cannot refrain the mention of a certain Minister lately dead, whose Name is illustrious among those of his own Communion, and ours too. The Person I mean, is M. Saurin, who was always reckoned here, and in all the Provinces, one of the most eloquent Preachers, since the Repeal of the Edict of Nantes.
A great Number of Epitaphs have been made for this famous Preacher; but as they are all good for nothing, I content myself with sending you an Epitaph on those very Epitaphs.
EPITAPHE.
On the EPITAPHS made for
M. SAURIN.
Sous ces tisons, sans titres, sans paraphes,
Incognito gisent vingt Epitaphes,
Qu’ont arraché de leurs maigres cerveaux,
Incognito vingt chétifs Pôetereaux;
Difaut vouloir par detestable rime
Loiier encor certain Esprit sublime,
Dont rien ne dis, savon qu’à ses talens,
Vivant trouva force contradisans.
Chantres grossiers du bourbeux Marecage,
Pour Dieu, cessez votre maudit ramage!
Si noblement chanter n’est votre fort,
Dires tont court, Le grand Saurin est mort.
It may be thus Engslish’d:
i. e.
Under these Firebrands
lie incognito, no less than a
Score of Epitaphs, without
Title or Subscription, rack’d
incognito from the sterile Brains
of as many paltry Poetasters,
pretending by detestable Doggrel
to extol a certain sublime
Genius, of which I say nothing,
but that whilst he was
alive, he met with a great
many who contradicted his
Talents. But, for God’s sake,
ye stupid Bards of the muddy
Fens, leave off your cursed
croaking! And as you have
not the Gift of noble Poetry,
say nothing more, than that the.
Great Saurin is dead.
During my Stay at the Hague, I heard much Talk of one Armand a Frenchman, whose extraordinary Adventures were at that Time the Discourse of all Companies. He did not want Understanding, but he was one of the oddest and most extravagant Mortals breathing. His Passions, which sometimes rose to a Degree of Fury,
were the Cause of all his Misfortunes. I have been promised the History of him, and if my Friend keep his Word with me, I will not fail to send it to you[118].
The History of John Barre, called ARMAND.
JOHN BARRE, a Native of the Province of Burgundy, appeared at Amsterdam in 1720, by the Name of Armand. He was a handsome Man, in the Prime of his Age, and seemed to have had a good Education. He said he was come from France, because he had killed a Man in a Duel. Any other Man besides himself, in a Case of the like Nature, would have been at a terrible Nonplus to find himself pursued by Justice, and forced to fly from his native Country, and his Friends, without Money, into a strange Land, of which he understood not the Language, and thrown into a great City, in the midst of a numerous People, where a poor Man is so hard put to it to make an Acquaintance. But Armand was never at a Loss for Stratagems to relieve him. Being a bold intriguing Man, an excellent Tongue-pad, and a Poet into the Bargain, or at least very ready of making Verses, he quickly found Means to get Acquaintance. He might even have passed for a Man of Quality, if Necessity had not forced him to make use of a Talent which was a plain Discovery of the contrary; for he shewed himself a complete Writing-Master, and made excellent Scholars in a very little Time.