The courts of the queen mother and the queen shared twice weekly the duties of etiquette, to receive strangers of distinction, the ladies of the country and the small number of subjects of the King of Prussia who weren't members of the military. (...) Since the behavior of the women in Poland was back then much more restrained than it is now, I was amazed about the behavior of the women in Berlin: it seemed to me as if the Voltairemania everyone pretended more than actually feel, and their bold speeches which they thought were the expression of wit, as if all this gave them the aura of artifice, as if they wanted to appear much freeer than they actually were; perhaps all of this just resulted from the impulse caused by the writings and sayings of the philosopher of Sans-Souci.
He had been in Prussia when I arrived in Berlin, and returned there only three weeks later; I've seen him twice; both times, he adressed me. I thought he came across as awkward, and as feeling himself obliged to always talk better than anyone else in the room while being afraid he might fail at this. He had a restless gaze, disturbed eyes, an insecure attitude, unclean wardrobe and the entire figure not having much in the way of nobility. I've often heard others say similar things about him, but these are just external factors. This is neither the place or time to paint a complete and thorough portrait of this prince. Every day, I have heard his subjects of every social background talk out loud badly about him, which he knew very well, and which he had gotten used to so much that it didn't matter to him in the least.
Before he had returned from Prusisa, I had visited Charlottenburg, Potsdam, the little palace of Sans-Souci, and the room in which he lived and usually worked. It seemed to me an utter mess: books and writings thrown together, everywhere, on all sides, verses written by the King's own hand, a lot of furniture mixed together; the women who have been entrusted to show strangers the royal palaces of this country and whom one calls "Castellaines" there told me they had strict orders to leave everything in its place where they had found it when the master had left; so I saw in Charlottenburg a marble bust of Julius Caesar beneath a canapee, and the chatellaine assured me she'd never dare to remove it.
In all the bedrooms of the King of Prussia, I saw a richly endowed waistcoat tailored for the figure of the King, made of expensive clothing; but people swore that he did not wear it. This waistcoat attracted my attention since it seemed to have been put there deliberately in contradiction of the idea one had of the dressing gown of a warior and philosopher.
In his bedroom in Sans-Souci, I saw two small beds in exactly the same size, standing close together; in Berlin, there had been various rumors about the use of these two beds, but the chatelaine told me that the King switched from one bed to the other whenever he got too hot; and yet he loves the heat; the room in which he lives in summer lies to the southside, and there isn't a single day in the year in which there isn't a fire lit in his fireside; they even told me that anyone he calls into his room nearly faints from the heat. I have seen the cabinets of his library in Sans-Souci, but the chatelaine said she didn't possess the keys. The cuppola of this small palace, made of exquisite marble, illuminated through a round window above, and the Mercury by Pigalle in the garden are the two most beautiful things I have seen there.
Since it is not my intention to talk here about the cheapskate poverty in which the Queen and her entire court are being kept, nor about the strict force to which the entire lives of the King's brothers are subjected to, nor about this troops and his financial practices, I shall restrain myself to observing that in Berlin, I made the aquaintance of the Chevalier Charles Hambury Williams, who was then the British envoy at the court of the King of Prussia, who even then gifted me with many courtesies and who later became my great friend.
Re: Poniatowski - Et in Borussia Ego: It's Fritztime
The courts of the queen mother and the queen shared twice weekly the duties of etiquette, to receive strangers of distinction, the ladies of the country and the small number of subjects of the King of Prussia who weren't members of the military. (...) Since the behavior of the women in Poland was back then much more restrained than it is now, I was amazed about the behavior of the women in Berlin: it seemed to me as if the Voltairemania everyone pretended more than actually feel, and their bold speeches which they thought were the expression of wit, as if all this gave them the aura of artifice, as if they wanted to appear much freeer than they actually were; perhaps all of this just resulted from the impulse caused by the writings and sayings of the philosopher of Sans-Souci.
He had been in Prussia when I arrived in Berlin, and returned there only three weeks later; I've seen him twice; both times, he adressed me. I thought he came across as awkward, and as feeling himself obliged to always talk better than anyone else in the room while being afraid he might fail at this. He had a restless gaze, disturbed eyes, an insecure attitude, unclean wardrobe and the entire figure not having much in the way of nobility. I've often heard others say similar things about him, but these are just external factors. This is neither the place or time to paint a complete and thorough portrait of this prince. Every day, I have heard his subjects of every social background talk out loud badly about him, which he knew very well, and which he had gotten used to so much that it didn't matter to him in the least.
Before he had returned from Prusisa, I had visited Charlottenburg, Potsdam, the little palace of Sans-Souci, and the room in which he lived and usually worked. It seemed to me an utter mess: books and writings thrown together, everywhere, on all sides, verses written by the King's own hand, a lot of furniture mixed together; the women who have been entrusted to show strangers the royal palaces of this country and whom one calls "Castellaines" there told me they had strict orders to leave everything in its place where they had found it when the master had left; so I saw in Charlottenburg a marble bust of Julius Caesar beneath a canapee, and the chatellaine assured me she'd never dare to remove it.
In all the bedrooms of the King of Prussia, I saw a richly endowed waistcoat tailored for the figure of the King, made of expensive clothing; but people swore that he did not wear it. This waistcoat attracted my attention since it seemed to have been put there deliberately in contradiction of the idea one had of the dressing gown of a warior and philosopher.
In his bedroom in Sans-Souci, I saw two small beds in exactly the same size, standing close together; in Berlin, there had been various rumors about the use of these two beds, but the chatelaine told me that the King switched from one bed to the other whenever he got too hot; and yet he loves the heat; the room in which he lives in summer lies to the southside, and there isn't a single day in the year in which there isn't a fire lit in his fireside; they even told me that anyone he calls into his room nearly faints from the heat. I have seen the cabinets of his library in Sans-Souci, but the chatelaine said she didn't possess the keys. The cuppola of this small palace, made of exquisite marble, illuminated through a round window above, and the Mercury by Pigalle in the garden are the two most beautiful things I have seen there.
Since it is not my intention to talk here about the cheapskate poverty in which the Queen and her entire court are being kept, nor about the strict force to which the entire lives of the King's brothers are subjected to, nor about this troops and his financial practices, I shall restrain myself to observing that in Berlin, I made the aquaintance of the Chevalier Charles Hambury Williams, who was then the British envoy at the court of the King of Prussia, who even then gifted me with many courtesies and who later became my great friend.