I should rather suppose, that you are one of those cidevant, who had domesticks." The man sent him to Bourg la Reine on foot; but his strength failing before the end of the journey, his conductors mounted him on the horse of a labourer. On his arrival, he was thrown into a dungeon, and forgotten for twentyfour hours. At the end of that time, he was found lifeless and stiff by the person who was sent to supply him with bread and water. It was doubt ful whether his death was produced by mere inanition, or occasioned by a strong poison which he always car ried about him. Such was the exit of one who may be justly classed among the most original writers of his age, and who was surpassed by none of the illustrious body of literati to which he belonged, in the brilliancy of his genius, and the variety of his acquirements. Although author of that formidable phrase, peace to the cottage, but war on palaces,* his temper was mild and benevolent, and his morals are said to have been irreproachable. Petion, the celebrated mayor of Paris, an enthusiast of a much more criminal cast, experienced a similar fate. After being proscribed by Robespierre, he wandered over Brittany and the department of Girondy, and was at length found dead in a field, apparently through hunger. The miserable end of Bailly, the predecessor of Petion, is well known. He is said to have born a strong resemblance to lord Melville, in person and face. Of the party of the Gironde, to whom Mad. Roland is so prodigal of her praise, but few appear to have survived. Barnave, Gaudet, Valagé, Vergniaud, were all swept away. Most of them were men of talents, and apparently of good intentions. There are some circumstances connected with the death of Vergniaud, which deserve to be mentioned as illustrative of the French character. Guerre aux chateaux, paix à la chaumière. VOL. LE. Fonfrede, Gensonné, Ducos and Va lagé, were confined in the Concier gerie along with him, and passed the night before their execution in a manner suitable to the character which each had received from na ture. Fonfrede, although resigned to his fate, shed a tear, every now and then, at the recollection of his wife and children. Ducos made verses, enlivened his companions by sprightly sallies, and gravely proposed, that, while they still retained their quality of deputies, they should decree the indivisibility of their heads from their bodies, as they had decreed that of the republick. Valagé, unmoved and determined, was busy in contriving how he should despatch himself. Vergniaud threw away some poison which he had kept about him, declaring, that as he had not enough to share with his friends, he would not abandon them. He discoursed for a long time, with his usual eloquence, on revolutions and governments, and predicted the miseries which awaited his country. These volumes abound with similar instances of perfect sangfroid, of steady composure, and of careless gayety, displayed by individuals of all parties, even at the foot of the scaffold. They furnish also numerous cases of deliberate suicide, of a singular nature.† When D'Esprénil was going to the scaffold, he was accompanied by Le Chapelier, well known as one of the best orators of the constituent assembly, and who was to be executed with him. Le Chapelier, as they were ascending the steps, observed to his companion, that they were to have a terrible problem to solve in their last moments. What is that? said the other. "To determine," was the reply, "to which of us the hisses of the popu lace are meant to be addressed." The royalists sometimes destroyed themselves through the fear of being massacred; and the republicans, in order to escape the guillotine. Most of the republican leaders habitually carried poison about them for this purpose. Montesquieu, in endeavouring to account for the frequency of suicide among the Ro mans, during their civil wars, among other kk We have encountered various anecdotes of female heroism; two or three of which we shall cull out for our readers. The chiefs of La Vendée were attended, in the most bloody engagements, by several females, who ornamented their standards with chivalrous devices, and who, like the Camillas and Penthisileas of old, carried consternation and death into the enemy's rank. Among the number was a Madame La Rochefoucault, the mistress of Charette, who signalized herself on various occasions, and was at length taken prisoner, and executed. Another of these heroines, at the affair of Gesté, rallied the broken forces of the royalists, charged three times at their head, and was found covered with wounds on the field of battle. In the terrible battle of Mans, in which 10,000 republicans, and 20,000 Vendeans, are said to have perished, a young woman, armed with a helmet and a lance, and pursued by some soldiers, fell at the feet of the republican commander, general Marceau, and entreated him to protect her. He raised her up, bade her discard her fears, and, attracted by the beauty of her countenance, determined to save her if possible. A law, however, was then in force, which punished any republican with death who gave quarter to a Vendean taken in arms Marceau was denounced, and would have been executed, had it not been for the interference of Bourbette, the deputy of the convention, whose life he had saved in the same engagement. Neither the authority of the deputy nor the tears of Marceau, causes, enumerates the influence of passion. To this may be added, with regard to the republicans of France, their religious maxims, similar in their effects to the principles of the Stoicks, which prevailed among the Romans. Most of the republicans had selected, as a motto, the lines of Voltaire in Merope. “Quand on a tout perdu, quand on n'a plus d'espoir, La vie est un opprobre, et la mort un devoir." could, however, wrest the fair pri soner from the hands of the execu tioner. There is something parti cularly interesting in the story of Cecile Renault, a beautiful woman, executed at the age of 20, for an alleged attempt to assassinate Robespierre. The distractions of the capital, and the tide of blood which rolled in the streets, appear to have disor dered her fancy; but it is not clear that she really had the intention im puted to her. In May 1794, she called at the house of Robespierre, and requested to see him. On being refused, she replied, that he was a publick functionary, and should there. fore be accessible to all. "When we had a king," she added, "there was no difficulty in seeing him. I would sacrifice my life to have ano ther." When dragged before the revolutionary tribunal, two knives were found in her pocket; and she was therefore condemned. Her fa ther was executed with her as an accomplice; and all her relations, friends, and acquaintance, involved in the same fate. More than sixty persons, whom she did not know, were sacrificed on the same account. One of these, a republican of the name of Admiral, jocosely remarked to her, as he was about to lay his head on the block: "Vous-vouliez voir un tyran? Vous n'aviez qu'à aller à la convention: vous en eussiez vu de toutes les façons." A similar instance of philosophy, or insensibility, is remarkable in the person of Lebon, a sans-culotte of the most ruffian cast. When, preparatory to his execution, they were about to invest him with the chemise rouge, the symbol of a murderous life, he returned it with affected gravity to the executioner, exclaiming: "Ce n'est pas moi qui dois l'endosser; il faut l'envoyer à la convention dont je n'ai fait qu'execu the revolution that has ever fallen into our hands, and the most eloquent delineation of those feelings and principles by which the virtuous part of its agents were guided. It is needless to repeat any part of what is to be found in a work so popular. We may only mention, that after her incarceration in the Abbaye, in 1792, the section of Paris in which she resided, petitioned for her liberation; but this application, and her own letters to the assembly, were equally unavailing. She was transferred to the Conciergerie; and on the 8th of November 1794, condemned to death by the revolutionary tribunal, for having conspired against the unity and indivisibility of the republick! She displayed the most unshaken courage on the scaffold, which she mounted with a marked expression of disdain and dignity in her countenance. It may be observed that the same fortitude was evinced by all the females who perished in the same way, with the single exception of Madame Dubarry, whose deplorable weakness, at the moment of her execution, was strikingly contrasted with the tenour of her life. Madame Roland, in crossing the Place de la Revolution, on her way to the scaffold, bowed her head before the statue of Liberty, which stood there, and uttered an indignant exclamation concerning the abuse of the name. She predicted, when about to die, that her husband would not survive her loss; a prediction which was speedily verified. He had been proscribed in the month of May, and had taken refuge in the house of a friend at Rouen; but as soon as he heard of her execution, he resolved upon destroying himself. He quitted his asylum, took the road leading to Paris; and the next morning was found scated by the side of it, with his back against a tree, and mortally wounded with a sword cane, which he usually carried with him. A note was found beside him, in which he declared, that the death of his wife had left him without any further consolation on earth. We dare not trespass on the patience of our readers by any more of these distressing details. We close these volumes with feelings of humiliation and almost of despondency. When we think what has been, and what is, in France, we are afraid to look forward to what is to be; and if our principles did not forbid us ever to despair of the fortunes of the human race, we should be glad to turn away our eyes for ever from the fearful spectacle of triumphant guilt, baffled genius, and insulted virtue. We cling steadily, however, to the faith, that the seeds of future happiness are sowing in the midst of this scene of apparent desolation; and that the plough and the harrow which are now deforming the surface, and tearing up the roots of European society, are only preparing the soil for a new and more abundant harvest of permanent enjoyment. SPIRIT OF THE MAGAZINES ACCOUNT OF THE LATE MARQUIS D'ARGENS. THE marquis D'Argens was one of those literary characters of the last century, who have rendered themselves more remarkable than illustrious by their opinions, their adventures, and the reputation of their works. Like Saint Evremond, the marquis D'Argens passed one part of his life in gallantry, and the other at the court of a prince, and in the circle of the great world. But the former possessed talents, and a rank in society, above the latter. Some fragments of St. Evremond, such as, for instance, "Considerations on the Roman People," evince a taste and genius, not to be found in the author of the "Philosophy of good Sense," or the "Jewish Letters." The writings of the marquis D'Argens are not, however, without considerable merit. They had a rapid circulation. They were read with great avidity; and in that they re sembled those of St. Evremond; but posterity will find less to preserve in the one than in the other. The first years of the life of Saint Evremond are unknown; at least, even to the present day, we have no authentick account of them. The marquis D'Argens wrote the Memoirs of his Life, which are read with pleasure; contain many pointed facts; and the narrative pleases, notwithstanding some apparent negligences of the style, and some of those inconsiderate reflections, which, at that time, were termed "philosophical," though, to speak more correctly, they should be called those of a young man. He commences at that period when the passions are in full force and vi gour; for it is by the influence of one of the most powerful that he enters on his subject, without acquainting us with the place of his birth, or the condition of his parents. Information, however, collected since, supplied that deficiency. He was born at Aix, in Provence, in 1704, being the son of M. Boyer, marquis D'Argens, procureur general of the parliament of that city. It was natural that his father, who held one of the first situations in the magistracy, should intend him for this his honourable profession; but the ardour of youth, an impatience to be employed, and the idea that the military line afforded him greater opportunities for pleasure, made him prefer the profession of arms, into which he entered when he was scarcely fifteen years old. He at first served in the marines, and then in the regi ment of Richelieu, after having been received as a knight of Malta; but he soon forgot the state he had embraced; and his amours with the handsome Sylvia, whose history he gives in his memoirs, contributed not a little to effect it. The petulance and impetuosity of his youth were subjects of much discontent and unhappiness to his fa ther, who, in the end, disinherited him; but Monsieur D'Eguilles, his younger brother, president of the parliament of Aix, annulled the deed of inheritance, by making an equal division of the property, and by adopting a natural daughter of the mar quis, and restoring her to the name and rights she derived from her father. At first he would by no means consent to this arrangement, fearful of doing what might displease the family; but the reasons and the principles of justice, which the magistrate advanced, soon found their way to his heart, and mademoiselle Mina became marchioness D'Argens. On his return from a journey to Spain, where he left his mistress Sylvia, he became reconciled to his family; but he soon left France, and departed for Constantinople along with Mons. D'Andreselle, ambassadour to the Ottoman Porte, of whom he speaks in his memoirs. A judgment may be formed of his character and of his conduct in that city, by the following anecdote, which was furnished by Mr. Thiebault in his "Recollections" "On his arrival at Constantinople," says this writer, "he conceived the design of witnessing the ceremonies used in the mosques. Nothing could dissuade him from undertaking this dangerous enterprise in which, if he had been discovered or betrayed, he would only have escaped the scaffold or the bow-string, by assuming the turban, or, in other words, becoming mussulman. He applied to the Turk who kept the keys of the mosque of Santa Sophia, and by dint of bribery succeeded in gaining him to his purpose. It was agreed between them, at the next great day of publick worship, the infidel should introduce the Christian in great secrecy by night, and that he should conceal him behind a painting which was placed, a long time back, at the bottom of a tribune, which was in front of the gate. The marquis would be the safer in this place as it was seldom opened; and, besides, it was situated at the west end of the mosque, and the Mahomedans always, in their prayers, face to Mecca, which lies east of Constantinople, and never turn their heads without giving cause for scandal; a point on which they are so scrupulous, that they never turn when they quit the mosques; but always go backward to the gate. "The marquis D'Argens, seated at his ease, beheld the whole of the ceremonies of the Turkish religion: yet he gave frequent cause of alarm to his guide. Almost every minute he quitted his hiding place, and advanced to the middle of the tribune, in order that he might have a better view of what was passing in the mosque. Then the poor Turk, who knew he ran no less a risk than that of being impaled alive, entreated him, by the most expressive signs and gestures, to retire quickly behind his picture. The terrour of the man was a subject of the highest amusement to the knight of Malta, who played the more upon his fears. "But they were a hundred-fold, if possible, increased, when he took a flask of wine and a piece of ham from his pocket, and offered him a share of both. The disciple of Mahomed was in absolute despair; but what could he do? He must bear all in order to conceal his guilt, and save himself from punishment. The marquis threatened him; and the Turk was compelled to drink of the wine and eat of the ham, and thus profane himself, his religion, and the mosque. The miserable man was for some instants like one petrified. He thought he beheld the avenging arm of the prophet raised above his head. By degrees, however, he became more calm. He even began to be familiar with his guilt; and when the devotees had all left the mosque, and he saw himself alone with the Christian dog, they finished their breakfast with a good grace, laughed at the danger they had run, and parted most excellent friends." The marquis D'Argens, in his memoirs, exposes with great candour the adventures of his journey, and the motive which induced him to return to France. His father anxiously wished him to study the law; but the ardent character of the young man could not be persuaded by his |