The sleep of the King was supposed to consist only of seven hours in the second half of his life; it actually lasted up to eight or nine hours, partly because he liked to sleep on healthy days, partly because waiting for transpiration, which he regarded as a benefit of nature, made it necessary. In the first half of his life, he was very busy, in a very good mood a friend of pleasures and petit soupers. He often sat at the table until midnight and still rose early in the morning in order to practice the flute and to let soldiers practice at exercising. In his younger years, he never believed he'd get old, and thus wanted to prolong the enjoyment of life by skipping over sleep. He often told the story: "When I was with my father's army at the Rhine, I decided together with some other young people to remain constantly awake and thus to live as much in eight days as others who went to sleep in fourteen. For four days, I was able to endure this through strong coffee, but nature demanded its rights, and I was so feverish through all the coffee and the lack of sleep that I had to stop for my health's sake."
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older, and that a commanding general had to rise early; thus, he stopped having supper during the 7 Years War, and never started again. Until the Bavarian War (1778), the King played the flute, and his days were scheduled in the following way.
During the months of November, December, January and February, the King got to bed between nine and ten pm, and rose between five and six am. During this time, no one was with him, nor did light burn in his bedroom; in the antechambre, two common footmen were keeping watch. He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted. Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer. He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace. For this was lighted in summer and winter time regardless; for the King sweated so strongly that his nightdress and his sheets had to get dried at the fireplace every time. As soon as he'd gotten dressed, he sat down to read from the intake of arriving letters those he was most interested in while his hairtail was combed; the rest, he sent for summarizing and excerpting to the cabinet secretary. After having read all and put it next to himself on a small table, he rose, washed and put his wig and the hat on him which he always wore, except when sitting at a table or when talking to persons of rank, and went to the first adjoining room to accept the report of the AD of the first bataillon there, or to give him some commands regarding the military. He drank a few glasses of water, which during the last years of his life were mixed with Fenchel extracts, and afterwards two or three small cups of coffee, sometimes with and sometimes without milk. Coffee he drank in his younger years very strongly, later in a weaker mixture, but always, for the kick of it, mingled with mustard. During the last years of his life he also ate at different times of the day several small dry bars of chocolate. Otherwise, he rarely indulged in chocolate, and drank it mainly just when he was taking the waters, or if he had been riding out in bad weather, or if he suspected he was due to an attack of gout, and thought the chocolate would help to spread the gout from the torso to the outer extremities. After having drunk his coffee, he took the flute and played on it, walking from one room to the next, for two hours passages he knew by heart.
Once he put the flute away, he accepted, around 9 or 10 am, the summarzing and excerpts from the Cabinet Secretary, read it, ordered the cabinet councillors to him one by one and told them what the reply to the incoming depeches would be, but he didn't lock himself into his cabinet as has been reported. The door was closed now and then but often remained completely open.
Now he finished his getting dressed, which means he took of his nightshirt, put some gellantine in his hair, got himself powdered, washed his face and hands with a towel and put on the uniform which only lasted five minutes if he didn't get shaved as well. In the time between ten and eleven, he told the commanders the password of the day, replied to some family letters, talked to some visitors he'd ordered to come, read out loud to himself, practiced, if time permitted, some concert sections, and went to lunch at 12 o'clock sharp.
The table usually was seated with seven to ten people, and about eight very well filled plates were put on the table, but as for dessert only fruit of the season. Always, beautiful porcellain was used; every guest was at liberty to eat as much or little as they wanted, and to drink as much Mosel or Pontac as they wished. Champagne and Hungarian Wine were only served if the King ordered them especially. The King's usual drink was Bergerac mixed with water; on some occasions, he also drank Champagne or Hungarian Wine.
(Passage of how Fritz with his fondness for spicy Italian and French food at times invited colics.) It's true that the King loved lunching; all his vivaciousness and good mood followed him to the table. He talked nearly exclusively in French there, and those of his guests who didn't understand the language were mere listeners. Conversational topics were different subjects: politics, religion, history, military affairs etc. Occasionally, trivial matters were talked about, and religion was soundly mocked. *
*woeful footnote from the editor, summarized: Fritz, that's how we got the French Revolution and Napoleon, dammit! Often, the table rounds lasted four to five hours, sometimes even longer; just as long, the King kept drinking, and it may be asked whether his heart then was in his tongue. Immediately afterwards, he played the flute again for an hour or half an hour, signed the letters the cabinet had written, went through the menu for the following day with the kitchen, and drank coffee. Once business had ended in the fourth hour, he kept reading until five, at which point the so called reader arrived - he didn't have one who really did the reading until a year before his death - with whom he talked until six o'clock while walking between the chambers and the great hall.
Before the concert, which usually started at 6 pm, he played preludes for about fifteen minutes, then played three concerts in a row, or at times listened to one by Quantz, or to a solo played on the cello, or to an aria sung by a singer, and then the music was usually done for the day. After the concert, the Marquis d'Argens arrived, and after his death Colonel Quintus Icilius. The monarch himself read to them, and after he had ended reading, he debated about the paragraph he'd read with his learned visitors.
These learned conversations usually lasted until 9 or 10 pm. The King then dismissed his companion, undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants with the order to awaken him the next morning, and usually soon fell asleep. Two common footmen kept watch in the antechambre. If the King wanted a glass of water or something else, he rang; it is wrong what the papers wrote, that they had to bring Burgundian wine to the King's bed when he rang. During his last twenty years, the King didn't drink any wine at night, and certainly no Burgundian wine, which he couldn't stand.
(...)
AS the King had scheduled his winter months, he also scheduled the summer. In that time of the year, there was more emphasis on bodily exercise. That's why he went to bed earlier and rose earlier in order to get used again to the early rising for the revues. As the month of February was ending, he ordered himself to be woken a bit earlier week by week and went to bed sooner, so that he could rise for the Berlin revue at 2 1/2 am and sit on his horse at 4 am. On such days, there wasn't much practice on the flute, the letters were only read, and the replies happened once he'd returned from the revue. As soon as the revue was over, he lengthened his nightly rest bit by bit again. In the month of march, he rode out on horseback at 10 or 11 in the morning if the weather was good. Near the end of March or, if the weather was bad, in April at the latest, he left the Potsdam palace and moved to Sanssouci, attended, if illness didn't stop him, five times a week the exercising of the garnison, commanded it in person each time; on the other days of the week, too, he rode at least for an hour.
Near the end of April or in May he went to Charlottenburg and had the Berlin Special Revue presented. On these occasions, he nearly always rode into town, partly to visit his sister, the Princess Amalie, partly to inspect the buildings in progress. Around noon, he returned to Charlottenburg to dine with the assembled chiefs and commanders of the regiments. On May 17 or 18, the big Potsdam Revue was presented. On the 19th, the King rode to Spandau in order to inspect the regiments of his brothers Prince Heinrich and Prince Ferdinand; from there, he rode to Charlottenburg, where he ate and remained for the night. As long as his brothers still appeared with their regiments, he always lunched after the special revue with his brother Prince Heinrich at Spandau. On the morning of the 20th, he rode to Berlin, inspected in passing Kowalsky's garnison regiment, afterwards the other foreign regiments, and arrived around nine or ten at the Berlin town palace. After having done his cabinet work, he went to the great hall, gave the assembled chiefs of staff the watchwords and dispositions, and went to lunch with his guests. The revue took place from 21 - 23rd May in Berlin, afterwards from May 26 - 28 in Magdeburg. Then, on June 1st, he arrived at Küstrin, inspected the dragoon regiments there immediately and held revue the next morning. From there, he went to Stargardt the next day on June 2nd, where on the 3rd and the fourth and in (East) Prussia the revue took place on the 8th, 9th and 10th June. On June 12th or 13 the King usually arrived back at Sanssouci.
From the end of the Prussian journey to the start of the Silesian one, all the ministers of the general directory arrived at Sanssouci, and the yearly budget was concluded. Afterwards, the King drank Eger waters, and lived at the New Palais for ten to fourteen days while his siblings visited him.
(Schöning observes that the King only went to this most expensive of buildings on the ground during those sibling visits, otherwise he much prefered Sanssouci.) However, he only lived in half of it, consisting of three rooms, an alcove and the library; the other half was for the princes, generals and ministers whom the King had ordered to him.
(Schöning says the two rooms at Sanssouci for lunches were too small to host all the officers during the grand revues, which is why Fritz hosted them at the New Chambres instead. He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.)
Ooh, these Schöning reports are confirming so many things that I'd seen in modern sources but didn't know whether to trust!
And then there's this.
The sleep of the King was supposed to consist only of seven hours in the second half of his life; it actually lasted up to eight or nine hours
Seven? I thought it was five to six hours! Hence all the coffee. Never mind eight or nine. This is changing everything. What happened to 3 am in the summer, 4 am in the winter?
Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer.
Oh, that's what happened to it. :P
Early summer rising is still confirmed, though, thankfully!
I'm delighted by the confirmation of the anecdote of young Fritz's experiment with forgoing sleep, though. :)
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older
I seem to remember him saying this in a letter...to Voltaire?
For fanfic writers, MacDonogh reports,
We know the complete menu for one of his last meals, on 5 August 1786: broccoli soup à la Fouqué, beef in breadcrumbs with carrots, chicken with cinnamon and stuffed cucumbers in the English style (Frederick crossed it out and asked for cutlets), little pasties à la Romaine, young roast hake, salmon à la Dessau, chicken fillet à la Pompadour with ox tongues and croquettes, Portuguese cake, green peas, fresh herrings and gherkins.
To "à la Fouqué", he adds a note: "One is tempted to believe that this was with truffles."
Aah, we have MacDonough's source in the library, the 1997 Mitteilungen des Vereins für die Geschichte Berlins, 1997, page 236.
He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted.He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace.
Excellent, I'd read that he dressed himself (contrary to most monarchs) and had adopted that as my headcanon, but didn't have a firm source for it. Ditto for not wanting to be seen in the nude.
He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.
Ah, this is a nice touch that I didn't know!
Finally, yay for regular mustard confirmation! \o/
Yes, I saw that! I think I'd accidentally turned up the article and not realized it, because I marked the volume as 1996, when it's 1996-1997, and that essay's in the 1997 section!
Then just now when I was hunting for the source of the meal citation through truly convoluted means (I won't even tell you how convoluted), I fiiiiinally found the 1997 one, and went...wait, this is the one we already have! Accidental detective and librarian work, lol forever.
Seven? I thought it was five to six hours! Hence all the coffee. Never mind eight or nine. This is changing everything. What happened to 3 am in the summer, 4 am in the winter?
In addition to Fritz going back to sleep, I think it's simply old age. Of course he had more energy and stamina (as well als stronger coffee intake) when younger. Don't forget, everyone observed that the 7 Years War rapidly aged him, and Schöning never knew him before.
chicken fillet à la Pompadour
Given Fritz' opinion of the Marquise, it's interesting his cook names dishes after her.
I knew you'd be happy about the confirmed mustard and anti sleep marathon. :) Incidentally, I'm also satisfied about a bit of my own headcanon getting confirmation, to wit, him having the fireplace lighted in summer as well as in winter.
Also, if Fritz transpired so strongly that his nightshirt and sheets were soaked through every night in his old age, then, together with the tobacco and the general bad hygiene, then we can state he must have stunk pestilentially.
As I love crossreferences, remember this diary entry by Lehndorff from January 1778:
The health of the King remains a matter of concern. He is often feverish. On the day after Prince Heinrich’s birthday party, an odd accident happened to the King. When he got undressed, people put his waistcoat and everything else pulled off him near the fireplace. The clothing caught fire, and everything was in flames. But since he only has incompetent footmen around himself, the fire remained unnoticed, and it could have spread, if not for another footman who thankfully woke up and quenched the fire. The King is very angry that his tobacco box, several important papers and especially his spectacles did get burned. To indicate the state of wardrobe of this great man, I shall note that on the next day, he did not have an overcoat to wear; they had to send a messenger on horseback to Potsdam in order to get him such a piece of clothing.
Note that Lehndorff - who of course isn't a Fritz intimate - assumes the footmen were doing the pulling off of Fritz' waistcoat, when Fritz probably put the clothing too close to the fire place himself when getting rid of it. And naturally, the "incompentent" servants get blamed. Sigh.
And speaking of Lehndorff's diary entries, a day of the life as Heinrich's guest at Rheinsberg in 1783, which says something about Heinrich's own schedule, looks like this:
March 16th: I leave for Rheinsberg in the most despicable weather and find the Prince alone with young Tauentzien. I still experience five pleasant weeks there. When Tauentzien leaves, I am completely alone with my Prince. He‘s never more charming than when he‘s able to talk about all kind of subjects without having to restrain himself, and then he talks with a fire, a clarity and a logic that one is dazzled. The morning, I spend in my room with reading. At 10, the Prince comes, and we chat. Then I get dressed in order to lunch with his Royal Highness. After lunch, we drive through the countryside. At 4 pm I’m back at home and read, till the Prince calls me at 6. Then I enter his gallery, which he calls his atelier, where he sits down behind his painting and I sit down behind mine. Toussaint reads out loud the journeys to India. Around 10 pm, we sit down for supper, and we never part before midnight. When the weather is nice, I walk a lot through the lovely gardens of Rheinsberg.
Now granted, Heinrich is a gentleman of leisure because he can't be anything else (he's left the army after his most recent fallout with Fritz over the Bavarian war, and there is no other job for a Prussian prince in Fritzian Prussia), and Lehndorff is retired. But both the differences and similarities are still striking.
In addition to Fritz going back to sleep, I think it's simply old age.
In general, old people sleep *less* (on average), but with his worsening health, I can imagine he's running out of energy to drag himself through a non-stop workday, so yeah, he might need more sleep to keep it up.
Incidentally, I'm also satisfied about a bit of my own headcanon getting confirmation, to wit, him having the fireplace lighted in summer as well as in winter.
Yep! I was going to mention this and say that this detail is in a fic we all know and love! <3
I thought we had that from a contemporary who toured his rooms, but not from someone who lived with him, so this is good extra confirmation either way.
Note that Lehndorff - who of course isn't a Fritz intimate - assumes the footmen were doing the pulling off of Fritz' waistcoat, when Fritz probably put the clothing too close to the fire place himself when getting rid of it. And naturally, the "incompentent" servants get blamed. Sigh.
Yes, I was thinking about that anecdote. The first time you shared it, and pointed out that Fritz had footmen undressing him, I either said or thought about saying that I had always learned that Fritz undressed himself, and I assumed that the servants' job was just putting away the clothes (given his messy habits, I doubt he could be bothered). And reading it more closely, with what we learned about him recently, I still think that Fritz was undressing himself and the footmen are putting the coat away...possibly hanging it up to the fireplace to dry, because he's sweated through it. Just like his nightshirt and sheets.
undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants
So either he's letting the clothes fall by the fireplace (because it's winter and these palace rooms are freaking cold) and everyone's leaving them wherever they land, in which case it's his fault for letting the land too close (and not ordering them removed), or else he's undressing himself, the servants (who are still present, because they're not dismissed until the next step, which suggests to me that they're doing *something* after he undresses, although maybe it's just removing candles and/or lamps) are arranging the clothes by the fire to dry, and then it's their fault.
So I give it at least a 50% chance the servants are to blame, and a 100% chance that if it was Fritz's fault, they would have gotten blamed anyway. ;)
cahn, note that getting to change quickly by the fireplace is one major advantage of being a monarch who dresses and undresses yourself. You read stories about French monarchs shivering in freezing bedrooms because dressing them is a prestigious position, so it goes according to rank. So if you've already undressed and someone's about to hand you your shirt, and a higher ranked noble walks in, that courtier has to hand *them* your shirt so *they* can hand it to you, and I think it was Marie Antoinette who complained that one time, by bad luck, nobles kept entering the room in increasing order of rank right after she'd undressed, so her clothes kept getting handed to noble after noble, before anything could actually be put on *her*, so she was naked and freezing!
Like Fritz, I'll dress myself, thanks.
chicken fillet à la Pompadour
Given Fritz' opinion of the Marquise, it's interesting his cook names dishes after her.
I hadn't caught that, because I'm familiar with meat and fish prepared à la Pompadour being a thing, so I assumed that this was just the usual name for it in Europe already in 1786. But yes, it's interesting that it's the name at Fritz's court too! (Considering he had a horse named Lord Bute, etc.)
ETA:
Also, if Fritz transpired so strongly that his nightshirt and sheets were soaked through every night in his old age, then, together with the tobacco and the general bad hygiene, then we can state he must have stunk pestilentially.
Three things.
1. This has always been my headcanon. That's why I've always raised two eyebrows when he starts talking about how women smell.
2. Why do you think he needed that perfume?! He needs "an Italian spring morning right after the rain, oranges, grapefruits, lemons, bergamot, cedrat, lime and the flowers and herbs of [Italy]" to offset all the snuff and sweat, etc.
3. Just how bad he smelled (aside from the snuff, which is a given), I think depends on how often his clothes got laundered. I read about a study a while ago that investigated the whole "People didn't bathe in history!" (disclaimer: radical oversimplification, see also public baths, and sponge baths for people who thought immersion bathing was dangerous (esp in winter)) question, and found that the odor of an unwashed human body for 30 days is orders of magnitude less bad than unlaundered clothes for 30 days, and that the difference correlated with the amount of bacteria that grew on the respective surfaces.
In conclusion: Fritz stank, but d'Argens may have stunk worse. ;) It's the 18th century! Put on your perfume and get on with it. In cities like Edinburgh (Auld Reekie), the streets are running with human waste anyway, because all those chamber pots have to be dumped somewhere!
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Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older, and that a commanding general had to rise early; thus, he stopped having supper during the 7 Years War, and never started again. Until the Bavarian War (1778), the King played the flute, and his days were scheduled in the following way.
During the months of November, December, January and February, the King got to bed between nine and ten pm, and rose between five and six am. During this time, no one was with him, nor did light burn in his bedroom; in the antechambre, two common footmen were keeping watch. He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted. Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer. He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace. For this was lighted in summer and winter time regardless; for the King sweated so strongly that his nightdress and his sheets had to get dried at the fireplace every time. As soon as he'd gotten dressed, he sat down to read from the intake of arriving letters those he was most interested in while his hairtail was combed; the rest, he sent for summarizing and excerpting to the cabinet secretary. After having read all and put it next to himself on a small table, he rose, washed and put his wig and the hat on him which he always wore, except when sitting at a table or when talking to persons of rank, and went to the first adjoining room to accept the report of the AD of the first bataillon there, or to give him some commands regarding the military. He drank a few glasses of water, which during the last years of his life were mixed with Fenchel extracts, and afterwards two or three small cups of coffee, sometimes with and sometimes without milk. Coffee he drank in his younger years very strongly, later in a weaker mixture, but always, for the kick of it, mingled with mustard. During the last years of his life he also ate at different times of the day several small dry bars of chocolate. Otherwise, he rarely indulged in chocolate, and drank it mainly just when he was taking the waters, or if he had been riding out in bad weather, or if he suspected he was due to an attack of gout, and thought the chocolate would help to spread the gout from the torso to the outer extremities. After having drunk his coffee, he took the flute and played on it, walking from one room to the next, for two hours passages he knew by heart.
Once he put the flute away, he accepted, around 9 or 10 am, the summarzing and excerpts from the Cabinet Secretary, read it, ordered the cabinet councillors to him one by one and told them what the reply to the incoming depeches would be, but he didn't lock himself into his cabinet as has been reported. The door was closed now and then but often remained completely open.
Now he finished his getting dressed, which means he took of his nightshirt, put some gellantine in his hair, got himself powdered, washed his face and hands with a towel and put on the uniform which only lasted five minutes if he didn't get shaved as well. In the time between ten and eleven, he told the commanders the password of the day, replied to some family letters, talked to some visitors he'd ordered to come, read out loud to himself, practiced, if time permitted, some concert sections, and went to lunch at 12 o'clock sharp.
The table usually was seated with seven to ten people, and about eight very well filled plates were put on the table, but as for dessert only fruit of the season. Always, beautiful porcellain was used; every guest was at liberty to eat as much or little as they wanted, and to drink as much Mosel or Pontac as they wished. Champagne and Hungarian Wine were only served if the King ordered them especially. The King's usual drink was Bergerac mixed with water; on some occasions, he also drank Champagne or Hungarian Wine.
(Passage of how Fritz with his fondness for spicy Italian and French food at times invited colics.)
It's true that the King loved lunching; all his vivaciousness and good mood followed him to the table. He talked nearly exclusively in French there, and those of his guests who didn't understand the language were mere listeners. Conversational topics were different subjects: politics, religion, history, military affairs etc. Occasionally, trivial matters were talked about, and religion was soundly mocked. *
*woeful footnote from the editor, summarized: Fritz, that's how we got the French Revolution and Napoleon, dammit!
Often, the table rounds lasted four to five hours, sometimes even longer; just as long, the King kept drinking, and it may be asked whether his heart then was in his tongue. Immediately afterwards, he played the flute again for an hour or half an hour, signed the letters the cabinet had written, went through the menu for the following day with the kitchen, and drank coffee. Once business had ended in the fourth hour, he kept reading until five, at which point the so called reader arrived - he didn't have one who really did the reading until a year before his death - with whom he talked until six o'clock while walking between the chambers and the great hall.
Before the concert, which usually started at 6 pm, he played preludes for about fifteen minutes, then played three concerts in a row, or at times listened to one by Quantz, or to a solo played on the cello, or to an aria sung by a singer, and then the music was usually done for the day. After the concert, the Marquis d'Argens arrived, and after his death Colonel Quintus Icilius. The monarch himself read to them, and after he had ended reading, he debated about the paragraph he'd read with his learned visitors.
These learned conversations usually lasted until 9 or 10 pm. The King then dismissed his companion, undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants with the order to awaken him the next morning, and usually soon fell asleep. Two common footmen kept watch in the antechambre. If the King wanted a glass of water or something else, he rang; it is wrong what the papers wrote, that they had to bring Burgundian wine to the King's bed when he rang. During his last twenty years, the King didn't drink any wine at night, and certainly no Burgundian wine, which he couldn't stand.
(...)
AS the King had scheduled his winter months, he also scheduled the summer. In that time of the year, there was more emphasis on bodily exercise. That's why he went to bed earlier and rose earlier in order to get used again to the early rising for the revues. As the month of February was ending, he ordered himself to be woken a bit earlier week by week and went to bed sooner, so that he could rise for the Berlin revue at 2 1/2 am and sit on his horse at 4 am. On such days, there wasn't much practice on the flute, the letters were only read, and the replies happened once he'd returned from the revue. As soon as the revue was over, he lengthened his nightly rest bit by bit again. In the month of march, he rode out on horseback at 10 or 11 in the morning if the weather was good. Near the end of March or, if the weather was bad, in April at the latest, he left the Potsdam palace and moved to Sanssouci, attended, if illness didn't stop him, five times a week the exercising of the garnison, commanded it in person each time; on the other days of the week, too, he rode at least for an hour.
Near the end of April or in May he went to Charlottenburg and had the Berlin Special Revue presented. On these occasions, he nearly always rode into town, partly to visit his sister, the Princess Amalie, partly to inspect the buildings in progress. Around noon, he returned to Charlottenburg to dine with the assembled chiefs and commanders of the regiments. On May 17 or 18, the big Potsdam Revue was presented. On the 19th, the King rode to Spandau in order to inspect the regiments of his brothers Prince Heinrich and Prince Ferdinand; from there, he rode to Charlottenburg, where he ate and remained for the night. As long as his brothers still appeared with their regiments, he always lunched after the special revue with his brother Prince Heinrich at Spandau. On the morning of the 20th, he rode to Berlin, inspected in passing Kowalsky's garnison regiment, afterwards the other foreign regiments, and arrived around nine or ten at the Berlin town palace. After having done his cabinet work, he went to the great hall, gave the assembled chiefs of staff the watchwords and dispositions, and went to lunch with his guests. The revue took place from 21 - 23rd May in Berlin, afterwards from May 26 - 28 in Magdeburg. Then, on June 1st, he arrived at Küstrin, inspected the dragoon regiments there immediately and held revue the next morning. From there, he went to Stargardt the next day on June 2nd, where on the 3rd and the fourth and in (East) Prussia the revue took place on the 8th, 9th and 10th June. On June 12th or 13 the King usually arrived back at Sanssouci.
From the end of the Prussian journey to the start of the Silesian one, all the ministers of the general directory arrived at Sanssouci, and the yearly budget was concluded. Afterwards, the King drank Eger waters, and lived at the New Palais for ten to fourteen days while his siblings visited him.
(Schöning observes that the King only went to this most expensive of buildings on the ground during those sibling visits, otherwise he much prefered Sanssouci.)
However, he only lived in half of it, consisting of three rooms, an alcove and the library; the other half was for the princes, generals and ministers whom the King had ordered to him.
(Schöning says the two rooms at Sanssouci for lunches were too small to host all the officers during the grand revues, which is why Fritz hosted them at the New Chambres instead. He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.)
Re: Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
And then there's this.
The sleep of the King was supposed to consist only of seven hours in the second half of his life; it actually lasted up to eight or nine hours
Seven? I thought it was five to six hours! Hence all the coffee. Never mind eight or nine. This is changing everything. What happened to 3 am in the summer, 4 am in the winter?
Depending on circumstances, he either rose immediately or slept a quarter of an hour, half an hour, sometimes even an hour longer.
Oh, that's what happened to it. :P
Early summer rising is still confirmed, though, thankfully!
I'm delighted by the confirmation of the anecdote of young Fritz's experiment with forgoing sleep, though. :)
The soupers only lasted until the 7 Years War. The King recognized that the stomach didn't digest as quickly when one got older
I seem to remember him saying this in a letter...to Voltaire?
For fanfic writers, MacDonogh reports,
We know the complete menu for one of his last meals, on 5 August 1786: broccoli soup à la Fouqué, beef in breadcrumbs with carrots, chicken with cinnamon and stuffed cucumbers in the English style (Frederick crossed it out and asked for cutlets), little pasties à la Romaine, young roast hake, salmon à la Dessau, chicken fillet à la Pompadour with ox tongues and croquettes, Portuguese cake, green peas, fresh herrings and gherkins.
To "à la Fouqué", he adds a note: "One is tempted to believe that this was with truffles."
Aah, we have MacDonough's source in the library, the 1997 Mitteilungen des Vereins für die Geschichte Berlins, 1997, page 236.
He was awoken in the morning in the exact minute he had ordered in the previous evening, and fifteen minutes before that, the fireplace in his bedroom was lighted.He dressed himself while in bed with stockings, trousers and boots, the rest he put on while standing in front of the fire in the fireplace.
Excellent, I'd read that he dressed himself (contrary to most monarchs) and had adopted that as my headcanon, but didn't have a firm source for it. Ditto for not wanting to be seen in the nude.
He also says Fritz felt so safe at Sanssouci that he didn't permit any of the doors being locked.
Ah, this is a nice touch that I didn't know!
Finally, yay for regular mustard confirmation! \o/
Re: Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
Which, as I just saw, is the exact essay you were looking for in this comment! And yes, it does mention the mustard, too, as MacDonough says.
Re: Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
Then just now when I was hunting for the source of the meal citation through truly convoluted means (I won't even tell you how convoluted), I fiiiiinally found the 1997 one, and went...wait, this is the one we already have! Accidental detective and librarian work, lol forever.
Re: Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
In addition to Fritz going back to sleep, I think it's simply old age. Of course he had more energy and stamina (as well als stronger coffee intake) when younger. Don't forget, everyone observed that the 7 Years War rapidly aged him, and Schöning never knew him before.
chicken fillet à la Pompadour
Given Fritz' opinion of the Marquise, it's interesting his cook names dishes after her.
I knew you'd be happy about the confirmed mustard and anti sleep marathon. :) Incidentally, I'm also satisfied about a bit of my own headcanon getting confirmation, to wit, him having the fireplace lighted in summer as well as in winter.
Also, if Fritz transpired so strongly that his nightshirt and sheets were soaked through every night in his old age, then, together with the tobacco and the general bad hygiene, then we can state he must have stunk pestilentially.
As I love crossreferences, remember this diary entry by Lehndorff from January 1778:
The health of the King remains a matter of concern. He is often feverish. On the day after Prince Heinrich’s birthday party, an odd accident happened to the King. When he got undressed, people put his waistcoat and everything else pulled off him near the fireplace. The clothing caught fire, and everything was in flames. But since he only has incompetent footmen around himself, the fire remained unnoticed, and it could have spread, if not for another footman who thankfully woke up and quenched the fire. The King is very angry that his tobacco box, several important papers and especially his spectacles did get burned. To indicate the state of wardrobe of this great man, I shall note that on the next day, he did not have an overcoat to wear; they had to send a messenger on horseback to Potsdam in order to get him such a piece of clothing.
Note that Lehndorff - who of course isn't a Fritz intimate - assumes the footmen were doing the pulling off of Fritz' waistcoat, when Fritz probably put the clothing too close to the fire place himself when getting rid of it. And naturally, the "incompentent" servants get blamed. Sigh.
And speaking of Lehndorff's diary entries, a day of the life as Heinrich's guest at Rheinsberg in 1783, which says something about Heinrich's own schedule, looks like this:
March 16th: I leave for Rheinsberg in the most despicable weather and find the Prince alone with young Tauentzien. I still experience five pleasant weeks there. When Tauentzien leaves, I am completely alone with my Prince. He‘s never more charming than when he‘s able to talk about all kind of subjects without having to restrain himself, and then he talks with a fire, a clarity and a logic that one is dazzled. The morning, I spend in my room with reading. At 10, the Prince comes, and we chat. Then I get dressed in order to lunch with his Royal Highness. After lunch, we drive through the countryside. At 4 pm I’m back at home and read, till the Prince calls me at 6. Then I enter his gallery, which he calls his atelier, where he sits down behind his painting and I sit down behind mine. Toussaint reads out loud the journeys to India. Around 10 pm, we sit down for supper, and we never part before midnight. When the weather is nice, I walk a lot through the lovely gardens of Rheinsberg.
Now granted, Heinrich is a gentleman of leisure because he can't be anything else (he's left the army after his most recent fallout with Fritz over the Bavarian war, and there is no other job for a Prussian prince in Fritzian Prussia), and Lehndorff is retired. But both the differences and similarities are still striking.
Re: Schöning: Days in the Life of Old Fritz
In general, old people sleep *less* (on average), but with his worsening health, I can imagine he's running out of energy to drag himself through a non-stop workday, so yeah, he might need more sleep to keep it up.
Incidentally, I'm also satisfied about a bit of my own headcanon getting confirmation, to wit, him having the fireplace lighted in summer as well as in winter.
Yep! I was going to mention this and say that this detail is in a fic we all know and love! <3
I thought we had that from a contemporary who toured his rooms, but not from someone who lived with him, so this is good extra confirmation either way.
Note that Lehndorff - who of course isn't a Fritz intimate - assumes the footmen were doing the pulling off of Fritz' waistcoat, when Fritz probably put the clothing too close to the fire place himself when getting rid of it. And naturally, the "incompentent" servants get blamed. Sigh.
Yes, I was thinking about that anecdote. The first time you shared it, and pointed out that Fritz had footmen undressing him, I either said or thought about saying that I had always learned that Fritz undressed himself, and I assumed that the servants' job was just putting away the clothes (given his messy habits, I doubt he could be bothered). And reading it more closely, with what we learned about him recently, I still think that Fritz was undressing himself and the footmen are putting the coat away...possibly hanging it up to the fireplace to dry, because he's sweated through it. Just like his nightshirt and sheets.
undressed himself standing in front of the fireplace except for boots and pants, put his nightshirt on, dismissed his servants
So either he's letting the clothes fall by the fireplace (because it's winter and these palace rooms are freaking cold) and everyone's leaving them wherever they land, in which case it's his fault for letting the land too close (and not ordering them removed), or else he's undressing himself, the servants (who are still present, because they're not dismissed until the next step, which suggests to me that they're doing *something* after he undresses, although maybe it's just removing candles and/or lamps) are arranging the clothes by the fire to dry, and then it's their fault.
So I give it at least a 50% chance the servants are to blame, and a 100% chance that if it was Fritz's fault, they would have gotten blamed anyway. ;)
Like Fritz, I'll dress myself, thanks.
chicken fillet à la Pompadour
Given Fritz' opinion of the Marquise, it's interesting his cook names dishes after her.
I hadn't caught that, because I'm familiar with meat and fish prepared à la Pompadour being a thing, so I assumed that this was just the usual name for it in Europe already in 1786. But yes, it's interesting that it's the name at Fritz's court too! (Considering he had a horse named Lord Bute, etc.)
ETA:
Also, if Fritz transpired so strongly that his nightshirt and sheets were soaked through every night in his old age, then, together with the tobacco and the general bad hygiene, then we can state he must have stunk pestilentially.
Three things.
1. This has always been my headcanon. That's why I've always raised two eyebrows when he starts talking about how women smell.
2. Why do you think he needed that perfume?! He needs "an Italian spring morning right after the rain, oranges, grapefruits, lemons, bergamot, cedrat, lime and the flowers and herbs of [Italy]" to offset all the snuff and sweat, etc.
3. Just how bad he smelled (aside from the snuff, which is a given), I think depends on how often his clothes got laundered. I read about a study a while ago that investigated the whole "People didn't bathe in history!" (disclaimer: radical oversimplification, see also public baths, and sponge baths for people who thought immersion bathing was dangerous (esp in winter)) question, and found that the odor of an unwashed human body for 30 days is orders of magnitude less bad than unlaundered clothes for 30 days, and that the difference correlated with the amount of bacteria that grew on the respective surfaces.
In conclusion: Fritz stank, but d'Argens may have stunk worse. ;) It's the 18th century! Put on your perfume and get on with it. In cities like Edinburgh (Auld Reekie), the streets are running with human waste anyway, because all those chamber pots have to be dumped somewhere!