would be wanting to that account of my travels which I was preparing to lay before the public. And why, said I to myself, should I not write it in the Treckschute ? And I set about it accordingly.

PREFACE:

IN THE TRECKSCHUTE.

EVERY man, on setting out on his travels, should divest himself as much as possible of national prejudices. If he departs with that extreme partiality and love of country which is so peculiar to the untravelled Englishman, scarcely a single object, in his eyes, ever wears its natural appearance-all is uniformly wrong. His narrative, if he publishes any, is evidently tinctured by it; and if any one endeavours to set him right, he considers it as arraigning his want of taste.

Now, this is a matter to which the literary traveller, above all others, should be particularly attentive. He who means to give his observations to the world should be careful not to mislead. To guard against this, let him not allow himself to be deceived: let him view the people whose character he means to delineate, with an inquiring but philosophic eye; and if he discovers any thing in their manners which may particularly excite his disgust, let him not examine into the state of their atmosphere, but into their polity and mode of rule.

I have been led into this reflection, by observing that the Hollander is usually represented as rude and boisterous in his manners, because he lives in 52 degrees north; and the Italian soft and effeminate, because he happens to be a few degrees to the southward of him.

Speculative men are very apt to cherish this mistake. Nothing, however, can be more erreonous than the

Volt. This, perhaps, would, by your enemies, be termed a species of vain-glory; but, I think, with little reason: it is sometimes allowable, even on earth, for a man to speak on the subject of his own particular excellences.

Fred. True; and yet it should be only permitted when the world is backward, or niggardly in the praise of extraordinary merit; of which the possessor is thoroughly conscious.

Volt. Such as that of the très célèbre et très renommé Voltaire.

Fred. Somewhat in my own style, I must confess;but proceed. I never was an enemy to raillery, you know; la raillerie fine et délicate.

Volt. I met with much of it at Sans Souci; it was there I found faceta et elegans ironia, as the Roman orator expresses it, and this was at all times particularly gratifying; it was there I projected La Pucelle d'Orléans : pray, what is what is your opinion of that performance?

Fred. Merum sal, as Addison observed on a poem of Pope's; admirably facetious, and exquisitely poignant.

Volt. I must now, in turn, commend you for your ingenuousness: for as we were originally sincere in our friendship, so, I believe, we should have remained, had it not been that you were a man of letters as well as of war; as I was for reigning over the literary world with despotic sway, I could ill endure" a brother near the throne."

Fred. Ha! I knew not so much when in our earthly state, or I might have been tempted to repeat to you, with England's divinity, Shakspeare,—

I charge thee, fling away ambition;

By that sin fell the angels.

Volt. How little is man acquainted with himself: is it Frederick the Second, of Prussia, who speaks? Has he already forgotten the "ill-weaved ambition" which was so long entwisted around his heart?

Fred. The kingly part of my character has been generally mistaken: I no doubt felt the force of ambition; but it was not the ambition which excites to conquest; it was that which prompts to the preservation, and with honour, of one's essential and indefeasible rights. I had said, in my Anti-Machiavel, written, you may remember, when I was prince of Prussia, that "the new conquests of a sovereign do not render the dominions he possessed before more opulent nor more prosperous." Thus I spoke,—and such have ever been my sentiments: ambition is not, by consequence, a vice; on the contrary, under proper regulations, and in particular circumstances, it becomes a virtue.

Volt. Agreed; and in the arts of peace

Fred. Ay, there I was indeed a cormorant of praise. To render his people happy, by adding to the natural advantages of a country, is surely befitting a king.— How, for instance, did the general face of Prussia appear to you?

Volt. Sometimes I thought myself in the orchards of Alcinous; then again, in the gardens of Adonis; so admirably and so carefully were the useful and the elegant blended and scattered around.

Fred. And my own domains, my palaces, and my pleasure-grounds, what were your opinion of these?

Volt. Residences for the immortal gods! and where we, in some degree, tasted of the happiness we now enjoy.

Fred. And where wit, you may remember, flew about as though Apollo had presided at the board.

Volt. The symposiacs, at Potsdam, were indeed remarkably brilliant; but when the ophthalmus is remembered, that brilliancy will cease to surprise. With respect to yourself, I must observe,-while acknowledging the supremacy of your wit-that a satirical vein was sometimes too freely indulged in. There is a sort of cruelty in placing a man at one's table for no other purpose than to make him the butt of the

man.

company: Polnitz and others experienced a good deal of this at your hands. The celebrated Lord Bacon has made a remark or two in point: "Speech of touch, towards others, should be sparingly used; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming home to any I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his house; the other would ask of those that had been at his table, 'Tell truly was there never a flout or dry blow given?' To which the guest would answer, such and such a thing passed. The lord would say, I thought he would mar a good dinner; discretion of speech is more than eloquence; and to speak agreeably to him with whom we deal is more than to speak in good words or in good order.'"

Fred. Thus the matter stands; my raillery was frequently mistaken for ridicule; but I had never any intention to offend.

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Volt. Let us attend to the reasoning of Montesquieu on this very subject: "Princes," says that elegant writer, ought to be extremely circumspect in point of raillery ; it pleases, when moderate, because it opens the way to familiarity; but biting raillery is less excusable in them than in the meanest of their subjects, for it is they alone that give a mortal wound."

Fred. I stand reproved: this, however, comes with very little grace from the Philosopher of Ferney; he who had frequently all the bitterness of Diogenes himself, and who spared not even his particular friends.

Volt. Such was my failing I honestly confess; yet you must remember that as I was not a king, so the people attacked by me might freely retort.

Fred. Few of the gentry in question, however, were displeased with this my freedom. I rewarded them for the entertainment they afforded me; some I paid with burgundy and some with praise; but still the practice is not to be defended; I feel the force of the objection now.

Volt. I must, at the same time, take occasion to

remark, that a spirit of raillery is not very frequently the failing of kings; austerity and moroseness are generally the principal features in their character.

Fred. The happy mean, my friend, is not very easily attained; gravity is pronounced pride, and freedom of speech is declared insolence.

Volt. This, indeed, is observed in ordinary life; but princes, I believe, are seldom reproached with either.

Fred. Plutarch, however, has remarked it of some of his heroes; many of whom, you must acknowledge, were, at least, deserving to be ranked with kings.

Volt. Sovereignty is rather lightly treated by you, methinks.

Fred. Why true: the modern monarch, with his Sainte Ampoule, had never any favour in my sight. I formerly acquainted you with my sentiments as to the duties of a king; yet, as they are very probably forgotten by you, it may not be altogether impertinent to repeat them now: "Un souverain, grand ou petit, peut être regardé comme un homme dont l'emploi est de rémédier autant qu'il est en son pouvoir aux misères humaines : il est comme le médécin qui guérit, non pas les maladies du corps, mais les malheurs de ses sujets. La voix des malheureux, les gémissemens des misérables, les cris des opprimés, doivent parvenir jusqu'à lui: soit par pitié pour les autres, soit par un certain retour sur soi-même, il doit être touché de la triste situation de ceux dont il voit les misères; et, pour peu que son cœur soit tendre, les malheureux trouveront chez lui toute la compassion dont ils ont besoin. Un prince est, par rapport à son peuple, ce que le cœur est à l'égard de la structure mécanique du corps; il reçoit le sang de tous les membres, et il le repousse jusqu'aux extrémités; il reçoit la fidélité et l'obéissance de ses sujets, et il leur rend l'abondance, la prospérité, la tranquillité, et tout ce qui peut contribuer aux biens et à l'accroissement de la société..... L'humanité, cette vertu si récommandable, et qui renferme toutes les autres, devrait,