281 FINAL YEARS AND IMMORTALITYenergetic correspondence on all affairs of army and state. Amongst
other business he arranged to set up three permanent battalions of
light infantry, as a partial substitute for the wretched free battalions
which used to be constituted afresh at the outbreak of every war.
In May and June Frederick was still too weak to be able to attend
the reviews. He had as little faith in medical science as he did in
religion, but it was probably this continuing immobility which
persuaded him to call on the services of the famous doctor J. G.
Zimmermann. The physician came to Sans Souci on 22 June:
The king was sitting in a large armchair, with his back against
the side of the room by which I had entered. On his head he had
a large, old and plain hat, which was suffering from the passage
of time. Its old white plume was in the same condition. He wore
a dressing-gown of light blue satin, with heavy stains of yellow
and brown from the snuff he had spilled down the front. He still
had his boots on, though one of the legs was terribly swollen
and resting on a stool... And yet all the intelligence and
greatness of his best years gleamed in his eyes. (Zimmermann,
1788, 3)In a final gesture of independence Frederick managed to get
himself into the saddle of the long grey Cond6 on 4 July, and he rode at
speed through the gardens. He collapsed when he returned, and never
ventured out of doors again, except when on sunny afternoons he was
carried out to the Sans Souci terrace. For the rest of the time he stayed
in his room, and between spells of coughing and sleeping he read
through the piles of letters on the table beside his settee, and signed
documents with a trembling hand. He sent the following message to
the head of the Cadet Corps: 'Take it from me, if I lost half my
monarchy, and yet was able to put myself at the head of my Pomera-
nians and Brandenburgers, and keep my composure, I could still drive
the very devil from Hell!' (Taysen, 1886, 70). The sun now hurt his
eyes, but he refused to have the curtains drawn: 'No, no!' he pro-
tested, 'I have always loved the light!' (Zimmermann, 1788, 103).
Frederick the Great died at twenty minutes past two on the
morning of 17 August 1786.How has posterity chosen to judge our hero? One of the better-
founded observations was current in Frederick's lifetime and shortly
afterwards, namely that the king had concentrated authority in
himself to an excessive degree, and that, when he was aware that his
successor was his uncharismatic nephew Frederick William, he had
made no provision for his work to be carried on other than by the
sovereign. Reservations like these were, however, the province of the