SELECTIONS FROM THE ST PRIEST MSS. No II. MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE. Portrait of Lise (late Baroness of Stael Holstein, when Mademoiselle Necker,) by the Chevalier Charles Emmanuel de St Priest. Par che n'egli occhi a vampi una facella. No one posesses more wit than Lise. A ready conception; a retentive memory; a liveliness of repartee; a just coup d'ail, when she allows her attention to be fixed on any object; a sentiment of agreeable things; a facility in expressing them; information; accomplishments. She is mistress, in short, of all which is calculated to please; and this all is embellished by the natural charm of her expressions, when she describes the sensations she feels. Too much ardour, or, at least, too great a vivacity, sometimes carries her beyond the bounds which custom seems to have prescribed. But until experience shall have given her a sufficient command over herself, to enable her to be fully sensible of the utility and wisdom of the received notions of what is fit and congruous, and shall have taught her to correct the work of nature without spoiling it, these transports, or, rather, these flights of the imagination, are not to be other wise regarded than as we see, in a young poet, those inordinate sallies which bid defiance to the rules of art, without, however, overstepping them, or claiming exceptions in their favour, but which announce the fire of genius, and are its scintillations. Racine composed fine verses with facility: the rigid Boileau recommended to him to give them a still higher polish. The young poet, sensible of the goodness of his friend's advice, bestowed more pains on the composition of his pieces, and rendered them chefs-d'œuvres of harmony. Such will be the operation of reason on Lise, when Lise shall have felt and judged she will perfectionate the work of nature ***** if art were to interfere it would be a profanation. The heart of Lise ought not to occupy my thoughts: my profession* condemns me to be ignorant of it. I Orlando Furioso. may, however, be permitted to say, that I think it susceptible. When she speaks of it herself, her expressions border somewhat on extravagance; but this is because her conceptions are not as yet to be confined within the narrow boundaries of what is real.Her vague imagination creating in her fancy a chimerical being, the only one which has sufficient pretensions to please her, it is very natural that she should arrogate to herself sentiments which are not within the scope of humanity, to the end that she may be deserving of the phantom she embraces. Her talents are allied to her gayety, and partake of its freedom. Her physiognomy indicates attention; but this is deranged at intervals by the movement of her eyes: sometimes mild in their expression, and often ardent; they are the mirror of her soul. When mention is made of her father, they are animated to an uncommon degree. If he were nothing more than an ordinary individual, she would betray her sensibility in speaking of him; but her heart rises to the level of the reputation of this celebrated man. The sensation which is felt by those who listen to Lise for the first time is astonishment. She subdues the selflove of others without wounding it— and it is not long before each finds, to his surprise, that he is more deeply interested in the conquests of Lise than in his own. Chi vive amando il sa, senza ch'io'l scriva. Orl. Furo. • The Knights of Malta were enjoined a vow of celibacy. Extract of a Letter relative to the Death of Voltaire, and that M. de Voltaire has just terminated his long career amid the honours paid to him by Parisian enthusiasm. He was crowned at the Theatre Français, at the close of the representation of his Irene, a tragedy which savours strongly of the chilled age when he wrote it. On quitting the theatre, he was surrounded by the minor poets, who demanded, on their knees, the honour of kissing his hands. This excess of enthusiasm, which was very ridiculous, became still more absurd on his reaching the house of Mr Franklin, who fell on his knees, and asked a blessing of him for his young nephew. The excruciating pains felt by M. de Voltaire led him to ask a remedy of his friend M. D. Richelieu, who laboured under the same complaint. The latter sent him opium, the remedy to which he had himself had recourse; and by its abuse he was poisoned. In his latest moments, he expressed a wish to consult M. Tronchin, of whom, however, he did not entertain the most favourable opinion, and treated him as a quack, his art as imposture, &c. Exasperated at these insults, M. Tronchin told him, with much gravity, that, at the most, he had not more than two hours to live, and that therefore it behoved him to see to his affairs. On this observation he was desired to withdraw. M. de Voltaire now raised himself on his bed, with the help of his nurse and of his notary. The latter having handled him somewhat roughly, received a cuff, the force of which led him to enter his protest against the prognostic of the doctor. As soon as he was recovered from the disorder into which the awkwardness of the notary had thrown him, he said to himself, "At length I am to die. Be it so; but let my end be conform able to my life. It is more than probable that my body will be deposited in the Chantier (timber-yard) of Maurapas, where the ashes of La Couvreur repose. Forty years ago she would not permit me to sleep with her, but she will now be constrained to endure me at her side." He was Adieu, mes amis, I have not heard that he has as yet had an epitaph bestowed on him, unless the ines which have been handed about, and which are quite in the epigrammatic style, are to be considered as such. De Voltaire admirez la bizarre planette : The latter is a young Swiss lady, of whom he was greatly enamoured, and whom he had married to M. de Villette." Jean Jacques Rousseau has rendered his end singularly interesting by the memoirs of his life, in which he has made an exact avowal of all his actions. These memoirs are comprised in an octavo volume, which sells at a most extravagant price. It is even said that copies have been purchased at as high a rate as eighty livres, (more than three guineas,) and from that to twenty-five. The dearness of the book arises from the vigilance of the police, and from its interest-for M. Rousseau has developed in it the intrigue of his novel. It is as follows: His Julie is Mademoiselle de Montmorency, married to a French nobleman, whose name I have not been able to learn, and whom he styles Madame Wolmar. This unfortunate female has been long dead; and it is said by several persons who were acquainted with Rousseau, that from that time he became unsocial and mis • A celebrated actress, denied, with all those of her profession in the Catholic states, Christian burial. These details were given by M. Mercier, who was present when M. de Voltaire breathed his last. anthropic. He acknowledges that he had carried on, during three months, an illicit intercourse with Madame de Montmorency, the mother of his Julie; and that this lady, conceiving herself to be the only object of his homage, had confided to him the education of her daughter, whom he seduced: That a nobleman had demanded her in marriage and that he, Rousseau, having had satisfactory proofs of the probity of this nobleman, had beseeched him not to entail misery on the young lady and on himself. To this he consented, and retired to his country seat. This personage is his Milord Edouard. That the Viscount de Montmorency, who is still living,* on his return from the war in Hanover, having perceived that intrigues were carrying on under his roof, dismissed M. Rousseau, and married his daughter to the nobleman known by the name of Wolmar. He also says, that having become desperately enamoured of Madame de Montmorency's female attendant, his passion carried him to such a length as to instigate him to steal a gold trinket belonging to her mistress, with a view to criminate her: That having thrown out suspicions against this unfortunate girl, he caused her to be sent to prison, to the end that, as her deliverer, he might acquire certain rights over her person; and that, if she had not yielded to his passion, he would have had the courage to see her hanged, and to despatch himself afterwards with a poignard: That being in extreme distress, a doctor of the Sorbonne, whom he names, proposed to him to write against religion. This offer he accepted, and took care to fulfil his engagement. He names a dozen women of quality, still living, from whom he received favours, at times and under circumstances, which carry with them a great air of probability. His mistress is the daughter of M. le Vasseur, a director of imposts at Dijon. By his persuasives she was led to elope with him. Having brought together, at a dinner party, Messrs Diderot, d'Alembert, and others, he presented to them this female, saying, "I call God and my friends to witness that I acknowledge no other wife beside Mademoiselle le Vasseur." By this woman he had four children, three of whom are, agreeably to his testimony, in the foundling hospital. With the destiny of the other he professes to be unacquainted. (Here is introduced an extract from the preface to "THE CONFESSIONS," already before the public. What follows, as referring to the manner of Rousseau's death, is not so well known. A loose hint is thrown out by Madame de Staël, in her memoirs of this extraordinary character, that a suspicion was entertained of his having been taken off by poison. The particulars are these.) The mausoleum of Jean Jacques Rousseau is at Ermenonville, where he died, in the house of his friend the Marquis de Girardin. The cause of his death has been disguised, by ascribing it to an attack of apoplexy. He died of poison, because his memoirs had appeared before the time he had prescribed; and it was the infidelity of his mistress, who had stolen them from him, which led him to have recourse to poison. He is buried in a small island formed by a lake, in the centre of a sombre group of trees, in which he took particular delight. On one side of his tomb, which is a square of six feet, surmounted by a cornucopia, M. Girardin has inscribed the following lines. Ici, sous ces ombres paisibles, Mais c'est dans tous les cœurs sensibles The other side of the tomb has a musical trophy for his operatic piece, 66 LE DEVIN DE VILLAGE." Behind is a woman in tears, giving her breast to an infant, who holds in his hands "L'EMILE." The third side represents two doves billing, as an emblem of the " NOUVELLE HELOISE." • This was written shortly after the death of Rousseau. VOL. VII. D THE RAPE OF PROSERPINE. (SCENE-The Vale of Enna.) PROSERPINE, VIRGINS. Proser. Now come and sit around me, My spirit mounts as triumphing, and my heart, Here-This rose (This one half-blown) shall be my Maia's portion, For that, like it, her blush is beautiful: And this deep violet, almost as blue As Pallas' eye, or thine, Lycimnia, I'll give to thee, for like thyself it wears Its sweetness, never obtruding. For this lily, It flourishes with its guardian's growth, as thou dost ; CHORUS. Behold, behold, Proserpina ! How hoary clouds from out the earth arise, And wing their way towards the skies, As they would veil the burning blush of day. Some fearful being from afar Comes onward: As he moves along the ground, Companions him; and from his face doth shine, A light that darkens all the place around. SEMICHORUS. (Cyane.) 'Tis he, 'tis he: he comes to us Proser. He comes indeed. How like a god he looks! Terribly lovely-Shall I shun his eye, Which even here looks brightly beautiful? What a wild leopard glance he has.-I am Jove's daughter, and shall I then deign to fly? I will not, yet methinks, I fear to stay. FLUTO enters. Pluto. Stay, oh! stay. Proserpina, Proserpina, I come From my Tartarean kingdom to behold you. Bowing before your beauty. Brightest maid-! Roamed thro' the earth, where many an eye hath smil'd But I have passed free from amongst them all, And shake the green leaves in the face of day, |