Chapter IX. - A DAY IN THE LIFE OF VOLTAIRE.
Voltaire enjoyed the rare privilege of speaking the truth to the king, and he made a cruel and bitter use of his opportunities in this respect. He was jealous and envious of the king's fame and greatness, and sought to revenge him-self by continual fault-finding and criticism. He sought to mortify the great Frederick, who was admired and wondered at by all the world; to make him feel and confess that he could never equal the renowned writer Voltaire.
Frederick felt and acknowledged this frankly and without shame, but with that smiling composure and great self-consciousness which is ever ready to do justice to others, and demands at the same time a just recognition of its own claims. Voltaire might exalt himself to the clouds, he could not depreciate the king. He often made him angry, however, and this gratified the malice of the great French author.
The other friends of Frederick looked upon this conduct of Voltaire with regret; and the Marquis d'Argens, who was of a fine and gentle nature, soon saw the daily discontent of the king, and the wicked joy of Voltaire.
„My friend,“ said he, „the king wrote a poem yesterday, which he read aloud to me this morning. He declares that there is one bad rhyme in his poem, and that it tortures him. I tried in vain to reassure him. I know that the rhyme is incorrect, but you will provoke him beyond measure if you tell him so. He has tried in vain to correct it, without impairing the sense of the passage. I have, therefore, withheld all criticism, and read to him some verses from La Fontaine, where the same fault is to be found. I have wished to convince him that the poem is worthy of praise, although not exactly conformed to rule. I beg of you, Voltaire, to follow my example.“
„And why should I do that?“ said Voltaire, in his most snarling tone.
„Because, with your severe and continual criticisms you will disgust the king, and turn him aside from his favorite pursuit. I think it important to poetry and the fine arts that the great and powerful sovereign of Prussia should love and cherish them; should exalt those who cultivate them, and, indeed, rank himself amongst them. What difference does it make, Voltaire, if a bad rhyme is to be found in the poetry of the philosopher of Sans-Souci?“ [Footnote: Thiebault, vol. v., p. 337.]
„The king wishes to learn of me how to make good poetry, and my love to him is not of that treasonable, womanly, and cowardly sort which shrinks from blaming him because it fears to wound his self-love. The king has read his poem to you, and it is your province to wonder at and praise your friend. He will read it to me as 'Pedagogo de sua Maesta.' I will be true and just, where you have dared to flatter him.“
Never was Voltaire more severe in his criticism, more cutting in his satire, than to-day. His eyes sparkled with malicious joy, and a wicked smile played still upon his lip as he left the king and returned to his own apartment.
„Ah,“ said he, seating himself at his writing-table, with a loud laugh, „I shall write well to-day, for I have had a lesson. Frederick does not know how far he is my benefactor. In correcting him, I correct myself; and in directing his studies, I gain strength and judgment for my own works. [Footnote: Voltaire's own words.-- Oeuvres, p. 363.] I will now write a Chapter in my History of Louis XIV. My style will be good. The Chapter which I have read this morning, in Frederick's 'Histoire de Mon Temps' has taught me what faults to avoid. Yes, I will write of Louis XIV. Truly I owe him some compensation. King Frederick has had the naivete to compare his great grandfather, the so-called great Prince-Elector, to the great Louis. I was amiable enough to pardon him for this little compliment to his ancestors, and not to strike it from his 'Histoire.' And, indeed, why should I have done that? The world will not be so foolish as to charge this amusing weakness to me! After all, the king writes but for himself, and a few false, flattering friends; he can, therefore, say what he will. I, however, I write for France-- for the world! But I fear, alas, that fools will condemn me, because I have sought to write as a wise man.“ [Footnote: CEuvres, p. 341.]
Voltaire commenced to write, but, he was soon interrupted by his servant, Tripot, who announced that the Jew Hirsch, for whom Voltaire had sent, was at the door. Voltaire rose hastily, and called him to enter.
„I have business with you, my friend,“ said he to the Jew. „Close the door, Tripot, and see that we are not disturbed.“
Voltaire hastened with youthful agility through the saloon, and beckoned to the Jew to follow him into his bedroom.
„First of all, friend, we will make a small mercantile operation.“ So saying, he opened the door of a large commode. „See, here are twelve pounds of the purest wax-lights. I am a poor man, with weak eyes. I have no use for these lights; I can never hope to profit by them. Here, also, are several pounds of sugar and coffee, the savings of the last two months. You will buy all this of me; we will agree upon a fixed price, and the last day of every month you will come for the same purpose. Name your price, sir.“
Hirsch named his price; but it seemed that the great poet understood how to bargain better than the Jew. He knew exactly the worth of the sugar and the coffee, he spoke so eloquently of the beauty and purity of the thick white wax-lights, that the Hebrew increased his offer,
„And now to more important business,“ said Voltaire. „You are going to Dresden--you will there execute a commission for me. I wish to invest eighteen thousand thalers in Saxon bonds. They can now be purchased at thirty-five, and will be redeemed at a hundred.“
„But your excellency knows that the king has forbidden his subjects to buy these bonds. He demanded and obtained for his subjects a pledge that they should be paid at par for the bonds they now hold, while the subjects of the King of Saxony receive only their present value. The king promised, however, that the Prussians should make no further investments in these bonds. You see, then, that it is impossible for me to fulfil this commission.“
„I see that you are a fool!“ cried Voltaire, angrily. „If you were not a fool, you would know that Voltaire, the chamberlain of the king, would not undertake a business transaction which would stain his reputation or cast a shadow on his name. When Voltaire makes this investment, you can understand that he is authorized to do so.“
„That being the case,“ said Hirsch, humbly, „I am entirely satisfied, and will gladly serve your excellency.“
„If you fill this commission handsomely and promptly, you may feel assured of a reward. Are you ambitious? Would you not like a title?“
„Certainly I am ambitious. I should be truly happy if I could obtain the title of 'royal court agent.'„
„Well, buy these bonds for me in Dresden cheap, and you shall have this coveted title,“ said the noble author of the „Henriade,“ and other world-renowned works.
„I will buy them at thirty-five thalers.“
„And you will invest eighteen thousand thalers at this rate. Our contract is made; now we will count the gold. I have not the ready money--I will give you drafts--come into my study.--There are three drafts,“ said he, „one on Paris, one on your father, and one on the Jew Ephraim. Get them cashed, good Hirsch, and bring me my Saxon bonds.“
„In eight days, your excellency, I will return with them, and you will have a clear profit of eleven thousand thalers.“
Voltaire's eyes sparkled with joy. „Eleven thousand thalers!“ said he; „for a poor poet, who lives by his wits and his pen, that is a considerable sum.“
„You will realize that sum,“ said Hirsch, with the solemn earnestness of a Jew when he has made a good trade.
Hirsch was about to withdraw, but Voltaire hastened after him, and seizing his arm, he cried out threateningly: „You are not going without giving me your note? You do not think that I am such a fool as to give you eighteen thousand thalers, and have nothing to prove it?“
„You excellency has my word of honor,“ said the Jew, earnestly.
Voltaire laughed aloud. „Your word! the honorable word of a man for eighteen thousand thalers! My dear friend, we do not live in paradise, but in a so-called Christian city--your worthy forefathers obtained for us this privilege. Do you believe that I will trust one of their descendants? Who will go my security that you will not, nail my innocence and my confiding heart upon the cross, and slay them if I should be unsuspicious enough to trust my money with you in this simple way?“
„I will give you ample security,“ said Hirsch, taking a morocco case from his pocket. „I did not know why your excellency sent for me. I thought perhaps you wished to buy diamonds, and brought some along with me. Look, sir! here are diamonds worth twenty-two thousand thalers! I will leave them with you--I, the poor Jew, do not fear that the great poet Voltaire will deceive and betray me.“
„These diamonds are beautiful,“ said Voltaire--“very beautiful, and perhaps if my speculation succeeds, I may buy some from you. Until then, I will take care of them.“
Voltaire was about to lock them up, but he paused suddenly, and fixed his eyes upon the calm countenance of the Jew.
„How do I know that these are real diamonds?“ he cried; and as Hirsch, exasperated by this base suspicion, frowned and turned pale, he exclaimed fiercely: „The diamonds are false! I know it by your terror. Oh, oh, you thought that a poet was a good, credulous creature who could be easily deceived. Ah! you thought I had heard nothing of those famous lapidaries in St. Germain, who cut diamonds from glass, and cook up in their laboratories the rarest jewels! Yes, yes, I know all these arts, and all the brewing of St. Germain will not suffice to deceive me.“
„These diamonds are pure!“ cried Hirsch.
„We will have them tested by a Christian jeweller,“ said Voltaire.-- „Tripot! Tripot! run quickly to the jeweller Reclam--beg him to come to me for a few moments.“
Tripot soon returned with Reclam. The diamonds were pronounced pure and of the first water; and the jeweller declared they were fully worth twenty-two thousand thalers. Voltaire was now fully satisfied, and, when once more alone, he looked long and rapturously upon these glittering stones.
„What woman can boast of such dazzling fire in her eyes?“ said he, laughing; „what woman can say that their color is worth twenty-two thousand thalers? It is true they glisten and shimmer in all lights and shades--that is their weakness and their folly. With you, beautiful gems! these changing hues are a virtue. Oh, to think that with this handful of flashing stones I could buy a bag of ducats! How dull and stupid are mankind--how wise is God! Sinking those diamonds in the bowels of the earth was a good speculation. They are truffles to tempt the snouts of men; and they root after them as zealously as the swine in Perigord root after the true truffles. Gold! gold! that is the magic word with which the world is ruled. I will have gold--I will rule the world. I will not give place to dukes or princes. I will have my seigneuries and my castles; my servants in rich livery, and my obedient subjects. I will be a grand seigneur. Kings and princes shall visit me in my castle, and wait in my antechamber, as I have been compelled to wait in theirs. I will be rich that I may be every man's master, even master of the fools. I will enslave the wise by my intellect--I will reduce the foolish to bondage with gold. I must be rich! rich! rich! therefore am I here; therefore do I correct the poor rhymes of the king; therefore do I live now as a modest poet, and add copper to copper, and save my pension of five thousand thalers, and sell my wax-lights and my coffee to the Jew. Let the world call me a miser. When I become rich, I will be a spendthrift: and men who are now envious and angry at my fame shall burst with rage at my fortune. Ah, ah, it is not worth the cost to be a celebrated writer! There are too many humiliations connected with this doubtful social position. It gives no rank--it is a pitiful thing in the eyes of those who have actual standing, and is only envied by those who are unnoticed and unknown. For my own part, I am so exhausted by the discomforts of my position, I would gladly cast it from me, and make for myself what the canaille call a good thing--an enormous fortune. I will scrape together all the gold that is possible. I will give for gold all the honor and freedom and fame which come to me. I am a rich gainer in all these things by my residence with King Frederick. He has this virtue: he is unprejudiced, and cares nothing even for his own royal rank. I will therefore remain in this haven, whither the storms, which have so long driven me from shore to shore, have now safely moored me. My happiness will last just as long as God pleases.“ [Footnote: Voltaire's own words.--Oeuvres, p. 110.]
He laughed heartily, and took his cash-book, in which he entered receipts and expenditures. It was Voltaire's greatest pleasure to add up his accounts from time to time, and gloat over the growth of his fortune; to compare, day by day, his receipts and expenses, and to find that a handsome sum was almost daily placed to his credit. The smallest necessary expenditure angered him. With a dark frown he said to himself: „It is unjust and mean to require of me to buy provender for my horse, and to have my carriage repaired; if the king furnishes me with an equipage, he should not allow it to be any expense to me. The major-domo is an old miser, who cheats me every month out of some pounds of sugar and coffee, and the wax-lights are becoming thinner and poorer. I will complain to King Frederick of all this; he must see that order prevails in his palace.“
Voltaire closed his account-book, and murmured: „When I have an income of a hundred and fifty thousand francs, I will cease to economize. God be praised, I have almost reached the goal! But,“ said he, impatiently, „in order to effect this, I must remain here a few years, and add my pension to my income. Nothing must prevent this--I must overcome every obstacle. What! who can hinder me? my so-called friends, who naturally are my most bitter enemies? Ha, ha! what a romantic idea of this genial king to assemble six friends around him at Sans-Souci, the most of them being authors--that is to say, natural enemies! I believe if two authors, two women, or two pietists, were placed alone upon a desert isle, they would forget their dependence upon each other, and commence intriguing at once. This, alas! is humanity, and being so, one must withdraw from the poor affair advantageously and cunningly. [Footnote: Voltaire, Oeuvres, p. 375.] No one can live peacefully in this world; least of all, in the neighborhood of a king. It is with kings as with coquettes, their glances kindle jealousy--and Frederick is a great coquette. I must, therefore, drive my rivals from the field, and enjoy in peace the favor of the king. Now which of my rivals are dangerous to me? All! all! I must banish them all! I will sow such discontent and rage and malice and strife amongst them, that they will fly in hot haste, and thank God if I do not bite off their noses before they escape. I will turn this, their laughing paradise, into a hell, and I will be the devil to chase them with glowing pitchforks. Yes, even to Siberia will I drive this long-legged peacock, Maupertius--him, first of all; then D'Argens, then Algarotti, then this over-wise and good Lord Marshal, and all others like him! When Voltaire's sun is in the ascendant, not even stars shall glitter; It shall not be! I will prove to them that Voltaire's fiery rays have burned them to ashes!“ [Footnote: Voltaire, OEuvres, p. 378.]
He laughed aloud, and seated himself to write a poem. He was invited that evening to a soiree by the queen-mother, where he wished to shine as an improvisator. Above all other things, he wished to win the heart of the Princess Amelia. Since she had played the part of Aurelia, in „Rome Sauvee,“ he had felt a passion for the princess, who had betrayed to the life the ardor and the pains of love, and whose great flaming eyes seemed, from their mysterious depths, to rouse the soul of the poet. Voltaire had promised the Princess Amelia to improvise upon any subject she should select, and he relied upon his cunning to incline her choice in such a direction as to make the poem he was now writing appropriate and seem impromptu.
While thus occupied, his servant entered and announced a number of distinguished gentlemen, who were in the parlor, and wished to make the great author a morning visit. „Let them all wait!“ said Voltaire, angrily; declaring that this disturbance had cost him a piquant rhyme.
„But, gracious sir,“ stammered the servant, „some of the most distinguished men of the court and the oldest generals, are there!“
„What do I care for their epaulets or their excellencies? Let them wait, or go to the devil--if they prefer it.“
Well, the eminent gentlemen waited; indeed, they waited patiently, until the great Voltaire, the favorite of the king, the universal French author, in his pride and arrogance was graciously pleased to show himself amongst the Dutch barbarians, and allow some rays of his intellect to fall upon and inspire them!
The saloon was indeed crowded with princes, generals, and nobles. Voltaire had just returned to Berlin from Potsdam, and all hastened to pay their respects and commend themselves to his grace and favor. [Footnote: Forney writes thus in his „Memoirs“: „During the winter months which Voltaire spent in the palace of Berlin, he was the favorite of the court. Princes, ambassadors, ministers, generals, nobles of the highest rank went to his morning receptions, and were often received by him with contemptuous scorn. A great prince was pleased to play chess with him, and allowed him every time to win the stake of two louis d'or. It was declared, however, that sometimes the gold disappeared before the end of the game, and could not be found.“--“Souvenirs d'un Citoyen.“]
Voltaire was very gracious this morning. As he was to play the part of improvisator that night, he thought it politic to make favor with all those who would be present. He hoped that all the world would thunder out their enraptured applause, and that Maupertius, D'Argens, Algarotti, La Mettrie, and all other friends of the king, would be filled with envy and rage. He smiled, therefore, benignantly, and had kind and flattering words for all. His bon-mots and piquant witticisms seemed inexhaustible.
Suddenly his servant drew near, and said it was necessary to speak to him on a matter of great importance. Voltaire turned with a winning smile to his guests, and, praying them to wait for his return, entered his private room.
„Well, Tripot, what have you to say that is important?“
„Gracious sir, the court is in mourning.“
Voltaire looked at him enraged. „Fool! what is that to me?“
„It is of the utmost importance to you, sir, if you are going this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother.“
„Will you run me mad, Tripot? What has the court mourning to do with the queen's soiree?“
„Gracious sir, the explanation is very simple. When the court is in mourning, no one can appear there in embroidered clothes; you must wear a plain black coat.“
„I have no plain black coat,“ said Voltaire, with a frowning brow.
„It is necessary, then, for you to order one, and I have sent Monsieur Pilleneure to come and take your measure.“
„Are you insane, Tripot?“ cried Voltaire. „Do you regard me as so vile a spendthrift, so brainless a fool, as to order a new coat for the sake of one evening's amusement--a coat which will cost an immense sum of money, and must then hang in the wardrobe to be destroyed by moths? In eight days this mourning will be over, and I would be several hundred francs poorer, and possess a black coat I could never wear! I will not go this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother; this is decided. I will announce myself sick. Go and countermand the tailor.“
He turned to leave the room, but paused suddenly. „I cannot decline this invitation,“ murmured he. „It is widely known that I have promised to improvise. The world is looking on eagerly. If I do not go, or if I announce myself sick, they will say I shrink from this ordeal. My enemies will triumph!--Tripot, I am obliged to go to the soiree of the queen.“
„Then the tailor must come to take your measure?“
„Fool!“ cried Voltaire, stamping furiously. „I have told you I have no gold for such follies. Gather up your small amount of understanding, and think of some other expedient.“
„Well, your excellency. I know a mode of escape from this embarrassment, but I scarcely dare propose it.“
„Speak out--any means are good which attain their object.“
„Below, in the court, dwells the merchant Fromery. His servant is my very good friend. I have learned from him that his master has just purchased a beautiful black coat. I think he has about the figure of your excellency.“
„Ah, I understand,“ said Voltaire, whose countenance became clearer, „You will borrow for me, from your friend, the coat of his master?“
„Yes, if your excellency is not offended at my proposal?“
„On the contrary, I find the idea capital. Go, Tripot, and borrow the coat of Fromery.“
Voltaire returned once more to his distinguished guests, and enraptured them again by his witty slanders and brilliant conversation. As the last visitor departed, he rang for his servant.
„Well, Tripot, have you the coat?“
„I have, your excellency.“
Voltaire rubbed his hands with delight. „It seems this is a happy day for me--I make the most advantageous business arrangements.“
„But it will be necessary for your grace to try on this coat. I fear it is too large; since I saw Fromery, he has grown fat.“
„The ass!“ cried Voltaire. „How does he dare to fatten, when all the people of intellect and celebrity, like myself, grow thinner every day?“ So saying, he put on the coat of the merchant Fromery. „Yes, truly, it is far too large for me. Oh, oh! to think that the coat of a pitiful Dutch tradesman is too large for the great French poet! Well, that is because these Dutch barbarians think of nothing but gormandizing. They puff up their gross bodies with common food, and they daily become fatter; but the spirit suffers. Miserable slaves of their appetites, they are of no use themselves, and their coats are also useless!“
„Does your excellency believe that it is impossible to wear the coat?“
„Do I believe it is impossible? Look at me! Do I not look like a hungry heir in the testamentary coat of his rich cousin the brewer? Would it not be thought that I was a scarecrow, to drive the birds from the cornfields?“
At this moment Monsieur Pilleneure was announced.
„Good Heaven! I forgot to countermand the tailor!“ cried Tripot.
„That is fortunate!“ said Voltaire, calming himself. „God sends this tailor here to put an end to my vexations. This coat is good and handsome, only a little too large--the tailor will alter it immediately.“
„That will be splendid!“ said Tripot. „He will take in the seams, and to-morrow enlarge it again.“
„Not so!“ cried Voltaire. „The coat could not possibly look well; he must cut away the seams.“
„But then,“ said Tripot, hesitatingly, „Fromery could never wear his coat again.“
„Fromery will learn that Voltaire has done him the honor to borrow his coat, and I think that will be a sufficient compensation. Tell the tailor to enter.“
Thanks to the adroitness of Pilleneure, Voltaire appeared at the soiree of the queen-mother in a handsome, well-fitting black coat. No one guessed that the mourning dress of the celebrated French writer belonged to the merchant Fromery, and that the glittering diamond agraffes in his bosom, and the costly rings on his fingers, were the property of the Jew Hirsch. Voltaire's eyes were more sparkling than diamonds, and the glances which he fixed upon the Princess Amelia more glowing; her pale and earnest beauty inspired him to finer wit and richer hymns of praise.
No one dared to say that this passionate adoration offered to the princess was unbecoming and offensive to etiquette. Voltaire was the man of his age, and therefore justified in offering his worship even to a princess. He was also the favorite of the king, who allowed him privileges granted to no other man. There was one present, however, who found these words of passion and of rapture too bold, and that one was King Frederick. He had entered noiselessly and unannounced, as was his custom, and he saw, with a derisive smile, how every one surrounded Voltaire, and all were zealous in expressing their rapture over his improvised poem, and entreating him to repeat it.
„How can I repeat what I no longer know?“ said he. „An angel floated by me in the air, and, by a glance alone, she whispered words which my enraptured lips uttered as in a wild hallucination.“
„The centuries to come are to be pitied if they are to be deprived of this enchanting poem,“ said the Princess Amelia. She had remarked the entrance of the king, knew that his eye was fixed upon her, and wished to please him by flattering his beloved favorite.
„If your royal highness thinks thus, I will now write out a poem which I had designed only to recite,“ said Voltaire, seating himself at the card-table; and, taking a card and pencil, he wrote with a swift hand and handed the card, bowing profoundly.
The king, who was a silent spectator of this scene, looked at the Princess Amelia, and saw that she blushed as she read, and her brow was clouded.
„Allow me, also, to read the poem of the great Voltaire, my sister,“ said the king, drawing near.
The princess handed him the card, and while Frederick read, all stood around him in respectful silence.
„This poem is sublime,“ said the king, smiling. He saw that the princess was no longer grave, and that Voltaire breathed freely, as if relieved from a great apprehension. „This little poem is so enchanting, that you must allow me to copy it, my sister. Go on with your conversation, messieurs, it does not disturb me.“
A request from the lips of a king is a command; all exerted themselves therefore to keep up a gay and animated conversation, and to seem thoughtless and unoccupied. Frederick seated himself at the table, and read once more the poem of Voltaire, which was as follows:
„Souvent un pen de verite Se mele au plus grossier mensonge. Cette nuit dans l'erreur d'un songe, Au rang des rois j'etais monte, Je vous aimais alors, et j'osais vous le dire, Les dieux a mon reveil ne m'ont pas tout ote, Je n'ai perdu que mon empire.“
„Insolent!“ cried the king, and his scornful glance wandered away to Voltaire, who was seated near the queen engaged in lively conversation. „We will damp his ardor,“ said he, smiling; and, taking a card, he commenced writing hastily.
Truly at this moment the stem master Voltaire might have been content with his royal pupil; the rhymes were good and flowed freely. When Frederick had finished his poem, he put Voltaire's card in his bosom and drew near to the princess.
„The poem is piquant,“ said he; „read it yourself, and then ask Voltaire to read it aloud.“
Amelia looked strangely at the king, but as she read, a soft smile lighted up her lovely, melancholy face. Bowing to her brother, she said in low tones, „I thank your highness.“
„Now give the card to Voltaire, and ask him to read it,“ said the king.
Voltaire took the card, but as he read he did not smile as the princess had done--he turned pale and pressed his lips tightly together.
„Read it,“ said the king.
„I beg your pardon,“ said Voltaire, who had immediately recovered his self-possession; „this little poem, so hastily composed, was not worthy of the exalted princess to whom I dared address it. Your majesty will be graciously pleased to remember that it was born in a moment, and the next instant lost its value. As I now read it, I find it dull and trivial. You will not be so cruel as to force me to read aloud to your majesty that which I condemn utterly.“
„Oh, le coquin!“ murmured Frederick, while Voltaire, with a profound bow, placed the card in his pocket.
When the soiree was over, and Voltaire returned to his rooms, the gay and genial expression which he had so carefully maintained during the evening disappeared; and his lips, which had smiled so kindly, muttered words of cursing and bitterness. He ordered Tripot to arrange his writing-table and leave the room. Being now alone, he drew the card from his bosom, and, as if to convince himself that what he saw was truth and no cruel dream, he read aloud, but with a trembling voice:
„On remarque, pour l'ordinaire, Qu'un songe eat analoque a notre caractere, On heros peut rever, qu'il a passe le Rhin, Un chien qu'il aboie a la lune; Un joueur, qu'il a fait fortune, Un voleur, qu'il a fait butin. Mais que Voltaire, a l'aide d'un mensonge, Ose se croire roi lui que n'est qu'un faquin, Ma fois! c'est abuser du souge.“
„So I am already a scoundrel?“ said Voltaire, grinning. „My enemies triumph, and he who a short time since was called the wise man of the age, the Virgil of France, is nothing but a scoundrel! This time, I confess, I merited my humiliation, and the consciousness of this increases my rage. I am a good-humored, credulous fool. Why was I so silly as to credit the solemn protestations of the king that I should never feel his superior rank; that he would never show himself the master? If I dare to claim an equality with him for an instant, he swings his rod of correction, and I am bowed in the dust! Voltaire is not the man to bow patiently. The day shall come in which I will revenge with rich interest the degradation of this evening. But enough of anger and excitement. I will sleep; perhaps in happy dreams I shall wander from the chilly borders of the Spree to my own beautiful Paris.“
He called Tripot, and commanded him to announce to Fredersdorf that he was ill, and could not accompany the king to Potsdam in the morning.
He then retired, and the gods, perhaps, heard his prayer, and allowed him in dreams to look upon Paris, where the Marquis de Pompadour reigned supreme, and the pious priests preached against the Atheist Voltaire, to whom the great-hearted King of Prussia had given an asylum. Perhaps he saw in his dreams the seigneurie of his glittering future, and his beautiful house at Ferney, where he built a temple, with the proud inscription, „Voltaire Deo erexit!“
At all events, his dreams must have been pleasant and refreshing. He laughed in his sleep; and his countenance, which was so often clouded by base and wicked passions, was bright and clear; it was the face of a poet, who, with closed eyes, looked up into the heaven of heavens.
The morning came, and Voltaire still slept--even the rolling of the carriages aroused him but for a moment; he wrapped himself up in his warm bed. the soft eider down of his pillow closed over his head and made him invisible. Tripot came lightly upon tiptoe and removed the black coat of the merchant Fromery. Voltaire heard nothing; he slept on. And now the door was noisily opened, and a young woman, with fresh, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, entered the room; she was dressed as a chambermaid, a little white coquettish cap covered her hair, and a white apron with a little bodice was laced over her striped woollen robe. Upon her white, naked arm she carried linen which she threw carelessly upon the floor, and drew with rash steps near the bed. Voltaire still slept, and was still invisible.
The young chambermaid, believing that he had gone with the king to Potsdam, had come to arrange the room; with a quick movement she seized the bed with her sinewy hands and threw it off. A wild cry was heard! a white skeleton figure rose from the bed, now lying in the middle of the chamber, and danced about the floor with doubled fists and wild curses. The girl uttered a shriek of terror and rushed from the room; and if the form and the nightcap had not been purely white, she would have sworn she had seen the devil in person, and that she had cast him out from the bed of the great French poet. [Footnote: Thiebault, v., 281.]
Frederick felt and acknowledged this frankly and without shame, but with that smiling composure and great self-consciousness which is ever ready to do justice to others, and demands at the same time a just recognition of its own claims. Voltaire might exalt himself to the clouds, he could not depreciate the king. He often made him angry, however, and this gratified the malice of the great French author.
The other friends of Frederick looked upon this conduct of Voltaire with regret; and the Marquis d'Argens, who was of a fine and gentle nature, soon saw the daily discontent of the king, and the wicked joy of Voltaire.
„My friend,“ said he, „the king wrote a poem yesterday, which he read aloud to me this morning. He declares that there is one bad rhyme in his poem, and that it tortures him. I tried in vain to reassure him. I know that the rhyme is incorrect, but you will provoke him beyond measure if you tell him so. He has tried in vain to correct it, without impairing the sense of the passage. I have, therefore, withheld all criticism, and read to him some verses from La Fontaine, where the same fault is to be found. I have wished to convince him that the poem is worthy of praise, although not exactly conformed to rule. I beg of you, Voltaire, to follow my example.“
„And why should I do that?“ said Voltaire, in his most snarling tone.
„Because, with your severe and continual criticisms you will disgust the king, and turn him aside from his favorite pursuit. I think it important to poetry and the fine arts that the great and powerful sovereign of Prussia should love and cherish them; should exalt those who cultivate them, and, indeed, rank himself amongst them. What difference does it make, Voltaire, if a bad rhyme is to be found in the poetry of the philosopher of Sans-Souci?“ [Footnote: Thiebault, vol. v., p. 337.]
„The king wishes to learn of me how to make good poetry, and my love to him is not of that treasonable, womanly, and cowardly sort which shrinks from blaming him because it fears to wound his self-love. The king has read his poem to you, and it is your province to wonder at and praise your friend. He will read it to me as 'Pedagogo de sua Maesta.' I will be true and just, where you have dared to flatter him.“
Never was Voltaire more severe in his criticism, more cutting in his satire, than to-day. His eyes sparkled with malicious joy, and a wicked smile played still upon his lip as he left the king and returned to his own apartment.
„Ah,“ said he, seating himself at his writing-table, with a loud laugh, „I shall write well to-day, for I have had a lesson. Frederick does not know how far he is my benefactor. In correcting him, I correct myself; and in directing his studies, I gain strength and judgment for my own works. [Footnote: Voltaire's own words.-- Oeuvres, p. 363.] I will now write a Chapter in my History of Louis XIV. My style will be good. The Chapter which I have read this morning, in Frederick's 'Histoire de Mon Temps' has taught me what faults to avoid. Yes, I will write of Louis XIV. Truly I owe him some compensation. King Frederick has had the naivete to compare his great grandfather, the so-called great Prince-Elector, to the great Louis. I was amiable enough to pardon him for this little compliment to his ancestors, and not to strike it from his 'Histoire.' And, indeed, why should I have done that? The world will not be so foolish as to charge this amusing weakness to me! After all, the king writes but for himself, and a few false, flattering friends; he can, therefore, say what he will. I, however, I write for France-- for the world! But I fear, alas, that fools will condemn me, because I have sought to write as a wise man.“ [Footnote: CEuvres, p. 341.]
Voltaire commenced to write, but, he was soon interrupted by his servant, Tripot, who announced that the Jew Hirsch, for whom Voltaire had sent, was at the door. Voltaire rose hastily, and called him to enter.
„I have business with you, my friend,“ said he to the Jew. „Close the door, Tripot, and see that we are not disturbed.“
Voltaire hastened with youthful agility through the saloon, and beckoned to the Jew to follow him into his bedroom.
„First of all, friend, we will make a small mercantile operation.“ So saying, he opened the door of a large commode. „See, here are twelve pounds of the purest wax-lights. I am a poor man, with weak eyes. I have no use for these lights; I can never hope to profit by them. Here, also, are several pounds of sugar and coffee, the savings of the last two months. You will buy all this of me; we will agree upon a fixed price, and the last day of every month you will come for the same purpose. Name your price, sir.“
Hirsch named his price; but it seemed that the great poet understood how to bargain better than the Jew. He knew exactly the worth of the sugar and the coffee, he spoke so eloquently of the beauty and purity of the thick white wax-lights, that the Hebrew increased his offer,
„And now to more important business,“ said Voltaire. „You are going to Dresden--you will there execute a commission for me. I wish to invest eighteen thousand thalers in Saxon bonds. They can now be purchased at thirty-five, and will be redeemed at a hundred.“
„But your excellency knows that the king has forbidden his subjects to buy these bonds. He demanded and obtained for his subjects a pledge that they should be paid at par for the bonds they now hold, while the subjects of the King of Saxony receive only their present value. The king promised, however, that the Prussians should make no further investments in these bonds. You see, then, that it is impossible for me to fulfil this commission.“
„I see that you are a fool!“ cried Voltaire, angrily. „If you were not a fool, you would know that Voltaire, the chamberlain of the king, would not undertake a business transaction which would stain his reputation or cast a shadow on his name. When Voltaire makes this investment, you can understand that he is authorized to do so.“
„That being the case,“ said Hirsch, humbly, „I am entirely satisfied, and will gladly serve your excellency.“
„If you fill this commission handsomely and promptly, you may feel assured of a reward. Are you ambitious? Would you not like a title?“
„Certainly I am ambitious. I should be truly happy if I could obtain the title of 'royal court agent.'„
„Well, buy these bonds for me in Dresden cheap, and you shall have this coveted title,“ said the noble author of the „Henriade,“ and other world-renowned works.
„I will buy them at thirty-five thalers.“
„And you will invest eighteen thousand thalers at this rate. Our contract is made; now we will count the gold. I have not the ready money--I will give you drafts--come into my study.--There are three drafts,“ said he, „one on Paris, one on your father, and one on the Jew Ephraim. Get them cashed, good Hirsch, and bring me my Saxon bonds.“
„In eight days, your excellency, I will return with them, and you will have a clear profit of eleven thousand thalers.“
Voltaire's eyes sparkled with joy. „Eleven thousand thalers!“ said he; „for a poor poet, who lives by his wits and his pen, that is a considerable sum.“
„You will realize that sum,“ said Hirsch, with the solemn earnestness of a Jew when he has made a good trade.
Hirsch was about to withdraw, but Voltaire hastened after him, and seizing his arm, he cried out threateningly: „You are not going without giving me your note? You do not think that I am such a fool as to give you eighteen thousand thalers, and have nothing to prove it?“
„You excellency has my word of honor,“ said the Jew, earnestly.
Voltaire laughed aloud. „Your word! the honorable word of a man for eighteen thousand thalers! My dear friend, we do not live in paradise, but in a so-called Christian city--your worthy forefathers obtained for us this privilege. Do you believe that I will trust one of their descendants? Who will go my security that you will not, nail my innocence and my confiding heart upon the cross, and slay them if I should be unsuspicious enough to trust my money with you in this simple way?“
„I will give you ample security,“ said Hirsch, taking a morocco case from his pocket. „I did not know why your excellency sent for me. I thought perhaps you wished to buy diamonds, and brought some along with me. Look, sir! here are diamonds worth twenty-two thousand thalers! I will leave them with you--I, the poor Jew, do not fear that the great poet Voltaire will deceive and betray me.“
„These diamonds are beautiful,“ said Voltaire--“very beautiful, and perhaps if my speculation succeeds, I may buy some from you. Until then, I will take care of them.“
Voltaire was about to lock them up, but he paused suddenly, and fixed his eyes upon the calm countenance of the Jew.
„How do I know that these are real diamonds?“ he cried; and as Hirsch, exasperated by this base suspicion, frowned and turned pale, he exclaimed fiercely: „The diamonds are false! I know it by your terror. Oh, oh, you thought that a poet was a good, credulous creature who could be easily deceived. Ah! you thought I had heard nothing of those famous lapidaries in St. Germain, who cut diamonds from glass, and cook up in their laboratories the rarest jewels! Yes, yes, I know all these arts, and all the brewing of St. Germain will not suffice to deceive me.“
„These diamonds are pure!“ cried Hirsch.
„We will have them tested by a Christian jeweller,“ said Voltaire.-- „Tripot! Tripot! run quickly to the jeweller Reclam--beg him to come to me for a few moments.“
Tripot soon returned with Reclam. The diamonds were pronounced pure and of the first water; and the jeweller declared they were fully worth twenty-two thousand thalers. Voltaire was now fully satisfied, and, when once more alone, he looked long and rapturously upon these glittering stones.
„What woman can boast of such dazzling fire in her eyes?“ said he, laughing; „what woman can say that their color is worth twenty-two thousand thalers? It is true they glisten and shimmer in all lights and shades--that is their weakness and their folly. With you, beautiful gems! these changing hues are a virtue. Oh, to think that with this handful of flashing stones I could buy a bag of ducats! How dull and stupid are mankind--how wise is God! Sinking those diamonds in the bowels of the earth was a good speculation. They are truffles to tempt the snouts of men; and they root after them as zealously as the swine in Perigord root after the true truffles. Gold! gold! that is the magic word with which the world is ruled. I will have gold--I will rule the world. I will not give place to dukes or princes. I will have my seigneuries and my castles; my servants in rich livery, and my obedient subjects. I will be a grand seigneur. Kings and princes shall visit me in my castle, and wait in my antechamber, as I have been compelled to wait in theirs. I will be rich that I may be every man's master, even master of the fools. I will enslave the wise by my intellect--I will reduce the foolish to bondage with gold. I must be rich! rich! rich! therefore am I here; therefore do I correct the poor rhymes of the king; therefore do I live now as a modest poet, and add copper to copper, and save my pension of five thousand thalers, and sell my wax-lights and my coffee to the Jew. Let the world call me a miser. When I become rich, I will be a spendthrift: and men who are now envious and angry at my fame shall burst with rage at my fortune. Ah, ah, it is not worth the cost to be a celebrated writer! There are too many humiliations connected with this doubtful social position. It gives no rank--it is a pitiful thing in the eyes of those who have actual standing, and is only envied by those who are unnoticed and unknown. For my own part, I am so exhausted by the discomforts of my position, I would gladly cast it from me, and make for myself what the canaille call a good thing--an enormous fortune. I will scrape together all the gold that is possible. I will give for gold all the honor and freedom and fame which come to me. I am a rich gainer in all these things by my residence with King Frederick. He has this virtue: he is unprejudiced, and cares nothing even for his own royal rank. I will therefore remain in this haven, whither the storms, which have so long driven me from shore to shore, have now safely moored me. My happiness will last just as long as God pleases.“ [Footnote: Voltaire's own words.--Oeuvres, p. 110.]
He laughed heartily, and took his cash-book, in which he entered receipts and expenditures. It was Voltaire's greatest pleasure to add up his accounts from time to time, and gloat over the growth of his fortune; to compare, day by day, his receipts and expenses, and to find that a handsome sum was almost daily placed to his credit. The smallest necessary expenditure angered him. With a dark frown he said to himself: „It is unjust and mean to require of me to buy provender for my horse, and to have my carriage repaired; if the king furnishes me with an equipage, he should not allow it to be any expense to me. The major-domo is an old miser, who cheats me every month out of some pounds of sugar and coffee, and the wax-lights are becoming thinner and poorer. I will complain to King Frederick of all this; he must see that order prevails in his palace.“
Voltaire closed his account-book, and murmured: „When I have an income of a hundred and fifty thousand francs, I will cease to economize. God be praised, I have almost reached the goal! But,“ said he, impatiently, „in order to effect this, I must remain here a few years, and add my pension to my income. Nothing must prevent this--I must overcome every obstacle. What! who can hinder me? my so-called friends, who naturally are my most bitter enemies? Ha, ha! what a romantic idea of this genial king to assemble six friends around him at Sans-Souci, the most of them being authors--that is to say, natural enemies! I believe if two authors, two women, or two pietists, were placed alone upon a desert isle, they would forget their dependence upon each other, and commence intriguing at once. This, alas! is humanity, and being so, one must withdraw from the poor affair advantageously and cunningly. [Footnote: Voltaire, Oeuvres, p. 375.] No one can live peacefully in this world; least of all, in the neighborhood of a king. It is with kings as with coquettes, their glances kindle jealousy--and Frederick is a great coquette. I must, therefore, drive my rivals from the field, and enjoy in peace the favor of the king. Now which of my rivals are dangerous to me? All! all! I must banish them all! I will sow such discontent and rage and malice and strife amongst them, that they will fly in hot haste, and thank God if I do not bite off their noses before they escape. I will turn this, their laughing paradise, into a hell, and I will be the devil to chase them with glowing pitchforks. Yes, even to Siberia will I drive this long-legged peacock, Maupertius--him, first of all; then D'Argens, then Algarotti, then this over-wise and good Lord Marshal, and all others like him! When Voltaire's sun is in the ascendant, not even stars shall glitter; It shall not be! I will prove to them that Voltaire's fiery rays have burned them to ashes!“ [Footnote: Voltaire, OEuvres, p. 378.]
He laughed aloud, and seated himself to write a poem. He was invited that evening to a soiree by the queen-mother, where he wished to shine as an improvisator. Above all other things, he wished to win the heart of the Princess Amelia. Since she had played the part of Aurelia, in „Rome Sauvee,“ he had felt a passion for the princess, who had betrayed to the life the ardor and the pains of love, and whose great flaming eyes seemed, from their mysterious depths, to rouse the soul of the poet. Voltaire had promised the Princess Amelia to improvise upon any subject she should select, and he relied upon his cunning to incline her choice in such a direction as to make the poem he was now writing appropriate and seem impromptu.
While thus occupied, his servant entered and announced a number of distinguished gentlemen, who were in the parlor, and wished to make the great author a morning visit. „Let them all wait!“ said Voltaire, angrily; declaring that this disturbance had cost him a piquant rhyme.
„But, gracious sir,“ stammered the servant, „some of the most distinguished men of the court and the oldest generals, are there!“
„What do I care for their epaulets or their excellencies? Let them wait, or go to the devil--if they prefer it.“
Well, the eminent gentlemen waited; indeed, they waited patiently, until the great Voltaire, the favorite of the king, the universal French author, in his pride and arrogance was graciously pleased to show himself amongst the Dutch barbarians, and allow some rays of his intellect to fall upon and inspire them!
The saloon was indeed crowded with princes, generals, and nobles. Voltaire had just returned to Berlin from Potsdam, and all hastened to pay their respects and commend themselves to his grace and favor. [Footnote: Forney writes thus in his „Memoirs“: „During the winter months which Voltaire spent in the palace of Berlin, he was the favorite of the court. Princes, ambassadors, ministers, generals, nobles of the highest rank went to his morning receptions, and were often received by him with contemptuous scorn. A great prince was pleased to play chess with him, and allowed him every time to win the stake of two louis d'or. It was declared, however, that sometimes the gold disappeared before the end of the game, and could not be found.“--“Souvenirs d'un Citoyen.“]
Voltaire was very gracious this morning. As he was to play the part of improvisator that night, he thought it politic to make favor with all those who would be present. He hoped that all the world would thunder out their enraptured applause, and that Maupertius, D'Argens, Algarotti, La Mettrie, and all other friends of the king, would be filled with envy and rage. He smiled, therefore, benignantly, and had kind and flattering words for all. His bon-mots and piquant witticisms seemed inexhaustible.
Suddenly his servant drew near, and said it was necessary to speak to him on a matter of great importance. Voltaire turned with a winning smile to his guests, and, praying them to wait for his return, entered his private room.
„Well, Tripot, what have you to say that is important?“
„Gracious sir, the court is in mourning.“
Voltaire looked at him enraged. „Fool! what is that to me?“
„It is of the utmost importance to you, sir, if you are going this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother.“
„Will you run me mad, Tripot? What has the court mourning to do with the queen's soiree?“
„Gracious sir, the explanation is very simple. When the court is in mourning, no one can appear there in embroidered clothes; you must wear a plain black coat.“
„I have no plain black coat,“ said Voltaire, with a frowning brow.
„It is necessary, then, for you to order one, and I have sent Monsieur Pilleneure to come and take your measure.“
„Are you insane, Tripot?“ cried Voltaire. „Do you regard me as so vile a spendthrift, so brainless a fool, as to order a new coat for the sake of one evening's amusement--a coat which will cost an immense sum of money, and must then hang in the wardrobe to be destroyed by moths? In eight days this mourning will be over, and I would be several hundred francs poorer, and possess a black coat I could never wear! I will not go this evening to the soiree of the queen-mother; this is decided. I will announce myself sick. Go and countermand the tailor.“
He turned to leave the room, but paused suddenly. „I cannot decline this invitation,“ murmured he. „It is widely known that I have promised to improvise. The world is looking on eagerly. If I do not go, or if I announce myself sick, they will say I shrink from this ordeal. My enemies will triumph!--Tripot, I am obliged to go to the soiree of the queen.“
„Then the tailor must come to take your measure?“
„Fool!“ cried Voltaire, stamping furiously. „I have told you I have no gold for such follies. Gather up your small amount of understanding, and think of some other expedient.“
„Well, your excellency. I know a mode of escape from this embarrassment, but I scarcely dare propose it.“
„Speak out--any means are good which attain their object.“
„Below, in the court, dwells the merchant Fromery. His servant is my very good friend. I have learned from him that his master has just purchased a beautiful black coat. I think he has about the figure of your excellency.“
„Ah, I understand,“ said Voltaire, whose countenance became clearer, „You will borrow for me, from your friend, the coat of his master?“
„Yes, if your excellency is not offended at my proposal?“
„On the contrary, I find the idea capital. Go, Tripot, and borrow the coat of Fromery.“
Voltaire returned once more to his distinguished guests, and enraptured them again by his witty slanders and brilliant conversation. As the last visitor departed, he rang for his servant.
„Well, Tripot, have you the coat?“
„I have, your excellency.“
Voltaire rubbed his hands with delight. „It seems this is a happy day for me--I make the most advantageous business arrangements.“
„But it will be necessary for your grace to try on this coat. I fear it is too large; since I saw Fromery, he has grown fat.“
„The ass!“ cried Voltaire. „How does he dare to fatten, when all the people of intellect and celebrity, like myself, grow thinner every day?“ So saying, he put on the coat of the merchant Fromery. „Yes, truly, it is far too large for me. Oh, oh! to think that the coat of a pitiful Dutch tradesman is too large for the great French poet! Well, that is because these Dutch barbarians think of nothing but gormandizing. They puff up their gross bodies with common food, and they daily become fatter; but the spirit suffers. Miserable slaves of their appetites, they are of no use themselves, and their coats are also useless!“
„Does your excellency believe that it is impossible to wear the coat?“
„Do I believe it is impossible? Look at me! Do I not look like a hungry heir in the testamentary coat of his rich cousin the brewer? Would it not be thought that I was a scarecrow, to drive the birds from the cornfields?“
At this moment Monsieur Pilleneure was announced.
„Good Heaven! I forgot to countermand the tailor!“ cried Tripot.
„That is fortunate!“ said Voltaire, calming himself. „God sends this tailor here to put an end to my vexations. This coat is good and handsome, only a little too large--the tailor will alter it immediately.“
„That will be splendid!“ said Tripot. „He will take in the seams, and to-morrow enlarge it again.“
„Not so!“ cried Voltaire. „The coat could not possibly look well; he must cut away the seams.“
„But then,“ said Tripot, hesitatingly, „Fromery could never wear his coat again.“
„Fromery will learn that Voltaire has done him the honor to borrow his coat, and I think that will be a sufficient compensation. Tell the tailor to enter.“
Thanks to the adroitness of Pilleneure, Voltaire appeared at the soiree of the queen-mother in a handsome, well-fitting black coat. No one guessed that the mourning dress of the celebrated French writer belonged to the merchant Fromery, and that the glittering diamond agraffes in his bosom, and the costly rings on his fingers, were the property of the Jew Hirsch. Voltaire's eyes were more sparkling than diamonds, and the glances which he fixed upon the Princess Amelia more glowing; her pale and earnest beauty inspired him to finer wit and richer hymns of praise.
No one dared to say that this passionate adoration offered to the princess was unbecoming and offensive to etiquette. Voltaire was the man of his age, and therefore justified in offering his worship even to a princess. He was also the favorite of the king, who allowed him privileges granted to no other man. There was one present, however, who found these words of passion and of rapture too bold, and that one was King Frederick. He had entered noiselessly and unannounced, as was his custom, and he saw, with a derisive smile, how every one surrounded Voltaire, and all were zealous in expressing their rapture over his improvised poem, and entreating him to repeat it.
„How can I repeat what I no longer know?“ said he. „An angel floated by me in the air, and, by a glance alone, she whispered words which my enraptured lips uttered as in a wild hallucination.“
„The centuries to come are to be pitied if they are to be deprived of this enchanting poem,“ said the Princess Amelia. She had remarked the entrance of the king, knew that his eye was fixed upon her, and wished to please him by flattering his beloved favorite.
„If your royal highness thinks thus, I will now write out a poem which I had designed only to recite,“ said Voltaire, seating himself at the card-table; and, taking a card and pencil, he wrote with a swift hand and handed the card, bowing profoundly.
The king, who was a silent spectator of this scene, looked at the Princess Amelia, and saw that she blushed as she read, and her brow was clouded.
„Allow me, also, to read the poem of the great Voltaire, my sister,“ said the king, drawing near.
The princess handed him the card, and while Frederick read, all stood around him in respectful silence.
„This poem is sublime,“ said the king, smiling. He saw that the princess was no longer grave, and that Voltaire breathed freely, as if relieved from a great apprehension. „This little poem is so enchanting, that you must allow me to copy it, my sister. Go on with your conversation, messieurs, it does not disturb me.“
A request from the lips of a king is a command; all exerted themselves therefore to keep up a gay and animated conversation, and to seem thoughtless and unoccupied. Frederick seated himself at the table, and read once more the poem of Voltaire, which was as follows:
„Souvent un pen de verite Se mele au plus grossier mensonge. Cette nuit dans l'erreur d'un songe, Au rang des rois j'etais monte, Je vous aimais alors, et j'osais vous le dire, Les dieux a mon reveil ne m'ont pas tout ote, Je n'ai perdu que mon empire.“
„Insolent!“ cried the king, and his scornful glance wandered away to Voltaire, who was seated near the queen engaged in lively conversation. „We will damp his ardor,“ said he, smiling; and, taking a card, he commenced writing hastily.
Truly at this moment the stem master Voltaire might have been content with his royal pupil; the rhymes were good and flowed freely. When Frederick had finished his poem, he put Voltaire's card in his bosom and drew near to the princess.
„The poem is piquant,“ said he; „read it yourself, and then ask Voltaire to read it aloud.“
Amelia looked strangely at the king, but as she read, a soft smile lighted up her lovely, melancholy face. Bowing to her brother, she said in low tones, „I thank your highness.“
„Now give the card to Voltaire, and ask him to read it,“ said the king.
Voltaire took the card, but as he read he did not smile as the princess had done--he turned pale and pressed his lips tightly together.
„Read it,“ said the king.
„I beg your pardon,“ said Voltaire, who had immediately recovered his self-possession; „this little poem, so hastily composed, was not worthy of the exalted princess to whom I dared address it. Your majesty will be graciously pleased to remember that it was born in a moment, and the next instant lost its value. As I now read it, I find it dull and trivial. You will not be so cruel as to force me to read aloud to your majesty that which I condemn utterly.“
„Oh, le coquin!“ murmured Frederick, while Voltaire, with a profound bow, placed the card in his pocket.
When the soiree was over, and Voltaire returned to his rooms, the gay and genial expression which he had so carefully maintained during the evening disappeared; and his lips, which had smiled so kindly, muttered words of cursing and bitterness. He ordered Tripot to arrange his writing-table and leave the room. Being now alone, he drew the card from his bosom, and, as if to convince himself that what he saw was truth and no cruel dream, he read aloud, but with a trembling voice:
„On remarque, pour l'ordinaire, Qu'un songe eat analoque a notre caractere, On heros peut rever, qu'il a passe le Rhin, Un chien qu'il aboie a la lune; Un joueur, qu'il a fait fortune, Un voleur, qu'il a fait butin. Mais que Voltaire, a l'aide d'un mensonge, Ose se croire roi lui que n'est qu'un faquin, Ma fois! c'est abuser du souge.“
„So I am already a scoundrel?“ said Voltaire, grinning. „My enemies triumph, and he who a short time since was called the wise man of the age, the Virgil of France, is nothing but a scoundrel! This time, I confess, I merited my humiliation, and the consciousness of this increases my rage. I am a good-humored, credulous fool. Why was I so silly as to credit the solemn protestations of the king that I should never feel his superior rank; that he would never show himself the master? If I dare to claim an equality with him for an instant, he swings his rod of correction, and I am bowed in the dust! Voltaire is not the man to bow patiently. The day shall come in which I will revenge with rich interest the degradation of this evening. But enough of anger and excitement. I will sleep; perhaps in happy dreams I shall wander from the chilly borders of the Spree to my own beautiful Paris.“
He called Tripot, and commanded him to announce to Fredersdorf that he was ill, and could not accompany the king to Potsdam in the morning.
He then retired, and the gods, perhaps, heard his prayer, and allowed him in dreams to look upon Paris, where the Marquis de Pompadour reigned supreme, and the pious priests preached against the Atheist Voltaire, to whom the great-hearted King of Prussia had given an asylum. Perhaps he saw in his dreams the seigneurie of his glittering future, and his beautiful house at Ferney, where he built a temple, with the proud inscription, „Voltaire Deo erexit!“
At all events, his dreams must have been pleasant and refreshing. He laughed in his sleep; and his countenance, which was so often clouded by base and wicked passions, was bright and clear; it was the face of a poet, who, with closed eyes, looked up into the heaven of heavens.
The morning came, and Voltaire still slept--even the rolling of the carriages aroused him but for a moment; he wrapped himself up in his warm bed. the soft eider down of his pillow closed over his head and made him invisible. Tripot came lightly upon tiptoe and removed the black coat of the merchant Fromery. Voltaire heard nothing; he slept on. And now the door was noisily opened, and a young woman, with fresh, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, entered the room; she was dressed as a chambermaid, a little white coquettish cap covered her hair, and a white apron with a little bodice was laced over her striped woollen robe. Upon her white, naked arm she carried linen which she threw carelessly upon the floor, and drew with rash steps near the bed. Voltaire still slept, and was still invisible.
The young chambermaid, believing that he had gone with the king to Potsdam, had come to arrange the room; with a quick movement she seized the bed with her sinewy hands and threw it off. A wild cry was heard! a white skeleton figure rose from the bed, now lying in the middle of the chamber, and danced about the floor with doubled fists and wild curses. The girl uttered a shriek of terror and rushed from the room; and if the form and the nightcap had not been purely white, she would have sworn she had seen the devil in person, and that she had cast him out from the bed of the great French poet. [Footnote: Thiebault, v., 281.]
Dieses Kapitel ist Teil des Buches Berlin and Sans-Souci; or, Frederick the Great and his friends. Book IV.