The Sun.
London, England, 1863-04-10 00:00:00

LITERATURE,

Heroes, Philosophers, and Courtiers of the 7iine
of Louis XVI. 2 vols. Hurst and Blackett.
Quoting in the first sentence of the first page
of this very readable work the witty remarks of
M. Rollin, that " History is the Book of Kings,"
the anonymous writer, already favourably known
as the Author of "The Secret History of the
Court of France under Louis XV," adds, on his
own part, that it ought surely not less to be re-
garded as the Book of Peoples. So, evidently,
thought Mr. Charles Knight when he undertook
(what he has recently been bringing to a noble
close) his truly National History of England. Sc!,
as evidently, thinks Mr. William Longman, ano•
ther of our eminent publishers, and another also
among the ablest living collators of our English
History, as may be recognised by any one on turn-
ing to an examination of his lectures upon the
reigns of the Plantagenets. The purpose of the
writer, whose historical researches have led to the
compilation of the exceedingly interesting work
here brought under our consideration, he himself at
once clearly explains in a few most acceptable and
enticing words in his Preface. He is des:zons, through
the medium of this work, of filling up what tias
hitherto been really and truly a gap in the annals
of two Peopl-e. Upon this, however, we will let
him speak for himself—

A complete narative of the intervention of France in the
American rebellion has never yet been written from French
contemporary sources. Little has been remembered, little
is generally known, but the names of some of those brave
Frenchmen by whose aid it was that America achieved her
liberty. France herself, too soon interested and absorbed in
the events of her own momentous revolution—which was
precipitated by French sympathy with American rebellion—
appears well-nigh to have forgotten these men. It was no
part of England's duty to immortalise the actions of her too
successful enemies. America was too much occupied in
her cities and fields, repairing the wastes of the recent war,
to analyse the sources of French sympathy to which she
mainly owed her independence.

Fillirg up this instantly recognisable hzatus, and
one so obvious by the way that the marvel is, it has
remained until now to be recognised and filled up.—
the author has thrown a flood of light upon that ever-
memorable period of transition for so many of the
great races in the old world and the new, but above
all a period of transition for French society in every
particular. The plan of the work would be incohe-
rent in its discursiveness to a most confusing extent
but that the treasure trove, the heretofore neglected
waifs and strays of anecdote littered about, and many
of them never before now brought together, the
hitherto forgotten flotsam and jetsam of history, un-
cared for till this day seemingly by any one, have
been strung together upon one coherent and con-
necting thread, as one may say, to wit, the thread
of time. As valueless intrinsically, some of them
are, as glass beads, but others are little less worth
than pearls of price. For such as they are—here
at any rate they are, at last for the first time
brought together and viewed connectively. Be-
ginning his discourse with the death of Louis XV.,
the writer takes from the lips of the Duc d'Aumont,
the first gentleman of the chamber to that profli-
gate monarch, this terrible picture of—
LOUIS THE BELOVED--TOWARDS TIIE CLOSE OP Ills LIFE I
" I was awakened by the noise of a door opening. I
raised my head and saw Louis XV. At first he looked
round the ante-chamber, here and there. The lights in the
chandeliefs were burning low. ' There is nobody here,'
said the king; and then he began to walk up and down,
sighing and murmuring, in the tone of a man who has
drunk himself sad. Presently he paused before a large
mirror, and, after having considered himself a long time in
it, he pressed his hand on his forehead, his cheeks, his chin,
and thus apostrophised himself: 'Miserable wretch that
thou art I Murderer of thine own soul and body I' Then
his pacing up and down, his groan-, his sad monologue re-
commenced. At last he stopped again before the glass.
Thou wilt nct die old,' said he to his own image reflected
there; 'not threescore years and ten I—And hell I—hell 1'
Five minutes passed whilst he stood looking at himself with
horror. And then he muttered, ' France! How is she
governed ?' Afterwards : ' But this supper to-night they
say will be delicious—though all is weary—weary, Why
cannot they give me something new "
Passed from the scene this worn-out and despairirg
voluptuary—enters next King Louis XVI., "Louis
the Desired," too good and too gentle a King for his
epoch—a Hero at last when, with a serene brow
and a dauntless bearing, and a pure heart and a sin-
less conscience, the " Son of St. Louis ascended to
Heaven" from the guillotine. With what cry does
the young Dauphin learn that he isKing LouisX VI.?
"Oh ! my God ! what a misfortune for me !" And
hew comes the news to the heart of his fair young
wife, the beautiful Marie Antoinette ? "We are
too young to reign !" she calls out in anguish : and
then, covering her face with her hands, weeps bit-
terly ! What prophetic tears ! What ominous
ejaculations! These are the kind of notes struck,
here, by way of prelude to what swelled at last into
a stormy and tragic symphony such as the
world had never before listened to—that of the
great French Revolution. The period, however,
which is depicted in these pages is not the period of
the Revolution, but the period immediately before
the Revolution ! Across the scene flit all kin&
of strange and motley forms—imposters, mounte-
banks, men of genius, adventurers, charlatans, cour-
tiers. Of Benjamin Franklin we see a good deal.
Here, by the way, is an admirable letter of his that
we never remember to have met with before, one
aptly headed by our author when giving it as a
footnote—

Model of a Letter of Recommendation of a Person you are
. , _

unacquainted with.

Paris, April 2, 1777.
" Sir,—The bearer of this, who is going to America, presses
me to give him a letter of recommendation, though I know
nothing of him, not even his name. This may seem extra-
rdinary, but I assure you it is not uncommon here. Some-
times, indeed, one unknown person brings another, equally
unknown, to recommend him; and sometimes they recom-
mend one another. As to this gentleman, I must refer
3.0 u to himself for his character and merits, with which he
is certainly batter acquainted than I can possibly be, I re-
commend him to those civilities which every stranger of
whom one knows no harm has a right to ; and I request
you will do nim all the good offices, and show him all the
favour that, on further acquaintance, you shall find him to
deserve, I have the honour to be, your obedient servant,
—BENJAMIN FRANKLIN."

Side by side with Franklin, while he is yet there in
Paris, we catch glimpses of Voltaire! Of Voltaire
when eighty-four years old—Voltaire just before
his death ! We read his solemn declaration of faith,
or in two words—

"I. the undersigned, declare, that being attacked four
lays since by a vomiting of blood, at the age eighty.'out
years, and not having been able to drag himself to church,
M. le Cure de St. Sulpice having added to his good works
that of sending to me M. the Abbie Gauthier, priest, I have
confessed myself to him; and if God so dispose of me, I die
in the holy Catholic religion, in which I was born, hoping
that divine mercy will deign to pardon all my faults; and
if, having scandalized the Church, I ask pardon for the
same of God, and of her. Signed, Voltaire, the second of
March 1778, in the house of M. le Marquis de Villette, in
presence of M, l'Abbe Mignot, nay nephew, and of AI le
Marquis de Villeveille, my friend."

We hare seen him there again shortly afterwards
—risen for awhile from his death bed to be crowned
with laurel in the theatre ! It was the first of
April (not inappropriately) in that same year 1778,
and Voltaire (wtat 84 !)_" With the black Louis
Quatorze wig, and a scarlet cap, upon his head,
and enveloped in a large pelisse trimmed with fur,
mounted his carriage, which Was of slay-blue
through
the studded with stars, and drove
_
the streets of Paris, on his way, first to the
French Academy, and afterwards to
the theatre."
At the academy he is received with acclamations.
At the theatre he is crowned, as We have said be-
core, with laurel—and while still wearing the crown
there are sung these worts of love and homage to
the old man trembling then on the very edge of
his grave
" Voltaire, regois la couronne
Qui l'on vient de to presenter;
II est beau de la m6ritsr
Quand c'est la France qui la donne !"
Voltaire passed away, there are still strange and
wonderful events to note, here, vividly depicted in
'hese animated pages. The Chevalier D'Eon it is
it one moment still miserably flaunting before us in
nil woman's petticoat. Now it is Beautntrchaib
with his opera comique! Now Cagliostro with the
splendour of a Prince and the pamp of a Magician !
One while we catch a glimpse of Mirabeau and
it another are brought face to face with the lovely
Princess de Lamballe—doomed to so awful a death
,n that historic nightmare that was to come so soon,
riot as a dream but as a reality ! If a wider popu-
larity had been sought after by the writer of these
rages, A shorter title ought to hate been selected