"Not satisfied with seeing the Marechal, I saw the guard mounted By these Frenchmen, burning with glory, Who, on four sous a day, Will make of Kings and of Heroes the memory flourish:
Slaves crowned by the hands of Victory, Unlucky herds whom the Court Tinkles hither and thither by the sound of fife and drum.
A ces Francais brulants de gloire, Dotes de quatre sous par jour, Qui des rois, des heros font fleurir la memoire, Esclaves couronnes des mains de la victoire, Troupeaux malheureux que la cour Dirige au seul bruit du tambour.
"That was my fated term. A deserter from our troops got eye on me, recognised me and denounced me.
This wretched gallows-bird got eye on me;Such is the lot of all earthly things;
And so of our fine mystery The whole secret came to light."
Ce malheureux pendard me vit, C'est le sort de toutes les choses;Ainsi de motre pot aux roses Tout le secret se decouvrit.
Well; we must take this glimpse, such as it is, into the interior of the young man,--fine buoyant, pungent German spirit, roadways for it very bad, and universal rain-torrents falling, yet with coruscations from a higher quarter;--and you can forget, if need be, the "Literature" of this young Majesty, as you would a staccato on the flute by him! In after months, on new occasion rising, "there was no end to his gibings and bitter pleasantries on the ridiculous reception Broglio had given him at Strasburg,"says Valori, [ Memoires, i. 88.]--of which this Doggerel itself offers specimen.
"Probably the weakest Piece I ever translated?" exclaims one, who has translated several such. Nevertheless there is a straggle of pungent sense in it,--like the outskirts of lightning, seen in that dismally wet weather, which the Royal Party had. Its wit is very copious, but slashy, bantery, and proceeds mainly by exaggeration and turning topsy-turvy; a rather barren species of wit. Of humor, in the fine poetic sense, no vestige. But there is surprising veracity,--truthfulness unimpeachable, if you will read well. What promptitude, too;--what funds for conversation, when needed! This scraggy Piece, which is better than the things people often talk to one another, was evidently written as fast as the pen could go.--"It is done, if such a Hand could have DONE it, in the manner of Bachaumont and La Chapelle," says Voltaire scornfully, in that scandalous VIE PRIVEE;--of which phrase this is the commentary, if readers need one:--"Some seventy or eighty years before that date, a M. Bachaumont and a M. la Chapelle, his intimate, published, in Prose skipping off into dancings of Verse every now and then, 'a charming RELATION of a certain VOYAGE or Home Tour' (whence or whither, or correctly when, this Editor forgets), ["First printed in 1665,"say the Bibliographies; "but known to La Fontaine some time before." Good!--Bachaumont, practically an important and distinguished person, not literary by trade, or indeed otherwise than by ennui, was he that had given (some fifteen years before)the Nickname FRONDE (Bickering of Schoolboys) to the wretched Historical Object which is still so designated in French annals.]
which they had made in partnership. 'RELATION' capable still of being read, if one were tolerably idle;--it was found then to be charming, by all the world; and gave rise to a new fashion in writing; which Voltaire often adopts, and is supremely good at;and in which Friedrich, who is also fond of it, by no means succeeds so well."Enough, Friedrich got to Wesel, back to his business, in a day or two; and had done, as we forever have, with the Strasburg Escapade and its Doggerel.
FRIEDRICH FINDS M. DE MAUPERTUIS; NOT YET M. DE VOLTAIRE.
Friedrich got to Wesel on the 29th; found Maupertuis waiting there, according to appointment: an elaborately polite, somewhat sublime scientific gentleman; ready to "engraft on the Berlin crab-tree," and produce real apples and Academics there, so soon as the King, the proprietor, may have leisure for such a thing.
Algarotti has already the honor of some acquaintance with Maupertuis. Maupertuis has been at Brussels, on the road hither;saw Voltaire and even Madame,--which latter was rather a ticklish operation, owing to grudges and tiffs of quarrel that had risen, but it proved successful under the delicate guidance of Voltaire.
Voltaire is up to oiling the wheels: "There you are, Monsieur, like the [don't name What, though profane Voltaire does, writing to Maupertuis a month ago]--Three Kings running after you!" A new Pension to you from France; Russia outbidding France to have you;and then that LETTER of Friedrich's, which is in all the Newspapers: "Three Kings,"--you plainly great man, Trismegistus of the Sciences called Pure! Madame honors you, has always done:
one word of apology to the high female mind, it will work wonders;--come now! [Voltaire, OEuvres, lxxii. 217, 216, 230 (Hague, 21st July, 1740, and Brussels, 9th Aug. &c).]
No reader guesses in our time what a shining celestial body the Maupertuis, who is now fallen so dim again, then was to mankind.
