Jan. 31, 1775.
I went to the baron. He was with the king last night, but the queen being constantly at their elbow, he could not say one word to Him respecting audience. The king said: "venez Mercredi à onze heures." So, to-morrow morning, at 11, he will see Him. I asked him if I might not, as 'twould be very agreeable to me in many respects, stay till Monday next; he said "I might do it: but he must request me not to stay beyond Friday, if it could be avoided by acquiescence, as the Danish nobility, and the queen of Denmark, would expect me impatiently according to my promise, and I should not fail to execute it, if to be done. Besides, I am sure," said he, "the king won't delay for an hour, and will expect you to begone before next Monday. Pray be ready! I hope to send you word to-morrow evening all is done. So try, if you can, to be ready for Friday." I was obliged, therefore, to submit, and expect surely to be gone next Friday afternoon, though then I shall be confoundedly hurried and driven.
No. 4.
Feb. 2, 1775.
I am just returned from the baron's: I have received my ultimate despatches: a letter from his Majesty to her Majesty the queen, and lastly, the articles to which the king consents. All therefore is done, finished completely. The baron wished me joy, bade me farewell, wished me a very happy journey, and all success! I must, 'tis his Majesty's pleasure, begone to-morrow night for Harwich, and must be at Harwich by or before 3 in the afternoon, as the packet sails (unless the wind is directly contrary) Saturday evening.
No. 5.
ZELL, Feb. 19, 1775.
Indeed, my dearest father, neither you nor I had any idea of the tremendous roads through which I have passed, the continued and wondrous chain of dangers, amid which I have as yet escaped unhurt. Imagination cannot paint anything more horrid than the roads of Westphalia, of Holland (beyond Utrecht), of Hanover, to the gates of Zell. But let me continue my recital from Osnabrück. I quitted that city last Monday at noon, and got to Diepenau by miracle almost next morning at daybreak. I would willingly have gone round to Minden, or to Nienburg, two cities situate on the river Weser, and at each of which there are bridges across it—but this was impracticable. The river was so amazingly swelled by the deluges of rain as to exceed all belief, and absolutely to cut off all communication, in or out, with these two places. I had, therefore, no partie left, but that of going on straight to Stolzenau, putting my carriage into a boat, and crossing over at all events. I did so, and succeeded. I arrived safe on the English bank of the Weser, Thursday morning, after navigating more than a mile through fields and meadows, the hedges of which only began to appear above water. It put me in mind of Deucalion's deluge. Thence I had only 40 miles to Hanover. What signifies it to repeat to you that I expected a hundred and a hundred times to be lost! That I passed deep pieces of standing water, half a mile in length! That several times I believed myself gone, and thought never to see Zell alive! Here I am notwithstanding, unhurt, undismayed, and ready to meet these dangers, if commanded, all again! Nor think that I am unmindful of, or ungrateful to that Being, who protects the race of man, and preserves us in every situation! I am not so wanting in the noblest feeling of the human bosom; but as I feel, so I express myself about it in very different language from you. I got here Friday night by the kind assistance of the moon, without which 'twould indeed have been an absolute impossibility ever to have got here in the mire; since 'twould be neither more nor less than madness and frenzy to attempt to travel during a dark night. You may depend on it, my dear sir, I am not desired to do this, and never shall, till the roads mend. As to the rest, I know your parental anxiety will be all awake for me, and will make you tremble for my preservation; but fear nothing. I have a noble presentiment which never quits me, of future elevation! Some protecting genius shelters me from danger, and averts every fatal accident from me. I have no doubt I shall return to you bye-and-bye,—I cannot promise you a richer man, but I can promise you, a wiser man. What passed last night I cannot now mention to you. I may not trust to this uncertain, dangerous conveyance. It is enough to say that all goes more than well, that I am approved by my queen, that I am promised to share in the future happy prospects, if we can realise them. That be my endeavour! I have devoted myself to the enterprise. I have passed the Rubicon, and won't retreat. If ever virtuous glory had power to animate a young man's bosom, it ought to do so in mine!