ページの画像
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors]

pan, and, just as he was, ran to the place where the entertainment was given, to scold his wife and servants. He was obliged to descend by a terrace, and eross the garden, which was tolerably large, in order to reach the gardener's house. The Marquis effected his purpose in the dark with great celerity: he suddenly opened the door of the ballroom, and the Marquis, to their utter as tonishment, appeared in his night-gown, bare-footed (for he had lost his slippers), and two or three night-caps on his head, his shirt blowing about at the pleasure of the wind, holding in his hand the stew pan with the fragments of the ragout, and crying out, "I am poisoned! I am poisoned!" He then broke out in reproaches against his wife, and threatened his servants to discharge them all, for having used copper stew-pans, contrary to his orders. They had much difficulty in appeasing him; but reflecting suddenly on the situation in which he was, and the danger he ran in being exposed almost naked to the cold night air, he again relapsed into passion; however, they wrapped him up warm, and at last succeeded in getting him to his apartments.

These incidents afforded Frederic a great subject for amusement, but without lessening any of the esteem he had for the Marquis; they merely weakened the consideration with which he had at first inspired him. The scrupulous and habitual superstition which he remarked in him, still added to the discredit of the philosopher, in the opinion of the King.

M. Thiebault has preserved some traits of this last kind of weakness in the Marquis; they deserve to be related here, since they confirm what we have already said, and will be an example of the strange, if not ridiculous contradictions of men of learning of that day, employed during the whole of their lives in combating superstition, or what they were pleased to call so; descanting upon matters which no person regarded, they have been frequently seen, towards the conclusion of their lives, to possess the weakness of old women, and to die with all the signs of a tardy conversion..

The second cause of the discredit into which the Marquis fell, (says M. Thiebault,) was his own weakness and folly, and particularly on the subject of superstition. He had such a dread of death, that the very idea of being threatened with it could make him be guilty of the most ridiculous extravagance. Owing to to this disposition it was, that, having

heard, that the water of those who approached the conclusion of their existence turned black in four-and-twenty hours, he was a long time in the habit of keeping his own in glasses, which he examined frequently in the day, till some people, who were let into the secret of this weakness, discovered his depôt, and privately mixed ink with it. This so dreadfully alarmed him, that they were obliged to confess the trick they had played upon him, in order to save him from a serious illness.

The Marquis had made an agreement with the King, that, as soon as he should have completed his sixtieth year, he should have his full dismissal, and be permitted to retire to France. This hour was waited for with great impatience, because the King was not in a humour to let him go a third time; and it was only by using a considerable degree of address, and promising to return at the end of six months, that he permitted the Marquis to depart, as will be seen hereafter.

He was the more impatient to return to his own country, as since the journey be undertook in 1763, his brother had cedea to him some land he wished for, at Eguilles, of which he was the lord, to build a house and make a garden. The plan of both one and the other was settled between the brothers, and they immediately began their labours. In 1766 all was finished; the house quite ready, the gardens planted and in good order, entirely owing to the care of Monsieur de Eguilles, his brother, President of the Parliament of Aix.

The clock at last struck-the Marquis had attained his sixtieth year. For a long time no mention had been made of the agreement: whatever address the Courtier employed to recal the idea of it to his recollection, the Monarch always expressed a disinclination to enter on the subject. He could not recur to it without exposing himself to cruel reproaches, or to mortifications more cruel still.

In 1768, he renewed his entreaties, and imagining that the King might not, perhaps, like him to take away the ori ginal letters which that Prince had written to him, he sent them to him, ranged in chronological order, and accompanied them by the following letter:

"Sire! I have kept till this moment a precious pledge of the confidence with which your Majesty honoured me. I give them into your hands, because I

do

do not think it right to take them with me into a strange country. My continued ui health, and a complication of disorders, put it out of my power any longer to be useful to your Majesty, and I am convinced that, under a mild climate, my infirmities might be borne. I therefore entreat your Majesty to grant me my dismissal, assuring you, at the same time, that my heart shall be eternally devoted to you."

The Marquis obtained, permission to pass six months in Provence, and set off in 1769, on the express condition of re turning at the appointed time; at the same time he received the packet of original letters, which the King returned to him, assuring him that he possessed his entire confideuce, and that consequently he neither could nor would keep the let ters. The Marquis, however, would not take them with him, but left them in the charge of one of his most particular friends.

It appears, that the King was much displeased at his departure, and that he even refused to see the Marquis. In vain several persons endeavoured to per suade him, that the Marquis would return; he would not believe them. He was indignant, that a man whom he had loaded with his benefits, should quit him for such trifling causes, and which in no way diminished the proofs of his attachment and esteem; but the Marquis bad very good reasons to give on his side likewise to pass the remainder of his days under a milder climate, and near a brother, to whom he was attached by strong ties of affection.

He had, however, other motives for discontent, which he was anxious that the King should know without loss of time. Scarcely had he arrived at Dijon, when be wrote him a very bold letter, such as no one who had ever any disagree ment with Frederic would have ventured to address to him. In order to excuse himself for this freedom, he said, "It is not now to the King that I write, but to the Philosopher, and in the name of Philosophy"---a distinction which the Monarch himself had given the example of in their suppers at Sans-Souci, where they freely conversed in the absence of the King, although at the same table with him. And he concluded his keen, yet guarded, reproaches, with that iniinitable fable of the "Town and Country Mouse."

Yet, notwithstanding this appearance of resentment, the Marquis D'Argens MONTHLY MAG. No. 186.

resolved to return to Frederic at the expi ration of the stated period; but it cost him a severe struggle to determine on leaving Aix, to return to Berlin — it was to expose the remainder of his days to new scenes of vexation and disappointment, and shorten their dura tion. The agitated state of his mys which this situation involved his la produced the very effect he wished to have avoided, and he died without being able to fulfil his promise.

"In the midst of all these sufferings," says M. Thiebault, "he was detained at Bourg-en-Bresse by a long and very dangerous illness. The Marchioness, whose whole care was devoted to him, never once thought of writing to the King, although the time of his leave of absence had expired. Frederic suspected him of wishing to deceive him. He sent to the Marchioness's sister, and to all the Members of the Academy, with whom he was connected as the Director, to know if they had not heard from him; and as he was informed, that no person had received any news of him, and that several months had passed without a let ter either from the husband or the wife, the King's doubts were soon changed to certainty. His anger and his indignation were extreme. He dispatched orders that very day to the different offices at which the salaries of the Marquis were paid, strictly injoining them to erase his naine out of the public books, and forbidding them to pay him any thing for the future.-Sulzer, who received this order at the Academy, thought it his duty to acquaint D'Argens, and in consequence of this determination, he privately gave a letter to a person who was going that way, and who promised to inquire for the Marquis, and give him the letter if he should chance to meet him; if not, to address it under cover to the President D'Eguilles. The traveller found him at Bourg-en-Bresse, in a state of convalescence and preparing to set off for Berlin. The letter produced an effect which might be expected. The old Courtier was more irritated than afflicted. He wrote another, which was never made public, but its contents may easily be guessed at, and immediately returned to his beloved retreat, from which he seldom went, except to make some few slight journeys through parts of Provence. It was in one of these excursions that he died at Toulouse, of an indigestion, on the 11th of January, 1771.

The public journals and the writers of 4 G

the

the day have asserted, that the Marquis D'Argens received the Sacraments before his death-that he read the Bible during his last illness-and that he caused himself to be admitted as a member of a society of Penitents:-facts, which but little accord with the character of a man, who, always occupied by religious chi canery, theological disputations, and discourses of incredulity, had, however, a strong predilection in favour of superstition, and the errors to which it gives rise.

In all that we have said here of the

Marquis D'Argens, we have scarcely made any mention of his works; they are, however, very numerous; but if we except "The Jewish Letters," or, as it was called in English, "The Jewish Spy," none of them appears to have given him any great title to Frederic's recommen dation; and of all that he has written, his Memoirs are at this day the most interesting, and offer an agreeable fund of amusement, which, at the same time, makes you acquainted with both the Men and Manners of the time in which he lived.

Extracts from the Port-folio of a Man of Letters. [Communications to this Article are always thankfully received.]

THE LATE KING OF PORTUGAL.

HE king, one day, speaking of the

Tearthquake of 1755, which destroyed the greater part of Lisbon, observed, with a degree of superstition, natural to the Portuguese, that a house, belonging to the Marquis of Pombal, situated near the church of Santa Madelina, remained unhurt, while all around it were buried in the ruins, which proved the integrity of his minister, and that he was protected by Heaven. The Count d'Obidos jocosely observed, that the Rua Suja (a street in which ladies of easy virtue resided) was also unhurt This lively sally stung his most faithful majesty to the quick, and the count expiated his imprudence by an imprison. ment of several years.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

He published, the "English Dicti onarie, on an Interpreter of Hard English Words, &c." 12mo. 1682, 4th edit. It is a most extraordinary performance, in the premonition to the reader, the modest author says, "without appropriating to my own comfort any interest of glory, the understanding readers will not, the ignorant cannot, and the malicious dare not, but acknowledge that, what any before me in this kind have begun, I have not only fully finished, but thoroughly perfected. To write an apology of justification, would argue rather of distrust of my work, than a confidence of merit." The object of his work, is to teach persons to write and speak elegant English, for which, as be observes, that alphabetical arrangements of words soon enlighten the meanest capacity; he gives two vocabularies, one of his refined English into the vulgar, the other, vice versa. Such a niass of pedantry was never before brought toge ther. A few extracts, will perhaps be gratifying. Ablecticke, garnished for sale; Açerote-bread, brown bread; Acersecomicke, one whose hair was never cut; Aceturr,a sallad of smal! herbs; Antelucidate, to work by candle-light before

day;

day; Cucumbate, to cry like an owl; Cucuriute, to crow like a cock; Debuccinate, to report abroad; Decachinnate, to scorn; Hilarode, a singer of wanton songs; Hircipill, whose hair is of two sorts; Iconiched, very curiously painted; Zygolfle, a clerk of the market. In the vulgar, converted into good English, he recommends, for Alderman, to put Se. nator; for dismount, reside; for appeasing, pacification; for apprenticeship, Tyrociny; for argument, Lemma; for an army of men, Sabaoth; for baked, pistated; for boxing the ears, depalmate; for breaking, Labefie, enfringe, delumbate; for calling by name, indigitate; for chipping-bread, defornicate; for chirping, like birds, Gingreate; like a sparrow, pipillate; for stripping naked, connudate; in short, the old story; Is my Lord Chol-mon-de-ley at home? Yes, Sir, but he has a good many pe-o-ple with him.

HENRY BUNTING

In his "Itinerarium Totius Sacra Scripture," done into English by B. B. 4to. 1656, gave the following pieces of some remarkable matters, mentioned in the Old and New Testament.

He makes (p. 386,) David give in the whole towards building the temple, eight hundred, forty-seven thousand millions,

three hundred, eighty-two thousand, five hundred English pounds!!!

The ointment, with which the woman of Bethany anointed Christ, saleable at nine pounds, seven shillings and sixpence. p. 391.

Judas Iscariot's reward, however, for betraying Christ, would have been de spised indeed, by a modern informer. He makes it to amount only to three pounds, fifteen shillings. p. 391.

Malta-St. Paul shaking off the viper; the Catulus Melitæus.

In Bunting's," Itinerarium,” (p. 560,) under Malta, we have the following passages: "The children that are borne in this country, feare not any snakes, neither are hurt by any thing that is venomous, insomuch that they will take scorpions and eat them, without danger, although in all other parts of the world, those kind of creatures are most pernicious. In this isle, also, there are bred a kind of dogs that are but small, yet very white and shagged, and so loving, that the inhabitants of all the neighbouring countries will buy them, though they be at dear rates." Thus the Catulus Melitaus, of the classical ancients, was in equal vogue in the 17th century.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Send to this aching breast a Lethean draught,
Or, oh! in pity, call my soul to heav'n!

Sweet Babe! upon thy lovely face

Sits innocence and peace:

She, Mourner, whom thou deem'st 'impri son'd here,

Ranges with cherub-wing a distant sphere;
Seek not the living 'midst the mould'ring
dead,⚫

But take the path thy sainted sister led ;
On Faith's aspiring plume perpetual rise,
Nor dream thy Sarah dwells below the skies.
Warminster.
MARY.

For the Monthly Magazine.

Aberdeen, May 13, 1809. The following was communicated to me hy Old Paterson, the painter, who, with his sons, lives on the Shore Leith, and may be depended on as strictly true. 7. Anderson. [The late Robert Burns, in the year 1789 having occasion to visit Kirkaldy, crossed the Frith of Forth from Leith, and arrived at the New Inn, where he ordered dinner and a bottle of beer; soon after he rang the bell, and asked the waiter his demand. On being told 183. he reluctantly threw it on the table; and the waiter thanking him, left the room. Immediately after, Burns took out his pencil, and wrote on one of the window-shutters the following-] STOPP'D at this house, and, as I'm 2 They've charged me eighteen-pence for din

sinner,

'ner';

But shou'd I come again this road,

Though from thy cheek the blood has fled, I'll not dine here, so help mẹ, G-d.

And death usurps his pow'r,

Still to thy Mother's heart thou'rt dear,

As when in happier hour

She clasp'd thee to her joyful breast,
And pray'd that Fortune on thy head

Her choicest gifts might show'r,
Yes, my sweet Babe, I saw thee die!
I saw thy beauteous spirit fly!

For shelter to the skies:

In some bright star I see thee still,
And patient wait th' Almighty's will,
To hail thee as I rise.

IMPROMPTU.

[blocks in formation]

day's,

And lull the worn-out sufferer to rest. Oh! thou hast been my guide for many a day,

When childhood's simple, untaught state Į
prov'd;

Thou wert the bless'd companion of my way,
As through each labyrinth of life Trov'd.

ON READING LINES "ON THE DEATH OF Oh, leave me not, as I în life advance,

MR. PROFESSOR PORSON, BY THE REV.
JAMES RUDGE."

PORSON, among the "wise and best !”

With them he surely could not rest;

The good he laugh'd at all his life,
And with the learned liv'd in strife.
T. I. G.

[blocks in formation]

But still thy visions sweet to me display; And as the heav'nly phantoms round me dance,

Ease my foreboding heart of dread dismay.
Oh! linger with me in the midnight hour,

And Fancy aid, when wearied 1 repose;
As thou wert wont, oh, ever pleasing power!
'Drown ev'ry sense of life's distressful woes.
But not to me, oh, sweet enchanting Hope!
Thy vivifying pow'r alone extend,
Sooth ev'ry bosom left with life to cope,
For much does man require so bless'd
friend ;

* Luke xxiv. 5.

For

« 前へ次へ »