This looks to be a romantic fine passage in the History of the young King;—though in truth it is not, and proves but a feeble story either to him or us. Concerning which, however, the reader, especially if he should hear that there exists precise Account of it, Two Accounts indeed, one from the King's own hand, will not fail of a certain craving to become acquainted with details. This craving, foolish rather than wise, we consider it thriftiest to satisfy at once; and shall give the King's NARRATIVE entire, though it is a jingling lean scraggy Piece, partly rhyme, "in the manner of Bachaumont and La Chapelle;" written at the gallop, a few days hence, and despatched to Voltaire:—"You," dear Voltaire, "wish to know what I have been about, since leaving Berlin; annexed you will find a description of it," writes Friedrich. [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 I had 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.