Lyttelton (George, first Lord, English statesman, author of "Dialogues of the Dead," and "History of Henry II."), 1709-1773. "Be good, be virtuous, my lord, you must come to this," to his son-in-law, Lord Valentia.
Macaulay (Thomas Babington, Lord), 1800-1859. "I shall retire early; I am very tired," said to his butler, who asked him if he would not rest on the sofa.
His mother resolved to spend the night at Holly Lodge. She had just left the drawing-room to make her preparations for the visit (it being, I suppose, a little before seven in the evening), when a servant arrived with an urgent summons. As we drove up to the porch of my uncle's house, the maids ran, crying, out into the darkness to meet us, and we knew that all was over. We found him in the library, seated in his easy chair, and dressed as usual; with his book on the table beside him, still open at the same page. He had told his butler that he should go to bed early, as he was very tired. The man proposed his lying on the sofa. He rose as if to move, sat down again, and ceased to breathe. He died as he had always wished to die—without pain; without any formal farewell; preceding to the grave all whom he loved; and leaving behind him a great and honorable name, and the memory of a life every action of which was clear and transparent as one of his own sentences.—G. Otto Trevelyan.
Maccail (his given name has not been preserved, a Scots Covenanter who expired under torture in the time of Charles II. of England), 1668. He died in an ecstasy of joy, and his last words were: "Farewell sun, moon and stars; farewell, world and time; farewell, weak and frail body; welcome, eternity; welcome, angels and saints; welcome, Saviour of the world; welcome, God, the Judge of all."
Machiavelli, or Macchiavelli, sometimes Machiavel (Nicholas, a celebrated atheist, and the author of "The Prince"), 1469-1530. "I desire to go to hell, and not to heaven. In the former place I shall enjoy the company of popes, kings, and princes, while in the latter are only beggars, monks, hermits, and apostles."
Mackintosh (Sir James, philosopher and politician), 1765-1832. "Happy!"
Malherbe (François de, the "Father of French lyric poetry"), 1555-1628. "Hold your tongue; your wretched style only makes me out of conceit with them," to his confessor, who was presenting the joys of heaven in vulgar and trite phrases.
His ruling passion was purity of diction. He would destroy a quire of paper in composing a single stanza; and it is said that during the twenty-five most prolific years of his life he made only about thirty-three verses a year.
Marat (Jean Paul, court-physician, author of several scientific works, and later the main promoter of the Reign of Terror in France), 1743-1793. "Help, my dear—help!" As Marat uttered these words he fell at the feet of Charlotte Corday, and immediately expired.
Charlotte, motionless, and as if petrified at her crime, was standing behind the window curtain. The transparent material allowed her form to be easily distinguished. Laurent, taking up a chair, struck her a clumsy blow on the head, which knocked her to the floor, where Marat's mistress trampled her under foot in her rage. At the noise that ensued, and the cries of the two women, the occupants of the house hastened thither, neighbors and persons passing in the streets ascended the staircase and filled the room, the courtyard, and very speedily the whole quarter, demanding, with fierce exclamations, that they would throw the assassin out to them, that they might avenge the dead—yet still warm—body of the people's idol. Soldiers and national guards entered, and order was, in some measure, re-established. Surgeons arrived, and endeavored to stanch the wound. The reddened water gave to the sanguinary democrat the appearance of having died in a bath of blood.—Larmartine.