Newspapers / The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.) / June 5, 1827, edition 1 / Page 4
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ratiftiv Mivinfj profit :uid delight. ^i!t>M TU£ MOVTULY AND £l'HOFZAIf MAGIZISX. LUCK AND ILL-LUCK- [concluded.] As these goodeffepts speedily follow ed my advice, Ihe king transferred to tne the marks of g;ratitude which he re ceived from his people for these unex pected changes. He wished to associ ate me in his power; and the proposal, ^Vhen he made it to the elders of the na tion, was received w]th unanimous ac- ‘]amation9. Nothing remained but to proceed to my installation. From time immemorial, the consccratiun of the Icings of Dahomay consists in marching ihem before the people and the army, mounted upon a superb white elephant, me of the fetichcs of the country, ac- t.ordingto the movements of which tlic ■j^riesls prognosticate the brilliancy and duration of the commencing reign. I f^ive this warning to legislators. I thought I should respect some ancicnt prejudices of the country : I raised my new laws on the foundation of the old, :md when I was on the point of ohtiiin- jng the object of all my cares and ail niy 'toils, the old bases shook under me, and ctflerwavds the new cilifice. ‘‘An insondo, a miserable insect, about ^the size of one of our ants, but the most formidable enemy of the elephant, had insinuated itself in the proboscis of the animal on which I was mounted in tri umph. Irritated by the stinging of the insect, my elephant at first showed great impatience, to the great astonishment of the populace : but the pain he suffered tfoon raised his fury to the highest pitch, lettering the most dreadful cries, and rushing forward in rage, he dashed to pieces his forehead on a neighboring jock. I w'as saved; but another danger, of no less magnitude, awaited me. The priests declared me unworthy, not only of the throne, but of life : the prosperity of the'state had been compromised ; my innovations had raised against me the shade of Trudo Audati, and the mortal gods of Dahomay. The king was at- tlached to me—he owed me his life ; but the death of his fetiche had alarmt^d iiis superstition. He balanced for a whiie, but gratitude linally prevailed ; And he commuted my punishment to exile, after ordering me a very tolerable t^astinadcing, to quiet his conscience. “ An insect which bred on the shoals ih the midst of the Adriatic exposed “V’enice, in the height of her power, to ijiore danger than all the kings of Eu rope leagued against her; an insect flung me from a throne, and changed perhaps ihe destinies of an entire continent ! “I afterwards learnt that the people of Dahomay regretted me: they sent after me into the kingdom of Judia— hut I had already left the coasts of Gui nea. Their emissaries thought they c'ould fill my place by any man of the ffame colour, and proposed to one of the Europeans, whom they met, to ac company them. He accepted it; my ^rvices to Dahomay were turned over to him ; he was loaded with riches and Jionours. That man was Bernard ! If I was fond of revenge, I should have rejoiced at the accident which placed my ungrateful subjects under the power of a mere intriguer, without any capa- ♦ ity. I have not much more to say. 1 'returned to France, and turned author, In the hope of finding in literary labors ^.hat repose and happiness after whicn I had so long sighed. I thouglit I had only to write for posterity—but was soon disabused by my contemporaries. An interesting work which 1 composed, on the manners, customs, and politics of the barbarous kings of Africa, was re- »;ardcd by the censors as a satire against the sovereigns of Europe. The woi‘k '.vas forbidden, and the author was in no small danger of being sent to the Bicetre or the Bastile. I still, however, pan ted after glory ; and not being able to be ,.i great pliysician or a great general, I '.visfied, at all events, to iiava niy name it’.scribcd on llie libtot'the forty immor tals—and I wrote a traged}*. ]iy means of much care an{ trouble, I had it performed ; but a wit of the palcrre riainned it in the tliird scene by a joke; a very good joke, I confcss, but not at all ^oncluMve aa to the mcrils of the piece, (n the mean time, Bernard having re- ^ijrned to Paris, modestly enjoyed the }]igh reputation of a warrior, a lawgiver, and a philosophic traveller. 'I’hinking to repair, as much :is ])Ossible, my thea- frical failure, I riult'aroured to bring together some people of fashion, and many of the literati, to hear my play 'vi ead. An opera dancer w'ho was pro- y^ctcd by Bernard, gave, on the same a grand soupcr ; ai! the literati v/(tre engaged to it; and I iiad no other n* Mitors but some youug dandies, and eld rakes cf tho iv(jgency, wiio ^ li> iiiC v.iiii aflocted gfWaces, yawning, or dosing, and ratified the de cree of the public by pronouncing u- nanimously my play detestable. I was not di?-'couragcd : and an cpic poem was the fruit of this poetical resignation. No bookseller would print it: my re putation had preceded me; and, on going out of one of their shops, I learned that Bernard had justbeen namedamemberof the Academy—for admission into which illustrious body he oHered no other title than that of havingcomposed a//M«/mm ill honor of that Iiigh and handsome la dy, whom Maria Theresa had called her friend and good cousin (Madame de Pompadour.) “ After having exercised all employ ments with sunic talent, and much hon esty, I began to think that intriguing mediocrity has the. best chance of suc cess. A man of/iliis class has gathered •he fruit of all my talents—all iny toils in the four quarters of the globe. I was growing old, and felt the necessity of securing iny futere prospects. It was, however, with some pain that I decided on falling into the common track. So liciting tor i)lace, I frequented the anti chambers of the great; I wrote petitions to tiiem, and haufjuets-a-Chlori.t for tlieir mistresses. 1 made friends in the newspapers, in the public oflices—even in tlie kinu:’s i-ur'le-robe. Finally, I obtained zealous patrons, and all the ne cessary steps to obtain the enij)loyment winch I solicited we re made. The road to the court was opened, and 1 had no thing to do but present my petition to the king: it is only natural that the hand which was to have presented it should be struck powerless all at once. I foresaw my fate, and do not complain. The clashing of our vehicle.s Has over turned with me, in the middle of the way, the result of all my assiduity with the great, and my verses to Cldoris ; but for once my ill-luck be praised! It would have been too painful a r*‘flec- tion, that the only blameable action of my life should be the only one attended with success. From every little check a great good results, when considered from a proper point of view. If my different catasti ophcs have hurt my for tune and my reputation—things in them selves frail and perishable—they have also developed my mind, and er.larged the sphere of my understanding, by compelling me to exercise my moral powers in different ways among differ ent nations : they have taught me not to squander either esteem or disdain, without a profound knowledge of men and things, according to vain appearan ces ; for many men of talent and merit must exist in the world whom unfavor able circumstances and unhjcky chances have casti like myself, into the obscuie ranks of the poor and unknown. The cclat of grand titles and great reputa tions do not now impose upon me. A trifle is sufficient to raise or destroy all human glories, as I have often experi enced. The shape of Cleopatra^s nose (as Pascal has observed with so much sagacity) caused the fortune of Augustus and the ruin of Antony, and deranged the face of the world. According to the academician, Duclos, the vermin which torment the Roman conclaves have frequently triumpiied over in trigues and seductions, and made popes of people, who but for them never would have attained the dignity. A child playing in the shop of a spectacle-niaker is the cause of discovering myriads of suns and new worlds, and prepares, without thinking of'it, tiie way for the reputuiion of Simon Marius, of Galileo, of twenty other great astronomers. A fulling apple demonstrated to Newton the lavvs ot the universe, and perhaps revealed to him thi; extent of his own genius. As fur me, vvho seem to have been cast into the world to prove the in fluence which can be exercised over the destinies of man, the master of tho.earth, by the most «iiin3ltcrn and contemptible causes ; such as an awkward gesture, a nick-name, a graj)e-stone, a worm, a blast of ilust, a pu])py-dog, an insect, or a censor ; I say, as for me, have not these trillcs closcil before my footsteps twenty patlis to glory or honor? ) might have become a fatalist ; but I will not. Mad, a thousand-fold mad, are they who refuse to believe that an In- jinite Mind presided over the creation of these beings, so low in the scale of creation as to be almost imj)erceptible, yet all-important in the great proceed ings of the universe. The harmony of the world is kejjt up only by apparent irregularities. J shall not cry out; All is right; but I will say, nothing is use less or contemptible. An atom acquires importance by its position, like a cy pher [0] in arithmetical calculation.— Every thing has its power of action ; every thing may become a lever in its turn ; every thing h;is been produced to keep up that eternal re-actioii of good and evil which alone ^iyes motion and JHo U the creation',’* Til. l^igifcfc (Tonclu^eJ and Cooito cl(; ]V1 , after having heard in silence his long philosophical tirade^ rojilicd, “Your history has surprised and inter ested me more than you can imagine. Your profound understanding, however, M. Pigafet, does not appear to have yet made you comprehend that, if unmerit ed misfortunes may continually cling to a man without tarnishing him, fortune often smiles also on men, perhaps un worthy of her favors, from the weak ness of their capacity, but vvho yet would not condescend to look for them by intrigue or baseness.-—I am Ber nard!—that Bernard who profited by your disasters without having caused them—who was sometimes your rival, never your enemy—who has obtained a great reputation without having look ed for it, and arrived at honors without caring about them—and w'ho has no more reason to blush for his prosperity than you for your misfortunes!’’ Here M. Pigafet attempted to interrupt the Comte, or Bernard, if you so please to call him ; but the latter, having implor ed his silence by a gesture, went on thus :—“It IS my turn to tell you the principal events of my life : I shall be brief—for my history is but the supple ment of yours. “It may be a good thing to follow one’s vocation in the choice of a pro fession ; but, as I had no particular vo cation for one thing more than another, 1 only consulted the taste of my father, and became a lawyer to oblige him.— If, however, I wanted eloquence, I did not want common sense ; and I soon felt that nature had denied me the gifts of oratory. Hence arose that timidity —that confusion—that feebleness of voice, which struck you so forcibly in my first pleading. The accident of your periwig made me share in the general laugh, in which 1 own I wns w’rong ; but people cannot always con tain themselves, and your appearance was really most comical. My unex pected success did not blind me as to my want of capacity for the bar ; for, a few days afterwards, one of my uncles, a rich and fashionable physician, having proposed to make me his heir at law, provided that 1 was in a condition to in- iierit, at the same time, his fortune and his practice, I became a physician to oblige my uncle, as I had become a law yer to oblige my father. In my new profcEsion, 1 just knew as much as en titled me to put on the medical robe ; 1 knew what I had learned—nothing more: and every innovation appeared to me a sacrilege. You shouM not wonder, then, that I was indignant on seeing you touch the very ark of our profes sion, and I darted my prediction of death against your patient as an anathe ma. The grape-stone gave me a tri umph, but did not dazzle me neverthe less ; for my uncle having died about this time, 1 inherited liis fortune, gave up his practice, and resolved to pass the remainder of my life in that dolce far 7iienii, v\hich was the only object of my indolent ambition. “My agent—a man honest enough, considering his situation—placed my capital in commerce, and made a very fair profit upon it for us both ; I got my share, and did not complain of his.— Y'our unlucky worm might certainly have assisted me in getting off my com modities ; but, as I cannot plead guilty to conspiring with it, I am not called on ior my defence on this point. Years rolled on, and idleness Was becoming burdensome, and I accordingly deter miner) to travel. V'eracious travellers and Jiiost peculiarly inspired poets had i.'tfurrnci iiie, that the P^ast was the em pire ot roses anJ beauty ; and as I hap pened to like very much both pretty (lowers and pretty women, I set out for Persia, after liaving read over again my travellers, my poets, and the Arabian Nights, that 1 might be quite informed on the manners and customs of the countries w'hich I was to traverse. On getting there, however, I found few ro ses and no women—but, in their stead, .general misery, terror in every face, and continual massacres between the Tsbecks and the Persians. Kouli Khan, otherwise called Nadir Shah, was then in the height of his renown ; and 1 fled before his arms, which were ravaging every thing as they went along. 1 ar rived among the indejjendent Tartars, who at first determined on cutting off my nose and ears—but having perceived on my left check a wart, which they consider as a certain presage of good fortune, they changcd their views, and appointed me commander-in-chicf of the troops which they were assembling to second the efforts of Nadir against Rus sia. “My dear Monsieur Pigafrt, you know as well as I do the event of that campaign ; but you do not know that I, who am not gifted with a very warlike- liispo^itiori, tiiought of notliing from the bejginning of the aclitr. bV.t to save mj’- vScir ironl ill rlstt, Qnltarucu lii}' o;Iuiu to run away. A jiart ot my trooi>s, filled with coiifidence in my wart, fol lowed all my motions, and galloped after me into a little grove of palm-trees; where, by the greatest chance in the world, vve surprised your fine ambus cade, who did not expect us. They had surrendered at the moment when that terrible cloud of dust drove us back again to the field of battle, where we found you in the greatest disorder, one part of your troops fighting against the other. We let you amuse yourselves in this way for some time, and then easily despatched you. I was brought back in triumph by my Tartars, loud in the praises of my valor and my wart. “ I got my share of the plunder ; but tired with glory, as I had been with idleness,* I left my Tartars, and visited the north of Europe. I mariied, as you know, a charming w’oman in Ger many, who fell in love with me for no other reason but because I was a French man. Your hasty quarrel with her had made a noise ; slander was beginning to be busy with the affair, and she was getting frightened : but you had been only a short time in that part of the country. She lived solitary and retir ed ; few people had been witnesses of your flirtation ; and she thought that, in giving her hand to a country^man of yours, the adventure would blow over. All your cares and attentions reverted, therefore, to me. I was thus exempted from all the long trials to which she put you ; and, having speedily replaced you in her affections, our marriage had all the air of a reconciliation. She is dead : I was sorry for her loss—for, in spite of her whims, she had an excel lent heart. “In the course of some years after wards, I furnished a great part of the capital for that colonial company, the projects of which so splendidly deceiv ed you. I felt a new desire for an ac tive life ; but this time I did not go in quest of the land of roses and beauty : I vvent to Africa, at the head of a large expedition, into Guinea. Our affairs prospered, and micht have bccome still more successful; lor we had certain in telligence that immense gold mines ex isted in the interior of the country.— But hqw could we penetrate among bar barous negroes, the most of whom were cannibals ? I was thinking on the sub ject, when I was all at once met by the deputies of tho great Dahomay, who, on examining my countenance, propo sed to me to accompany them. Of course, 1 did not let so fair an opportu nity slip ; and the descendant of Trudo Audati received me with the most live ly demonstrations of joy and friendship. He oflered to sacrifice a thousand slaves to do me honor, and to present me with six hundred negresses for my seraglio. I thankecThim for his kind offers, but told iiim I did not think bloodshed any honor ; and, as for the ladies, I assured him that six hundred mistresses were by no means necessary for me. He re plied, that my humanity and modesty pleased him, but that he himself had two thousand ladies, and contrived to manage them without much trouble. He then asked me my name, and when he heard it he was going to prostrste himself before me; for it seems that Berr-Nahr, in the language of the Al- gemis, whrch is commonly spoken in Dahomay, signifies m^ost divine. We became the best friends in the world: I found that he had the greatest affec tion for you, and he employed me to revise your laws, a little discredited by the accidcnt of the insondo. I made scarcely any change ; but it was neces sary that I should show some proofs of capacity. Accordingly, I gathered your laws, and gave them the name of the Code Jiernard, or rather Berr-Nahr— and this inspired the people with the highest opinion of my talents. Finally, having made use of my power to work the gold mines of Dahomay, I left Afri ca loaded with wealth, and accompani- nicd by the blessings of all the popula tion, to return to France. “On my arrival at Paris, I became the obji'ct of general curiosity. I was the modern Cicero, or Hippocratcs— the hero of the Volga-—the Lycurgus of Africa. The truth was, I was im mensely rich. Of coursc, 1 had a great number of friends, who spoke of noth ing but my wit and talent, and I .swal lowed the flattery without o|)[)osition. Patrons presented themselves in all di rections, who told me that an fjr-king of Dahomay ought at least to be a count in France, and I purchased the title which I bear. Mj' friends assured me that fashion required that I should keep anopera-girl : fashion also required that the lady should receive the literati at her supj)ers ; and these gentlemen per suaded me that fashion required that a great nobleman like me, should be a member »f the Aeadem}’. 1 had writ ten—God knor,rs why—a quatrain on fiiu Marquiic ucP—^ kud I was an academician. “Thus, my dear IMonsieur Pio-afe^ without intrigue or cabal—lod by for* tune or chance—guided by the subal tern causes which occasioned your txilsl fortunes—seconded by my wart, mv name, my country, the colour of ml skin, the suppers of my dancing-giri^ I have honestly arrived at this pitch prosperity. I was always at your heels to gather the fragments of your shin! wrecks—and always disposed to aid and succour you, if 1 had known of you^ existence and misfortunes. You ran after glory and fortune—they ran after me. Henceforth let us hope that their favors will be more impartially distrib*. uted, and that> so far from being an in jury to you, I shall be at the post, to keep you out of the ditch—and near the- harbour, to warn you of the rock a head.” On this they embraced, as if to concilo their contrary destinies. M. Pigafet was ashamed of the unjust o- pinion which he had hitherto entertain ed of a man so honorable and compas sionate. “ What was it brought you to Versailles?” asked the Comte. “Tho Minister had promised me,” said Pio-a- fet, “ the place of CounselUr of Sta'te just vacant.” ’ The Comte looked astonished. “The- place of Counsellor of State!” cried he- “alas! the Minister himself gave it me this very morning.” And ]\Ion- sieur Pigafet replied quite tranquilly., “ I only expected as much—every thin"- is as it should be.” ** J)r. Johiison and Jacob Bryant.—My friend, the late Lord Grosveiior, had a hous rtt Salt-hill, where I usuall) spent a pan of the summer, and ilius becamo a ncifjhbour of that great and {jood man Jacob Bryant, who kindly encouraf^ed ms to visit him. Here the conversation turned one mor.ing on a Greek crit. icism by Dr. Johnson, in some voi- I'me lying on the table, which I ventured (for I was then youne} to deem incorrect; and pointed it out to him. Pcould not help thinking that he was somewhat of my opinion j but he was cautious andre» served. “But, Sir,” said I, willing to overcome his scruples, “Dr. Jo'mson himself (a fact which Mr. Bryant well knew) admitted that he was not a giod Greek scholar.” “Sir,” he rcjdied with a serious and impressive air, “ it is not easy for us to say what such a man as Johnson would call a eood Greek schol ar." I hope I profited by the lesson-- certainly, I never forgot it; and if but one of my readers does the same, I shall not repent placing it upon rccord. Gifford's Prcface to For^s Dramatic IVorb, Extensive Gaming Estahlishmcnt.—l\ifi paragraph which Allows is from a U e London paper. The proprietor uf one of the largest gaming concerns in nat city, was once an obscure fishmo/),^er, but is now exceedinly wealthy, having- amassed immense sums by ministerintj to the bid passions of the profligate. “ Hell ma> again be literally said to be ‘enlarg ing its borders,* the fishmonger having; purchased another house, next but one to the corner of Bennett street, the sit** of which he is about to add to the enor mous Pandemonium already nearly er ected. The cookery alone, indcpenden‘ of wine and other stimulants f'iven av'ay to the frequenters of the late Hell in St. James* street, amounted, we are credita- bly informed, to upwards of JC6,000 a year.’* Runic Maxims.—A faithful friend is lie who will give me one loaf when he has but two. Whilst we live, let us live well; fora man ever so rich when he lights his fire, death may, perhaps, enter his door before it be burnt out. Flocks perish: relations die : fricnclf? are not immortal : you will die yourself* but I know one thing alone that is out ot the reach of fate, and that is the jadg- ment which is passed upon the dead. Praise the fineness of the day when it* is ended ; praise a woman when you havt. known her ; a .sword when you have pr'^'' ed it; a maiden after she is mari ied ; the. ice when once you have crossed it j and the liquor after it isilrunk. Know, that if you have a friend, yo’i ought to visit him often. The roacl in grown over with grass, the bushes quick ly spread over it, if it be not constanilj’ travelled. Be not the first to break with a frienc- Sorrow gnaws the heart of him who hath none to advise with but hlmselt* Matrimonial Maxims.—If you intend marrying for love, pav your addresses to the lady herself j if for legacies, those who arc to leave them ; and if f°^ connexion, court her family. If y6u marry young, your children v’i*i be your pleasures j if you marry they will be your masters in your decline. If you do not know what to do witji yourself, marry the handsomest lady can, upon the shortest acquaintance ,* if you do not fiod iti- out, slie viJl ycTlir.
The Journal (Salisbury, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
June 5, 1827, edition 1
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