Nicolai volume 2: opens with another promise to be truthful and correct when necessary in the preface, which also says if he'd known Unger would provide the public with a German translation of the Prince de Ligne's Fritz-meets-Joseph memoir (you know, the one which contains among other things the priceless "Fritz dressed in white to spare Austrian feelings" story) , he wouldn't have included his own translation here, especially since Unger didn't cut as much as he, Nicolai, had to. (BTW, Unger's translation is in the volume Mildred just put up in the library.)
Then we get the volume proper which opens with the Ligne memoir in edited form, with Nicolai's annotations. The best bits were already in both Volz and the "Fritz and MT as seen by their contemporaries" collection, so I already quoted them for you.
Nicolai has a major section about FW and music, opening by telling the readers that they may be surprised to learn FW didn't hate music per se, there was some music he liked. True, he fired all the royal musicians he inherited from F1 except for Gottfried Pepusch, whom he made head of the regiment's choir of the Tall Fellows. Said regiment musicians were also the ones he had playing for him if he wanted to listen to music.
(FW: finding a way to save money, look at Tall Men and enjoy music at the same time. Gotta respect that.)
Nicolai next says FW loved Händel, which I had heard before - "Der Thronfolger" has Fritz mention this followed by the sarcastic remark that what this means is that FW can fall asleep when listening to Händel - , but not Händel's operas (opera performance in FW's Prussia? Hell to the no!) per se, just individual arias and choir pieces, which, however, he didn't want to be sung to him but played in an arrangement on the oboe. His favourites were the arias and choir pieces from Händel's operas "Alessandro" and "Siroe", which had to be played for him over a hundred times. And now I have to quote Nicolai directly.
The way these pieces were performed as that the main oboists and their conductor, with the necessary pults and candles, were standing at one end of a very large room, and the King was sitting on the other, completely alone. Now sometimes it happened that he started to fall asleep in the evening, especially if he'd eaten well or if he'd drunk a bit too strongly while the music played. However, one couldn't trust him. For often the musicians, upon noticing he'd fallen asleep, skipped several arias in order to finish earlier. No sooner did they try that he opened his eyes and called "But you're leaving something out". Or he called "The aria - is missing" and sang the beginning of this aria." That's how well he knew Händel's operas by heart. But if he didn't notice, the musicians used to play the final choir especially loudly and strongly so that the King had to wake up for the finale. If he didn't order any further music, the performance was over. But if upon awaking he thought that the music hadn't lasted long enough, he ordered the already performed opera to be played from the beginning, and then they really didn't dare to leave something out.
(Source for these and other stories: Fritz via Quantz who told Nicolai.)
Nicolai mentions Fritz' depressed poems from the 7 Years War (among others, one to D'Argens) and since some of Voltaire's letters have now been printed, including two from that era where he urges Fritz to live, says that a sensitive heart could almost forgive Voltaire his dastardly behavior towards Fritz for the sake of these letters.
Otoh, he attacks "the author of the Vie Privée du Roi de Prusse, most likely Voltaire" for slandering Fritz re: the Battle of Mollwitz, and for others following suit. Reminder, cahn: the issue here is that Fritz was persuaded by Schwerin to retire from the battlefield and the battle was one without him. Nicolai furiously defends Fritz from the charge of cowardice (which I don't think Voltaire makes? He just exaggarates how far Fritz retired from the battlefield from for comic effect?) and says geography alone proves he can't have gotten as far as Ratibor, and anyway, everyone knows Fritz was the bravest! Nicholai then gives an account of the battle and does say Fritz never forgave Schwerin for having made the suggestion or himself for listening, which strikes me as accurate.
As Nicolai likes the Prince du Ligne's memoir about Fritz very much, he only has two mild corrections: one, that of course Prussian officers were all fluent in French and if some spoke German with the Marchese de Lucchessini, it's not because they didn't know French but because Lucchessini is fluent in German, and two, about the Antinuous statue. This is the passage most important for Mildred, and thus it's translation time.
Regarding the arbor in which the beautiful antique bronze statue of Antinuous that originally was brought from Vienna used to stand*
*here Nicolai makes a footnote, correctly stating the previous owners were Joseph Wenzel von Lichtenstein and Prince Eugene, and another footnote to explain that "the now ruling King did not want to expose this statue as well as the two beautiful antique copies from Bouchardon which used to stand near the Japanese house to the weather any longer and thus had them brought to the new rooms in the Berlin town palace"
there is no doubt that the King on hot summer afternoons, when he sacrificed to the muses, often has sat in front of the beautiful antique statue in this cool harbor. But the Prince de Ligne seems to insinuate upon mentioning this statue as well as at other times that the relaxations of the King were solely of a cheerful and sensual manner. One would wrong this great man if one were to assume he'd found his enjoyment mainly in this. True, the merrry spirit of the King, which expresses itself in his writings and especially in his youthful correspondences, would not contradict this assumption. He himself says -
(Nicolai quotes from several Fritz poems praising Epicure)
It was this cheerful mindset which, as I have observed repeatedly, enabled the mind of the great man to endure through the greatest misfortunes and under the strongest concerns. It is perhaps, understood correctly, no more noble philosophy of the enjoyment of life than to open the heart to pleasure and what Horace calls "Dulce desipere in loco", but only to enjoy it on the surface, while going deeply in serious matters. Frederick the Great was able to unite both approaches to a large extent. He knew to enjoy pleasures of all types, but he also could at the appropriate time res severa gaudium. Serious thoughts were with him even in his most cheerful and high spirited hours, for these were only the spice to his serious ponderings. Even the above named statue of Antinous may serve as an example of this. It was there, and he enjoyed the beauty of this wonderful monument now and then; but it wasn't this statue which was the focus of his main attention in this particular area.
Nicolai now explains Sanssouci geography to everyone who hasn't visited and points out that Fritz would have looked at his chosen grave. Which he feels entitled to talk about since Büsching mentioned it first. Nicolai correctly describes the vault and the Flora statue with it and says D'Argens had told him 20 years ago already that Fritz wanted to be buried there, but he, Nicolai, kept mum until Büsching's publication. He then reports that this vault was probably the reason why Fritz called Sanssouci Sanssouci to begin with, and tells the anecdote of Fritz saying to D'Argens "Quand je serai là, je serai Sanssouci". (I.e. this is the original source for that story, mes amies.)
It takes not a little strength of mind to build one's grave in front of one's eyes at one's lonely and peaceful summer house, without letting anyone know and thus without pretensions, and to hide it beneath the statue of the flower goddess. Friedrich thus had always his death in front of him during his lonely summer pleasures, and thus knew how to unite his idea of it with both the cheeful enjoyment of life and the consideration of his duties. He didn't bring the statue of Antinous to this place until long after he had built his vault there. The later thus was much more in his regard than the former, as were his duties more than his pleasures.
Volume 2 also has the dog story I mentioned before:
Just like the King chose among his snuff boxes those he liked best, he chose among his greyhounds the companions of his lonely hours. Those who conducted themselves best were taken with him during the carnival times to Berlin.
(Reminder: The carnival lasted from December til March in Frederician Prussia. As Sanssouci was a summer palace, Fritz spent that time in the city palace in Berlin.)
They were driven to Berlin in a six hourse equipage supervised by a so called royal little footman who was in charge of their feeding and care. One assures us that this footman always took the backseat so the dogs could take the front seat, and always adressed the dogs with "Sie", as in: "Biche, seien Sie doch artig!" (Biche, be good), and "Alcmene, bellen Sie doch nicht so" (Alcmene, don't bark so much!"
Nicolai finishes the volume by dissing Zimmermann's first Fritz publication. From now on, it's war.
Now, Nicolai saying Antinous comes up in Ligne's Fritz memoir made me check out Unger's rendition of same, and the passage in question which Nicolai took as an occasion to correct is:
The King was used to chat with the Marchese Lucchesini in the presence of four or five generals who didn't speak French, and he rewarded himself for the hours in which he worked, pondered and read by visiting his garden, where opposite of the door was the statue of the young and beautiful Antinous.
That's it, and Ligne doesn't say whether he learned this from Fritz while talking to him (he met him more than that one time at Neisse) or whether he observed it himself.
Nicolai Volume 2: It's Antinous Time! (Also: FW, Music lover)
Then we get the volume proper which opens with the Ligne memoir in edited form, with Nicolai's annotations. The best bits were already in both Volz and the "Fritz and MT as seen by their contemporaries" collection, so I already quoted them for you.
Nicolai has a major section about FW and music, opening by telling the readers that they may be surprised to learn FW didn't hate music per se, there was some music he liked. True, he fired all the royal musicians he inherited from F1 except for Gottfried Pepusch, whom he made head of the regiment's choir of the Tall Fellows. Said regiment musicians were also the ones he had playing for him if he wanted to listen to music.
(FW: finding a way to save money, look at Tall Men and enjoy music at the same time. Gotta respect that.)
Nicolai next says FW loved Händel, which I had heard before - "Der Thronfolger" has Fritz mention this followed by the sarcastic remark that what this means is that FW can fall asleep when listening to Händel - , but not Händel's operas (opera performance in FW's Prussia? Hell to the no!) per se, just individual arias and choir pieces, which, however, he didn't want to be sung to him but played in an arrangement on the oboe. His favourites were the arias and choir pieces from Händel's operas "Alessandro" and "Siroe", which had to be played for him over a hundred times. And now I have to quote Nicolai directly.
The way these pieces were performed as that the main oboists and their conductor, with the necessary pults and candles, were standing at one end of a very large room, and the King was sitting on the other, completely alone. Now sometimes it happened that he started to fall asleep in the evening, especially if he'd eaten well or if he'd drunk a bit too strongly while the music played. However, one couldn't trust him. For often the musicians, upon noticing he'd fallen asleep, skipped several arias in order to finish earlier. No sooner did they try that he opened his eyes and called "But you're leaving something out". Or he called "The aria - is missing" and sang the beginning of this aria." That's how well he knew Händel's operas by heart. But if he didn't notice, the musicians used to play the final choir especially loudly and strongly so that the King had to wake up for the finale. If he didn't order any further music, the performance was over. But if upon awaking he thought that the music hadn't lasted long enough, he ordered the already performed opera to be played from the beginning, and then they really didn't dare to leave something out.
(Source for these and other stories: Fritz via Quantz who told Nicolai.)
Nicolai mentions Fritz' depressed poems from the 7 Years War (among others, one to D'Argens) and since some of Voltaire's letters have now been printed, including two from that era where he urges Fritz to live, says that a sensitive heart could almost forgive Voltaire his dastardly behavior towards Fritz for the sake of these letters.
Otoh, he attacks "the author of the Vie Privée du Roi de Prusse, most likely Voltaire" for slandering Fritz re: the Battle of Mollwitz, and for others following suit. Reminder,
As Nicolai likes the Prince du Ligne's memoir about Fritz very much, he only has two mild corrections: one, that of course Prussian officers were all fluent in French and if some spoke German with the Marchese de Lucchessini, it's not because they didn't know French but because Lucchessini is fluent in German, and two, about the Antinuous statue. This is the passage most important for Mildred, and thus it's translation time.
Regarding the arbor in which the beautiful antique bronze statue of Antinuous that originally was brought from Vienna used to stand*
*here Nicolai makes a footnote, correctly stating the previous owners were Joseph Wenzel von Lichtenstein and Prince Eugene, and another footnote to explain that "the now ruling King did not want to expose this statue as well as the two beautiful antique copies from Bouchardon which used to stand near the Japanese house to the weather any longer and thus had them brought to the new rooms in the Berlin town palace"
there is no doubt that the King on hot summer afternoons, when he sacrificed to the muses, often has sat in front of the beautiful antique statue in this cool harbor. But the Prince de Ligne seems to insinuate upon mentioning this statue as well as at other times that the relaxations of the King were solely of a cheerful and sensual manner. One would wrong this great man if one were to assume he'd found his enjoyment mainly in this. True, the merrry spirit of the King, which expresses itself in his writings and especially in his youthful correspondences, would not contradict this assumption. He himself says -
(Nicolai quotes from several Fritz poems praising Epicure)
It was this cheerful mindset which, as I have observed repeatedly, enabled the mind of the great man to endure through the greatest misfortunes and under the strongest concerns. It is perhaps, understood correctly, no more noble philosophy of the enjoyment of life than to open the heart to pleasure and what Horace calls "Dulce desipere in loco", but only to enjoy it on the surface, while going deeply in serious matters. Frederick the Great was able to unite both approaches to a large extent. He knew to enjoy pleasures of all types, but he also could at the appropriate time res severa gaudium. Serious thoughts were with him even in his most cheerful and high spirited hours, for these were only the spice to his serious ponderings. Even the above named statue of Antinous may serve as an example of this. It was there, and he enjoyed the beauty of this wonderful monument now and then; but it wasn't this statue which was the focus of his main attention in this particular area.
Nicolai now explains Sanssouci geography to everyone who hasn't visited and points out that Fritz would have looked at his chosen grave. Which he feels entitled to talk about since Büsching mentioned it first. Nicolai correctly describes the vault and the Flora statue with it and says D'Argens had told him 20 years ago already that Fritz wanted to be buried there, but he, Nicolai, kept mum until Büsching's publication. He then reports that this vault was probably the reason why Fritz called Sanssouci Sanssouci to begin with, and tells the anecdote of Fritz saying to D'Argens "Quand je serai là, je serai Sanssouci". (I.e. this is the original source for that story, mes amies.)
It takes not a little strength of mind to build one's grave in front of one's eyes at one's lonely and peaceful summer house, without letting anyone know and thus without pretensions, and to hide it beneath the statue of the flower goddess. Friedrich thus had always his death in front of him during his lonely summer pleasures, and thus knew how to unite his idea of it with both the cheeful enjoyment of life and the consideration of his duties. He didn't bring the statue of Antinous to this place until long after he had built his vault there. The later thus was much more in his regard than the former, as were his duties more than his pleasures.
Volume 2 also has the dog story I mentioned before:
Just like the King chose among his snuff boxes those he liked best, he chose among his greyhounds the companions of his lonely hours. Those who conducted themselves best were taken with him during the carnival times to Berlin.
(Reminder: The carnival lasted from December til March in Frederician Prussia. As Sanssouci was a summer palace, Fritz spent that time in the city palace in Berlin.)
They were driven to Berlin in a six hourse equipage supervised by a so called royal little footman who was in charge of their feeding and care. One assures us that this footman always took the backseat so the dogs could take the front seat, and always adressed the dogs with "Sie", as in: "Biche, seien Sie doch artig!" (Biche, be good), and "Alcmene, bellen Sie doch nicht so" (Alcmene, don't bark so much!"
Nicolai finishes the volume by dissing Zimmermann's first Fritz publication. From now on, it's war.
Now, Nicolai saying Antinous comes up in Ligne's Fritz memoir made me check out Unger's rendition of same, and the passage in question which Nicolai took as an occasion to correct is:
The King was used to chat with the Marchese Lucchesini in the presence of four or five generals who didn't speak French, and he rewarded himself for the hours in which he worked, pondered and read by visiting his garden, where opposite of the door was the statue of the young and beautiful Antinous.
That's it, and Ligne doesn't say whether he learned this from Fritz while talking to him (he met him more than that one time at Neisse) or whether he observed it himself.