(_For the Mirror_.)
During the rage of the last continental war in Europe, occasion--no matter
what--called an honest Yorkshire squire to take a journey to Warsaw.
Untravelled and unknowing, he provided himself no passport: his business
concerned himself alone, and what had foreign nations to do with him? His
route lay through the states of neutral and contending powers. He landed
in Holland--passed the usual examination; but, insisting that the affairs
which brought him there were of a private nature, he was
imprisoned--questioned--sifted;--and appearing to be incapable of design,
was at length permitted to pursue his journey.
To the officer of the guard who conducted him to the frontiers he made
frequent complaints of the loss he should sustain by the delay. He swore
it was uncivil, and unfriendly, and ungenerous: five hundred Dutchmen
might have travelled through Great Britain without a question,--they never
questioned any stranger in Great Britain, nor stopped him, nor imprisoned
him, nor guarded him.
Roused from his native phlegm by these reflections on the police of his
country, the officer slowly drew the pipe from his mouth, and emitting the
smoke, "Mynheer," said he, "when you first set your foot on the land of
the Seven United Provinces, you should have declared you came hither on
affairs of commerce;" and replacing his pipe, relapsed into immovable
taciturnity.
Released from this unsocial companion, he soon arrived at a French post,
where the sentinel of the advanced guard requested the honour of his
permission to ask for his passports. On his failing to produce any, he was
entreated to pardon the liberty he took of conducting him to the
commandant--but it was his duty, and he must, however reluctantly, perform
it.
Monsieur le Commandant received him with cold and pompous politeness. He
made the usual inquiries; and our traveller, determined to avoid the error
which had produced such inconvenience, replied that commercial concerns
drew him to the continent. "Ma foi," said the commandant, "c'est un
negotiant, un bourgeois"--take him away to the citadel, we will examine
him to-morrow, at present we must dress for the comedie--"Allons."
"Monsieur," said the sentinel, as he conducted him to the guard-room, "you
should not have mentioned commerce to Monsieur le Commandant; no gentleman
in France disgraces himself with trade--we despise traffic; you should
have informed Monsieur le Commandant, that you entered the dominions of
the Grand Monarque to improve in dancing, or in singing, or in dressing:
arms are the profession of a man of fashion, and glory and accomplishments
his pursuits--Vive le Roi."
He had the honour of passing the night with a French guard, and the next
day was dismissed. Proceeding on his journey, he fell in with a detachment
of German Chasseurs. They demanded his name, quality, and business. He
came he said to dance, and to sing, and to dress. "He is a Frenchman,"
said the corporal--"A spy!" cries the sergeant. He was directed to mount
behind a dragoon, and carried to the camp.
There he was soon discharged; but not without a word of advice. "We
Germans," said the officer, "eat, drink, and smoke: these are our
favourite employments; and had you informed the dragoons you followed no
other business, you would have saved them, me, and yourself, infinite
trouble."
He soon approached the Prussian dominions, where his examination was still
more strict; and on answering that his only designs were to eat, and to
drink, and to smoke--"To eat! and to drink! and to smoke!" exclaimed the
officer with astonishment. "Sir, you must he forwarded to Postdam--war is
the only business of mankind." The acute and penetrating Frederick soon
comprehended the character of our traveller, and gave him a passport under
his own hand. "It is an ignorant, an innocent Englishman," says the
veteran; "the English are unacquainted with military duties; when they
want a general they borrow him of me."
At the barriers of Saxony he was again interrogated. "I am a soldier,"
said our traveller, "behold the passport of the first warrior of the
age."--"You are a pupil of the destroyer of millions," replied the
sentinel, "we must send you to Dresden; and, hark'e, sir, conceal your
passport, as you would avoid being torn to pieces by those whose husbands,
sons, and relations have been wantonly sacrificed at the shrine of
Prussian ambition." A second examination at Dresden cleared him of
suspicion.
Arrived at the frontiers of Poland, he flattered himself his troubles were
at an end; but he reckoned without his host.
"Your business in Poland?" interrogated the officer.
"I really don't know, sir."
"Not know your own business, sir!" resumed the officer; "I must conduct
you to the Starost."
"For the love of God," said the wearied traveller, "take pity on me. I
have been imprisoned in Holland for being desirous to keep my own affairs
to myself;--I have been confined all night in a French guard-house, for
declaring myself a merchant;--I have been compelled to ride seven miles
behind a German dragoon, for professing myself a man of pleasure;--I have
been carried fifty miles a prisoner in Prussia, for acknowledging my
attachment to ease and good living;--I have been threatened with
assassination in Saxony, for avowing myself a warrior. If you will have
the goodness to let me know how I may render such an account of myself as
not to give offence, I shall ever consider you as my friend and protector."