FinermanWorks

Today is the birthday of Frederick the Great! Genius is rare in royalty; in Prussian royalty it is extraordinary. Frederick was unique: imagine Oscar Wilde with an army. The politics of 18th century was based upon whom his scathing wit had offended. France and Austria had been enemies for 250 years. Frederick brought them together. He had ridiculed Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV, for being an overreaching strumpet. Lest you think that Frederick was a self-righteous prig, he taunted the respectable Maria Theresa for her piety and fertility. Austrian empresses do not enjoy being described as broodmares. (Frederick had no empathy with heterosexual activities.) The strumpet and the broodmare overcame their incongruity and formed an alliance. This coalition was joined by Russia; theTsarina Elisabeth had not appreciated Frederick’s quips about her girth.

France, Austria and Russia planned the Seven Years War to be a going-away party for Frederick. Here is my dramatization of that conflict….

FinermanWorks presents: The Seven Years War

based on a farce performed on Frederick the Great

with

Frederick the Great, by his own assessment.

George II, a very German King of England. He is Frederick’s uncle but nothing like him.

Madame de Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV and the real ruler of France

Maria Therese, a nice conservative hausfrau–whose haus happens to be the Austrian Empire

Tsarina Elisabeth, the daughter of Peter the Great. She inherited his realm and his size.

Peter III, Elisabeth’s very strange great-nephew and successor.

George III, a king of England who finally sounds like one.

(George II and his nephew Frederick are walking down a street.)

Frederick: You actually like Handel? I knew England would ruin your appetite but your hearing too? Still I suppose I would trade places with you. You have non idee how much I hate the sound of German.

George II: But that’s wat ve sprech un London.  Ja, Parlamunt ist un Anglische; but I nod to vatever.  It werks.

Frederick: You may be spoiling them.

(The men are suddenly confronted by Tsarina Elisabeth, Empress Maria Therese of Austria and Madame de Pompadour.)

Frederick: Are you three planning to proclaim my uncle the King of Scotland? He already is.

Pompadour: I am sure that you would rather be Queen of France.

Frederick: At least, Madame Fishmonger, with me at Versailles someone could think in French as well as speak it.  You reflect only in the Hall of Mirrors.

Elisabeth: You are a mean little man.

Frederick: Certainly half your size.

Maria Therese: You are a sacrilegious swine.

Frederick: You confuse my contempt for you with sacrilege. There is a considerable difference. Actually, I rather appreciate your piety and take full advantage of it. “The Austrian army’s idea of military manuevers is to attend mass.” (Actual quote by Frederick)

Pompadour: Let’s see if my nails are as sharp as your tongue.

(She lashes out at Frederick; Elisabeth and Maria Therese join in the assault. George steps aside, keeping a respectful distance from Elisabeth and while making polite overtures to Maria Therese.

George II: How are der children? You are looking vell. I can’t help reminiscing about our old alliance against France.

(However, George does periodically lunge against Pompadour, slugging her in the back, grabbing her Indian jewelry, Canadian furs and purse. While Frederick is trying to fend off the assault, his uncle hands him some of Pompadour’s cash.)

George: Keep up der gut fight.

(Then Elisabeth manages to smash Frederick in the head, nearly knocking him out. However, the exertion also kills her. She is succeeded by her great nephew Peter III who has a big surprise.)

Peter: Oh, Frederick, what are those bitches doing to you! I’m switching sides.

George II: Excuse me, I have enjoyed dis immensely but I now must act mein age und die.

George III: I say, what, what. Jolly good war but I think that we should say cheerio.

Frederick: Frau Hapsburg, you’ve no more Russian army and I’ve no more English money. Shall we end this war?

Maria Therese: We’ll call it a draw.

Frederick: Since I am still breathing, I’d call it a victory.

Of course, you would expect an Orangeman and an Irishman to brawl whenever and wherever they met. But on this day in 1760, the brawl would determine the control of India. The Orangeman, the painfully named Eyre Coote, commanded the forces of the British East India Company. The obviously Irish Thomas Arthur O’Lally, in his lifelong war with Britain ended up in the French army and commanded its forces in Southern India.

Yes, there was another French and Indian War and, however deflating to our North American egos, at the time the control of India and its riches seemed more important than the muskrat trade in the Ohio valley. Unlike the North American conflict, where 2 million British subjects were pitted against 100,000 Frenchmen and any native tribes who had survived smallpox, the conflict in India was evenly matched. Both European armies had several thousand men as the core of their force, but their preferred strategy was to let their allied Indian princes slaughter each other. Since this was a traditional pastime among Indian princes, the British and French really were just spectators who lent cannons.

Fighting to the last rajah, this war could have lasted indefinitely. However, Thomas O’Lally was a decisive man; and the French commander decided that he didn’t like India. His idea of the caste system was to treat everyone like an Untouchable. While this egaliterian rudeness might have earned O’Lally the gratitude of India’s dung collectors, the lower castes were not leading the armies on which the French strategy depended. Insulted princes are not usually the most reliable allies. O’Lally learned that when he advanced upon a British fort at Wandiwash. His Indian allies forgot to show up.

British commander Eyre Coote was on excellent terms with his Indian allies and, with his conspicuously larger force, he routed the French. From that day–January 22, 1760–the French were in continual retreat until the remnants of their empire were confined and besieged in the town of Pondicherry. When Pondicherry surrendered, O’Lally was taken as a prisoner to Britain. Ironically, at least he was safe there.

The French government charged O’Lally with treason. Considering that the Seven Years War was a world atlas of French defeats, Versailles should have been accustomed to incompetent generals. But only O’Lally was condemned as a traitor. He had not merely lost a battle; he had sabotaged the underlying alliance on which French India was based. Perhaps for that very reason, the grateful British were willing to offer O’Lally political asylum. However, he insisted on returning to France to defend his career and honor. At worse, he would be executed; and for Thomas O’Lally that would still be preferable to living in England. He certainly got his wish; returning to France after war ended in 1763, he was immediately imprisoned and beheaded three years later.

Eyre Coote had a considerably more successful career, gaining a knighthood and a fortune. (The opportunities for graft in India were wondrous.) He died–of natural causes–in 1783, leaving a vast estate in Ireland where his heirs treated the Irish like Untouchables.

George Savarin de Marestan (Monsieur le Baron to the obsequious) has found the French & Indian War to be profitable. (Louis XV should have been so lucky.) The Baron has been engaged to participate in all the major reenactments of the 250th anniversary of that 18th century war. Fort William Henry surrendered to him last year. He will win the battle of Fort Carillon (alias Ticonderoga) this summer. Next year, he is going to lose Quebec. In other words, he is impersonating the Marquis de Montcalm.

How did he earn this unique niche? In exactly the same way he became a baron, Monsieur de Marestan was born to the role. He happens to be the great, great, great, great, great, etc. nephew of General Montcalm. I can not vouch whether he is the most talented member of the Montcalm clan or just the most shameless. However, he does seem to be the only one in the Montcalm market. The general had ten children–and some of them must have survived 18th century medicine as well as the French Revolution.

For the reenactment of the battle of Quebec, a great, great, great, etc. nephew of General Wolfe also has been engaged. However distant a nephew, that may be the best that the historical societies could do. James Wolfe had no direct descendants, not for lack of trying, but women kept turning down his marriage proposals. For the victor of Quebec, a date with destiny was easier than a date with women.

I wonder if there are similar reenactments for the 250th anniversary of the Seven Years War. (The American war was just a sideshow for the main event. Did you really think that Frederick the Great was losing sleep over Fort William Henry?) Any number of unemployed princes could be invited to impersonate their ancestors. For an extra Euro, a Hapsburg, Bourbon or Romanov will sign your copy of “The Last of the Mohicans.” The descendants of George II are still employed; so they will either sign it for free or have you arrested.

By the way, if you know of any 70th anniversary commemorations for the film Ninotchka, I am a fourth cousin, twice removed, of Melvyn Douglas–and I am available.

Today is the birthday of Frederick the Great! Genius is rare in royalty; in Prussian royalty it is extraordinary. Frederick was unique: imagine Oscar Wilde with an army. The politics of 18th century was based upon whom his scathing wit had offended. France and Austria had been enemies for 250 years. Frederick brought them together. He had ridiculed Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of Louis XV, for being an overreaching strumpet. Lest you think that Frederick was a self-righteous prig, he taunted the respectable Maria Theresa for her piety and fertility. Austrian empresses do not enjoy being described as broodmares. (Frederick had no empathy with heterosexual activities.) The strumpet and the broodmare overcame their incongruity and formed an alliance. This coalition was joined by Russia; theTsarina Elisabeth had not appreciated Frederick’s quips about her girth.

France, Austria and Russia planned the Seven Years War to be a going-away party for Frederick. Here is my dramatization of that conflict….

FinermanWorks presents: The Seven Years War

based on a farce performed on Frederick the Great

with

Frederick the Great, by his own assessment.

George II, a very German King of England. He is Frederick’s uncle but nothing like him.

Madame de Pompadour, mistress of Louis XV and the real ruler of France

Maria Therese, a nice conservative hausfrau–whose haus happens to the Austrian Empire

Tsarina Elisabeth, the daughter of Peter the Great. She inherited his realm and his size.

Peter III, Elisabeth’s very strange great-nephew and successor

George III, a king of England who finally sounds like one.

(George II and his nephew Frederick are walking down a street.)

Frederick: You actually like Handel? I knew England would ruin your appetite but your hearing too? Still I suppose I would trade places with you. You have non idee how much I hate the sound of German.

George II: You like der army.

Frederick: Well, I do like young men goosestepping.

(The men are suddenly confronted by Tsarina Elisabeth, Empress Maria Therese of Austria and Madame de Pompadour.)

Frederick: Are you three planning to proclaim my uncle the King of Scotland? He already is.

Pompadour: I am sure that you would rather be Queen of France.

Frederick: At least, Madame Fishmonger, with me Versailles would have something brighter than a Hall of Mirrors.

Elisabeth: You are a mean little man.

Frederick: Certainly half your size.

Maria Therese: You are a sacrilegious swine.

Frederick: You confuse my contempt for you with sacrilege. There is a considerable difference. Actually, I rather appreciate your piety and take full advantage of it. “The Austrian army’s idea of military manuevers is to attend mass.” (Actual quote by Frederick)

Pompadour: Let’s see if my nails are as sharp as your tongue.

(She lashes out at Frederick; Elisabeth and Maria Therese join in the assault. George steps aside, keeping a respectful distance from Elisabeth and while making polite overtures to Maria Therese.

George II: How are der children? You are looking vell. I can’t help reminiscing about our old alliance against France.

(However, George does periodically lunge against Pompadour, slugging her in the back, grabbing her jewelry and purse. While Frederick is trying to fend off the assault, his uncle hands him some of Pompadour’s cash.)

George: Keep up der gut fight.

(Then Elisabeth manages to smash Frederick in the head, nearly knocking him out. However, the exertion also kills her. She is succeeded by her great nephew Peter III who has a big surprise.)

Peter: Oh, Frederick, what are those bitches doing to you! I’m switching sides.

Pompadour: That’s an understatement.

George II: Excuse me, I have enjoyed dis immensely but I now must act mein age und die.

George III: I say, what, what. Jolly good war but I think that we should say cheerio.

Frederick: After 46 years of ruling Britain, someone in the royal family finally learned English. Shall we end this war?

Maria Therese: We’ll call it a draw.

Frederick: Since I am still breathing, I’d call it a victory.