them, he said, upon authority which he thought unquestionable, that milor was le plus grand philosophe et ministre du monde, always excepted Monsieur le Baron de Montesquieu. Then assuming an air of greater importance, and opening the locker of one of the window-seats, he produced a manuscript book, mouldy with age, and in many parts obliterated from damp, but which was evidently a commonplace book, and, as it seemed to Wentworth, in Bolingbroke's handwriting. "Le voila!” cried the intendant, with increased significance; "c'est son écriture!" Both Wentworth and De Vere hurried to examine it, even before they were told by their guide that it was he who had discovered this only relic of the great milor, and that he had very honestly informed the steward of the estate of it, who, upon the strength of his having been son to the gardener when Bolingbroke lived there, told him he might keep it. "I did so," said the old gentleman; "and as English travellers often come here, I have found my account in showing it to them, as I hope," concluded he, with a low bow, "I shall to-day.' The friends were so much absorbed with the manuscript as scarcely to listen to him, though the book was merely a collection of passages from different authors bearing upon particular subjects, with a few original sentences of the writer's own, afterward incorporated with his works. Both gentlemen were particularly struck with the following, which they read with avidity, and which brought home to them many reflections, to which even what De Vere, but particularly Wentworth, had seen of the world of ambition, made them peculiarly alive. "Similis, a captain of great reputation, under Trajan and Adrian, having obtained leave to retire, passed seven years in his retreat, and then dying, ordered this inscription to be put on his tomb: that he had been many years on earth, but that he had lived only seven. If you are wise, your leisure will be as worthily employed, and your retreat will add new lustre to your character. Imitate Thucydides in Thrace, or Xenophon in his little farm at Scillus. In such a retreat you may sit down like one of the inhabitants of Elis, who judged of the Olympic games without taking any part in them. Far from the hurry of the world, and almost an unconcerned spectator of what passes in it, having paid in a public life what you owed to the present age, pay in a private life what you owe to posterity. Write as you have lived, without passion, and build your reputation, as you build your happiness, on the foundation of truth. 'Innocuas amo delicias doctamque quietam."" Wentworth and De Vere looked at one another on finishing these passages, each moved by the same senti ment. "To think," at last exclaimed Wentworth; “how differently a man can act and write!" "And yet," observed De Vere, looking at the landscape from the windows, " may we not suppose him sincere?" "For the moment, yes!" replied Wentworth; "and though the landscape is, as you say, delightful, I dare say, when he sat at this window he looked oftenest at the road to Paris." "It is certain," observed De Vere, falling into thought, "his philosophy was merely in his ideas. But they were beautiful ideas, nor can I help regretting that his feeling was merely in imagination when he solaced himself with that charming line which you see he has underscored, as if he loved it, 'Innocuas amo delicias doctamque quietam."" "Yes!" observed Wentworth; "but that he, who was the child of passion, should say to himself, in the very privacy of his chamber, where he must have been communing with his own heart, Write as you have lived, without passion! Oh! human nature! how admirably canst thou fool thyself!" "Here is more and still more marked," cried De Vere, turning over the leaves; and the friends read on. "You have fulfilled all the duties of a good citizen, you have been true to your trust, and have pursued the interest of your country; you severed her interest from those of her factions. She reaps the benefits of these services, and you suffer for them. You are banished, and pursued with ignominy; and those whom you hindered from triumphing at her expense revenge themselves at yours." "This is, at least, more practical," observed Wentworth; "and here we worshippers of ambition, as we are called, may find some truth as to our slippery position." De Vere, all interest, read on. "The persons in opposition to whom you saved the public conspire and accomplish your ruin. These are your accusers, and the giddy, ungrateful crowd your judges. Your name is hung up in the tables of proscription, and art, joined to malice, endeavours to make your best actions pass for crimes. For this purpose, the sacred voice of the senate is made to pronounce a lie, and those records which ought to be the eternal monuments of truth become the vouchers of calumny." "A good lesson," cried Wentworth. "Hear the consolation," proceeded De Vere. "Such circumstances you think intolerable, and you would prefer death to so ignominious an exile. Deceive not yourself. The ignominy remains with them who persecute, not with him who suffers unjust persecution. But nothing can affect the man who, in a healthful body, enjoys a conscience void of the offences ascribed to him." "Admirable consolation!" exclaimed Wentworth; "but, alas! how often belied by the person who, with perhaps a broken heart, whispers that he believes it, and dies." Here the ex-minister turned away to the window, and was silent. It was evident he was thinking of Beaufort. De Vere went on to read another passage, descriptive of the resignation of this extraordinary lover of tranquillity; whose only unhappiness for thirty years was, that he was left to enjoy what he loved. "I have brought myself to that indifferent temper of mind which only can secure the tranquillity of any person who acts upon the public stage in this country of revolutions. How I envied Lord Peterborough, for being far from home, nearer the sun, and at a distance from faction!" During the reading of these extracts, and the comments upon them, Monsieur Nicholas, the steward, stood at a respectful distance, with his arms crossed before him in a sort of attitude of resignation, until the gentlemen should have finished; when observing them pause, he asked, in the manner in which a Frenchman generally asks for a compliment, "Messieurs sont-ils contents! Mais VOL. II.-11 F apparemment ils aimeront voir le Cabinet des Inscrip tions?" At this high-sounding title the travellers looked at one another, and then at Monsieur Nicholas, with surprise, as if not expecting any thing so important in a place so abandoned. But the steward, begging them to follow him, led them to a sort of temple built over a gurgling fountain, which burst afterward into a rivulet, winding through the grounds. Here they beheld several marbles, on which the overflowings of the mind of this brilliant / exile seemed to have poured themselves. Abandoned as all appeared to be, there was an air of romance about the place which, added to association, pointed every thing with interest. For it evidently was a spot in which the imagination of a disappointed ambitieux had brooded, and endeavoured to console itself in the dignity of retreat. Both gentlemen were particularly struck with a tablet immediately over the shell of a river-god, whence the fountain broke. On this was inscribed the following emphatic lines, descriptive of Bolingbroke's own sense, at least, of the injustice of his fate, and his philosophy in bearing it. * By the madness of an outrageous faction, Pleasantly lived. Hinc, velut ex portu, alienos casus Hic, mortem nec appetens nec timens et Felicis animi immota tranquillitate, Hic mihi viviam quod superest aut exilii, 'Charming," exclaimed De Vere, "could we only suppose the sentiment genuine; but I doubt both the immoveable tranquillity and the happy mind he talks of. "The lady doth profess too much, methinks,' yet there are such charms in the sentiment, such witchery in the notion of a philosophic independence of the world, that, self-deluded or not, it is interesting to contemplate these effusions." "What shall we say," said Wentworth (pondering over the first inscription), "to the political account of himself? Was he right in flying from trial, or would he not have been safe, or at least consulted his reputation better, had he, like the man he affected to despise,† nobly braved it?" 66 Party rage,” replied De Vere, "is such a monster, that there is no saying; but I allow, as a man of political courage, however inferior in other respects, the firmness of Lord Oxford will ever place him above Bolingbroke." "St. John is a sort of hero of yours," said Wentworth. "A sort of one," replied De Vere; "though, Heaven knows, for consistency, manliness, and all that constitutes greatness, he had very little of the hero about him. As an ambitious man, from the violence with which he pushed his great passion, and the envy, hatred, and malice *If his country come to her senses, about to return to her, Here in safety, as from a harbour, It is delightful to look at the dangers of others Here In innocent recreation and learned leisure + Oxford. |