Strong ones I believe it would need To recall, to our side of the limit, Subjects of Pluto King of the Dead:
But, from the Germanic Empire Into the gallant and cynical abode Of Messieurs your pretty Frenchmen,--A jolly and beaming air, Rubicund faces, not ignorant of wine, These are the passports which, legible if you look on us, Our troop produces to you for that end.
<italic>
Non, lui dis-je, des passe-ports Nous n'eumes jamais la folie.
Il en faudrait, je crois, de forts Pour ressusciter a la vie De chez Pluton le roi des morts;Mais de l'empire germanique Au sejour galant et cynique De Messieurs vos jolis Francais, Un air rebondissant et frais, Une face rouge et bachique, Sont les passe-ports qu'en nos traits Vous produit ici notre clique.
<end italic>
"No, Messieurs, said the provident Master of Passports;no salvation without passport. Seeing then that Necessity had got us in the dilemma of either manufacturing passports ourselves or not entering Strasburg, we took the former branch of the alternative and manufactured one;--in which feat, the Prussian arms, which I had on my seal, were marvellously furthersome."This is a fact, as the old Newspapers and confirmatory Fassmann more directly apprise us. "The Landlord [or Postmaster] at Kehl, having signified that there was no crossing without Passport,"Friedrich, at first, somewhat taken aback, bethought him of his watch-seal with the Royal Arms on it; and soon manufactured the necessary Passport, signeted in due form;--which, however, gave a suspicion to the Innkeeper as to the quality of his Guest.
After which, Tuesday evening, 23d August, "they at once got across to Strasburg," says my Newspaper Friend, "and put up at the SIGNOF THE RAVEN, there." Or in Friedrich's own jingle:--"We arrived at Strasburg; and the Custom-house corsair, with his inspectors, seemed content with our evidences.
These scoundrels spied us, With one eye reading our passport, With the other ogling our purse.
Gold, which was always a resource, Which brought, Jove to the enjoyment Of Danae whom he caressed;Gold, by which Caesar governed The world happy under his sway;Gold, more a divinity than Mars or Love;Wonder-working Gold introduced us That evening, within the walls of Strasburg."[Given thus far, with several slight errors, in Voltaire, ii.
24-26;--the remainder, long unknown, had to be fished up, patch by patch (Preuss, <italic> OEuvres de Frederic, <end italic> xiv.
159-161).]
<italic>
Ces scelerats nous epiaient, D'un oeil le passe-port lisaient, De l'autre lorgnaient notre bourse.
L'or, qui toujours fut de ressource, Par lequel Jupin jouissait De Danae, qu'il caressait;L'or, par qui Cesar gouvernait Le monde heureux sous son empire;L'or, plus dieu que Mars et l'Amour, Le soir, dans les murs de Strasbourg.
<end italic>
Sad doggerel; permissible perhaps as a sample of the Friedrich manufacture, surely not otherwise! There remains yet more than half of it; readers see what their foolish craving has brought upon them! Doggerel out of which no clear story, such story as there is, can be had; though, except the exaggeration and contortion, there is nothing of fiction in it. We fly to the Newspaper, happily at least a prose composition, which begins at this point; and shall use the Doggerel henceforth as illustration only or as repetition in the Friedrich-mirror, of a thing OTHERWISE made clear to us:--Having got into Strasburg and the RAVEN HOTEL; Friedrich now on French ground at last, or at least on Half-French, German-French, is intent to make the most of circumstances. The Landlord, with one of Friedrich's servants, is straightway despatched into the proper coffee-houses to raise a supper-party of Officers; politely asks any likely Officer, "If he will not do a foreign Gentleman [seemingly of some distinction, signifies Boniface] the honor to sup with him at the Raven?"--"No, by Jupiter!" answer the most, in their various dialects: "who is he that we should sup with him?"Three, struck by the singularity of the thing, undertake; and with these we must be content. Friedrich--or call him M. le Comte Dufour, with Pfuhl, Schaffgotsch and such escort as we see--politely apologizes on the entrance of these officers:
"Many pardons, gentlemen, and many thanks. Knowing nobody;desirous of acquaintance:--since you are so good, how happy, by a little informality, to have brought brave Officers to keep me company, whom I value beyond other kinds of men!"The Officers found their host a most engaging gentleman:
his supper was superb, plenty of wine, "and one red kind they had never tasted before, and liked extremely;"--of which he sent some bottles to their lodging next day. The conversation turned on military matters, and was enlivened with the due sallies.
This foreign Count speaks French wonderfully; a brilliant man, whom the others rather fear: perhaps something more than a Count?
The Officers, loath to go, remembered that their two battalions had to parade next morning, that it was time to be in bed: "I will go to your review," said the Stranger Count: the delighted Officers undertake to come and fetch him, they settle with him time and method; how happy!
On the morrow, accordingly, they call and fetch him; he looks at the review; review done, they ask him to supper for this evening: