Devereux, Book IV.

enlighten-were supposed to centre in one word,-/Boulainvilliers/! The good Count had many rivals, it is true, but he had that exquisite tact peculiar to his countrymen, of making the ve

s/ which are the destruction of literary society. An old man of about seventy, of a sharp, shrewd, yet polished and courtly expression of countenance, of a great gayety of manner, which was now and then rather displeasingly contrasted b

one could not go open breasted in those regions of cold and catarrh,-a very great misfortune, let me tell you, my Lord, if one's cambric happened to be of a very deli

eard so accomplished a courtier as Count Hamilton repine, wi

ut vanity makes a man show much

ed to a gentleman. Should I ever have been renowned for my exquisite lace and web-like cambric, if I had not been vain? Never, /mon

the play-house to ogle by candle-light, it also teaches the church to ogle by day! But, pardon me, Monsieur Chaulieu, how well you look! I see that the myrtle sheds its verdure, not

a vivacity and life that would have done honour to a youth,-"Milord, it was beautifully said by the Emperor Julian that Just

llest things imaginable. For Heaven's sake, let us leave panegyric to block

s pick out some poor devil to begin w

ander than to rally! Let us commence with his Majesty: Count Devereux,

petitioned before the

nsinuate that his Majesty's piety is

as natural to kings as flattery to their courtiers: a

ewhat profanely,-"if that were true, I should

I recognized the great Huet, "fie: wit should beware

t/ than the learned Abbe Huet!" answere

eten that drop of lemon-juice for you, my dear Huet, let me turn to Milord Bolingbroke, and ask him whether England can produce a scholar equal

elphin

enough, but learning seems to me like a circle: it grows weaker the more it spreads. We now s

riners, but an easy and commonplace voyage of leisure. But who would compare the great men, whose very difficulties not only proved their ardour, but brought them the patience and the courage which alone are the parents of a genuine triumph, to the indolent loiterers of the prese

what have we-we spirits of the world, not imps of the closet," and he glanced at Huet-"to do with scholarship? A

sert that all a friend cares for in one

maxim I will add another applicable to the opposite sex. All that

onour, to go for nothing with our

te lover, that you have all those virtues; and i

rt of love in which the

earned the art!"

he fashion of making love as there are in that of making dresses. Honour

harles the Second which

otice to the picture because we were talking of love; and Old Rowley believed that he could make it better than any one else. All his courtiers had the same opinion of themselves; and I dare say the /beaux garcons/

villiers. "He is always on that subject; and, /sacre bleu/! when he was younger,

oke. Why does a young man think it the greatest compliment to be thought wise, w

h then?" said L

makes a man think more of another than hi

the wickedest witty person I know. I cannot help l

," answered Hamilton: "but are we not, by the by, to have

what writer, ancient or modern, had ever given him the most sensible pleasure? After a little pause, the excelient old man said, 'Daphnus.' 'Daphnus!' repeated I, 'who the devil is he?' 'Why,' answered Fontenelle, with tears of gratitude in his bene

omalous creature 'tis! He has the most kindness and the least feeling of any

mmont/ might have made was prevented by the

to conversation. I do not think I ever encountered a man so brilliantly, yet so easily, witty. He had but little of the studied allusion, the antithetical point, the classic metaphor, which chiefly characterize the wits of my day. On the contrary, it was an exceeding and naive simplicity, which gave such unrivalled charm and piquancy to his conversation. And while I have not scrupled to stamp on my pages some faint imitation of the peculiar dialogue of other eminent characters, I must confess myself utterly unable to convey the smallest ide

d it ever smile without sarcasm. Though flattering to those present, his words against the absent, uttered by that bitter and curling lip, mingled with your pleasure at their wit a little fear at their causticity. I believe no one, be he as bold, as callous, or as faultless as human nature can be, could be one hour with that man and not feel apprehension. Ridicule, so lavish, yet so true to the mark; so wanton, yet so seemingly just; so bright, that while it wandered round its target, in apparent though terrible

ive, almost a more ghastly, contrast than that which the pictures of Voltaire, grown old, present to Largilliere's picture o

e, this man has obtained a high throne among the powers of the lettered world. What he may yet be, it is in vain to guess: he may be all that is great and good, or-the reverse; but I cannot but believe that his career is only begun. Such men are born monarchs of the mind; they may be benefactors or tyrants: in either case, they are greater than the kings of the physical empire, because they defy armies and laugh at the intrigues of st

; "but what is there strange in our merriment? Philemon, the

ingbroke, "that Philemo

, it was at seeing an ass eat figs. Let us vow

moral on the story. Let us swear by the ghost of Philemon tha

other," cried Chaulieu. "Oh, I would sooner take my chance of

host, "you are melanch

d now-taste it. I told him not to put too much sugar, and he has put none. Thus it is with mankind,-ever in extremes, and consequently ever in error. Thus it w

thought one could have found so much morality

t/ was that you made yesterday at Madame d'Ep

nvilliers; "'t was the most classica

ppeared without her /tour/; you know, Lord Bolingbroke, that /tour/ is the polite name for false hair. 'Ah, sacre!' cried her brother, courteo

with a very disrespectful eye. Hamilton saw it. "You do not think, Monsieur Huet,

t cools the wave it is refreshing; when it steals over flowers it is enchanting:

ar Abbe. When Jupiter edited the work of Peter Huet, he did with wit as Peter Huet did with Luca

eu; "let us drink!" and the

y of Tacitus, Huet?"

uman virtues. Do you think that a good man would dwell so constantly on what is evil? Believe me-no. A man cannot write much and

ly remember in the "Huetiana," and will, I hope,

ffects to be so deep, is but a natural corollary from

tus is not so invariably the analyzer of vice as you wo

of the origin of the feudal system,-that incomparable bundle of excellences, which Le Comte de Boulainvilliers has declared to be /le chef d'oeuvre de l'esprit humain/; and which the same gentleman regrets, in the most pathetic terms,

ith a twinkling eye, "the last mentioned evil, my de

daughters; but perhaps the seigneur was no

I would most conscientiously cry out with the honest preacher, 'Adultery, my children, is the blackest

ds the ecclesiastical dissensions between Jesuits and Jansenists that then agitated the kingdom. "Those priests," said

Messieurs, that my Lord Bolingbroke was not a F

would be," cried Chaulieu, who was

ke; "must we not drink these gentlemen unde

e!" cried Chaulieu. "I m

gbroke. And the rites of Minerva w