Voltaire in Berlin might be trusted to remain discreet. In Paris his
discretion could not be counted on. Frederick wanted the poem in his
own hands.
There was delay in the matter; references to Frederick and returns; the
affair dragged on slowly. The package arrived. Voltaire, agitated at his
detention, ill and anxious, wanted to get away, in company with Madame
Denis, who had just joined him. Freytag refused to let him go. Very
unwisely, the poet determined to slip away, imagining that in a "free
city" like Frankfort he could not be disturbed. He was mistaken. The
freedom of Frankfort was subject to the will of Frederick. The poet
tells for himself what followed.
"The moment I was off, I was arrested, I, my secretary and my people; my
niece is arrested; four soldiers drag her through the mud to a
cheesemonger's named Smith, who had some title or other of privy
councillor to the King of Prussia; my niece had a passport from the King
of France, and, what is more, she had never corrected the King of
Prussia's verses. They huddled us all into a sort of hostelry, at the
door of which were posted a dozen soldiers; we were for twelve days
prisoners of war, and we had to pay a hundred and forty crowns a day.
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