Frederick had barely strength enough to grasp his father's hand
and scream for help. The old brute would probably have strangled him had
not a chamberlain rushed in and saved him from the madman's hands.
The boy, as he grew towards man's estate, developed tastes which added
to his father's severity. The French language and literature which he
hated were the youth's delight, and he took every opportunity to read
the works of French authors, and particularly those of Voltaire, who was
his favorite among writers. This predilection was not likely to
overcome the fierce temper of the king, who discovered his pursuits and
flogged him unmercifully, thinking to cane all love for such enervating
literature, as he deemed it, out of the boy's mind. In this he failed.
Germany in that day had little that deserved the name of literature, and
the expanding intellect of the active-minded youth turned irresistibly
towards the tabooed works of the French.
In truth, he needed some solace for his expanding tastes, for his
father's house and habits were far from satisfactory to one with any
refinement of nature.
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