Frederick looked astonished and highly diverted. This assumption of
the learned scholar, "to change all that," impressed him through its
immensity. [Footnote: Many years afterward the king repeated this
declaration of Gottsched to the Duchess of Gotha, "We will change all
that," and was highly amused.] "Bring that about sir," said the king,
gayly. "Wave your field-marshal's staff and give to the German language
that which it has never possessed, grace, significance, and facility;
then breathe upon it the capability to express soft passion and tender
feeling, and you will do for the language what Julius Caesar did for
the people. You will be a conqueror, and will cultivate and polish
barbarians!"

Gottsched did not perceive the mockery which lay in these words of the
king, but received them smilingly as agreeable flattery. "The German
language is well fitted to express tender emotions. I pledge myself to
translate any French poem faithfully, and at the same time melodiously,"
said he.

"I will put you to the proof, at once," said the king, opening a book
which lay upon the table. "Look! These are the Odes of Rousseau, and we
will take the first one which accident presents Listen to this:"

"'Sous un plus heureux auspice,
La Deesse des amours,
Veut qu'un nouveau sacrifice,
Lui consacre vos beaux jours;
Deja le bucher s'allume.
L'autel brille, l'encens fume,
La victime s'embellit,
L'amour meme la consume,
Le mystere s'accomplit.'

[Footnote:
"Under a most happy omen,
The goddess of love
Wished that a new sacrifice
Should consecrate to her our bright days.
Already the fagots are lighted,
The altar glows, the incense fumes,
The victim is adorned--
By love itself it is consumed,
The mystery accomplished."]

"Do you believe it is possible to translate this beautiful stanza into
German?" said the king.

"If your majesty allows me, I will translate it at once," said he. "Give
me a piece of paper and a pencil."

"Take them," said Frederick. "We will divert ourselves by a little
rivalry in song, while you translate the verses of the French poet into
German. I will sing to the praise of the German author in French rhyme.
Let us not disturb each other."

Frederick stepped to the window and wrote off hastily a few verses, then
waited till he saw that Gottsched had also ceased to write. "I am ready,
sir,"