The cardinal, who fufpected the artifices of his fifter-in-law, had her fo diligently watched, that he knew all her motions: as foon as he was informed that her confeffor was fent for, he repaired to her anti-chamber, in which he walked to and fro, repeating his breviary. The duchefs hearing he was there, fent him a meffage intreating that he would retire, becaufe the could not bear that he fhould hear the cries which might be forced from her by her pains: the cardinal anfwered, Let her highness think "only of her own bufinefs, as I "do of mine." As foon as the confeffor arrived, the cardinal ran to him, crying out, "Welcome, welcome, my dear father, the grand duchefs is in labour, and has great need of your affif"tance:" at the fame time catching him in his arms, and embracing him, he perceived a jolly boy juft born, which the good father had got in his fleeve: he inftantly took the child from him, and cried out loud enough to be heard by the duchefs, God be praifed, the princefs is happily delivered of a fon;" at the fame time fhewing him to all that were prefent. .. 66 The grand duchefs, enraged, almoft to distraction, at this infult and difappointment, determined to be revenged on the cardinal; and the grand duke, whofe paffion had fuffered no abatement, foon gave her an opportunity. They were all three on a country party at Poggio a'Caino, and eat at the fame table: the cardinal was extremely fond of blanc manger, and the duchefs procured fome that was mixed with poifon, and had it ferved up. The cardinal, who had many fpies about her, was inform'd of it; he fat down at table, however, as ufual, but, notwithstanding the most preffing folicitations of the duchefs, he would not touch the blanc manger: "Well, faid the "duke, if the cardinal will not eat it, I will;" and immediately took fome on his plate. The duchefs not being able to prevent his eating it, without difcovering her crime, perceived herself to be undone for ever; and to avoid the refentment of her brother-in-law, the cardinal, fhe eat the remainder of the poifoned difh herself, and both fhe and her husband died together, on the 21st of October 1587. The cardinal fucceeded to the dukedom, by the name of Ferdinand I. and reigned till 1608. Account of an amazing Prodigy, foon after the Maffacre at Paris; taken from the Hiftory of the Order of the Holy Ghoft; written in French by M. de Saint Foix, Hiftoriographer to the Royal Orders. Paris 1767. cre of St. Bartholomew, I fupped at the Louvre, at Mademoiselle de, Fiefque's; the heat had been intenfe all the day; we went and ⚫ fat down in a small arbour by the ‹ river fide, to enjoy the fresh air; on a fudden we heard in the air a horrible found of tumultuous voices, and of mixed groans, with cries of rage and fury; we ⚫ remained motionlefs, in the utmoft confternation, looking on each other, from time to time, A Dialogue between a Hermit and without being able to speak: this 'continued, I believe, almost half an hour: it is certain, that the king heard it; that he was terrified by it; that he could not fleep the remainder of the night; that nevertheless he did not men⚫tion it the next morning; but he was obferved to look gloomy, penfive, wild." M. de St. Foix remarks, that if any prodigy deferves credit, it is this, being attested by Henry IV. "This "prince," fays d'Aubigne, b. 1. ch. 6. p. 561. frequently told us " among his most intimate friends, (and many now living can witness, that he never mentioned it without ftill feeming to be terrified,) that eight days after the maffacre of St. Bartholomew, he faw a vaft • number of ravens perch and croak on the pavillion of the Louvre; that the fame night, Charles IX. after he had been two hours in bed, ftarted up, roufed his grooms of the chamber, and fent them out to liften to a great noife of groans in the air, and among others, fome furious and threatening voices, the whole resembling what was heard on the night of the maffacre; that all these various cries were fo ftriking, fo remarkable, and a Man of the World. By Voltaire. Solitaire and Mundofo. HA Sol. A fon! by what wonderful providence do I fee thee among these rocks? Mun. Ha! father! How the devil came you here? S. I hope, fon, for your relief and comfort-You feem in diftrefs. M. Yes, faith, I'm in bad cafe enough. I was fhip-wreck'd on the coaft two days ago about three leagues off. S. In the late ftorm! I faw your veffel in diftrefs, and put up my fervent prayers to St. Anthony for your relief. M. We were obliged to you, father; but I fancy St. Anthony was otherwife employed; for he suffered our veffel to go to the bottom. Nay, if praying to the faints could have done, we had enough of that on board. Though it poffibly was not their fault neither; we had not a good feaman in the fhip. With the help of half a dozen English failors, St. Anthony might have got us off the coast; but it was not to be expected, that the faints fhould heave out an anchor to work S. And are you the only furvivor of the perfons on board? M. No. There were four of us, till, like fools, we went to loggerheads about the few trifles we faved from the wreck. S. Is it poffible? M. Yes, very poffible, father; but, as I thought it idle to quarrel about property, till I had found fome means of preferving life, I left my comrades to decide the difpute by themselves. S. Blefs me! What a world have I escaped! M. Why, father, was you caft away here too? S. No, fon, not literally; but, difgufted with the world, I retired to this place, to avoid its temptations, and to contemplate on the things of heaven, M. A very proper fpot; for you can fee little elfe than the fky. I dare fay, you may fee a ftar at noon day, almoft as plain as if you were at the bottom of a well. But pray, good father, cannot you help one to a little fuftenance? I have eat nothing but a few shell-fish thefe three days? S. Gladly, fon; walk in; there is my cell-I was just going to dinner when I firit heard you. M I thank ye, father. Ha! fine fifh good fallad! wine too! a fnug retreat!--You live here very comfortably, father, if you had any body to converfe with now and then. A pretty little pratling female might make even this folitary fpot agreeable: but I have no notion of a man's living like an unit, by himself. S. Religion and philofophy furnish me with reflections that fupply the place of converfation. M. As to religion, I made a vow But to St. Dominic, when I was last at Lisbon, that fo long as his inquifition endured, I would never open my lips about the matter. with regard to philofophy; I have been in England, father, and have laid in fuch a cargoe, that I believe I am your match. Come, let us ftart a fubject of difpute. S. I mean not to differ; what fhould I difpute for? M. To fhew your philosophy,. certainly. S. And is that the use of philofophy? M. Doubtless, S. Then an anchorite cannot be a philofopher, as he has nobody to difpute with. M. True; and I will undertake thereupon to convince you, that a life of folitude is the most useless life in the world. S. I hope, not altogether. Drink, fon, eat. You are welcome. M. Excellent wine, this!-I did not think these rocks produced fuch refreshing fallads. Yes, father, your folitary philofophy is all out of fashion. It is discovered by the moderns, that a man may be as devout in a cathedral, as in a cell, and may cultivate philofophy as well on the exchanges of Amfterdam and London, as if he were caft away on Robinson Crufoe's ifland, In a word, father, it is to be demonftrated-delicate fifh !-that an anchorite is an ufelefs being, and cannot poffibly be of fervice to any human creature. Most delicaté fish, indeed! S. Not even to a ship-wreck'd mariner. M. Egad, father, you have caught me. I fee that a man fhould be filent at meals: his brains are not worth a farthing 1 . while he is filling his belly. I beg your pardon. It must be owned, you have very effentially ferved me, as my late craving, and now fated appetite can teftify. : S. Learn hence, fon, how readily ingratitude arifes from want of reflection you may from this inftance alfo learn the vanity of that philofophy, which confifts only in words. Know that, as nature hath made nothing in vain, fo providence will not fuffer any thing that is innocent to be uselefs. Virtue,' fay you men of the world, 'confifts in doing good ← to others, and how can a man do good to others, who lives by himfelf? Great, however, is the merit of him that hath courage to withdraw himself from temptation, and does no harm. If I do little good to my fellow-creatures, I do them lefs ill. In the world, I fhould do more of both. But, even fuppofing the love of folitude an error, let the providential fervice I have now afforded you, in this defolate fituation, teach you, that heaven will not permit even the blindness and errors of mankind to render them totally - ufelefs to each other. family and a public community. On Forms of Government. A Dia- for my impertinence in afking for logue by Voltaire. OR part, I own the money. It is certainly very agreeable for a poor man to live without Mr. B. F myfelf well enough the apprehenfion of being feized pleafed with a democratical government. That philofopher was certainly mistaken, who told an advocate for it, "that if he made the experiment in his own family he would foon repent it." With the philofopher's leave, there is a deal of difference between a private and thrown into a dungeon, because he is unable to pay a man whom he never faw, a tax he knows not for what, and of which perhaps he never heard a fyllable be fore in his life. To be free, to have to do only with one's equals, is the true ftate of of nature. Every other ftate is artificial; it is a vile farce, in which one man plays the tyrant, and another his flave, a fecond his pimp, and a third his toad-eater. You muft admit that mankind cannot degenerate from a ftate of nature, but through cowardice and fervility. Mr. A. I do. It is pretty plain, I think, that none can have forfeited their liberty, but from their incapacity to defend it. There are two ways in which men may lofe their liberty; the one is when knaves are too cunning for fools; and the other when the strong are too powerful for the weak. I have heard of a certain vanquished people, whofe conquerors deprived every man of one eye as a mark of his fubjection. But there are people in the world whose governors have put out both their eyes, and drive them about like blind horses in a mill. I muft own I fhould like to keep my eyefight; and look upon a people fubjugated to an aristocratical form of government as having loft one eye, and thofe under an abfolute monarch as having loft both, Mr. C. You talk like a Dutchman.. I own I like nothing but an ariftocracy. The common people are unfit for government. I could never fubmit to have my periwigmaker a legislator; I had rather wear my own hair, or go bald as long as I live. It belongs only to perfons well educated to govern those who have no education at all. The Venetian government is the best model for a ftate; and is the most ancient ariftocracy in Europe. Next to that I prefer the German conftitution. Make me a Venetian nobleman, or a count of the empire, and I shall be a happy fellow but not otherwise. Mr. A. As a man of fortune and family you are doubtlefs in the right of it; but on the fame prin ciple, you would prefer the defpotifm of Turkey, if you were to be yourself Grand Signior. For my part, though I am but a fimple member of the British house of commons, I look upon our conftitution to be the best in the world. As a proof of which I appeal to the unexceptionable evidence of a celebrated French poet : Mr. C. Dangerous to themselves! There muft furely be great abuses in the English government! Mr. A. Doubtlefs; juft as there were formerly at Athens and in Rome; and as there always will be in the best of human inftitutions. The utmost pinnacle of political perfection is that of being very powerful and happy amidst the most enormous abuses; and to this point are we now arrived. It is certainly dangerous to eat too much; and yet I should like to have my table well fupplied, though I would not gormandize with minifterial tyranny on one fide, nor popular licentiousness on the other. To |