How Sir! faid the lady (interrupting him) have you already fent this letter? Yes, Madam; your fervant carried it to the office two hours ago, and faw the courier ready to depart. And should the General confent to your proposal, can you-are you certain of yourfelf-can you refolve? Yes, Madam, and this refolution has already greatly reftored eafe to my distracted mind. Every attempt to induce me to change it will be fruitless. I once was brave, I turned a coward; but I will not die a coward! Oh, Sir! how much have you excited my admiration! Yet am I inclined to hope the General, moved by your prefent magnanimity, will Hope nothing, dear Madam.Could he pardon me, I fhould never forgive myfelf; and my fituation would only become a thousand times more dreadful. Eight days after, during which time he remained concealed at his friend's houfe, he received the following letter from Marefchal de Villars: It is no doubt a moft humiliating proof of the imbecility of our nature, to learn that a man, whofe courage has fo often been tried and unqueftioned, for more than forty years, fhould, on a fudden, prove fo wanting to himself and the most facred of duties; but no lefs extraordinary is the magnanimity, with which, the moment his delirium cea fes, he voluntarily offers his life in expiation of his fault, and of the evil example which the misconduct he bitterly laments has given to others. Such, unhappy P**, is my opinion; and fuch that of the brave officers of my army. And fince, by the laws of war, you are well convinced it would be impoffible for them either to acquit you or palliate an offence of fuch a nature, they, as well as myself, lament your fuffering too fincerely to accept the generous, or rather heroic offer, which your extreme regret has induced you to make. My wishes, therefore, and thofe of your former friends, moft unfortunate man! are, that Heaven and length of time may confole, and give you ftrength to fupport a calamity, the remembrance of which is no lefs painful to us than to yourfelf. (Signed) Marefchal de Villars.' Quefnoy, Sept. 26, 1709. This answer, which might have been in fome fort confolatory to any other man, only ferved to heighten the diftrefsful feelings of the unhappy P**; who, after having fent back to his commander his cross of St. Louis, condemned himself to furvive what he called his approbrium, and to contiue at Calais," in which town there is always a numerous garrifon; there to appear, the remainder of his life, in the uniform of his regiment; a ftriking example of the infirmities to which human nature is ever liable; and thus devoting himself to the contempt of every officer, every foldier, and every inhabitant. Dialogue Dialogue between a Philofopher and his Gardener. From the French of M. MERCIER. Paradoxile. WHA HAT news, Mathurin ? Mathurin. Good news, Sir. My wife is just delivered of a chopping boy, who is to be chriftened to-night; and I feel, that, in confequence of this, I can work to-day with double fpirit. Par. You are very happy, then, Mathurin ? Math. Who would not be happy upon such an occafion? Had I time, I could find in my heart to dance to my own mufic. Par. But how came you to be fo overjoyed, my friend, when your child is about to enter upon a fcene of wretchedness and forrow? Math. Oh! for that matter, let him feel no more mifery than his father, and all will go well. If he be fubject to the attacks of grief, he is equally certain of pleasure in its turn. Can the one exift without the other? If he be not indolent, if he apply himself to labour, he will have no caufe to regret his coming into the world. I am not myself difpleafed at being here. Par. What are you happy? Math. Happy! undoubtedly I am happy. because it is a great pleasure to have a pretty woman for your wife, who loves and careffes you; and a still greater to embrace the child whom the fondles on her knees, and nourifhes with her milk. Par. Do you know how your child came into the world? Math. Came into the world! Why it came juft the fame way as other children come. The son of a king comes exactly in the fame manner : It is all a -And, zounds, when I think upon it, it is no bad leffon for your great folks. Par. It is not that I meanHow do you think you are able to produce a being like yourself? Math. A pretty fort of a queftion truly! When I plant a tree, I fix the fhoot in the earth, and then leave it; and it grows up when the good God gives it his bleffing. Your fine reafoners, you will obferve, Sir, do not always get the finest children. Par. But what notion have you of the mystery of generation? Math. If it be a mystery, it may remain a myflery for me: I fhall not trouble my head about it. God wishes to conceal his fecrets, fince he perfoms them under our very eyes without our being able to fee them. Par. But pray, what do you know, or what do you imagine, with regard to this? Par. Good. You only think fo. Math. Only think fo! Why, I feel plainly enough what I do really feel. Do you mean to make me believe that I am unhappy? Don't attempt that. I am very contented, and particularly pleafed every time my wife is brought to bed, for I am then relieved of a burden. I never complain of what I cannot help. I choofe rather to enjoy what God in his goodness grants me, than to vent my complaints in ufelefs murmurs. I was for this reafon that I married, VOL. III. No. z. The defign of this dialogue is to expose the futility of the numerous systems of generation. Math. I neither know any thing, nor imagine any thing, about the matter. I know when it is proper to plant a tree; but how the tree grows, I am ignorant. It is the fame thing with children, I fuppofe. They come into the world we don't know how; but we know how to make them come; and the reft is, in my opinion, of very little confequence. B Par. Par. How! of very little confequence? You do not know, then, that this fcience, if well understood, would afford us the means of conducting the human race to the very height of perfection; and that, in ftead of the fools whom we now fee in fuch numbers, philofophers only, and men of genius, would cover the face of the earth. Math. But if every body poffeffed genius and philofophy, there would be no more fools; and then who would admire your men of genius and learning? Indeed, indeed, your philofophers would be fairly caught. But we do not want philofophers about us, but men of good hearts, like you, my dear mafter; for you are really a good man. Yet, allow me to tell you, that your actions are much better than your words. Par. Go. If I am not better, it is only because I have not yet fufficient knowledge. But I wifh you would tell me freely your ideas concerning generation. Math. I have not a fingle idea 'upon the subject, I tell you. You, who are a doctor, ought to inform me of the whole matter. Yet, betwixt us two, it would be better to get a child yourself, then to puzzle your brain about the way it comes into the world. But fince your know. ledge is fo great, do explain to me your whole doctrine. I fhall employ my fpade mean while, not to lofe time.Let us fee. How do you arrange the fabric of men? Were you ever in the manufactory ? Par. Not quite, but nearly fo. Math. Blefs my foul! What is it you fay, Sir? Par. I have opened two or three hundred fhe-goats after copulation; and by the affiftance of my diffecting knife, I have followed in the ramifications of the veins Math. What! you have, then, made fuch cruel experiments? You have commenced hangman to become philofopher! Instead of sparing these poor animals, you have butchered them for no purpose in the world.Zounds, this is a pretty way indeed! To think to difcover the principle of life by putting animals to death! Par. Your good fenfe charms me. I made this philofophical maffacre with regret; but the defire of knowing nature Math. Ah! rather remain ignorant like me, and do harm to nothing. Blefs me! were you allowed to proceed, your curiofity might lead you to difembowel our pardon my freedom-all only to fee the better. Par. O, tell always what you think. I wifh fpeech to be as free as thought. I prefer your converfation to the converfation of many philofophers. Math. Well, hear then; you are a very good man, as long as that fame plaguy curiofity does not come across you. You would not even lift your little finger against a child; but when the dæmon of knowledge takes poffeffion of your mind, you are more cruel, of yourself alone, than all the sportsmen in the country. The people of the village have fome reason to fay that you are a little cracked.— You fmile-I never told any body, but I have feen you make experiments which have made me blush. Par. Upon my word, my friend, I never thought of blushing. I faw all this with the eye of a philofopher. Math. Go, go; it is not thus that one becomes a philofopher. You are here in the world; and what the devil matter is it how you came! Par. I would wish to discover the origin of an animal fo fingular as man. The moment of cafting a ftatue, is the very moment which impreffes upon it that grace and beauty which is afterwards to charm the beholder. Now, if we knew the the mould of the human race, we might fashion it at our pleasure; and art here, as well as in other. things, might come in to the affiftance of nature. If you knew every thing that has been imagined on this fubject, you would, doubtlefs, forgive my experiments. Math. Well, inform me of all this. Par. Hear, then, my friend: It wanted but little that you and all mankind had never exifted. Math. Oh! oh! this is a comical ftory upon my word.- -The world has had a lucky efcape of it! But how happened all this? Par. We muft proceed in order. Liften attentively. There are millions upon millions of germs, more innumerable than the grains of duft, which, though formed for developing themselves, yet perish, and will never rife to life. Your germ, whether luckily or unluckily for you, I cannot tell, has developed itself? Math. I am not forry for it.Par. You have increased in bulk, you have acquired fenfations, while millions of others have funk into nonexistence. Every thing depended upon the first man; and the univerfe itself has originally been only a particular germ favoured among millions of others. Math. What! has the world grown up just as I have done? Do you really believe this? Par. I do indeed. The world may have arifen from a germ not fo large as an egg. Math. [laughing.] How droll a thing philofophy is And the hen which laid this egg! Par. The fun, the moon, the earth, the fea, the present and all future generations, depended all of them, I tell you, like yourself, upon a very few things. Math. [laughing louder.] Upon the hen; upon the hen? Par. Yes; you, for instance, you were in your father; and your father and you along with him were in your grand-father; and your grand-father and your father and you were in your great-grand-father; and your great-grand-father, and your greatgreat-grand-father, and your greatgreat-great-grand-father, and you, were in the loins of our father Adam, when he walked in the garden. Math. Then I walked along with him? Blefs my foul and body! I have not defèrted the vocation of my father.-I am always in the garden. Par. Very right. But upon what did you depend then, you and the reft of mankind? Math. O Lord! I was fo little then! Par. And do you think yourself greater now? How miferably you are mistaken! What is your figure of five feet fix upon the face of the globe? Scarcely have you appeared, when you are effaced. The firft ftep which your fon makes pushes you to the tomb. There is no repofe in nature; the path of life is the path to death: the refiftlefs courfe of things hurries you along: you fuffer by your exiftence, and you fhall die by neceffity. Math. Excellent confolation indeed! Is this what you call philofophy? It is at least not decked in the colours of the rose. Par. You would not choose to be deceived? Par. Undoubtedly. Your ftomach, which you fill with grofs food, reprefents the roots which, placed in the earth, imbibe the juice which makes them grow and live. The flowers refpire and tranfpire juft as you do, nourish themselves, and throw off their fuperfluities juft as you do; they embrace each other under your very eyes; they make love. Math. My flowers make love! This is a new mystery indeed. Par. Yes; ignorant as thou art, who haft eyes and cannot fee. Math. How, Sir? near, Par. Lay down your fpade, draw and learn to respect philofophy. Math. I comprehend nothing of it; I ought, therefore, to respect it. Par. Contemplate the calix of that tulip; behold the fummit of the ftamen; or rather that male flowret, which bends amorously towards the female flowret, and endeavours to dart forward its farina. You difcover every where the eagerness of the male flowret to approach the flowret of the other fex. If you wish to be an eye-witnefs of the fport itself, take a male flowret properly clofed, prefs it fuddenly and neatly, and you will fee a dufty fmoke inftantly evaporate, and which will cover the piftil. The flowers are generated thus, by the fame principle by which you yourself came into the world. The fame is the cafe with minerals. The ftones are produced in the fame manner as man. They all require a matrix, a cover, a ftring, and a placenta. Math. Amazing! My very head turns at thefe names. Pray, Sir, did my fpade come into the world thro' the fame channel with myself? Par. Yes; and the iron in the mine has developed itfelf by the fame Jaws with your body. This innumerable multitude of funs, and habitable worlds, which I explained to you the Jaft time Math. Oyes, I remember, I remember, I dreamed the whole night of ftars which were bigger than our village. Par. Remember, then, my lef fons. All this immenfe fyftem, I tell you, may once have been con-. tained in a fingle grain not fo large as a pea. Math. You might at least say a bean, mafter. Par. No.-The milky way, which I fhowed you through my telescope, is a bundle of little worlds, which have burft their fhell only about fixty or eighty years ago. Stars iffue from the womb of stars. The greateft globe in the fyftem of the univerfe has had a germ as well as the fly, as well as the most diminutive infect which is the fport of the winds. The winds themselves fcatter the univerfal feeds of existence. Math. And thake my apricots. Par. What is this to the purpose? Don't interrupt me. It appears that Venus has lately engendered a new fatellite: Our earth formerly begot the moon; a people called the Egyptians, had the certificate of her birth, which certificate is fince unfortunately loft. But the earth is not yet fo old, but that she may procreate a second moon. Math. Which will fupply the place of those lantherns for which we now pay fo dear. Will we get back our money then, Sir? Par. People never return money, let what will happen. Math. Then you had better employ yourself in devifing fome method to get the money back, than in racking your brain with the notion that the ftars get children. Par. What! will the grofinefs of the world, then, hinder you from perceiving, that every thing goes on in the universe at large juft as in your garden; that the fun engenders funs, just as the grain of your falads engenders |