as walks through the garden; even while playing the flute, he was unable to sit still, but kept moving from one room in the next. He often rode from Potsdam to Berlin without using his carriage which followed him. On marches, he always rode; if it was too cold, he went on foot.
Fritz and religion: He used to say "Post mortem nihil est, and that proves that he thought that he didn't believe in the immortality of the soul. He also used to say : Ex nihilo nihil est. So there has to be someone who created the world and everything in it; (...) so he recognized a single God as the creator and beginning of all things. Whether he also regarded him as the ruler of everything, or whether he believed the world had been left to run itself; whether not everything that happened happened by accident; that I can't say for sure. (...) Ever since he's been left to his own devices, one hasn't seen him showing an outward sign of serving God. What he's done during his father's life time, has been force and pretense, and if he afterwards visited churches a few times, he did so either for political reasons or to listen to the beautiful music.
And now we get data supporting a previous theory as to why Fritz didn't want an autopsy; it really was for Mom's reason, for:
Regarding chastity and modesty, the King showed a great deal of shame about his person; he didn't even allow his own servants to see him in the nude, and he never satisfied natural urges in their presence.
(Sidenote: in case this isn't clear, Schöning means he didn't relieve himself in their presence. Now today that's a given, but not so much in the 18th century, or earlier. One of the important offices among the courtiers of Henry VIII., for example, was the gentleman of the stool, who, yes, had to wipe the royal bottom.)
Verbally, on the other hand, he was an utter libertine, especially when sitting at the table with people, when he completely cut loose and named everything by its name.
Footnote from 19th century editor: Yes, that was one of Fritz' darker sides. OMG, if only he had lived in our times where people have learned not to talks so indecently!
Fritz: a good patient? The more pain he felt during his illnesses, the kinder and more graciously he behaved towards those who were nursing him. It was always a certain sign of his impending recovery when he started to be rude to the people he'd been content with while he was suffering.
Good grief.
Now let's talk budget for the kitchen:
The budget for the kitchen had been fixed on 12000 Reichstaler per annum by the King, and he didn't want to change this throughout his life. From this, the following had to be financed: daily eight plates for his table, eight plates for the marshal's table, three plates at noon and in the evening for ten to twelve servants, and cold foot for three to four dogs. If he was visited by noble strangers or by his family, and twelve, twenty or even thirty plates daily were necessary, he did pay for them as an extra expense, as he did for the table food during the masks and revues.
Salary for servants:
It's true that his personal servants received a very low salary. The primary ones received in addition to food and free lodging eight to ten Reichstaler per month; the rest only 8, 7 or 4.
Whereas the dogs:
The King's love for his dogs was extensive. Three or four were always around his person, and of these one was the favourite, and the others were this favourite's companions. The former was always lying next to the King on a chair with cushions and slept in her master's bed at night. The others had to leave the room in the evening, but returned early in the morning when the King was woken up. During the walkings or at the table, they were constantly following the King, who was particularly concerned about the grooming and about the health of his favourite dog. The King's pain when his favourites died was intense. They were buried at Sanssouci at a certain spot in a coffin, and received a tombstone inscribed with their names. In addition to the dogs which were always around his person, he also owned a pack at the palace of Potsdam and in the Jägerhof which consisted of forty to fifty whippets, and were cared for by two hunters, one of whom was also supposed to be an expert in curing dogs. The favourite dog and her companions had a chamber footman as their personal servants, who had to feed them and take them on walks. For their meals, they received different types of roastings, cake, buttery bread rolls, milk and water as much as they enjoyed. Whoever had the misfortune of kicking a dog did not escape without a scolding.
But no, Schöning doesn't tell us what became of them after Fritz' death, either.
Women: Schöning says Fritz regarded them as a necessary evil and with a few exceptions towards whom he behaved "very gallantly and decently", disliked their company, both out of general dislike for females and because he had to dress up and show manners for them.
Fritz and languages: Nothing new. I.e. loved French, hated German, pretended to know Latin but actually didn't except for some learned phrases, read on the classics in French translations, knew a bit Italian due to music.
Time for some comic relief, which also answers one of Mildred's questions. Fritz tries fasting, but not out of respect for the Austrians:
In his younger years, he wanted to find out by a self experiment whether the Roman-Catholics deserved credit for their fasting. However, he decided that it wasn't much effort if you were allowed to eat fish, eggs, butter, cheese and milk; though he did try to live for forty days without the earlier mentioned food, but found it hard, and in order to make it through that time resorted to chocolate.
And finally, we got to something depressing:
Regarding the fourth commandment - "Honor your parents", in case anyone forgot - The King has to be a rare model for humanity. As much as he pondered about the human race, as much did he venerate the memory of his father; and if on rare occasions he did talk about the later's rages, about his lashing out temper or other flaws, he always tempered this with moderation and concern. That's how he talked about his mother, too, and his siblings, and this love for his parents and siblings does his ashes much credit. Only about his grandfather did he talk very differently. He described him as prince full of pride, puffed up and completely driven by vanity, and often stated angrily that (F1) could have saved Prussia from the Plague if he'd used 100 000 Reichtaler on it. Moreover, he called him an upstart King and a Louis XIV wannabe.
Grandpa F1, who treated his wife and kid gently, loved culture and never hit anyone in his life: stunned.
Voltaire: Well, I liked him and told Fritz so.
MT: I know someone who is a Louis XIV wannabe, and it wasn't the grandfather of the current Margrave of Brandenburg who wouldn't have a royal title if not for said grandfather.
So who is Schöning? Well, he shows up as a key source of two publishers of Frederician anecdotes shortly after Fritz' death, Büsching and Nicolai, as well as in Johann Georg Zimmermann's book "Über Friedrich den Großen und meine Unterredung mit ihm kurz vor seinem Tode" (this is not Zimmermann's most infamous contribution to Frtzian lore, but an earlier one), as the Chamber Hussar who tells the good doctor that Fritz isn't taking the medicine which the royal physician Dr. Seele ordered him to take at all, except for a digestive made of "Rhabarber und Glaubersalz". Schöning's own direct account was published after his death under the title "Friedrich der Zweite, König von Preußen. Über seine Person und sein Privatleben. Ein berichtigender Nachtrag zur Charakteristik desselbem, vom verstorbenen Geheimen Rathe Schöning. 1808."
Not in Schöning's own account but in Büsching's anecdote collection is the tale that Fritz was so cheap that he only had torn up shirts available at the time of his death, so in order to bury him in a new and clean one, Schöning had to donate one of his.
felis:Relevant part from Büsching:Because none of the shirts of the deceased king were good, but all torn, none of them could be put on his body. But one could not take the time to have a new one made, and so the current Geheime Kriegsrat Schöning gave one of his unused shirts, which his bride had given him, and in this the body was buried. I found this credibly told fact to be true when I examined it closely.
also, endnotes: Schöning, Geheimer Kriegsrath, former Kammerhusar [...] contributed a lot to this book
Since we were talking about that in another thread, he also mentions that Schöning said the king had expressed disgust at the idea of an autopsy.
Schöning shows up quite a bit in the Schatullrechnungen - as chamber husar - between 1783 and 1786, and the index includes a note saying that there's a Schöning listed as a "barber husar" between 1771 and 1772 in the state archive, but it's unclear if that's the same guy. Among the things Schöning apparently got/payed money for are Glaubersalz, leeches ("Blutigel" :D - this shows up quite often, did they do the bleeding that way?), scissors, a wooden medicine case, enema syringes, white paint for his room, and money for poor people (quite often!).
I haven't found a copy of Schöning's own book, but a very thorough Volz review - Friedrich der Große und sein Kammerdiener Schöning. Ein Beitrag zur Anekdotenliteratur - which is almost as good. Volz doesn't just talk about Schöning, but also puts him in perspective and calls him reliable, saying that Unger for example included every absurd thing he could find, whereas Büsching owed a lot to Schöning, even has parts in his book that show up almost verbatim in Schöning's, so Büsching's "he contributed a lot" is apparently well earned and Büsching already had the manuscript that was published in 1808 and seems to have been directed mostly against Unger (and Zimmermann!).
Volz also gives some more information on Schöning: With Fritz since 1766 as a footman (so NOT a first hand witness for Glasow) and chamber husar since 1769 and - as the Schatullrechnungen corroborate as well - he seems to have been responsible for Fritz' medical care towards the end, also corresponding with Selle for example. FWII made him Geh. Kriegsrath for his loyal services. Volz says he seems to have been well educated, knew French and used Latin expressions. In his book, Schöning also included anecdotes that Fritz used to tell at the table and Volz quotes a few of those, adding extensive notes.
Additional info via Volz: this was apparently slightly edited by the 1808 editor (after Schöning's death) and is based on several things Schöning wrote - for Büsching, against Unger/Zimmermann, ... - starting right after Fritz' death. In the state archive, Volz also found a 1795 manuscript Schöning sent to one of FWII's ministers in 1795 (per request), which contains a mix of all that. The quotes that Volz gives in the article I linked above are (mostly) anecdotes from the 1795 manuscript that aren't in the published 1808 one.
selenak: Zimmermann in his "Unterredung" is very complimentary about Schöning as well, introducing him thusly, in an early scene where the good Doctor is in conversation with an unnamed courtier after having been summoned to Sanssouci in the summer of 1786, which Fritz would not survive: "But Sir, how is the King, and who is the King's Doctor?"
"The King," he replied, "is very ill, and he has no other doctor but his chamber hussar."
"His Chamber Hussar is his doctor?"
"Yes, and in between and mainly the King himself is his own doctor. This Chamber Hussar is the King's valet. He's called Herr Schöning. He will now lead you to the King."
Herr Schöning entered, and greeted me politely and with good manners, but very seriously, and with great alacrity. In this moment I thought: Next to the King, I need to get along best with Herrr Schöning. So I pulled myself together and said and did what a lifetime of knowing people had taught me in order to study and win over the chamber hussar as much as I was able.
Herr Schöning soon showed me his true nature. I found him to be a man of good sense, of feeling and of intelligence, who spoke with great deliberation, yet truthfully, and very well. He seemed to know the King through and through. Soon Herr Schöning showed himself to be a Herzensfreund of Professor Selle of Berlin, whom the King had dismissed for a good while. This heightened the good opinion I had already formed of Herr Schöning, for this wasn't courtier behavior. (To show friendshp for a fired official.) But as it had to grieve him that I, a stranger, replaced his Herzensfreund at the King's side, this thought, or rather this suspicion made us equal and made us be very delicate in all we said and did to each other.
Lest you believe that everyone was a fan of Schöning's: certainly not.
felis next unearthed the other chamber hussar serving Fritz in his final years, Gottfried Neumann. felis, summarzing Neumann's account: written 1789 (and) basically all about how Zimmermann was an arrogant and self-important person, who talked too much instead of doing his job, made up lies, was in it for the money, and fawned over Schöning (who was the second! chamber husar, he, Neumann, was the first!) while totally ignoring other people (read: Neumann), who might have known a few things, too.Also, that guy Schöning? Totally sucked up to FWII and that's why he got made Geheimer Kriegsrath. Neumann only serves one sun at a time, thank you very much, no rising sun for him. Oh, and that Büsching guy got ahead of himself, too. And he, Neumann, has half a mind to duel himself with all those other people who have been publishing insulting lies about the great king since his death.
According to Neumann, their respective duties were:
Schöning: SECOND chamber hussar OMG SECOND: shaving Fritz, giving Fritz his medications, taking care of Fritz' enemas, otherwise "just like every other servant"'s duties, whereas
Neumann: FIRST chamber hussar: waking Fritz in the morning, dressing him, creating Fritz' tail, selecting a wig, handing both coffee and water to Fritz, bring any and each letters addressed to the King to him, as well as execute any orders of the day Fritz may give.
According to yet another foonote, Neumann was born in 1752 in one of the 17 villages Peterdorf, Silesia, started his work for Fritz as a runner in 1772, ended up as First Chamber Husar and adminstrator of the royal private purse (Privatschatulle des Königs) until Fritz' death. Neumann himself died as chief of police (Polizei-Direktor) in Liegnitz on June 24th 1799.
With the scene thus set, let's proceed to what Schöning actually had to say about Old Fritz: The Autumn Years, once a complete copy of his book was found.
A general observation: the early 19th century editor with his comments is very early 19th century - this being 1808, he's suffering from the national humiliation of Prussia having been beaten by Napoleon, so thinking about the Fritzian glory days is great, but he does slightly chide Fritz for his Schöning-testified attitude towards religion, saying that the great King could not see where all this encouragement of mockery of religion would lead to, the horrible excesses from which consequences we're all suffering today. (He means the French Revolution, without which no Napoleon.)
Let's start of with Schöning's description of Fritz in old age: Friedrich II was about 5 feet 5 inches tall. The strength of the body was appropriate for his medium size. His stature was well proportioned, the chest raised and broad, the body not at all skinny, not fat, and the head hanging a little to the right, which probably came from playing the flute. The nose was long but well built; the eyes not too big, not too small, but lively and fiery; the gait a little sloppy, but quick and proud.
What makes the Schöning volume an invaluable resource is the detailed description of Fritz' day to day routine.
The sleep of the King was supposed to consist only of seven hours in the second half of his life; it actually lasted up to eight or nine hours, partly because he liked to sleep on healthy days, partly because waiting for transpiration, which he regarded as a benefit of nature, made it necessary. In the first half of his life, he was very busy, in a very good mood a friend of pleasures and petit soupers. He often sat at the table until midnight and still rose early in the morning in order to practice the flute and to let soldiers practice at exercising. In his younger years, he never believed he'd get old, and thus wanted to prolong the enjoyment of life by skipping over sleep. He often told the story: "When I was with my father's army at the Rhine, I decided together with some other young people to remain constantly awake and thus to live as much in eight days as others who went to sleep in fourteen. For four days, I was able to endure this through strong coffee, but nature demanded its rights, and I was so feverish through all the coffee and the lack of sleep that I had to stop for my health's sake."
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older, and that a commanding general had to rise early; thus, he stopped having supper during the 7 Years War, and never started again. Until the Bavarian War (1778), the King played the flute, and his days were scheduled in the following way.
During the months of November, December, January and February, the King got to bed between nine and ten pm, and rose between five and six am. During this time, no one was with him, nor did light burn in his bedroom; in the antechambre, two common footmen were keeping watch. He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted. Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer. He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace. For this was lighted in summer and winter time regardless; for the King sweated so strongly that his nightdress and his sheets had to get dried at the fireplace every time. As soon as he'd gotten dressed, he sat down to read from the intake of arriving letters those he was most interested in while his hairtail was combed; the rest, he sent for summarizing and excerpting to the cabinet secretary. After having read all and put it next to himself on a small table, he rose, washed and put his wig and the hat on him which he always wore, except when sitting at a table or when talking to persons of rank, and went to the first adjoining room to accept the report of the AD of the first bataillon there, or to give him some commands regarding the military. He drank a few glasses of water, which during the last years of his life were mixed with Fenchel extracts, and afterwards two or three small cups of coffee, sometimes with and sometimes without milk. Coffee he drank in his younger years very strongly, later in a weaker mixture, but always, for the kick of it, mingled with mustard. During the last years of his life he also ate at different times of the day several small dry bars of chocolate. Otherwise, he rarely indulged in chocolate, and drank it mainly just when he was taking the waters, or if he had been riding out in bad weather, or if he suspected he was due to an attack of gout, and thought the chocolate would help to spread the gout from the torso to the outer extremities. After having drunk his coffee, he took the flute and played on it, walking from one room to the next, for two hours passages he knew by heart.
Once he put the flute away, he accepted, around 9 or 10 am, the summarzing and excerpts from the Cabinet Secretary, read it, ordered the cabinet councillors to him one by one and told them what the reply to the incoming depeches would be, but he didn't lock himself into his cabinet as has been reported. The door was closed now and then but often remained completely open.
Now he finished his getting dressed, which means he took of his nightshirt, put some gellantine in his hair, got himself powdered, washed his face and hands with a towel and put on the uniform which only lasted five minutes if he didn't get shaved as well. In the time between ten and eleven, he told the commanders the password of the day, replied to some family letters, talked to some visitors he'd ordered to come, read out loud to himself, practiced, if time permitted, some concert sections, and went to lunch at 12 o'clock sharp.
The table usually was seated with seven to ten people, and about eight very well filled plates were put on the table, but as for dessert only fruit of the season. Always, beautiful porcellain was used; every guest was at liberty to eat as much or little as they wanted, and to drink as much Mosel or Pontac as they wished. Champagne and Hungarian Wine were only served if the King ordered them especially. The King's usual drink was Bergerac mixed with water; on some occasions, he also drank Champagne or Hungarian Wine.
(Passage of how Fritz with his fondness for spicy Italian and French food at times invited colics.)
It's true that the King loved lunching; all his vivaciousness and good mood followed him to the table. He talked nearly exclusively in French there, and those of his guests who didn't understand the language were mere listeners. Conversational topics were different subjects: politics, religion, history, military affairs etc. Occasionally, trivial matters were talked about, and religion was soundly mocked. *
*woeful footnote from the editor, summarized: Fritz, that's how we got the French Revolution and Napoleon, dammit!
(Another thing where attitude of 19th century editor and attitude of 18th century citizen Schöning clash is this:
Schöning (on exceptions from Fritz' general miserliness): "Now and then the King did waste huge sums on unworthy people; his motivation shall not be mentioned here."
Editor in footnote: "Whatever motivation could be so shady that the author cannot spell it out here? Surely it can't be certain that if the sum went to unworthy people the King knew them to be unworthy? Doesn't it make more sense to assume that he misjudged them?"
Heinrich: I am very loudly not commenting on this. )
Back to the daily routine:
Often, the table rounds lasted four to five hours, sometimes even longer; just as long, the King kept drinking, and it may be asked whether his heart then was in his tongue. Immediately afterwards, he played the flute again for an hour or half an hour, signed the letters the cabinet had written, went through the menu for the following day with the kitchen, and drank coffee. Once business had ended in the fourth hour, he kept reading until five, at which point the so called reader arrived - he didn't have one who really did the reading until a year before his death - with whom he talked until six o'clock while walking between the chambers and the great hall.
Before the concert, which usually started at 6 pm, he played preludes for about fifteen minutes, then played three concerts in a row, or at times listened to one by Quantz, or to a solo played on the cello, or to an aria sung by a singer, and then the music was usually done for the day. After the concert, the Marquis d'Argens arrived, and after his death Colonel Quintus Icilius. The monarch himself read to them, and after he had ended reading, he debated about the paragraph he'd read with his learned visitors.
These learned conversations usually lasted until 9 or 10 pm. The King then dismissed his companion, undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants with the order to awaken him the next morning, and usually soon fell asleep. Two common footmen kept watch in the antechambre. If the King wanted a glass of water or something else, he rang; it is wrong what the papers wrote, that they had to bring Burgundian wine to the King's bed when he rang. During his last twenty years, the King didn't drink any wine at night, and certainly no Burgundian wine, which he couldn't stand.
AS the King had scheduled his winter months, he also scheduled the summer. In that time of the year, there was more emphasis on bodily exercise. That's why he went to bed earlier and rose earlier in order to get used again to the early rising for the revues. As the month of February was ending, he ordered himself to be woken a bit earlier week by week and went to bed sooner, so that he could rise for the Berlin revue at 2 1/2 am and sit on his horse at 4 am. On such days, there wasn't much practice on the flute, the letters were only read, and the replies happened once he'd returned from the revue. As soon as the revue was over, he lengthened his nightly rest bit by bit again. In the month of march, he rode out on horseback at 10 or 11 in the morning if the weather was good. Near the end of March or, if the weather was bad, in April at the latest, he left the Potsdam palace and moved to Sanssouci, attended, if illness didn't stop him, five times a week the exercising of the garnison, commanded it in person each time; on the other days of the week, too, he rode at least for an hour.
Near the end of April or in May he went to Charlottenburg and had the Berlin Special Revue presented. On these occasions, he nearly always rode into town, partly to visit his sister, the Princess Amalie, partly to inspect the buildings in progress. Around noon, he returned to Charlottenburg to dine with the assembled chiefs and commanders of the regiments. On May 17 or 18, the big Potsdam Revue was presented. On the 19th, the King rode to Spandau in order to inspect the regiments of his brothers Prince Heinrich and Prince Ferdinand; from there, he rode to Charlottenburg, where he ate and remained for the night. As long as his brothers still appeared with their regiments, he always lunched after the special revue with his brother Prince Heinrich at Spandau. On the morning of the 20th, he rode to Berlin, inspected in passing Kowalsky's garnison regiment, afterwards the other foreign regiments, and arrived around nine or ten at the Berlin town palace. After having done his cabinet work, he went to the great hall, gave the assembled chiefs of staff the watchwords and dispositions, and went to lunch with his guests. The revue took place from 21 - 23rd May in Berlin, afterwards from May 26 - 28 in Magdeburg. Then, on June 1st, he arrived at Küstrin, inspected the dragoon regiments there immediately and held revue the next morning. From there, he went to Stargardt the next day on June 2nd, where on the 3rd and the fourth and in (East) Prussia the revue took place on the 8th, 9th and 10th June. On June 12th or 13 the King usually arrived back at Sanssouci.
From the end of the Prussian journey to the start of the Silesian one, all the ministers of the general directory arrived at Sanssouci, and the yearly budget was concluded. Afterwards, the King drank Eger waters, and lived at the New Palais for ten to fourteen days while his siblings visited him.
(Schöning observes that the King only went to this most expensive of buildings on the ground during those sibling visits, otherwise he much preferred Sanssouci.)
However, he only lived in half of it, consisting of three rooms, an alcove and the library; the other half was for the princes, generals and ministers whom the King had ordered to him.
(Schöning says the two rooms at Sanssouci for lunches were too small to host all the officers during the grand revues, which is why Fritz hosted them at the New Chambres instead. He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.)
The King had a very good memory, a very eloquent tongue, saw reasonably well things that were near him but needed glasses for anything further away. For reading or writing, he did not need glasses.
The flute, he played masterfully as a King; he had knowledge about general basso and composition, and has composed some arias, some concerts and over a hundred solos; he also could play the piano a bit. He performed a superb adagio. The only ones allowed at his concerts were the musicians involved and now and then a few musical connaisseurs. His concerts were simple, but pleasant. The flute was accompagnied by two violins, a viola, a cello, a fagot and the fortepiano. After the King wasn't able to play music anymore, he didn't want to listen to it, either, and only rarely attended concerts.
I remember the "Fritz and Music" author arguing with this statement, and using as evidence the various Berlin newspapers reporting Fritz' regular attendance to various opera performances and concerts in the 1780s (these are the years Schöning is talking about, since Fritz lost the ability to play the flute with the majority of his teeth in the Bavarian war). My speculation: it's a matter of perspective. Compared with the huge number of daily performances, see my previous translated excerpt, Schöning can say Fritz only attended rarely concerts anymore. To normal people, two or three times a week is often.
The King's behaviour towards his servants was very strict; especially if he noticed they were consorting with the other sex. He punished them with harsh words, beatings with his stick or with his fists, arrests or dismissals ,and sometimes he put them in the army.
Footnote from the editor here, in a rare spirit of criticism saying Fritz was wrong to do so, because if you treat the army as a deposit for people you want to punish, you're not making it look attractive and honorable, and maybe that's why Prussia lost against Napoleon. Again, reminder that Schöning himself was among the servants who married.
In his last years, his behavior towards them grew gentler, and he began to make little presents to those who were around him after he had endured illnesses, or at Christmas. Those who had managed to make themselves indispensable received larger presents in those last years, and those he favoured larger ones still.
Insert obvious comment about son of FW repeating patterns of abuse here.
Meanwhile, guests who weren't servants:
The King's companions at the table and the scholars who kept him company in the evening were treated very graciously by him and hardly noticed their host was wearing a crown; though he mocked everyone leaving themselves open to it relentlessly. He had a stock collection of anecdotes regarding emperors, kings, and other worthies; these, he told often and kept repeating them, especially when strangers had joined the company who weren't familiar with them yet; meanwhile, the people who were around him for many years couldn't enjoy the repetitions and the often heard tales.
This is pretty much the same which Lucchessin i notes down in his diary; that Fritz, like many old people, kept retelling the same stories.
The King's physical exercise consisted of the many slow and fast ridings as well as walks through the garden; even while playing the flute, he was unable to sit still, but kept moving from one room in the next. He often rode from Potsdam to Berlin without using his carriage which followed him. On marches, he always rode; if it was too cold, he went on foot.
Fritz and religion: He used to say "Post mortem nihil est, and that proves that he thought that he didn't believe in the immortality of the soul. He also used to say : Ex nihilo nihil est. So there has to be someone who created the world and everything in it; (...) so he recognized a single God as the creator and beginning of all things. Whether he also regarded him as the ruler of everything, or whether he believed the world had been left to run itself; whether not everything that happened happened by accident; that I can't say for sure. (...) Ever since he's been left to his own devices, one hasn't seen him showing an outward sign of serving God. What he's done during his father's life time, has been force and pretense, and if he afterwards visited churches a few times, he did so either for political reasons or to listen to the beautiful music.
And now we get data supporting a previous theory as to why Fritz didn't want an autopsy; it really was for Mom's reason, for:
Regarding chastity and modesty, the King showed a great deal of shame about his person; he didn't even allow his own servants to see him in the nude, and he never satisfied natural urges in their presence.
(Sidenote: in case this isn't clear, Schöning means he didn't relieve himself in their presence. Now today that's a given, but not so much in the 18th century, or earlier. One of the important offices among the courtiers of Henry VIII., for example, was the gentleman of the stool, who, yes, had to wipe the royal bottom.)
Verbally, on the other hand, he was an utter libertine, especially when sitting at the table with people, when he completely cut loose and named everything by its name.
Footnote from 19th century editor: Yes, that was one of Fritz' darker sides. OMG, if only he had lived in our times where people have learned not to talks so indecently!
Fritz: a good patient? The more pain he felt during his illnesses, the kinder and more graciously he behaved towards those who were nursing him. It was always a certain sign of his impending recovery when he started to be rude to the people he'd been content with while he was suffering.
Good grief.
Now let's talk budget for the kitchen:
The budget for the kitchen had been fixed on 12000 Reichstaler per annum by the King, and he didn't want to change this throughout his life. From this, the following had to be financed: daily eight plates for his table, eight plates for the marshal's table, three plates at noon and in the evening for ten to twelve servants, and cold foot for three to four dogs. If he was visited by noble strangers or by his family, and twelve, twenty or even thirty plates daily were necessary, he did pay for them as an extra expense, as he did for the table food during the masks and revues.
Salary for servants:
It's true that his personal servants received a very low salary. The primary ones received in addition to food and free lodging eight to ten Reichstaler per month; the rest only 8, 7 or 4.
Whereas the dogs:
The King's love for his dogs was extensive. Three or four were always around his person, and of these one was the favourite, and the others were this favourite's companions. The former was always lying next to the King on a chair with cushions and slept in her master's bed at night. The others had to leave the room in the evening, but returned early in the morning when the King was woken up. During the walkings or at the table, they were constantly following the King, who was particularly concerned about the grooming and about the health of his favourite dog. The King's pain when his favourites died was intense. They were buried at Sanssouci at a certain spot in a coffin, and received a tombstone inscribed with their names. In addition to the dogs which were always around his person, he also owned a pack at the palace of Potsdam and in the Jägerhof which consisted of forty to fifty whippets, and were cared for by two hunters, one of whom was also supposed to be an expert in curing dogs. The favourite dog and her companions had a chamber footman as their personal servants, who had to feed them and take them on walks. For their meals, they received different types of roastings, cake, buttery bread rolls, milk and water as much as they enjoyed. Whoever had the misfortune of kicking a dog did not escape without a scolding.
But no, Schöning doesn't tell us what became of them after Fritz' death, either.
Women: Schöning says Fritz regarded them as a necessary evil and with a few exceptions towards whom he behaved "very gallantly and decently", disliked their company, both out of general dislike for females and because he had to dress up and show manners for them.
Fritz and languages: Nothing new. I.e. loved French, hated German, pretended to know Latin but actually didn't except for some learned phrases, read on the classics in French translations, knew a bit Italian due to music.
Time for some comic relief, which also answers one of Mildred's questions. Fritz tries fasting, but not out of respect for the Austrians:
In his younger years, he wanted to find out by a self experiment whether the Roman-Catholics deserved credit for their fasting. However, he decided that it wasn't much effort if you were allowed to eat fish, eggs, butter, cheese and milk; though he did try to live for forty days without the earlier mentioned food, but found it hard, and in order to make it through that time resorted to chocolate.
And finally, we got to something depressing:
Regarding the fourth commandment - "Honor your parents", in case anyone forgot - The King has to be a rare model for humanity. As much as he pondered about the human race, as much did he venerate the memory of his father; and if on rare occasions he did talk about the later's rages, about his lashing out temper or other flaws, he always tempered this with moderation and concern. That's how he talked about his mother, too, and his siblings, and this love for his parents and siblings does his ashes much credit. Only about his grandfather did he talk very differently. He described him as prince full of pride, puffed up and completely driven by vanity, and often stated angrily that (F1) could have saved Prussia from the Plague if he'd used 100 000 Reichtaler on it. Moreover, he called him an upstart King and a Louis XIV wannabe.
Grandpa F1, who treated his wife and kid gently, loved culture and never hit anyone in his life: stunned.
Voltaire: Well, I liked him and told Fritz so.
MT: I know someone who is a Louis XIV wannabe, and it wasn't the grandfather of the current Margrave of Brandenburg who wouldn't have a royal title if not for said grandfather.
