whether fick or in health, sees his turn-key, as I have before observed, only three times a day. When a medicine is brought him, they set it on the table, and leave it there. It is his business to warm it, to prepare it, to take care of himself during its operation : happy, if the cook has been so generous as to vios late the rules of the house, by reserving him a litile broth ; happy, if the turn-key has been possessed of the humanity to bring it, and the governor to allow it. Such is the manner in which they treat the ordinary sick, or those who have strength enough to crawl from their bed to the fire-place.

But when they are reduced to the last extremity, and unable to raise themselves from their own worm eaten couch, they are allowed a guard. Now let us see what this guard is : an inv2lid soldier, stupid, clownish, brutal, incapable of attention, or of that tenderness fo requifice in the care of a sick person. But, what is still worse, this soldier, when once attached to you, is never again permitted to leave you, but becomes himself a close prisoner. You must first, therefore, parchafe his consent to shut himself up with you during your captivity; and if you recover, you must support, as well as you can, the ill-humour, discontent, reproaches, and vexation of this companion, who will be revenged on you, in health, for the pretended services he has relia dered you in fickness.- Judge, now, of the fincerity of D’Argeofon, lieutenant of the police, when he infiited on the temporal comforts prisoners experienced in the Baftile, and on the chao rity of the governors.

As to the spiritual, if these favages, equally incapable of shame and pity, were at least susceptible of remorse, would they dare even to pronounce the word? What can it remind us of; but their outrages upon religion, for which they have no more refpect than they have for humanity ? .

First, let it be remarked, that every one is not permitted to go to mass in the Baltile: this is a special favour granted only to a snall number of elect. I confess, it was offered to me. The frít day I was invited, they conducted me to a covered gallery, where I was to remain concealed during the service : I did not, however, stay there long. Whatever Havery-has of repugnance and horror, follows and oppresses you at the very foot of the al


They treat the Divinity at the Bastile much in the same man. ner as they do his likeness. The chapel is situated under a pigeon-house, belonging to the king's lieutenant : it may be aut seven or eight feet square. On one of the sides they have constructed four little cages, or niches, each to contain just one person : these have neither the enjoyment of light nor air, exa



cept when the door is open, which is only at the moment of entering, or going out. There do they shut up the unhappy votary. At the instant of receiving the facrament, they draw aside a little curtain, the covering of a grated window; through which, as through the tube of a spying-glass, he can see the person who performs the service. This mode of partaking in the ecclesiastical ceremonies, appeared to me so shocking and disagreeable, that I did not a second time give way to the temptation of accepting their offer.

As to the confeflion, I know not how this matter is arranged : and I do not imagine that many of the captives, however de. vout, are desirous of having much to do with it. The confektor is an officer of the higher order, on the establishment of the prison. Hence one may easily conceive with what fecarity i prisoner might unbofom himself to this confessor, fuppofing he had a conscience that wanted to be discharged. His office, then, is either a snare, or a mockery. It is beyond my conception, how they can have the audacity to propose to the prisoners in the Baitile, that they should open their souls to a base previ. ricator, who prostitutes thus the dignity of his fanction ; na how a man, the hired instrument of the earthly power which oppresses them, can dare to address them in the name of hearta that disavows him.

When a prisoner dies, whether after confession, or without i, I cannot say what they do with him ; how they revenge themselves on the body for the flight of the soul ; or where they saffer his ashes to reft, when they are unable to torment them aby longer. Thus far I know, that they are not reflored to his fae mily. Surely, since the first establishment of the Baftile, lone deaths must have kappened in it : but who has ever seen a mortvary extract dated from it, except that of marshal Biron ? Families are then abandoned, without mercy, to the confusion resulting from the absence of their head; and after the affliction they have suffered during his existence, they are denied even the fad consolation they might derive from a certain knowledge of his fate.


' Written by HIMSEL P. T HOUGH I was the youngest child of a numerous fa

1 mily, and consequently was poffeffed of but little weak to begin the world with, yet I had one advantage to which I at



tribute all my subsequent success : I had the instruction, the experience, and the wisdom, of an affectionate father, to guide and direct me 'cill I was fourceen. At this age, having loit my parents, though I had guardians, I became less circumspect. Be. ing of a warm and enterprizing temper, and feeling myself superior to the generality of my young companions, schemes of independence began to revolve in my mind. I observed the filly actions of men, and drew in ferences favourable to my own prudence and capacity. Those to whom I was left in charge had weaknesses : I saw them, and became impatient of controul. As I grew towards manhood, my mind became restless, my imagination was heated by reading the strong sentiments and great actions of the antient heroes. The successful career of young Scipio charmed and fired my fancy: I panted to be distinguished, and neglected no opportunity that could render me Jemarkable, as the following incident will convince you.

I was educated at Eton school; and observing, one day, two of my schoolfellows insulting a poor woman, that was tottering under age, it excited my indignation so much, that I fell upon them both very heartily, and struck one of them an unlucky blow. They conceiving I had injured them, by interfering in a business that did not concern me, and not being able to conceal their disgrace, complained to the master, and made up a story greatly to their own advantage. I was accordingly summoned to answer for myself. It happened that just before I had been reading the tale of the Spartan boy that expired while the fox was biting him. In consequence of this, having at that initant a thorough contempt for pain, and indeed withing for an opportunity to thew how much I despised it, I behaved sullenly, and refused to answer the master, except by haughtily declaring I had done what I thought was right, and would, with the like provocation, do the same again. This, exclusive of the crime I stood accused of, was braving the authority of the maller, who ordered me to be severely punilhed, which was what I wished and expected. I supported the pain as if I had been infenfible to it, and then told the master that he was mistaken, if he supposed me capable of fearing any.punishment that he, or the worst of tyrants, could infict : I had done my duty, by relicving age and imbecility from the wanton cruelty of two boys; and, if he had done justice, he would have punished them instead of me. The master, who was a sensible and discerning man, replied, " There is something peculiar in your conduct, young gentleman, it must be confessed ; but you do wrong in accuting me of igraony. You have behaved with audacity, and if I fould suffer such ill manners to go unpunished, it would be impossible for Vol. II. 36.

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me to preserve any order in this place. If, as you now say, yog took the part of the oppressed, you should have condescended to have said so, when I questioned you at first. I speak chas to you, Sir, because you seem, from what I have observed of your present and your former behaviour, to think something deeper, and see a little farther, than people of your age usually do; , but you do not see far enough. I am no tyrant, young Sir; you have been very rude, and though I have some hopes it pro. ceeded from a good, chough mistaken motive, yet, had I not refented it, I should have acted inconsistently, and have degraded my situation. Recollect yourself ; and if you have as much fense as I believe you have, you will see your error.

This cool address not only shewed me how. wrong I had beea, in not explaining myself, but quite overcame me. I burit into tears, fell upon my knees, and, as soon as I could speak, afked his pardon for having used such an injurious epithet to bim. I chen related the story of the old woman and my school-fellows, fimply as it happened, together with my heroic imitation of the Spartan boy. The master, who was evidently furprized and affected by my manner and conduct in this affair, said to me, Mr. Egerton, I am sorry I have degraded you by the panifhment you have suffered; you are an extraordinary young gentis man, and I have no doubt will one day become an ornament to society. Let me, however, caution you agaioft your paffions; they are very powerful, and while they perfuade you that you are doing something uncommonly great, or good, may lead you in te very dangerous mistakes. This fortitude and contempt of pain at your age, would have been beyond praise, had they beca es erted upon a proper occasion; as it is, they can only be ade mired : but your generous protection of the helpless, deserves every reward and encouragement, and I hope you will hereafter conäder me as your friend, and not your master. As for your ki accusers, there is no punishment I can inflict severe enough for cruelty, cowardice, and lying ; I shall therefore expel them, let their examples should corrupt others. I perceive you are going to intercede for them; but I will spare you the pain of being refused, by telling you I cannor, in justice to the other young gentlemen that are entrusted to my care, suffer boys of such vicious dispositions to associate with them. Youth is weak and incontderate, and as liable toimitate a bad as a good action ; it is my particular duty, therefore, not io permit these wicked boys to remain among them.”

. I have related this adventure, to thew you the oatural warmiche and enthusiastic bent of my temper. I went through a regular course of education under the gentleman above-mentioned,


whose friendship I poffesfed 'till his death, and to whose advice and instruction I am greatly indebted. It was the intention of my guardians that I Inould study the law, and become a counfellor. I, however, had other views ; for though, it is certain, RO profeffion requires greater acuteness and abilities than this, yet, as it is become common-place to call it dry, tedious, knavish, and fo-forth, it was little alluring to a mind like mine, that had so strong a propensity to romance. I wanied to be a hero, or a poet, or rather a 'something supernatural, and it was experience only that could make me more racional. By my repeated intercessions and positiveness in refusing to engage in any other vocation, my guardians were prevailed upon to buy me a commission in the army; and I entered it with an incoherent kind of hope of doing extraordinary things : but I had not been in it long, before I discovered that more of mechanisın tban courage was required ; that I must obey orders, and pay a strict regard to trifles; that, in order to rise to any very fupe. rior Itation, I must not only have abilities, but powerful friends ; and that, without them, it was as probable I thould remain obscure in this, as in any other profesion. I was at the battle of Fontenoy ; and, though I encouraged the men under my command, and executed the orders I received with the utmost ar. dour, yet I was convinced it was very little in the power of an individual to turn the fortune of the day; for, notwithstanding all my heroism, I was wounded and taken prisoner. Some time after, I was exchanged, and sent to England, when it was my fortune to fall deeply in love with my present wife. · Hitherto I had cared but little about riches ; nay, indeed, as the poets and philosophers I had read usually affected to despise them, I did fo too : my amour, however, brought me to a fevere sense of the want of them. My mistress was the daughter of a very rich man, and an heiress : I, a younger brother, with a small fortune, rather diminished than encreased ; and as the peace and half-pay had deprived me of any farther hopes from the army, I had no apparent means of augmenting my wealth. This made me reflect on the absurdity of those visionary hopes in the contemplation of which I had formerly indulged myself. I began to perceive there was no arriving at perfection in any art, or knowledge or eminence in any station, but by gradual and almost imperceptible degrees : my passion was violent; I saw no probable means of obtaining a fortune instantaneously, nor of gaining the woman I loved without one. The father of Mrs. Egerton saspected our love, which was mutual ; and hinted, in an oblique manoer, that he did not wish to see me any more ar his house. After turning every kind of scheme in my mind, I

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