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'Pourtant, remarked the friend, 'vous avez l'oeil fort bon. Voltaire leapt up from the pillows: 'Ne savez-vous pas, he shouted, 'que les scorbutiques meurent l'oeil enflammé? When the evening came it was time to dress, and, in all the pomp of flowing wig and diamond order, to proceed to the little music-room, where his Majesty, after the business of the day, was preparing to relax himself upon the flute.
"Ici bas tous les lilas meurent; Tous les chants des oiseaux sont courts; Je cherche aux étés qui demeurent Toujours." And now of the influences which shaped that quest of "the highest things." There were the conversations in our Secret Society, the "Centre-Seekers." Picture a winter's eve, a cosy fire, a weird hall, and a group whose initiation oath was simply "I promise to be sincere."
Oh! I know well how the prince and others would like me, instead of indulging in all these wicked words of my own, to sing, to the glory and triumph of morality, that well-known verse of Gilbert's: "'O, puissent voir longtemps votre beaute sacree Tant d'amis, sourds a mes adieux! Qu'ils meurent pleins de jours, que leur mort soit pleuree, Qu'un ami leur ferme les yeux!
"Vieux soldats ne meurent! jamais! jamais! jamais! Vieux soldats ne meurent jamais! ils simplement passent!" "An' M'sieu 'Ardy 'e say: 'Vat about? an' then 'e raise 'is two 'ands è Ciel so! an' 'e tell Le Bon Dieu all about it. Oh, 'ow 'e pray! Ecoutez! Docteur! you can 'ear 'im now! . . ."
And again: "To live in New France is in truth to live in the bosom of God." "If," adds Le Jeune, "any one of those who die in this country goes to perdition, I think he will be doubly guilty." Divers Sentimens. "Si quelqu'un de ceux qui meurent en ces contrees se damne, je croy qu'il sera doublement coupable." The very amusements of this pious community were acts of religion.
I knew the devoted nature of the female sex. "Elles meurent, ou elles s'attachent," beautiful thought! These riflers of journals would, I felt confident, be unable to produce anything reflecting my real sentiments about my betrothed. I had spoken of her and her family freely one must have a vent somewhere to Mr.
Mme. Riccoboni in 1767 wrote to Garrick of the French: 'Un mensonge grossier les révolte. Si on voulait leur persuader que les Anglais vivent de grenouilles, meurent de faim, que leurs femmes sont barbouillées, et jurent par toutes les lettres de l'alphabet, ils leveraient les épaules, et s'écriraient, quel sot ose écrire ces misères-l
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