Oh, fuck you, Mitford. The only thing I remembered about Mitford's bio of Fritz from when I read it 15-20 years ago was that I hated it, but it's one of the only books on him available on Kindle, and I now have this disability where I can't read physical books any more, and that's killing me. So I started rereading it this evening, wondering whether to expect the worst or whether I might like it better as an adult.
Well...twelve pages in...
"By the time Frederick was twelve it had become obvious that he and his father were on the worst of terms. Frederick was a polite, delicate little boy who hated rough ways. He was always in trouble: was beaten for wearing gloves in cold weather, for eating with a silver fork, for throwing himself off a bolting horse...Sophia Dorothea never took her husband’s part. She must have known how ill he was but never showed him any sympathy; she told all and sundry that he was mad and that she went in fear for her life. Nor did Frederick try to please his father...Frederick William’s favourite pastime was hunting, which Frederick disliked all his life. He loved riding—a day never went by without several gallops—but thought that hunting was cruel and dull. He was forced to ride to hounds by his father, but infuriated him by disappearing, to be found talking to his mother in her carriage or playing the flute in a forest glade. Worse still, he hated or pretended to hate anything to do with the army. His father knew that he called his uniform his shroud. If he was beaten, starved, humiliated and generally ill-treated it was to a large extent his own fault and his mother’s."
PLEASE TELL ME SHE DIDN'T HAVE KIDS. I want to rage-cry for every kid who's grown up in a world where these are acceptable opinions.
Man. Mostly I look back at my high school self's opinions about history and have to cringe a little and think, well, they were precocious for my age and I outgrew the most embarrassing ones. But this time...I have to look back and say, "Good job, teenage self."
Oh, no, I just turned the page. "He had icy self-control, never flew into rages, and received his father’s blows and insults with an air of maddening indifference."
*rage-cry*
I mean, the victim-blaming here is so over the top that it's the sort of thing I would write under censorship, if FW were going to read it, and I wanted to garner sympathy for his victims under his nose among all sensible readers. Or, you know, it's the sort of thing I would write IF I WERE FW WRITING MY MEMOIRS.
Omg, I just realized. If I keep reading, I'm going to hit the Katte affair. I don't think I can take it.
no subject
Well...twelve pages in...
"By the time Frederick was twelve it had become obvious that he and his father were on the worst of terms. Frederick was a polite, delicate little boy who hated rough ways. He was always in trouble: was beaten for wearing gloves in cold weather, for eating with a silver fork, for throwing himself off a bolting horse...Sophia Dorothea never took her husband’s part. She must have known how ill he was but never showed him any sympathy; she told all and sundry that he was mad and that she went in fear for her life. Nor did Frederick try to please his father...Frederick William’s favourite pastime was hunting, which Frederick disliked all his life. He loved riding—a day never went by without several gallops—but thought that hunting was cruel and dull. He was forced to ride to hounds by his father, but infuriated him by disappearing, to be found talking to his mother in her carriage or playing the flute in a forest glade. Worse still, he hated or pretended to hate anything to do with the army. His father knew that he called his uniform his shroud. If he was beaten, starved, humiliated and generally ill-treated it was to a large extent his own fault and his mother’s."
PLEASE TELL ME SHE DIDN'T HAVE KIDS. I want to rage-cry for every kid who's grown up in a world where these are acceptable opinions.
Man. Mostly I look back at my high school self's opinions about history and have to cringe a little and think, well, they were precocious for my age and I outgrew the most embarrassing ones. But this time...I have to look back and say, "Good job, teenage self."
Oh, no, I just turned the page. "He had icy self-control, never flew into rages, and received his father’s blows and insults with an air of maddening indifference."
*rage-cry*
I mean, the victim-blaming here is so over the top that it's the sort of thing I would write under censorship, if FW were going to read it, and I wanted to garner sympathy for his victims under his nose among all sensible readers. Or, you know, it's the sort of thing I would write IF I WERE FW WRITING MY MEMOIRS.
Omg, I just realized. If I keep reading, I'm going to hit the Katte affair. I don't think I can take it.
*closes book*
It's not worth it.