It seems that when a child his Majesty was noted for his wit, for at a fancy ball held at Charlottenburg, July 12, 1790, he appeared as a conjurer, performing his tricks so cleverly as even to be praised for his wit by the celebrated Leibnitz. A year before, the Duchess of Orleans had written: “I am always concerned when I see children prematurely witty, as I take it for a sign that they will not live long; I therefore tremble for the little Electoral Prince of Brandenburg.”
On one occasion a general, proverbial for his stinginess, excused himself from entertaining at dinner his Majesty on the plea of not keeping an establishment. But Frederick William directed him to Nicolai, the landlord of the King of Portugal Hotel, where he made his appearance with a large company. The dinner and wines were excellent, and on rising from the table the general, calling in the landlord, asked him the charge for each guest. “One florin a head without the wine,” answered Nicolai.
“Well then,” the general said, “here is one florin for myself and another for his Majesty; as to the other gentlemen whom I have not invited, they will pay for themselves.”
“Here’s a fine joke,” the King exclaimed good-humouredly; “I thought I should take in the general, and now I’m taken in myself.” He then discharged the whole score from his own purse.
His son, Frederick the Great, rarely indulged in any familiarity with ordinary people, although, as already stated, he did not resent a repartee from one of his servants. He once asked a physician, “How many men have you sent into the other world?” when the unexpected reply came, “Not nearly so many as your Majesty, and with infinitely less glory.”
Inspecting his finance affairs, and questioning the parties interested, Frederick, writes Thomas Carlyle, notices a certain convent in Cleves which “appears to have, payable from the forest dues, considerable revenues bequeathed by the old dukes ‘for masses to be said on their behalf.’” He goes to look at the place, questions the monks on this point, who are all drawn out in two rows, and have broken into _Te Deum_ at sight of him. “Husht! you still say those masses, then?”
“And what good does any one get of them?”