1740 and All That

The Trier Archive version of the Fritz/Wilhelmine correspondance, as with the as with the other correspondances, consists of 70% - 80% Fritz letters, though in this case I know this isn't because Wilhelmine's (after the mid 1730s, when Fritz is out of postal parental control) replies don't exist as well. There's a German published selection of their correspondance titled "Solange wir zu zweit sind" - "as long as we are two", or "as long as there are the two of us", which is a Fritz quote from one of the letters - which puts the emphasis way more on dialogue and thus post mid 30s renders it as a back and thro. Unfortunately, I only have an audio version of "So lange wir zu zweit sind" in my possession, which makes literal quoting far more difficult. While the following write up and quotes are mainly from the Trier archive, I have also inserted some of my earlier summaries from the audio, which contain more paraphrases and less direct quotes for that reason.


Two Siblings, No Chill

The 1730s: we know Wilhelmine and Fritz already intensely corresponded as youngsters, but those letters did not survive the traumatic 1730 events. A letter Fritz smuggled out from Küstrin did, and we know they exchanged letters between 1731-1732, but had to destroy them immediately after reading; he was still imprisoned, then strongly supervised, so was she, before her marriage. After Wilhelmine's marriage in 1732, Fritz' letters are preserved. After his own marriage, so are hers, though, see above, not so much in the Trier collection. I therefore start with some paraphrasing form my audio write-up. One of the various endearing aspects about this particular sibling relationship is that every time Fritz goes "you are Not Like Other Girls" at Wilhelmine, she shoots him down, and we get exchanges that basically go thusly:

W: Have just come across a book that really made me furious. The author says women are not capable of rational thought, only men are. So we've been put on a level with sheep.

F: Gotta agree with the author. You, dearest sis, are of course an exception and Not Like Other Girls, but then I don't consider you a woman. You are one of the first men of Europe.

W: Thanks but no thanks. I'm a woman. I don't want to be thought as an exception. (literal quote is "I don't want to be held apart from my sisters"). Maybe rethink your criteria?

F: *changes subject*

Then there's this gem:

W: OMG have just heard you wrote to Voltaire and HE WROTE YOU BACK! A-plus fanboy achievement, bro. I'm so envious. But, um. Gossip says you've also invited him. Are you sure that's wise? He's supposed to a bit on the vain side in person, not quite living up to his writings.

F: Pffff. I'm also interest in him for his writings, don't care about his personal quirks at all, what could possibly go wrong?

And, around 1737:

W: Have just heard rumors that Mom and Dad have done a 180%. She's supposed to have gone religious while he's supposed to have discovered music. What the hell?

F: Don't worry, it's not true. Mom's no more religious than before and Dad has discovered painting, not music. That can still be our thing.

BTW, they always refer to their parents as "the King" and "The Queen", never as their mother and father. (This is true for the other siblings as well, as I now know.) Wilhelmine refers to her husband first as "the (Heriditary) Prince" and then, after his father's death, as "The Margrave", never by his first name or as "my husband". Fritz the very few times he mentions her refers to Elisabeth Christine as "the Crown Princess". Oh and, one of these times is a downright sympathetic reference, when telling Wilhelmine "Potsdam and Berlin are hell right now, the King is having a go at me again, and even the Crown Princess has lost nearly all her standing with him and gets similar treatment".

Speaking of 1737, there Trier delivers. I found the Fritz letter replying to Wilhelmine's passionate outburst quoted in this write-up when she didn't hear from him for a while (the "if you only write "my sister I love you, I love you my sister" it would be enough" one), which the German scholar who included it in her speech had said was unpublished. Well, Fritz' reply is published, so we do have a date. (20th January 1737.)

My dearest sister,
You should attribute my silence only to the lack of news. We lead a life too close for us to learn much from these cantons, and I have reason to believe that if I wrote every day: My dear sister, I love you, or: I love you, my dear sister, such letters would annoy you very much. So do not wish, my very dear sister, with regard to me, to transform you into stone; you would lose too much, and this spirit which I love and which everyone admires is so well housed in your body, that it would be a sin to bring it out. Never measure friendship by the yardstick, and believe me, my very dear sister, please, with all the tenderness, all the attachment and all possible esteem, my very dear sister, etc.

Look, Fritz, I've read your own complaints when someone doesn't pay not enough attention to you and doesn't express enough devotion. Face it, you two have no chill when it comes to that.

(Sidenote: of course they don't. More seriously, I do think it's the result of having had parents who made love to one of them a zero sum game, of having been each other's primary sources for affection in their horrid childhood, Sonsine and Keyserling not withstanding, and SD in regards to Fritz.)

I found an intriguing letter from Fritz in the year 1739. Now I knew from the audio letters that FW's moods went up and down with him in the 1730s as well, though never again as extreme as 1730, obviously. What I hadn't known was that apparantly there was gossip as late as 1739 that FW might consider disowning him in favour of AW. At least that's how I interpret this letter, which is also interesting as it provides us with Fritz' (positive) opinion of young AW in a letter not to AW himself. (And thus probably the real deal.) Bear in mind Wilhelmine hasn't seen kid AW since the awful winter of 1732/1733 family holidays, nor did they correspond; she'll only get to know him again (as a near adult) when Fritz takes him along on the 1740 trip.

My dearest sister,

The share that you take in the sorrows that I suffered consoles me completely. For six weeks I was the object of the King's bitter jokes and the target of his anger. It is very unusual to attack people whose fear and respect deprive them of the freedom to defend themselves and to complain.

(Imagine anyone later to be familiar with King Fritz getting a mighty coughing fit here.)

Such speeches are poisoned by the dignity of the one who speaks, and by the malignant and flattering approval of those who listen, courtiers always more eager to condescend to the feeling of the master than they are attached to frankness and to the truth by defending innocence falsely accused. A conflict of different reasons caused the violent irritation in which the King was against me; I spoke firmly to some people, I wrote truths to others, I threatened those I knew capable of being cowed, and I, if not extinguished, at least dampened the flare-up that was going to come on.

The news you are being told about my brother is not at all founded; it is a city noise, which owes its birth to the empty head of our coffee politicians. Reconciliation with England may have given rise to it; imagination invented the rest. My brother has the best character in the world, he has an excellent heart, a just mind, feelings of honor and is full of humanity; he has the will to do well, which gives me a lot of hope for him. His face conceals nothing, his eyes can not only spell; his manners are ingenuous rather than polite, and in all his maintenance there is a certain je ne sais quoi of embarrassment which does not warn in his favor, but which does not deceive those who prefer the solidity of merit to a brilliant facade. I love him very much, and I can only praise myself for the friendship and attachment he has for me. He does me all the little services he can do, and shows me on all occasions the feelings that are only found in real friends. You can count on what I write to you about him; I write without prevention and without envy what all those who know him particularly will have noticed in him.

Thoughts? I'm always torn on how much or little Fritz in his much, much later behavior was influenced by AW having been FW's favourite. I do believe he tells Wilhelmine what he thinks and feels on that occasion, but if there was talk as late as freaking 1739 about a possible change in the order of succession - no matter how unfounded, which it was, if FW would have done it, it would have been in 1730/1731, not later than that - , it might have sunk into his subconscious. Not to mention that it provides fodder for his life long practice of keeping his potential successors - both AW and future FW2 - away from any serious position of power or involvement in the government.

Lastly: " He does me all the little services he can do" - calming Dad down?

(mildred_of_midgard: Calming Dad down, possibly; passing on information, possibly; asking for favors or even money, possibly.)

When Fritz invades Silesia for the first time, there's one letter from Wilhelmine where she makes a geek joke that I thought I had to share. cahn, remember, the polar expedition of Maupertuis had had the purpose of proving that the earth flattens on the top - as Newton had proposed - rather than forming an egg-like oval. So Wilhelmine writes:

You must admit that you have benefited marvelously from the lessons of Maupertuis. He rounded up the earth, and you rounded up your country. They say you calculate fairer and easier than him. Would I dare to beg you to communicate to me your method, which would do an unequaled good for our country, and, by flattening it, would more often bring me the happiness of presenting myself to you? However, it is not the mountains that will stop me; no obstacle, however rough it may be, will stop me, as soon as it comes to seeing all that I hold dearest in the world.


Erlangen journalists, Marwitz (female) and Maria Theresia, oh, my!

Wilhelmine during the First Silesian War is all sisterly admiration. But then, the early 1740s are marked by their progressing enstrangement which takes about three years. (See also the dates given here. There are three main points of contention: 1) Würtemberg marriage drama, 2.) Erlangen journalist drama, 3.) Marwitz marriage drama, 4.) Lunch with Maria Theresia drama. These all, except for the last one, interlock and sometimes happen in tandem. It also wasn't one relentless progress; there were intermittent loving interludes. For example, the titular quote from the audio does, in fact, hail from 1743, at a point where the enstrangement has already started, from a poem he wrote to her, dated 16. September 1743, which he had after his visit to Bayreuth left for her to find at the Eremitage, and which ends with "May this place for the two of us be forever the same/ The true temple of friendship". The "Temple of Friendship" would later be a monument Fritz would build in memory of his sister in the park of Sanssouci.

Still, the enstrangement happened, and it was by far the worst crisis between them. The Würtemberg stuff were mostly misunderstandings. Context: Fritz wanted Wilhelmine's daughter (at that time 11 years) to marry Karl Eugen, future Duke of Würtemberg, who together with his brother was growing up at his court, as part of his anti-Habsburg policy of aligning as many of the other German principalities as he could with Prussia. The boy's mother wanted to get the boy back under her own supervision in Würtemberg. Fritz saw this as potential conspiracy to not follow through with the marriage and make an alternate match. Wilhelmine was unsure whether or not to look for potential other matches for her daughter or bank it all on the Würtemberg match. (Not least because she could tell a tale about being told you were to marry someone from early age only for it not to happen.) The widowed Duchess wanted control of her sons. (Spoiler: Karl Eugen and Wilhelmine's daughter, who according to Casanova was the most beautiful princess in Europe, got married when the girl was 16. It was such an unhappy marriage that she moved back to her parents in Bayreuth, where she's buried. Karl Eugen bankrupted Würtemberg with his pomp and his mistresses and makes into literary history by being the Duke who banished young Schiller from his realm.)

The Erlangen journalist bit went thusly:

Ulrike, writing from Sweden during the second Silesian War: Dear brother, are you aware not one but several articles describing you as a war mongerer and Prussia as the villain have appeared in a newspaper printed in Erlangen? Erlangen, small Franconian town ruled by... who was it again? Hmmmm????

Fritz: I can't believe the Margrave and you are standing by while I get slandered repeatedly by an Erlangen journalist, Wilhelmine.

Wilhelmine: As if the Margrave and I read German newspapers. I am, of course, horrified. The man shall be arrested at once!

Fritz: Okay, I've just recalled I'm an enlightened monarch. The journalist doesn't have to stay in your prison, just make sure his stuff never gets printed again, and we're good.

Wihelmine: Good to know you're not insisting on his imprisonment, because he's mysteriously disappeared when the order for his arrest went out. I trust we'll never hear from him again.

Fritz: *says nothing now, but will bring it up later in his big "how you betrayed me, let me count the ways" letter, at which point it's "and then the Margrave and you let that bastard who slandered me escape"

The MT business: as I said, during the first Silesian War, Wilhelmine is a brother-admiring loyalist who when MT's mother (who happened to be a Brunswick, i.e. Elisabeth Christine's aunt, for all the good that did), wrote her a letter asking for her mediation promptly forwards said letter to Fritz while saying "as if I would interfere, this is just for your amusement, they're so doomed with you against them". During the Second Silesian war, when the Wittelsbach Emperor dies and MT gets the German princes (other than Prussia and one or two others) to vote for her husband Franz Stefan as next Emperor, MT travels to Frankfurt for Franz Stefan's coronation and on that occasion stops in Emskirchen, a small town within the territory of the Bayreuth principality. Where she and Wilhelmine have lunch. . (Wilhelmine: IT WAS JUST LUNCH! THE ONE TIME! WE ONLY HAD LUNCH!" (Literal quote: "She was served lunch, and I attended as politeness demanded"). This explanation comes in reply to Fritz' delayed "the reasons you suck" outburst, mind, not immediately after it happened. The letter building up to his big outburst says: "Since you care so much about the Queen of Hungary, it may please you to know I've made peace with her" (with MT accepting Prussia's ownership of Silesia and Fritz accepting Franz Stefan as Emperor and hence MT as Empress), Wilhelmine makes the mistake of writing back "how wonderful and befitting your greatness is this peace making, I dare say it will contribute even more to your glory than your earlier victories" and THEN Fritz cuts loose.

It has to be said, though, MT isn't the most reviled woman in the estrangement years. That's yet another member of the Marwitz clan, and for those of you keep score, the culmination of the Fritz/Wilhelmine- Marwitz (female) crisis happens simultanously to the culmination of the Fritz/Heinrich-Marwitz (male) crisis .

Wilhelmine's Lady in waiting, daughte of a distinguished Prussian general (and land owner, which is relevant), niece of her trusted former governess Sonsine and one of three sisters that had come with Wilhelmine to Bayreuth on the occasion of her marriage, by the early 1740s had become also her husband's mistress, to Wilhelmine's great distress. So she arranged a marriage for her rival. The groom was an Austrian noble (i.e. away with the Countess of Marwitz to Vienna!), which infuriated Fritz because Marwitz was a Prussian noble and thus not allowed to marry an Austrian noble without his permission. Naturally, she didn't tell her brother about the affair because when does this family ever share vital information when it's most needed?

Which begins the series of seriously displeased letters like the one from April 6th 1744 in which "my dearest sister" has become "Madame ma tres chère soeur" (it will get to Madame ma soeur before this is over). He reminds her that she had had to promise FW she would not marry any of the Marwitz girls to non-Prussians. Wilhelmine counters that any blackmailed promise to FW became null and void after his death, and also, she's simply arranging a good match for her dear friend. The exchange grows ever more terse, along the lines of:

F: Why are you defending Marwitz? She's the worst! A Medea, a vile excrement of humanity! You are exactly like a cuckold who learns the truth only after everyone else has already found out.

W: Marwitz isn't dominating me, if that's what you mean. You should know I'm mistress of my own actions and am not likely to be manipulated by a courtier.

F: You being dominated by Marwitz was not what I meant!

(I don't get why he calls Marwitz "Medea", though, because it's really the wrong classical reference. Even if he's not associating child murder but Medea as a sorceress.)

Then the meeting with Maria Theresia at the end of September 1745 occurs. Leading to this letter, dated Potsdam, 30. December 1745:

My dear sister, your affectionate interest in the Queen of Hungary gives me the opportunity to tell you that we've just made peace. I flatter myself, my dear sister, that it will be all the more pleasant to you as your predeliction for this princess will no longer be hampered by a remnant of old friendship which you perhaps kept for me.

Wilhelmine writes back in January 1746:

My dearest brother, the peace which you have just granted the Queen of Hungary is a most happy event, and I doubt all your victories will give you as much honor as the moderation you show at a time when you can dictate the law. As for her Hungarian Majesty, I have never had a predeliction for her or an attachment to her interests. I simply do justice to her merit, and I believe it is permissible to estimate all those who have it. My friendship and affection for you, my dearest brother, are nonetheless real.

This does not mollify our antihero in the least. Several attempts of "but I love you"/"no you dont!" later, he writes:

My dear sister, if coldness arose between us, it was certainly not me who started it, it was the scandalous marriage between unworthy creatures which threw the first bone of contention between siblings who have always loved each other tenderly. Since then, you have put up with a cranky gazeteer from Erlangen who took me apart twice a week; instead of you punishing him, he was allowed to escape. Since then, the Margrave has shown a marked partiality for everything that was Austrian; and finally, you yourself were making a thousand submissions to my most cruel enemy, the Queen of Hungary, at a time when she was plotting my defeat! (...) All of Germany, which was witness to the insults you inflicted on me, was also witness to the moderation with which I received them. (...) Finally, after all, if you push me to the limit, if you show me neither friendship, nor regard, nor the slightest consideration, it is only natural that I turn cold towards you. We can only love those who love us, and the sorrows inflicted by beloved relatives are always those to which we are most vulnerable.

You don't say. If all this sounds strangely familiar, be assured it does have a happier ending. Both because Wilhelmine is a woman and thus differently socialized than her brothers, and because she is still his favourite. Several apologetic and love swearing letters from her later:

My dear sister, I feel one is easily persuaded when one once to be, and my heart, which pleads for you, will find you innocent, even if my mind proclaims you guilty.

One year - and a surprise visit by Wilhelmine - later, they've fallen back in their old co-dependence. He's actually rather sweet when she finally does come clean about her reasons for the Marwitz debacle. Which she has to, because Marwitz, whose first name was Wilhelmine Dorothee (this, like the Margrave being called Friedrich, is just mean to future fiction writers and readers!), upped the ante. Background: her father, who was old Prussian nobility and once was left for dead after a Fritzian battle but came back from that, had died. Because Wilhelmine had arranged the Marwitz/Burghaus Austrian marriage, Fritz refused to let Marwitz have her inheritance (no Prussian money or Prussian goods go to the Austrians!). Given Marwitz' Austrian husband, it then turned out, had counted on that money - he was a gambler -, Marwitz remained in Bayreuth and continued to be the Margrave's mistress. Post sibling reconciliation, she point blank told Wilhelmine that if Wilhelmine wanted her to go to Vienna as opposed to spending her mornings fucking the Margrave, she'd better get her that inheritance money.

Fritz: after that explanation, provides the money without a single "I told you so" and only warns Wihelmine that Marwitz and her husband the gambler are just the types to ask for more later.

(Marwitz (female) did go to Vienna, and was quite succesful in creating a salon there, attended, among others by young Joseph, eagerly listening to stories about the Prussian court.)

Some years later, when Fritz has the impression the Margrave cheats again, he tries marriage counselling by creating a fable about a butterfly which can't help visiting all the flowers, and so our heroine who loves the butterfly is only making herself sad when wishing it not to be a butterfly (thus says a fairy he names "Moral"). To which Wilhelmine responds with: "Love your fable, but it doesn't apply right now: luckily my own butterfly is finding the local flowers to be roses, with thorns." (This was during their long journey.)


Greek myths and living Italians


On to another matter. Mildred once pointed out that Algarotti didn't get to observe the Fritz/Voltaire spectacle with the same popcorn-munching glee as the rest of Europe since Algarotti, unlike the rest of Europe, was in a position called "I could be next". If so, he wouldn't have been entirely paranoid. Here are some Algarotti remarks from Fritz:

in 1747: I have here Algarotti, who finally fixes his condition, and commits to my service. The acquisition is good, and gives me all kinds of amenities for me individually.

Speaks the sultan of his latest concubine. Seems the sultan has also heard Algarotti would have liked to design more statutes for the Queen of Hungary might have made the teensiest weensiest criticism of the Salomon of the North while he was working for the Saxons, but no matter:

I believe, as you say, that envy has bitten Algarotti a little, and that we have magnified or falsified things that he may have said very innocently. He is engaged here as a chamberlain, and I am very happy.

What things, enquiring minds want to know?

In a letter from July 26th 1749 (sidenote: this is when he engaged in the latest round of Bringing Heinrich To Heel and for the first time arguing with AW for that reason), he names exactly the friendship pairs he'll later put in the temple as being impossible examples. Trier doesn't provide the Wilhelmine letter this is a reply to, and the audio didn't either, so I don't know whether these "sad reflections" were in any context about his simultanous quarelling with the younger sibs, or whether it was caused by Wilhelmine's own situation in Bayreuth (Marwitz was gone, but the Margrave did have the occasional one night stand), or whether the mail simply had been late again.

My dearest sister,
Your letters are so obliging that they fill me with confusion. I am a little surprised by some sad reflections I found there on the subject of friendship, and it seems to me, my dear sister, that these heroes of friendship of which the Fable tells us are only there. There are many capable people in the world; however, this seraglio is mistaken as to demand from them such great proofs as were given by Orestes and Pylades, Nisus and Euryales. You have to take the world as it is. To imagine that virtue divides the inhabitants of the earth is the dream of a Platonic; to suppose that all men are criminals and worthy of being burned forever is to consider the universe as a misanthrope. But to say that the globe we inhabit is a mixture of good and bad things, and that our species is a compound of vices and virtues, is, it seems to me, to see things as they are and to judge them reasonably. We must bear the faults of our fellow men in favor of their good qualities, as we ourselves also need their support on many occasions. When you think that way, my dear sister, you make your life sweeter than when you surrender to sad ideas that always darken over time.... Deign to continue your precious friendship with me, and do not doubt that if I am not quite a Pirithoos, I will do my best at becoming one, in order to convince you of tenderness, esteem and all feelings with whom I am, my very dear sister, etc.

Note: (Theseus and) Pirithous are the only mythological pair named which won't end up in the Temple of Friendshiph at Sanssouci. As with Fritz making himself Pylades, not Orestes in the letter to Suhm, it's fascinating that he names himself Pirithous, not Theseus. Also: the two of them as prisoners in the underworld, having tried to abduct a goddess (until Heracles frees Theseus) is my main association here.

Fritz stays in a mythological mood, it seems. When Wilhelmine announces she's off to be with her daughter (remember, Duchess of Würtemberg, living in Stuttgart, which is also in the Würtembergian part of Swabia) to assist in the birth of her first (and as it will turn out, only) grandchild, he writes back, which is a great example of the type of lighthearted geeky teasing each other these two also engage in between dramatic declarations:

My dearest sister,
I was pleased to receive two of your letters. You are still a deity to me; but as you have so many attributes, I invoke you one day under the name of Minerva, another under that of Calliope; sometimes you deign to manifest yourself as Polymnia, then you show yourself to mortals in the form of Urania; today you will allow me to adore you under the attractions of Lucina. I have no doubt that if you go to Stuttgart, our niece will happily give birth under your auspices. You will gift the newborn child, and it will be the wonder of future centuries. I found in some old book of mythology that Lucina was dressed in a gray linen and white veil. As I imagine that, having its attributes, you will want to follow its uses, I take the liberty to offer you this fabric as the beginnings of our manufacture, and when I address my wishes to the gods, I dare to say to them: Divinities of Olympus, if you deign to favor Swabia with your presence, grant one day the same favors to Prussia!



OMG Voltaire!
Naturally, she did visit him next once the grandkid was born. Which brings me to the next thematic selection of quotes, with good old Voltaire as the red thread. It occured to me that Wilhelmine was the one person who actually did not just comment on the whole Voltaire disaster but actively tried to mediate when everyone else was popcorn munching or staying out of it. (And she'll keep it up right till her death, since her letters in the final years show she was the one forwarding letters from Voltaire to Fritz and vice versa.) This is as telling about everyone's relationship with each other as the fact Fritz did not bite her head off for this even during the height of the argument. (Only the editor of the Fredersdorf letters does.) Mes amies: Voltaire = the only one of her brother's boyfriends for whom Wilhelmine was willing to play Yenta?

So, it's 1750, Wilhelmine has just returned to Bayreuth from her Berlin trip. Fritz had sent letters (and presents) ahead she found when arriving at Bayreuth. Also, it's carnival season in Berlin, and as we know from Lehndorff, the Divine Trio was busy partying all through said carnival in 1750. Madame de Camas is the trusted lady in waiting of SD who is one of Fritz' favourite people (during the big palace reception after the 7 Years War, he'll embrace her right after the family members). On the more sinister side, Voltaire, not even here a year, is already engaged in shady dealings (trying to swindle the Jewish banker Hirschel):

My dearest brother,
I arrived here at four o'clock, without knowing how I left Berlin. My mind was so busy and so sad on the road that I realized that it was in Potsdam, not in my body; for I had not the least inconvenience, a sign that the vital spirits were far from it. I have found here, my very dear brother, new marks of your kindness. I kissed your dear letter a thousand times. You shower me with so many graces that I no longer know how to show you how deeply touched I am. I'm looking for expressions but can't find any. My heart speaks a language that I cannot express. It is full of you, it owes you everything, and it is entirely yours.

My dearest sister,
What consoles me for your absence is knowing that you are in perfect health and in a good mood, as it seems to me from your letter. (...). Everyone is doing well here; the Queen is holding court today, my brothers are histrioning, I politicize, Voltaire tricks the Jews, Madame de Bentinck pleads, the count her nephew makes nonsense, Madame de Camas has a cold, and the good Montbail repairs the insults to her toilet that the years have made of its outdated attractions. I can only talk to you about such nonsense; my letter smells of carnival.

The financial shadiness is but a prelude. The next year, it's Maupertuis quarrel time. Also, we'll get a reference to the celebrated Castrato singer Salimbeni, who didn't care to be told how to sing by the King of Prussia and moved to Sasony. "Capons" was a nickname for Castrati:

My dearest sister,
I am very sorry that you are given false alarms on my subject. I had some slight ailments this winter; but I am however very happy to have done even better than last year. Voltaire's affair is not yet over. I think he will get away with it; he will have no less spirit, but his character will be more despised than ever. I'll see it when it's all over; but, in the long run, I prefer to live with Maupertuis to living with him. His character is steadfast, and he has more of a conversational tone than the poet, who, if you pay attention, always dogmatizes.

(Read: Dares to claim he's right when he's clearly not, since he's disagreeing with me!)

I am very happy with Carestini, especially the adagio. I am told from Dresden that Salimbeni has even less of a voice than he had here. We'll have to the market for capons, and see if we can find someone who sings well and is instructable. If you are happy with our opera, I will transcribe it and send it to you. I still recommend myself to your precious memory, by assuring you, my very dear sister, that one could not be more than I am, etc.

In 1753, as we know, it's big explosion time. Voltaire leaves Prussia. And looks for a new place to stay. Writes Wilhelmine:

I saw a letter from Voltaire today. He goes to Gotha, where his niece will find him. I doubt he will come here. However, he said he would write from Gotha again. I suppose that perhaps he intends to settle here with his niece, which I will try to elude. The letters he wrote to his friends here (which are written without distrust, and which were only shown to me after strong insistence on my part) are very respectful about you. He gives you the rightful title of a great man. He complains about the preference you have given to Maupertuis, and the prevention that you have against him. He mocks very sharply on the subject of the latter, and I admit, my dear brother, that I could not help laughing when reading the article, because it is written so comically, that we can not remain serious. I will not fail to warn you of all that I will learn from him. My weakness forces me to finish, but never to be with all the respect and tenderness imaginable, my very dear brother, etc.

Does Fritz resent the corresponding with Voltaire, or the interference? (Remember, 1926!Editor imagines him wounded to the core by yet another sisterly betrayal.) He does not, and we don't get a renewal of YOUR FRIEND THE QUEEN OF HUNGARY accusations. Instead, we get this (since she's also announced she'll come visiting again, remember, the last time had been in 1750, and we're now in 1753. He's at his annual spa visit, which is also what Wilhelmine is doing:

My dearest sister,
I found your dear letter here, on my return from Prussia, and I flatter myself more than ever that your health, my dear sister, will recover. What a joy to see here again a dear friend, a tenderly loving sister, who made me tremble for her health during three years of absence! I await this happy day with real impatience. In the meantime, I will receive here a crowd of foreigners, or rather unwelcome visitors, who are curious to see our camp. I would gladly do without them, but I will have to look good in a bad play; they will be soldiers, and if anything displeases them, I will not have to fear epigrams. You still see me frightened of my adventures with gentlemen of ésprit; but I wiped off some splashes from them on the way, as it happens when we receive blows while trying to separate people who are fighting. I wish you, my dear sister, a happier fate than mine with these gentlemen. I do not believe that you need two to enlighten your mind; they would need your wisdom more. Madame du Deffand never wanted to see Voltaire; they asked her why. \"It is,\" said she, \"that I buy his mind for two florins, and that I enjoy his works without exposing myself to his wickedness.\" I am going to begin the waters of Eger, and I make a thousand wishes so that those which you take will make you all the effect that one can expect from it. You are sure, I hope, that no one is more tenderly interested in it than, my very dear sister, etc.

But just to add on the subject of Voltaire: Speaking of theaters, don't think I told you the hundredth part of Voltaire's villainies; there would be enough to make a sottisier as large as a volume of Bayle. It is a great pity that the great talents of this man are tarnished by the darkest and most perfidious soul, which embittered and spoiled his whole mind!

Poor frightened by gentlemen of ésprit Fritz next has Voltaire arrested in Frankfurt. Voltaire, after getting free, tells all the world about this, including Wilhelmine:

My dearest sister,
Judge the joy I have in seeing your health recover; this is the most enjoyable news I can learn; so therefore, I will have the consolation of seeing you again, my dear sister, in good health.
I saw the letter from Voltaire and from (Madame) Denis; they both lie, and don't blame me justly. Their adventure is very different than they say; but, despite all their wrongs, I gave orders a fortnight ago to let them go. You cannot believe, my dear sister, to what extent these people play comedy; all these convulsions, these diseases, these despair, all that is only a game. I was the dupe in the beginning, but no more in the end. Voltaire dares not return to France; he will go to Switzerland, and wander from country to country. For my part, I don't care about the harm he claims to do me, but I prevented him from doing more, and, for this reason, I made him return my verses and all the letters I gave him. I embrace you a thousand times, my very dear sister, pleading with you never to doubt the tender friendship with which I am, etc.

And just for the record, Sis: Voltaire isn't even that good a writer!

My dearest sister,
I had a double pleasure when I received your dear letter. I see there authentic marks of your recovery and the testimonies of your precious friendship. I make a thousand wishes so that your health recovers perfectly, and that it is the last shock which it has to wipe. I was very surprised to receive Voltaire's book, with a large letter from him; I will have it answered by the abbot, so that I will not commit myself. His book is useful, but dryly written; he took advantage of Father Barre, whom he abridged. If he did not hurry so much in his productions, they would only be better; but I believe that the public will have nothing more than the dregs from his old age. I had fun doing an opera, which I will take the liberty of sending you as soon as it is corrected.

The opera was Montezuma, btw. Back when I first reported to you about Wilhelmine's travel letters, I already told you about her encounter with Voltaire there (coming with telling Fritz Voltaire still loves him, honest, he's sorry!, while Voltaire writes the Margravine paid a visit and is better than her brother, whom she told him is missing him, honest!). At this point, Voltaire and Fritz still only correspond through third parties. This changes in the 7 Years War, not least because Fritz starts with the suicidal letters, and Wilhelmine among other things writes to Voltaire to write a Fritz encouraging letter as fast as he can. (I quoted the letter in question in my post about the Voltaire correspondance. Presumably it's also the one Catt describes Fritz as "devouring with his eyes" when he gets it ("He has not forgotten me!") after one of the usual "Voltaire is scum!" tirades. Writes Fritz in 1757:

I laughed at the exhortations of Patriarch Voltaire; I take the liberty of sending you my answer. As for stoicism, I think I have more than he does, and as for the way of thinking, he thinks like a poet, and I as it suits me in the position where the chance of birth has placed me.

But more Voltaire, please. In conclusion, Wilhelmine: clearly had a good idea about her brother's feelings for Voltaire and need of same.


Three funerals and a wedding

Back to the early 1750s again. The letters I wasn't familiar with already contains a lot of interesting comments about the younger sibs as well as Fritz getting consoled about various losses, including that of poor Biche.

Charlotte comes to town:

I am expecting my sister, the Duke and their eldest daughter, on the 4th of next month. It has been seven years since the Queen saw my sister. It will be a great pleasure to see her again. She runs a small spirit office in Braunschweig, of which your doctor is the director and the oracle. There is something to laugh about when she talks about these matters: her natural vivacity has not left her time to deepen anything; her mind goes continually goes from one subject to another, and dispatches twenty decisions in less than a minute.

One of de Catt's predecessors as reader dies:

We lost poor La Mettrie. He died for a joke, eating a whole pheasant pâté; after having gained a terrible indigestion, it was advised to be made bleed, to prove to the German doctors that one could bleed in an indigestion. It did not succeed; he took a violent fever which, having degenerated into putrid fever, prevailed. He is missed by all who knew him. He was a cheerful, good devil, a good doctor, and very bad author; but, by not reading his books, there was a way of being very happy with them.

What can one say but: Fritz. The next two gentlemen, who die in January 1752, don't get snark about their literary efforts along with the grief. They include the Comte de Rottembourg (or Rothenburg, as he's usually spelled in German documents), Mildred:

O my dear sister! you who have such a tender heart, have mercy on the situation in which I find myself. I lost the Prince of Anhalt, and yesterday Rottembourg just died in my arms. I should respond to the letter you wrote to me; but I can't do it, I only see my pain. All my thoughts are attached to the loss of a friend with whom I lived twelve years in perfect friendship. May heaven save you from these misfortunes and give you only opportunities for joy! I am with all tenderness, my very dear sister, etc


My dearest sister,
If there is anything capable of comforting me, it is the part you deign to take in the painful situation in which I found myself. I confess to you, my dear sister, that I am very much of your feeling, that life is not worth being greatly missed. What is it to live, when we are deprived of all the people with whom we have lived the most, and death always takes away our loved ones? As for me, I admit that I am very disgusted with the stupid character I play; the world is very tasteless to me. You ask me how Rottembourg died? Alas! my dear sister, he is expired in my arms, firm and with heroic indifference. His pains made him cry sometimes: O God! have mercy on me! But no sign of superstition or weakness in his last moments. The Catholic priest arrived; but he expired the very moment, and it was not he who had brought him. The poor deceased held out his dying hand to me, and, barely able to speak, he said to me: "Adieu, Sire; I must leave you, I cannot come back from it." My situation was terrible the first few days. I calmed this first agitation of my mind; but there remains in my soul a background of melancholy that I feel that I will not be able to uproot anytime soon. The least thing that reminds me of this memory is a stab that pierces my heart. I believe that there are only happy people in the world who do not love anyone. I read the third song of Lucretius, and I try to soften my sorrows; but all this does not give me back what could not have been returned to me. I work a lot to distract myself, and I find that the work is what relieves me the most. Do not fear anything for me, my dear sister, I am not good enough to die, and take care of yourself, so as not to make my affliction worse.
I would like the carnival to be over, and I am rolling in my head the way to save myself from it in Potsdam, where I am more to myself, and where I can be melancholy without anyone finding fault with it.
I wish you with all my heart that you are safe from such misfortunes, which, without a doubt, are the greatest in the world for people capable of feeling. All my wishes meet for you, my dear sister; these are the feelings with which I am until the last breath of my life, my dear sister, etc.

A word of advance explanation re: "no ceremony" - when a married sister visits "officially", there needs to be a big public reception etc., and these are tiring, as opposed to private reunions. Next, Fritz' beloved Italian greyhound Biche dies. Grieving for a dog is something Fritz and Wilhelmine can only do with each other, it seems, for:

My dearest sister,
All your letters redouble the tenderness I have for you; only a real friend can write a letter like the one I just received from you. You enter into my little sorrows, you take part in them, and you sympathize with my sensitivity. It is, in truth, only a dog; but everything you write to me about Folichon is precisely the case where I found myself with Biche. Heaven has given us the same mood and the same heart. I think like you on our reason; I think it is good for society, but very inconvenient for the individual. I am leaving the day after tomorrow for Potsdam, and I cannot hide from you that I feel a secret joy in finding myself in my dear retirement. I rejoice in the pleasure of seeing US together again, like Christians on the jubilee. Come here to see a friend, and, please, be the same with me without constraint and without embarrassment; and if you wish, we will ban any ceremony whatsoever, so that I can enjoy you better. The last times that I had the pleasure of seeing you here are those where I have benefited the most from you; let's start, if you like, where we ended up, and the little time I can have you will benefit me more. Write to me, I pray you, very sincerely on this subject, and do not disguise the bottom of your soul from me, for it will be absolutely what you see fit. I make a thousand wishes for your conservation and for the restoration of your health.

Okay, enough grief. Let's have mutual sibling teasing in a cheerful mode again:

My dearest brother,
I always regret the time I spend without writing to you; it seems to me that it is lost. I would like to be able to show you, my very dear brother, every moment of my life my feelings for you, and to be able to convince you of this. I was deprived of it for a whole week, having had great toothache. I got over it quite comically. I was advised to smoke certain herbs, which first relieved me; but as I had to repeat the same remedy several times, my ladies kept me company, and we all smoked like dragons. You see, my very dear brother, that with my natural courage, my genius for war and this new talent which I have just acquired, I could become a great general. However, I still have a doubt, because I have never found in history that Alexander or Caesar smoked. Anyway, it was predicted to me that I would command an army in the course of this year. I am so proud of this prophecy and so gullible that I only read books that deal with the profession; and to learn tactics well, I arrange pompoms and fanfreluches for the Opera.

Turenne and Condé are legendary military heroes from the age of Louis XIV.

My dearest sister,
I had the pleasure of receiving your letter, where I see that day by day you are becoming a greater captain. If you do not yet surpass Turenne and Condé by your great exploits, you will erase them by a lot of character and charms of spirit, which are much preferable to tricks of the sword. I come back from Berlin, where we celebrated the birth day of our dear mother. We played the Orplée opera. Something will still have to be fixed to make it perfectly perfect. We are starting our exercises here in a few days, which is hardly fun.

Now, while Heinrich agreed to marry in the summer of 1749, the choice and negotiatons etc. took a awhile. Now, it's altar time for Younger Brother, and prepare yourself for a breathtaking way to announce this event from Fritz on May 29th 1752. The Queen, btw, is SD, not poor EC:

My dearest sister,
I give you a thousand thanks for your precious memory; I make a thousand wishes so that you spend your time pleasantly and in good health. My gout was forced to leave me, because we could no longer live together. I have finished my maneuvers in Berlin, and, on taking leave of the Queen, there has been much talk of you there; certainly, my dear sister, you were in good hands, and your modesty would have prevented you from hearing us speak without blushing. I leave the day after tomorrow for Magdeburg, where I will do the same thing as in Berlin, and then I go to Stettin to have my schoolchildren repeat their lesson. You think, my dear sister: My brother is a damn schoolmaster. I agree, but you have to do your job. I am building here like crazy; I enjoy populating the country, not with my offspring, but with foreign colonies. We have to take care of ourselves while we are in the world, and, all weighed, all examined, it is more pleasant and more just to deal with good than with evil. The 20th of the coming month will be the wedding of Monseigneur Henri. I'm not in his confidence regarding his love or his indifference (towards the bride), but I believe that, in all respects, women will do him good. Farewell, my dear and very dear sister.

"Women will do him good" indeed. I had to look up the original for that one, and Fritz writes "la femme", singular. It is still breathtakingly... something. So poor Mina marries into the Hohenzollern family and becomes the first in-law to earn universal approval instead of mockery (as opposed to both Braunschweig sisters and the Margrave).

My dearest sister,
You guessed it, my dear sister, and my thoughts, and the place where I am. Our reviews and our nuptials are over, the nuptials to everyone's satisfaction. Our sister-in-law is a person who must have your friendship; she is the most charming person in the world, pretty, her mind is cultivated; with that, she is attentive and full of decency and good manners. We can congratulate ourselves on this acquisition, and I think you will be happy with it. We will do the same thing, you at the Hermitage and I at Sans-Souci. I wish that the waters will do you all the good imaginable, and while Eger will silence me, I beg you to believe me with the most tender friendship, my very dear sister, etc.


More things between heaven and earth: philosphizing siblings at large
Now, it's philosophy sharing time. Mind over matter: Do we have an immortal soul?

My dearest brother,
My return here, along with my sister's stay in Erlangen, deprived me of the pleasure of writing to you. I found, my very dear brother, your dear letter upon my arrival. The good news you give me of your precious health fills me with joy. I am very much of your sentiment, my very dear brother, and am convinced that our soul is the servant of our body. I feel it every day; my soul (if I have one) is always attached to you, and my miserable body remains here without being able to follow its directions. I constantly curse it for being built of flesh and bone, and not being formed like that of sylphs, which are transported in an instant from one place to another. I have to walk this puny shell for a few hours every day, so that I can then think and reflect. But, despite all my thoughts, I still don't know what I am. I notice, however, that when I suffer the most, I do not feel any harm when I can fix my thoughts on some object which deserves application. It is true that this relief is only momentary, the springs of the machine, weakened by pain, cannot endure a long application; I also realize that often I do not see an object appearing before my sight, and I do not hear a sound striking my ear; I don't think about it or pay attention to it. I conjecture from there that there is only the reflection which prints to me the ideas which are brought back to me by the senses. This conjecture sometimes makes me believe that there is something more in me than my body; but I find, on the other hand, so many contradictions, that I return to the other system. Would you not say, my very dear brother, that I am as good a philosopher as a great captain, and that I had better be silent than talk to you about my hollow dreams? But it is new for you to hear unreason. The conversation between Voltaire, Argens and Algarotti will seem all the more pleasant to you; this letter will serve them as a shadow; you need it in a table. Lest it become Italian and too obscure, I finish by reiterating the tenderness and the deep respect with which I will be all my life, my very dear brother, etc.

My dearest sister,
Your letters, far from boring me, are philosophical instructions from which even philosophers could benefit. If there is a created being worthy of having an immortal soul, it is you, without question; if there is an argument capable of making me lean towards this opinion, it is your genius. However, my dear sister, I prefer to believe that nature has made an exception in your favor than to flatter myself with the same benefit. It is of course that, when we represent to ourselves what we are, without the senses and without the memory nothing remains of what makes us, and this is of course what I count on, looking at the time that I live as the only one destined for me between the eternity of the times which preceded me and that which will succeed me. I know that I was not before I was born, and from the past I conclude for the future. Besides, what good would this part of us survive the other? what would she do? what sauce would we put it in? All these reasons strengthen me in my feeling, and I do not believe that we have anything to complain about to become again what we were. For me, I bless nature to have favored me, by being born with a sister who alone could make the consolation of my life, to have given me parents who are esteemed by their virtues, and not to have been given a worried spirit, difficult to satisfy. (If you say so, Fritz.) Here is my little confession of faith, which resembles neither that of Augsburg, nor the catechism of Calvin. It is not given to everyone to be orthodox, but it is up to each one to follow the laws of nature, and it is, I believe, to this practical philosophy that an honest man owes the most. But I don't know what I want to tell you about my daydreams. You, who can be maintained from cedar to hyssop, and pass from the most sublime philosophy to the history of pompoms, you will forgive me if I brighten up my letter with these trifles that I offer to your toilet ; although great philosopher and great captain, you cannot do without spending an hour a day there, and I flatter myself that, at that time, you will sometimes want to use the necklace that I present to you, making sure that it starts from the principle of friendship and the tenderest tenderness with which I am, my very dear sister, etc.

Necklace: As Lehndorff somewhat snarkily remarked, Wilhelmine liked jewelry. Fritz sent her some with the same letter.

Cothenius is Fritz' doctor, "my sister of Ansbach" is poor Friederike Luise (who in order of birth comes after Fritz), formerly spirited girl braving FW, now locked in a miserable marriage.

My dearest sister,
Your letter takes me from the cruelest uncertainty where mortal can be. I was apprehensive for your precious health. I had dispatched Cothenius to Baireuth, and received no news. Thanks to heaven, you give me yourself, and good ones. If my unhappy machine was not chained here on my galley, I would have flown to you to get me out of worry; but I am less in control of my actions than the smallest individual, and I have to row, since it is my destiny to row. However, I had the consolation of seeing my sister from Ansbach again. Judge the pleasure I felt when I kissed a friend from my childhood, a sister I love dearly, and whom I saw last nine years ago. There were only sad partings in all of this, and these are, I believe, moments to be avoided as much as possible. She will be in Braunschweig today, and I think that around the 7th or the 8th of the coming month, she will be in Baireuth. She will tell you, my dear sister, that we have often talked about you, and that you are loved and adored by the whole family. I find her health bad, and I urged her to consult Cothenius on the way to Baireuth. I dare to beg you to make her remember. She heard Dido's opera and my singers, which amused her. (...)


When singers hired by you dare to praise your arch nemesis, it can only have one reason:

La Astrua says a thousand goods about the Queen of Hungary, and I believe that an egret of diamonds that this princess has given her greatly influences the praise she lavishes on her.

It's noticable now that a lot of the fabled Sanssouci table round is no longer in Sanssouci:

I am reduced to the one of Argens, who, for the most part, stays in his bed; Algarotti made a hole in the moon, Maupertuis is sick, and Voltaire is in Switzerland with Mandrin; which reduces me to myself more than ever. I kiss you a thousand times; my heart accompanies you everywhere.

Just two tidbits from the travel correspondance on Fritz' part:

My dearest sister,
You make fun of me and, with good reason, of the stupid moralizing that I subject you to; but, my dear sister, you find yourself among a gay and mad people who inspire you, perhaps in spite of you, with joyful ideas, and for me, I lead the life that a Carthusian spends in his cell. This, I believe, is what contributes to our different way of thinking.

My dearest sister,
I was quite happy to receive two of your dear letters from Bologna and Venice. I believe that, after having seen Rome, the rest of Italy, although beautiful, is not comparable to it. I am delighted that, in the country of Pantaloni, Algarotti behaved in such a way as to please you. (...) I would have liked the Holy Father to have become your Cicisbeo, my dear sister, in place of Cataneo, who must be a rather annoying fat man. I hope that by the end of this month you will be back from your long journey, and that you will be able to rest on your laurels. This rapprochement will in some way lessen the length of the absence, and I would at least believe I see you half here. Goodbye, my dear sister; take good care of your health, and do me the justice to believe me with the most perfect tenderness, my very dear sister, etc.

Wilhelmine is back in Bayreuth, alright, but there are thunderclouds on the political horizon. We haven't touched on this yet, but of course "the 7 Years War" in English usually means the part where the French and the English duked it out in the colonies. Which was indeeed intimatedly connected to the European version, since Fritz allying himself with England at this very point would greatly contribute to France allying itself with Austria.

My dearest sister,
On my return from Silesia, I was delighted by two of your dear letters. I am delighted to know that you are in good health, and I flatter myself that this will continue despite the winter and the harsh seasons. You show me your fears for the war; but, my dear sister, it is very far from the Ohio river at the Sprée, and from the Beau-Sejour fort in Berlin. I would bet that the Austrians will not soon walk in Flanders. War travels like a great lady; it started in America; now it has arrived in the Ocean and in the English Channel; she has not yet landed, and if she takes to the ground in the coming spring, she could perhaps, for greater convenience, take a litter, so that she will be seen coming from afar; and, after all, one is exposed to so many hazards in the common course of life, that war only adds a little more. We can neither make nor destroy the conjunctures; we politicians are only made to profit if we are wise. Now everything is only thinking here of Ferdinand's wedding; it will be done at Charlottenburg, because the Dowager Queen wished it. I will give parties, and Ferdinand will grow stump; you will see a whole tribe come out of this bridal bed; this is only good, because we do not have too much. I kiss your hands, my dear sister, begging you to believe me with the most perfect tenderness

I remain slightly stunned every time I come across this utter lack of predicting anything accurately at the eve of the worst war of the century until Napoleon shows up.

Now, here's another stunner: Fritz mentioning his (homo) erotic-satiric poem Palladion to her:

I will see what I can do this winter to oblige you; there is, among other things, an epic poem of which Valori and Darget are the subjects; but it is so licentious, and besides so badly hatched, that I do not have the courage to submit it to your examination.

Valori, btw, is the French ambassador, with whom the Divine Trio is very friendly. The philosophical letter by AW from Spandau about shooting at sparrows and war as evil which I quote in my review of the Ziebura AW biography is adressed to him. I had forgotten that he also features in this poem. Meaning: Not content with insulting heads of European states (and their mistresses) on a regular basis, Fritz also at a point when France is at war with England and he makes an alliance with England finds time to write satiric porn involving the French ambassador.


And in the end....

On to the war. The most important war letters you already know from other posts. Here's the one about AW's original offense:

My dearest sister,
I have had the pleasure of receiving two of your letters today, one of which is from the 16th. The bad behavior of my brother of Prussia forces me to leave Leitmeritz; I hope to straighten out his nonsense, if, humanly, this is possible. You judge very well, my dear sister, of our present situation and of what may result from it for the future. As I have no power over secondary causes, I do not pretend to regulate my destinies; I confine myself to behaving wisely, taking advantage of opportunities, if they present themselves to me, and I am resolved to brazenly confreont all the odds that may happen to me. When a horse has taken the bit to the teeth, it does not see, it knows no more danger. I am very angry, my dear sister, for the repercussions you feel from my misfortune; I dare to predict that it will not remain with you, but that the catastrophe will become general, if fortune is not changed soon. In the end, I laugh at the troops of the Empire, and the French, and the Swedes, and the Austrians, if they wanted to succeed one another; but if I had as many arms as Briarée, I could not be enough to dispatch the reborn hydra which presents itself to me, which multiplies every day, and which besieges me on all sides. I am in the case of a traveler attacked by a large troop of brigands who assassinate him, and who share his remains. When I am assassinated, it will not matter to me that two empresses, a Very Christian King, and I do not know how many great princes, all very just and very religious, have done me this honor. I bet for sure that France will sooner or later repent of the folly and the inconsistency of its present conduct; but all that hardly consoles. It sometimes happens that Madame Justice is seduced and allowed to be deceived; we have examples that she hastily hanged men, whose innocence she later recognized, and made very polite apologies to the widow and the children; but it did not restore life to the dead, and he did not only have the consolation of being informed of her regrets. They will not hang me precisely; but the treatment which is being prepared for me is, in truth, hardly much better. Finally, my dear sister, hanged or not, I will be until the last sigh of my life, with the most tender esteem, etc.

Good. Grief.
This is him after winning Roßbach:

My dearest sister,
Finally, my dear sister, I can tell you some good news. You no doubt knew that the coopers, with their circles, wanted to take Leipzig. I came running, and chased them beyond the Saale. The Duke of Richelieu sent them aid of twenty battalions and fourteen squadrons; they said they were sixty-three thousand strong. Yesterday I went to recognize them, and could not attack them in their post, which made them reckless. Today they marched with the intention of attacking me, but I warned them. It was a gentle battle. Thank God I didn't have a hundred men dead; the only badly injured general is Meinike. My brother Henri and General Seydlitz have slight bruises on their arms. We have the whole cannon of the enemy; their rout is total, and I am in full march to push them back beyond the Unstrut. After so many alarms, behold, thanks to heaven, a favorable event, and it will be said that twenty thousand Prussians have defeated fifty thousand French and Germans. Now I will descend peacefully to the grave, since the reputation and honor of my nation is saved. We may be unhappy, but we will not be dishonored. You, my dear sister, my good, divine and tender sister, who deign to take an interest in the fate of a brother who adores you, deign to participate in my joy. As soon as I have time, I will tell you more. I kiss you with all my heart.

And then AW dies. Here I must say the complete letter is actually better than the quote from it I was already familiar with, which was the "I was right, he was wrong" sentence. (It's still incredibly - err, Fritzian.) To recapitulate: The Margrave hadn't told Wilhelmine about AW's death for fear of what it would do to her, and Heinrich had held back for the same reason. Fritz, assuming she already knows, had written the following letter which the Margrave had withheld but eventually, when she worried about not hearing from Fritz and Fritz was freaking out about not hearing from her, gave her, which meant it was thus she found out:

My dearest sister,
I take advantage of a small moment of leisure to renew to you the assurances of my tenderest friendship. You will no doubt know the misfortune which has just taken my brother of Prussia from me. You can judge my affliction and my pain. He had, indeed, last year, acted very badly towards me; but it was rather at the instigation of wicked people than of himself. However, he is no more, and we lose him forever. O you, the dearest of my family! you who hold my heart most in this world, for the love of what is most precious to you, keep yourself, and may I at least have the consolation of being able to shed my tears in your bosom. Do not fear anything for us and for what perhaps will appear to you frightening; you will see that we will get out of this. As I haven't heard from you for a very long time, it makes me tremble for your days. For God, have a servant write: The Margravine is doing well, or: She was inconvenienced. It is better than the cruel uncertainty in which I find myself. Deign to send me a note, and be sure that my existence is inseparable from yours. I am with the most tender friendship and gratitude, my very dear sister, etc.


I had already quoted from the following letter to you; here it is in full:

My dearest sister,
I was more dead than alive when I received your letter, my dear sister. My God, your handwriting! You must have come back from the tomb, for surely you must have been a hundred times worse than I have been told. I bless heaven for not knowing, but I beg you in grace to borrow the hand of another to write to me, and not to tire yourself so that it could worsen your illness. What! As sick and infirm as you are, you think of all the embarrassments in which I find myself! In truth, this is too much. Rather think, think and persuade yourself well, that without you there is no longer happiness for me in life, that my days depend on yours, and that it depends on you to shorten or extend my career. Yes, my dear sister, it is not really a compliment that I write to you, but it is the bottom of my heart, it is my way of thinking true and constant, from which I cannot give up. Now see if you will take all possible care of your conservation; only on this condition will I judge your kindness for me and the friendship you have with me. I have a terrible task to accomplish; this is what prevents me from talking longer on a matter with which my heart is filled. You may well believe it, just as no one loves or adores you more than, my very dear sister, etc.

My dearest brother,
It is not the king, it is the friend and the dear brother that I dare to take the liberty of writing. My great weakness prevents me from forming characters and even from writing for a long time. I know, my dear brother, that you desire the heart; mine is all yours, for whom my attachment will only end with my life. I have been in hell so far, more spirit than body. To hide from me the loss we have just endured, the Margrave has kept all the letters that have come from you; I thought everything was lost. I have just received these dear letters, which have appeased the bitterness that the death of my brother caused me, to which I was extremely sensitive. You want, my dear brother, to know news of my condition. I have been, like a poor Lazarus, for six months in bed. I have been carried for eight days on a chair and on a chariot, to make me change my attitude a little. I have a dry cough which is very strong, and which we cannot control; my legs, as well as my hands and my face, are swollen like a bushel, which obliges me to reserve to write to you more interesting things by the following part. I am resigned to my fate; I will live and die happy, provided you are happy. My heart tells me that heaven will still work miracles for you. (...) Forgive, my dear brother, if I finish; my chest is so weak that I can barely speak. My heart would chatter from morning until evening, if it could speak and tell you everything it thinks for the dear brother of whom I will be all my life, with very deep respect, etc.

My dearest sister,
Your man wants to leave; I cannot push him out without giving him this letter again. I asked him about everything he knows and doesn't know; he told me he didn't see you. I beg you, please, if you send someone, ensure that he sees you before you leave; I would believe at least find in his eyes the image of the one my heart adores. Finally, my dear sister, I'm starting to flatter myself on your healing, and this idea puts at least a little balm in my blood. For God, don't deny my hopes; it would be a terrible leap, and those kinds of relapses in grief kill. I will go to dinner tomorrow at Dresden, at my brother Henri's. I'm telling you, my dear sister, a foolishness that has crossed my mind, to amuse you. You will say, while reading it: Ah! how crazy! And I will answer you that when one is not destined in the world to become wise, it is hard lost to claim it, and that since the seven wise men of Greece, there was none more. I kiss you a thousand times; my heart and soul are in Baireuth, at home, and my puny body vegetates here, on the highways and in the camps. (...) Deign to do justice to the feelings of an inviolable tenderness that I have vowed to you to the grave, being, my very dear sister, etc.

Wagner is Wilhelmine's doctor:

My dearest brother,
There is never joy without sorrow in this world; if I had followed my inclination, I would have first witnessed to you myself the joy which your last victory caused me; but two swollen arms and the redoubling of the cough prevented me from doing so. I shudder when I think of the unfortunate situation in which you were before this blow, and of which fortunately I only knew a part. (...) You shame, my dear brother, all those who embrace professions. Wagner was quite surprised to see you shine with the ranks of his colleagues. He had already had the good fortune to follow your ideas, but the illness is furiously tenacious; it must be, since you are interested in it, and it does not change, far from it, for I am weakening day by day more. However, the spirit still remains with me. I am with all the tenderness and respect imaginable, my very dear brother, etc.
P. S. My sister Amélie is happy to have had the pleasure of seeing you. If I were healthy, I would brave the Russians and the pandours. Not being able to prove my zeal for the State and for you in the essential things, as did my brothers, allow me to do it for your pleasures by offering trifles which the sky wants you to enjoy soon!

(Meaning: fruit, which she knew he loved. His next letter, the last one, she didn't receive anymore.)

My dearest sister,
Deign to receive kindly the verses I send you. I am so full of you, of your dangers and of my gratitude, that, awake as in a dream, in prose as in poetry, your image also reigns in my mind, and fixes all my thoughts. May the sky grant the wishes that I address to it every day for your convalescence! Cothenius is on the way; I will deify him, if he saves the person in the world who is most dear to my heart, whom I respect and venerate, and whose I am until I return my body to the elements, my dearest sister, etc.