in his hand to take notes or to make remarks. Composition is his principal amusement. No author who writes for daily bread, no young poet ardent for distinction, is more assiduous with his pen, or more anxious for fresh fame than the wealthy and applauded Seigneur of Ferney. He lives in a very hospitable manner, and takes care always to keep a good cook. He has generally two or three visitors from Paris, who stay with him a month or six weeks at a time. When they go, their places are soon supplied, so that there is a constant rotation of society at Ferney. These, with Voltaire's own family and his visitors from Geneva, compose a company of twelve or fourteen persons, who dine daily at his table whether he appears or not. For when engaged in preparing some new publication for the press, indisposed, or in bad spirits, he does not dine with his company, but satisfies himself with seeing them for a few minutes, either before or after dinner. All who bring recommendations from his friends may depend on being received, if he be not really indisposed. He often presents himself to the strangers who assemble almost every afternoon in his ante-chamber, though they bring no particular recommendation. But sometimes they are obliged to retire without having their curiosity gratified. "The forenoon is not a proper time to visit Voltaire. He cannot bear to have his hours of study interrupted. This alone is sufficient to put him out of humour; besides, he is then apt to be querulous, whether he suffers by the infirmities of age, or from some accidental cause of chagrin. Whatever is the reason, he is less an optimist at that part of the day than at any other. It was in the morning, probably, that he remarked, 'que c'étoit dommage que le quinquina se trouvoit en Amerique, et la fièvre en nos climats.' Those who are invited to supper have an opportunity of seeing him in the most advantageous point of view. He then exerts himself to entertain the company, and seems as fond of saying what are called good things as ever; and when any lively remark or bon mot comes from another, he is equally delighted, and pays the fullest tribute of applause. The spirit of mirth gains upon him by indulgence. When surrounded by his friends, and animated by the presence of women, he seems to enjoy life with all the sensibilities of youth. His genius then surmounts the restraints of age and infirmity, and flows along in a fine strain of pleasing and spirited observation, and delicate irony. He has an excellent talent for adapting his conversation to his comThe first time the Duke of Hamilton waited on pany. him, he turned the discourse on the ancient alliance between the French and the Scotch nations, reciting the circumstance of one of his Grace's predecessors having accompanied Mary Queen of Scots, whose heir he at that time was, to the court of France: he spoke of the heroic characters of his ancestors, the ancient Earls of Douglas, of the great literary reputation of some of his countrymen then living, and mentioned the names of Hume and Robertson in terms of high admiration." Voltaire was irascible and jealous to a great degree; an instance of which is related in an accidental interview with Piron. Piron was a rival wit, who took a strange delight in tormenting him, and whom he consequently most sincerely hated. Voltaire never missed an oppor tunity of lashing his rival in the keen encounter of wit; and Piron, equally liberal, left him but few advantages to boast. One morning Voltaire called at the mansion of the celebrated Madame de Pompadour, and was awaiting her coming in the salon. He had comfortably established himself on a fauteuil, anxiously expecting the arrival of the lady; for though Voltaire was a philosopher, he was nevertheless a keen-scented courtier, and seldom neglected an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the powers that were. The door opened, and Voltaire, arrayed in his best smiles, sprang forward, to pay his homage to the arbitress of patronage, when, who should meet him, smirking as it were in mockery of the poet, but the hated Piron! There was no retreating; Voltaire, therefore, resolving to play the hero, drew himself up with an air of hauteur, and, bowing slightly to Piron, retired to the fauteuil from which he had risen. Piron acknowledged the salutation with an equally indifferent movement, and placed himself on a fauteuil exactly opposite Voltaire. After some few moments passed in silence, the author of the Henriade took from his pocket a black silk cap, which he usually wore when at home, or in the presence of any one with whom he thought he could take such a liberty, and putting it on his head, observed in a dry tone and with great indifference of manner,— "Je vous demande pardon, monsieur; mais mon médecin m'ordonne de-" "Point de cérémonie, monsieur," interrupted Piron, "d'autant plus que mon médecin m'ordonne la même chose." So saying, he very coolly put on his hat. Voltaire stared at this unequivocal demonstration of contempt; but as he had provoked it, he was obliged to put up with the affront. He was therefore compelled to limit his indignation to the expression of his countenance, which was any thing but amiable or conciliating, and occupied himself exclusively with his own reflections. Piron took no notice of him; and the situation of the two poets became every moment more embarrassing. Madame Pompadour did not arrive; and Voltaire was evidently out of humour. He again applied to his pocket, and drawing from-it a biscuit he began to eat it, offering as an apology that his health was delicate. "Pardon, monsieur, mais mon médecin m'a commandé de manger." "Point de cérémonie, monsieur," repeated the imperturbable Piron, with an obsequious bow; and drawing from his pocket a small bottle or flask, with which he was usually provided, he uncorked it, and swallowed the contents at a draught, at the same time testifying his approval by smacking his lips with a violence perfectly petrifying. This was too much. The irascibility of the philosopher prevailed, and starting up, with indignation in his countenance, and darting a fierce look at the unceremonious Piron, he exclaimed, "Est-ce que monsieur se moque de moi ?” "Excusez, monsieur," mildly retorted Piron, enjoying the rage and confusion of his rival, " mais ma santé est si faible que mon médecin m'a commandé de boire." Fortunately, at this moment Madame de Pompadour entered, in time to prevent the progress of hostilities; and if it was beyond her power to promote a good under standing between the poets, she at least contrived to engage their attention on subjects more worthy of their talents. Before we leave Geneva, it will not be improper to mention the claim which the public library has to notice. It contains many rare and curious books and manuscripts, and a very singular piece of antiquity, an ancient Roman shield of massive silver. It was found in the bed of the Arve in 1721. The traveller who beholds a storm on the lake of Geneva will not forget Lord Byron's beautiful description. The sky is changed!—and such a change!-Oh night, And this is in the night:-Most glorious night! C |