Frederick the Great loved war and music with equal fervor, and possessed
talents for the one little inferior to his genius for the other. He
played with remarkable skill on the flute, of which instrument he
possessed a large collection, and composed original music with both
science and facility. This royal connoisseur carried his despotism into
his love of art, and ruled with an iron hand over those who catered
for the amusement of himself and the good people of Berlin. Though the
creator of that policy which, in the hands of Bismarck and the modern
German nationalists, has wrought such wonderful results, and which has
extended itself even to matters of aesthetic culture as a gospel of
patriotic bigotry, the great Fritz thoroughly despised everything German
except in matters of state, and was completely wedded to the literature
of France and the art of Italy. When the talents of a young German
vocalist, Mlle. Schmäling, were recommended to him, it was enough for
him to hear the report, "She sings like a German," to make him sniff
with disdain. "A German singer!" he said; "I should as soon expect to
get pleasure from the neighing of my horse." Curiosity, however, at last
so far overcame prejudice as to make him send for Mlle. Schmäling, who
was enthusiastically praised by many of those whose opinions the King
could not ignore, to come to Potsdam and sing for him. Her pride, which
was high, had been wounded by the royal criticism, and she carried
herself with as much _hauteur_ as could go with respect. The King
regarded her with a cool stare, without any gesture of salutation, and
Mile. Schmäling amused herself with looking at the pictures. "So you
are going to sing me something?" at last said royalty with military
abruptness.

The figure of the Prussian King as he sat by the piano was anything but
prepossessing. A little, crabbed, spare old man, attired with Spartan
simplicity, in a faded blue coat, whose red facings were smudged brown