The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 324, July 26, 1828

As proud of what they bore.

Glide on ye waves, bear these lines,
And tell her my distress;
Bear all these sighs, ye gentle winds,
And waft them to her breast;
Tell her if e'er she prove unkind,
I never shall have rest.

The Anecdote Gallery

VOLTAIRE

(From various Authorities.)

The Chateau of Ferney, the celebrated residence of Voltaire, six miles from Geneva, is a place of very little picturesque beauty: its broad front is turned to the high road, without any regard to the prospect, and the garden is adorned with cut trees, parapet walls with flower-pots, jets d'eaux, &c. Voltaire's bed-room is shown in its pristine state, just as he left it in 1777, when, after a residence of twenty years, he went to Paris to enjoy a short triumph and die. Time and travellers have much impaired the furniture of light-blue silk, and the Austrians, quartered in the house during the late war, have not improved it; the bed-curtains especially, which for the last forty years have supplied each traveller with a precious little bit, hastily torn off, are of course in tatters. The bedstead is of common deal, coarsely put together; a miserable portrait of Le Kain, in crayons, hangs inside of the bed, and two others, equally bad, on each side, Frederic and Voltaire himself. Round the room are bad prints of Washington, Franklin, Sir Isaac Newton, and several other celebrated personages; the ante-chamber is decorated with naked figures, in bad taste; each of these rooms may be 12 feet by 15.

Such is the narrative of an intelligent traveller, who recently visited Ferney. "Very few," says he, "remain alive, of those who saw the poet: a gardener who conducted us about the grounds had that advantage; he showed us the place where the theatre stood, filling the space on the left-hand side in entering, between the chateau and the chapel, but the inscription on the last, Voltaire à Dieu, was removed during the reign of terror. The old gardener spoke favourably of his old master, who was, he said, bon homme tout-a-fait, bien charitable, and took an airing every morning in his coach and four."

In the sitting-room, adjoining the bedroom, which he was accustomed to occupy, besides some good ancient paintings, is a very singular picture, which was painted according to Voltaire's direction. The principal personages are Voltaire, holding in his hand a roll of paper inscribed La Henriade; next him is a female personification of this favourite poem, whom he is presenting to Apollo crowned with rays of glory; Louis XIV. with his queen and court, are observing these chief figures. In another part, the Muses are crowning the burst of Voltaire with wreaths of flowers, and proposing to place it with those of other immortal authors in the Temple of Fame. The bottom of the picture is occupied by his enemies, who are being torn to pieces by wild beasts, or burning in flames of fire.

In the bed-room is a marble cenotaph, on which is an urn that formerly contained the heart of Voltaire, which was removed several years ago, and placed in the church of Les Invalides at Paris. In this room also is an engraving of Voltaire's monument in the church-yard of Ferney. In this, four figures, representing the four quarters of the world, are preparing to honour his bust with wreaths of laurel and palms. Ignorance, meanwhile, with the wings of a fiend, armed with rods, is driving them away in the midst of their pacific employment, and extinguishing a lamp which burns above the tomb. It is a singular circumstance that Voltaire caused the church of Ferney to be built, as well as several houses in the village, and on an iron vane on the top of the former is inscribed, "Deo erexit Voltaire."

After his escape from the court of Frederic, Voltaire went first to Lausanne, were he resided some years, and where he fitted up a private theatre; his acquaintances there supplied him with performers, of whom it seems he was proud, and who acted for him Zaire, Alzira, and several other plays. Some spirited drawings of Huber represent him behind the scene teaching, scolding, encouraging the actors; you might have thought you heard his loud bravo! The part of Lusignan was frequently filled by the poet himself, who was so much taken with it as to be seen in the morning at the door of his house already dressed for the stage. Voltaire had a hollow wooden voice, and his declamation had more pomp in it than nature; yet in the part of Trissotin, in the Femmes Savantes, he performed very well.

From Lausanne, where he quarrelled with several persons, he went, in 1755, to St. Jean, close to Geneva, and gave to the house he occupied the name of Les Dèlices, which it retains to this day. Ferney, which he bought soon after, became his permanent residence for twenty years.

Strangers of distinction made a point of calling on the philosopher of Ferney, who for some years received their visits very willingly, giving them fêtes and plays; but he became tired of this, and at last would only see those who could amuse him while he amused them. A quaker from Philadelphia, called Claude Gay, travelling in Europe, stayed some time at Geneva; he was known as the author of some Theological works, and liked for his good sense, moderation, and simplicity. Voltaire heard of him, his curiosity was excited, and he desired to see him. The quaker felt great reluctance, but suffered himself at last to be carried to Ferney, Voltaire having promised before hand to his friends that he would say nothing that could give him offence. At first he was delighted with the tall, straight, handsome quaker, his broad-brimmed hat, and plain drab suit of clothes; the mild and serene expression of his countenance; and the dinner promised to go off very well; yet he soon took notice of the great sobriety of his guest, and made jokes, to which he received grave and modest answers. The patriarchs, and the first inhabitants of the earth were next alluded to; by and by he began to sneer at the historical proofs of Revelation; but Claude was not to be driven away from his ground, and while examining these proofs, and arguing upon them rationally, he overlooked the light attacks of his adversary, when not to the point, appeared insensible to his sarcasms and wit, and remained always cool and serious. Voltaire's vivacity at last turned to downright anger; his eyes flashed fire whenever they met the benign and placid countenance of the quaker, and the dispute went so far at last, that the latter, getting up, said, "Friend Voltaire! perhaps thou mayst come to understand these matters rightly; in the meantime, finding I can do thee no good, I leave thee, and so fare thee well!" So saying he went away on foot, notwithstanding all entreaties, back again to Geneva, leaving the whole company in consternation. Voltaire immediately retired to his own room. M. Huber,[8 - M. Huber was the father of the author of a work on the economy of bees, and the grandfather of the author of a work on the economy of ants. The first M. Huber had a very peculiar talent for drawing; with his scissors he could cut a piece of paper into a representation of anything, as accurately, and as fast, and with as much spirit, as he might have delineated with his pencil either figures or landscapes. Voltaire was his favourite subject; and he is known to have taught his dog to bite off a piece of crumb of bread, which he held in his hand, so as to give it as last the appearance of Voltaire.] who was present at this scene, made a drawing of the two actors. PHILO.

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles. SHAKSPEARE.

SIR W. JONES AND MR. DAY.

One day, upon removing some books at the chambers of Sir William Jones, a large spider dropped upon the floor, upon which Sir William, with some warmth, said, "Kill that spider, Day, kill that spider!" "No," said Mr. Day, with that coolness for which he was so conspicuous, "I will not kill that spider, Jones; I do not know that I have a right to kill that spider! Suppose when you are going in your coach to Westminster Hall, a superior being, who, perhaps may have as much power over you as you have over this insect, should say to his companion, 'Kill that lawyer! kill that lawyer!' how should you like that, Jones? and I am sure, to most people, a lawyer is a more noxious animal than a spider."

BISHOP

In Cambridge, this title is not confined to the dignitaries of the church; but port wine, made copiously potable by being mulled and burnt, with the addenda of roasted lemons all bristling like angry hedge-hogs (studded with cloves,) is dignified with the appellation of Bishop:

Beneath some old oak, come and rest thee, my hearty; Our foreheads with roses, oh! let us entwine!

And, inviting young Bacchus to be of the party, We'll drown all our troubles in oceans of wine!

And perfumed with Macassar or Otto of roses, We'll pass round the BISHOP, the spice-breathing cup,

And take of that medicine such wit-breeding doses, We'll knock down the god, or he shall knock us up.

GAZETTED AND IN THE GAZETTE.

These terms imply very different things. The son of a nobleman is gazetted, as a cornet in a regiment, and all his friends rejoice. John Thomson is in the Gazette, and all his friends lament.

UNFORTUNATE CASE.

A zealous priest in the north of Ireland missed a constant auditor from his congregation, in which schism had already made depredations. "What keeps our friend Farmer B–away from us?" was the anxious question proposed by the vigilant minister to his assistant, "I have not seen him among us," continued he, "these three weeks; I hope it is not Protestantism that keeps him away," "No," was the reply, "it is worse than that." "Worse than Protestantism? God forbid it should,—Deism?" "No, worse than that." "Worse than Deism! good heavens, I trust it is not Atheism." "No, worse than Atheism!" "Impossible, nothing can be worse than Atheism!" "Yes, it is, your honour—it is Rheumatism!"

LIQUIDATING CLAIMS.

During a remarkable wet summer, Joe Vernon, whose vocal taste and humour contributed for many years to the entertainment of the frequenters of Vauxhall Gardens, but who was not quite so good a timist in money matters as in music, meeting an acquaintance who had the misfortune to hold some of his unhonoured paper, was asked by him, not uninterestedly, how the gardens were going on? "Oh, swimmingly!" answered the jocose Joe. "Glad to hear it," retorted the creditor, "their swimming state, I hope, will cause the singers to liquidate their notes."

Mr. Samuel Deacon, a most respectable Baptist minister, who resided at Barton in Leicestershire, was not peculiarly happy in his cast of countenance or general appearance; conscious of the silly ridicule his unprepossessing tout ensemble occasionally excited, he made the following good-humoured, quaint remark:—

"The carcass that you look at so,
Is not Sam Deacon, you must know,
But 'tis the carriage—the machine,
Which Samuel Deacon rideth in."

ADVANTAGES OF LOQUACITY

A very pretty woman, who was tediously loquacious, complained one day to Madame de Sevigné, that she was sadly tormented by her lovers. "Oh, Madame," said Madame de Sevigné to her, with a smile, "it is very easy to get rid of them: you have only to speak."

notes

1

The old bridge was of wood, and 168 yards in length. It was the most ancient on the River Thames, except that of London, and is mentioned in a record of the 8th year of Henry III.

2

At the time the chapel fell, the sexton, while digging a grave was buried under the ruins, with another person, and his daughter. The latter, notwithstanding she lay covered seven hours, survived this misfortune seventeen years, and was her father's successor. The memory of this event is preserved by a print of this singular woman, engraved by M'Ardell.

3

The work is dedicated to Dr. Babington, "in remembrance of some delightful days passed in his society, and in gratitude for an uninterrupted friendship of a quarter of a century;" and in the preface the author, after saying that the characters are imaginary, intimates that "in the portrait of HALIEUS, given in the last dialogue, a likeness, he thinks, will not fail to be recognised to that of a most estimable physician, ardently beloved by his friends, and esteemed and venerated by the public."

4

In our last volume, this was erroneously attributed to Swift.

5

See page 370, vol. xi. MIRROR.

6

As "kill him, crimp him," &c.

7