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many years, when the affair being pretty well gone by, he ventured to confess who he was. He did not return to Salon, but remained at Lańcon, and died there at the age of sixty-five.
Endless were the conjectures to which this extraordinary affair gave rise ; but the real truth was not known till many years after, when a priest, who had been a principal agent in the imposture, made a full confession of it. He was himself of Salon, but used to go sometimes to Capentras, where he had connexions, and here he became acquainted with Madame de Rus, who had some property in that neighbourhood, an intimate friend of Madame de Maintenon's, and a woman of great intrigue. It was always a favourite object of Madame de Maintenon, to get the king to declare his marriage with her, and this scheme was projected as the means of accomplishing it. The priest was confessor to Michel; and being won over by Madame de Rus, under the promise of a very great reward, if the scheme should succeed, he fixed upon him as the person upon whom to practise the deceit; because, not being a fanatic, he would be the more likely to obtain credit when he asserted that he had seen a vision. Michel having been guilty of some trifling fault which he confessed to the priest, the latter ordered him as a penance to go alone every evening for a certain time to the chapel, just as the dusk came on, and there address such prayers as he directed to the saint. Here he concealed a man dressed in a white sheet, which hung over his face so that it could not be seen, and who was well instructed in the part he was to act. The pretended spectre ordered Michel to go to the king, and strictly enjoin him, under pain of the severest displeasure of heaven, to declare his marriage with Madame de Maintenon ; at the same time giving him a ring, which he said had belonged to the late queen, and which the king would immediately know as such; that it had been miraculously transported from Paris, in order to be delivered to him as a testimony of the truth of his mission, but he must on no account mention the having received it, to any one but the king himself.
The imposture, however, did not succeed with the king, who, though inclining towards dotage, had too much of the native vigour of mind left, not to see through it at once. He chose, notwithstanding, to keep the discovery to himself, probably because the disclosing it would have led to his making in some sort the avowal which he wished to avoid, or else to his asserting a palpable falsehood in disclaiming the marriage. It does not appear whether Michel himself ever knew of the trick that had been passed upon him.
PRATING AT VENICE. A Genoese sculptor was sent for to Venice, to perform a most curious piece of workmanship in the church belonging to the Jesuits, and as he was of great eminence it was customary to go and see him at work. Two French travellers, among others, hearing of his performance, went to see him, and after admiring the beauties of the piece he was about, they insensibly led him into a conversation about the Venetian form of government. The Frenchmen launched out into bitter invectives against the Senate and the Republic, and very liberally bestowed the title of “ Pantaloons"
upon the Senators. The poor Genoese defended the Venetians, but to no purpose, for as they were two to one they soon silenced him. The next morning the Council of State sent for the Genoese, who was brought before the Senate, shuddering with fear. He had no idea of his crime, nor was any thing farther from his thoughts than the conversation he had had with the iwo Frenchmen. From
the Senate he was carried before the Council of State, where he was asked if he should know the Frenchmen again, with whom he had the conversation the day before about the government of the Republic ? At this question his fears redoubled, and he answered in a faltering voice, that he had said nothing but what was greatly to the praise and honour of the Senate. He was then ordered to look into the next chamber, where he saw the two Frenchmen, quite dead, and hanging from the cieling. He judged from this horrid spectacle, that his last hour was come; but he was remanded before the Senate, when the Doge, in a solemn manner, pronounced these words : “ Keep silence for the future, my friend, our republic has no need of such advocates as you." After this he was set at liberty ; but his fears and apprehensions so far got the better of him, that he never returned to take leave of the Jesuits, but left Venice as fast as possible, and vowed he would never return to it again.
REMARKABLE INSTANCE OF FIDELITY IN A SERVANT. Gondibert, king of the Lombards, being attacked by his brother Patharis, invited Grimoaldus, Duke of Benevento, to his assistance. He accordingly joined Gondibert, and Patharis was totally defeated. Fired with the prospect of greatness, Grimoaldus now turned his arms against his friend Gondibert, slew him in battle, and seated himself on the throne of Lombardy.
Patharis after his defeat retired to the Count of Cacanus, Duke of Bavaria, and craved the protection of that prince. Grimoaldus, whose jealousy was increased with his power, insisted that Cacanus should not suffer Patharis to reside in his dominions. The Duke of Bavaria, who feared the power of Grimoaldus, was obliged to submit, and the wretched Patharis, not knowing whither to fly for safety, determined to throw himself at the feet of Grimoaldus, and submit to his clemency. He accordingly repaired to the Court of Lombardy, and was received with all the external appearances of respect and esteem. But, the monarch perceiving vast numbers of Lombards to flock about him daily, he feared he would soon attempt to recover the kingdom. Regardless, therefore, of the rights of hospitality, and the assurances he had given Patharis of protection, he determined to take away his life; and, in order to perform the work of darkness without exciting any tumult, he proposed to make him drunk, and in that condition to put an end to his life. Patharis, being informed of the design, drank only water at the feast prepared for this diabolical purpose. But, in order to deceive the King of Lombardy, he caused his servants to convey him to his chamber as in a state of inebriation. Being now free from all restraint, he consulted his faithful servant Hunnulphus, what method ought to be pursued in this dangerous crisis ; he knew the door of his apartment was strictly guarded, so that it would be impossible for him to escape, as he was well known to the soldiers. Hunnulphus therefore dressed his master in the habit of a peasant, laid a large bear's skin over his head and shoulders, and upon that a mattress, so that he appeared to be a porter. In this disguise Hunnulphus drove him out of the chamber with a cudgel, giving him several smart blows. The soldiers, deceived by this artifice, suffered him to pass; and, attended only by one servant, he fled into France. Some hours after Grimoaldus entered to see the horrid deed performed, but found the victim of his jealousy was fled Hunnulphus told him the truth, and offered his own bosom to the poniard. But Grimoaldus, struck with so remarkable an instance of fidelity, not only pardoned him, but heaped upon him rewards equal to his virtue.
TREMENDOUS PASS OF FIELEFFELD, IN THE NORWEGIAN
On a reference to the first volume of our Work, page 3, there will be found a very interesting account of a most dangerous pass over the rocks near Santa Cruz, commonly called The Jew's Leap.' The following description of another of these dreadful precipices, will not, we think, be found upon perusal to yield in interest to that already noticed. The account is extracted from the journal of a recent traveller in Norway ; and the spirited engraving which heads this article will convey to the mind of the reader an excellent idea of the dangers which a traveller encounters in journeying over those massive rocks and dreary defiles, with which that country abounds, and the Jeast slip from which hurls him to certain destruction.
The mountains of Norway are generally so extensive, that to pass them, the traveller must sometimes journey near fifty or sixty miles. To pass the great mountain of Hardanger, he must travel near seventy miles; and the rivers, roaring torrents, and cataracts, which intersect these dreadful precipices, and are only passable by slight wooden bridges, render travelling in the dreary uplands of Norway, at once terrible and dangerous.
To furnish some better idea of these mountains, we will describe that of Fielefeld, the height of which is upwards of two miles and a half, and the road over it by a tedious ascent, through many windings, to its summit. Its great elevation may be known by the change from heat to cold, which, as we rise, becomes so sensible, that the traveller may well suppose himself transported from the middle of summer to the cold of a piercing winter. From the top there is a prospect to the extent of one hundred and twenty miles.
In crossing from this mountain, we were obliged to cross a tremendous VOL. II.
to fix any.
cataract, which divides it, and into which an enormous piece of rock has fallen, and, by obstructing the passage of the water, causes a dreadful roaring which deafens the ear. This rock, however, serves as a pier to support a wooden horse bridge, from one mountain to the other.
The passage of high road down the side of one eminence of the mountain, and up the side of the other, is seldom more than a ledge cut out of the rock, broad enough for two horses to pass, and often, for considerable distances, a passage only for one : without any rails or fence, as, in fact, it is impossible
These ways, or ledges, hang on the sides of perpendicular and craggy steeps of most tremendous height; in some places cut through the rock in arched
passages; in others the road is merely a scaffold, three feet broad, shored up with stone work, or suspended by iron bolts fastened in the mountain side. Should it happen, as it often has, that two men on horseback should meet in one of these narrow ways where two cannot pass, and at some distance from a wider spot, so that they cannot back their horses, there is no alternative, but one man's raising himself alove the head of the other by means of a rope fastened to a crag of the rock above, whilst the other pushes his horse down the precipice into the roaring gulph beneath; by which means
he passes in safety, and the other, lowering himself down, travels on, on foot.
Over Fieleffeld is the bigh post road, and the way is marked all along with posts at two or three hundred paces distance, that, in surowy or dark weather, the traveller may not lose himself in these desert wilds, where no living creature is to be seen, except occasionally a few wild rein-deer.
'In some measure to refresh and relieve the traveller, two mountain stoves, or houses, are maintained on Fielesfeld at the public charge ; and three on Dofrafeld, and furnished with fire, light, and kitchen utensils.
In September, 1789, a little boy, about five years old, the son of a man named Freemantle, in St. Thomas's Church-yard, Salisbury, being at play by the dam of the town mill, fell into the water; his sister, a child nine years of age, instantly plunged in to his assistance. They both sunk, and in sight of their mother!' The poor woman, distracted with horror at the prospect of instant death to her children, braved the flood to save them; she rose with one under each arm, and by her cries happily alarmed her husband, who instantly swam to her assistance, and brought them all three safe ashore.
THE LUNATICS. The following horrible occurrence took place in France a few years since at the House of Refuge for Lunatics, established at Charite-sur-Loire, in the department of the Nievre.
The Sieur Mangue, an apothecary of Sancerre, and the Sieur Leonard Pousscrean, a mason of Lucry de Bourg, had been placed in the house as insane patients. Among other proofs of madness, Mangue continually manifested a strong dislike of life, and endeavoured to prevail on the different inmates of the house to murder him. Unfortunately the proposal was made
to Pousscrean, who laboured under a most incurable kind of insanity, and he willingly undertook to perpetrate the horrid act.
The two lunatics immediately descended the stair-case leading to the kitchen, where they found a wooden borse. Mangue suddenly stopped, coolly took off his coat and cravat, turned down his shirt collar, and laid his head on the horse. They now wanted an instrument, and Mangue pointed to the kitchen chopper. Pousscrean ran to fetch it, returned, and finding his companion still in the same attitude, beheaded him with a single stroke, without any one having heard or observed the preparations for this horrible execution.
The event was, however, soon discovered by the loud fiendish laughter of the maniac, and by the bloody stains with which he was covered. On being questioned, he confessed without the least emotion, that he had yielded to the repeated entreaties of Mangue ; that the latter had bequeathed to him a valuable document (which, on being produced, proved to be merely a piece of waste paper), and that he would perform the same office to any one who asked him politely! The maniac was afterwards ordered into solitary confinement, and in a short time died.
INSTANCES OF THE PROBITY OF VARIOUS NATIONS. Diodorus Siculus, who composed his History recently after Cæsar's expedition into Britain, says, that the inhabitants dwelt in mean cottages, covered with reeds, or sticks; that they were of much sincerity and integrity, contented with plain and homely fare, and were strangers to the excess and luxury of rich men. In Friezeland, in Holland, and in other maritime provinces of the Netherlands, locks and keys were unknown, and till the inhabitants became rich by commerce they contented themselves with bare necessaries, which every one had in plenty. The Laplanders have no notion of theft. When they make an excursion into Norway, which is performed in the summer months, they leave their huts open, without fear that any thing will be purloined. Formerly, they were entirely upright in their only commerce, that of bartering the skins of wild beasts for tobacco, brandy, and coarse cloth. But, being often cheated by strangers, they begin to be more cunning. Crantz, describing the inhabitants of Iceland before they were corrupted by commerce with strangers, says, that they lived under the same roof with their cattle ; that every thing was in comnion except their wives and children; and that they were simple in their manners, having no appetite but for what nature requires. In the reign of Edwin, King of Northumberland, a child, as historians report, might have travelled with a purse of gold, without hazard of robbery: in our days of luxury, want is so intolerable, that even fear of death is not sufficient to deter us. All travellers agree, that the native Canadians are perfectly disinterested, abhorring deceit and lying. The Californians are fond of iron and sharp instruments; and yet they are so strictly honest, that carpenters' tools left open during night were safe. The savages of North America had no locks for their goods; they probably have learnt from Europeans to be more circumspect. Procopius bears testimony, that the Sclavi, like the Huns, were innocent people, free from all malice. Plan Carpin, the Popes ambassador to the Cham of Tartary, in the year 1246, says, that the Tartars are not addicted to thieving, and that they leave their goods open without a lock. Nicholas Damaseerus reports the same of the Celtæ. The original inhabitants