[ OEuvres, xxii. 25 (Wesel, 2d Septemher, 1740).] Out of Voltaire's and other people's waste-baskets, it has at length been fished up, patch by patch, and pasted together by victorious modern Editors; and here it is again entire. The other Narrative, which got into the Newspapers soon after, is likewise of authentic nature,--Fassmann, our poor old friend, confirming it, if that were needful,--and is happily in prose. [Given in Helden-Geschichte, i. 420-423;--see likewise Fassmann's Merkwurdigster Regierungs-Antritt
(poor old Book on FRIEDRICH'S ACCESSION); Preuss ( Thronbesteigung, pp. 395-400); &c. &c.]
Holding these two Pieces well together, and giving the King's faithfully translated, in a complete state, it will be possible to satisfy foolish cravings, and make this Strasburg Adventure luminous enough.
KING FRIEDRICH TO VOLTAIRE (from Wesel, 2d September, 1740), CHIEFLY IN DOGGEREL, CONCERNING THE RUN TO STRASBURG.
Part of it, incorrect, in Voltaire, OEuvres
(scandalous Piece now called Memoires, once Vie Privee du Roi de Prusse ), ii. 24-26;finally, in Preuss, OEuvres de Frederic,
xiv. 156-161, the real and complete affair, as fished up by victorious Preuss and others.
"I have just finished a Journey, intermingled with singular adventures, sometimes pleasant, sometimes the reverse. You know Ihad set out for Baireuth,"--BRUXELLES the beautiful French Editor wrote, which makes Egyptian darkness of the Piece!--"to see a Sister whom I love no less than esteem. On the road [thither or thence; or likeliest, THERE], Algarotti and I consulted the map, to settle our route for returning by Wesel. Frankfurt-on-Mayn comes always as a principal stage;--Strasburg was no great roundabout: we chose that route in preference. The INCOGNITO was decided, names pitched upon [Comte Dufour, and the others];story we were to tell: in fine, all was arranged and concerted to a nicety as well as possible. We fancied we should get to Strasburg in three days [from Baireuth].
But Heaven, which disposes of all things, Differently regulated this thing.
With lank-sided coursers, Lineal descendants from Rosinante, With ploughmen in the dress of postilions, Blockheads of impertinent nature;Our carriages sticking fast a hundred times in the road, We went along with gravity at a leisurely pace, Knocking against the crags.
The atmosphere in uproar with loud thunder, The rain-torrents streaming over the Earth Threatened mankind with the Day of Judgment [VERY BAD WEATHER], And in spite of our impatience, Four good days are, in penance, Lost forever in these jumblings.
Mais le ciel, qui de tout dispose, Regla differemment la chose.
Avec de coursiers efflanques, En ligne droites issus de Rosinante, Et des paysans en postillons masques, Dutors de race impertinente, Notre carrosse en cent lieux accroche, Nous allions gravement, d'une allure indolente, Gravitant contre les rochers.
Les airs emus par le bruyant tonnerre, Les torrents d'eau repandus sur la terre, Du dernier jour menacaient les humains;Et malgre notre impatience, Quatre bons jours en penitence Sont pour jamais perdus dans les charrains.
"Had all our fatalities been limited to stoppages of speed on the journey, we should have taken patience; but, after frightful roads, we found lodgings still frightfuler.
For greedy landlords Seeing us pressed by hunger Did, in a more than frugal manner, In their infernal hovels, Poisoning instead of feeding, Steal from us our crowns.
O age different [in good cheer] from that of Lucullus!
Car des hotes interesses, De la faim nous voyant presses, D'une facon plus que frugale, Dans une chaumiere infernale, En nous empoisonnant, Nous volaient nos ecus.
O siecle different des temps de Lucullus!
"Frightful roads; short of victual, short of drink: nor was that all. We had to undergo a variety of accidents; and certainly our equipage must have had a singular air, for in every new place we came to, they took us for something different.
Some took us for Kings, Some for pickpockets well disguised;Others for old acquaintances.
At times the people crowded out, Looked us in the eyes, Like clowns impertinently curious.
Our lively Italian [Algarotti] swore;
For myself I took patience;
The young Count [my gay younger Brother, eighteen at present]
quizzed and frolicked;
The big Count [Heir-apparent of Dessau] silently swung his head, Wishing this fine Journey to France, In the bottom of his heart, most christianly at the Devil.
Les uns nous prenaient pour des rois, D'autres pour des filous courtois, D'autrespour gens de connaissance;Parfois le peuple s'attroupait, Entre les yeux nous regardait En badauds curieux, remplis d'impertinence.
Notre vif Italien jurait, Pour moi je prenais patience, Le jeune Comte folatrait, Le grand Comte se dandinait, Et ce beau vogage de France Dans le fond de son coeur chretiennement damnait.
"We failed not, however, to struggle gradually along; at last we arrived in that Stronghold, where [as preface to the War of 1734, known to some of us]--Where the garrison, too supple, Surrendered so piteously After the first blurt of explosion From the cannon of the French.
Ou a garnison, troupe flasque, Se rendit si piteusement Apres la premiere bourasque Du canon francais foudroyant.
You recognize Kehl in this description. It was in that fine Fortress,--where, by the way, the breaches are still lying unrepaired [Reich being a slow corpus in regard to such things], --that the Postmaster, a man of more foresight than we, asked If we had got passports?
No, said I to him; of passports We never had the whim.
