Carlyle's "History of Friedrich II of Prussia" BOOK VIII.
Page: 23

Friedrich Wilhelm flames up into wrath; sends off swift messengers
to bring these Judges, one and all instantly into his presence.
The Judges are still in their dressing-gowns, shaving,
breakfasting; they make what haste they can. So soon as the first
three or four are reported to be in the anteroom, Friedrich
Wilhelm, in extreme impatience has them called in;
starts discoursing with them upon the two weights and two
measures. Apologies, subterfuges do but provoke him farther; it is
not long till he starts up, growling terribly: "IHR SCHURKEN (Ye
Scoundrels), how could you?" and smites down upon the crowns of
them with the Royal Cudgel itself. Fancy the hurry-scurry, the
unforensic attitudes and pleadings! Royal Cudgel rains blows,
right and left: blood is drawn, crowns cracked, crowns nearly
broken; and "several Judges lost a few teeth, and had their noses
battered," before they could get out. The second relay meeting
them in this dilapidated state, on the staircases, dashed home
again without the honor of a RoyaI interview. [Benekendorf, vii.
33; Forster, ii. 270.] Let them learn to keep one balance, and one
set of weights, in their Law-Court hence forth.--This is an actual
scene, of date Berlin, 1731, or thereby; unusual in the annals of
Themis. Of which no constitutional country can hope to see the
fellow, were the need never so pressing.--I wish his Majesty had
been a thought more equal, when he was so rhadamanthine!
Schlubhut he hanged, Schlubhut being only Schlubhut's chattel;
this musketeer, his Majesty's own chattel, he did not hang, but
set him shouldering arms again, after some preliminary dusting!--

His Majesty was always excessively severe on defalcations;
any Chancellor, with his Exchequer-bills gone wrong, would have
fared ill in that country. One Treasury dignitary, named Wilke
(who had "dealt in tall recruits," as a kind of by-trade, and
played foul in some slight measure), the King was clear for
hanging; his poor Wife galloped to Potsdam, shrieking mercy;
upon which Friedrich Wilhelm had him whipt by the hangman, and
stuck for life into Spandau. Still more tragical--was poor Hesse's