Part 63 (1/2)
”Your majesty will thus be acting an epigram for George of England,”
said Voltaire, laughing. ”Two of his n.o.blest rebels will be cementing the friends.h.i.+p of France and Prussia. Lord Tyrconnel, the Irishman, is amba.s.sador from France to Prussia, and my Lord Marshal Keith is to be amba.s.sador from Prussia to France. All, my lord! how will the n.o.ble marquise rejoice when her faithful knight shall introduce to her his most beautiful possession--the young and lovely Mohammedan Zuleima! How happy will Zuleima be when you point out to her the woman who loved you so fondly! She will then know, my lord, that you also once had a heart, and have been beloved by a woman.”
”I will present my little Zuleima to the marquise,” said Lord Marshal; ”and, when I tell her that she was a bequest of my dear brother, who, at the storming of Oschakow, where he commanded as field-marshal, rescued her from the flames, she will find it just and kind that I gave the poor orphan a home and a father. I wish first, however, to give Zuleima a husband, if your majesty will allow it. The Tartar Ivan, my chamberlain, loves Zuleima, and she shall be his wife if your majesty consents.”
”By all means,” said Frederick; ”but I fear it will be difficult to have this marriage solemnized in Berlin. Your Tartar, I believe, has the honor to be heathen.”
”Sire, he is, in faith, a Persian.”
”A fire-wors.h.i.+pper, then,” said Frederick. ”Well, I propose that Voltaire shall bless this marriage; where fire is wors.h.i.+pped as a G.o.d, Voltaire, the man of fire and flame, may well be priest.”
”Ah, sire, I believe we are all Persians; surely we all wors.h.i.+p the light, and turn aside from darkness. You are to us the G.o.d Ormuzd, from whom all light proceeds; and every priest is for us as Ahriman, the G.o.d of darkness. Be gracious to me, then, your majesty, and do not call upon me to play the role of priest even in jest. But why does this happy son of the heathen require a priest? Is not the sunG.o.d Ormuzd himself present? With your majesty's permission, we will place the loving pair upon the upper terrace of Sans-Souci, where they will be baptized in holy fire by the clear rays of the mid-day sun. Then the divine Marianna, Cochois, and Denys will perform some mystical dance, and so the marriage will be solemnized according to Persian rites and ceremonies.”
”And then, I dare hope your majesty will give a splendid wedding- feast, where costly wines and rich and rare viands will not fail us,” said La Mettrie.
”Look, now, how his eyes sparkle with antic.i.p.ated delights!” cried the king. ”La Mettrie would consent to wed every woman in the world if he could thereby spend his whole life in one continuous wedding- feast; but listen, sir, before you eat again, you have a story to relate. Discharge this duty at once, and give us a piquant anecdote from your gay life.”
CHAPTER IV.
THE CONFIDENTIAL DINNER.
”Your majesty desires a piquant anecdote out of my own life,” said La Mettrie. ”Is there any thing on earth more piquant than a truffle-pie? Can any thing deserve more ardent praise, and fonder, sweeter remembrance, than this beautiful revelation of man's genius?
Yes, sire, a successful truffle-pie is a sort of revealed religion, and I am its devout, consecrated priest! One day I relinquished, for the love of it, a considerable fortune, a handsome house, and a very pretty bride, and I confess that even now a truffle-pie has more irresistible charms for me than any bride, even though richly endowed.”
”And was there ever a father mad enough to give his daughter to the 'homme machine?'” said the king
”Sire, I had just then written my 'Penelope.' Monsieur van Swiet, of Leyden, a poor invalid, who had been for weeks confined to his bed by a cold, read it, and laughed so heartily over the mockery and derision at the gentlemen doctors, that he fell into a profuse perspiration--a result which neither the art of the physicians nor the prayers of the priests had been able to accomplish. The stiffness in his limbs was healed; in fact, he was restored to health! His first excursion was to see me, and he implored me to suggest a mode by which he could manifest his grat.i.tude. 'Send me every day a truffle-pie and a bottle of Hungarian wine,' I replied.
Swiet was greatly amused. 'I have something better than a truffle- pie,' said he. 'I have a daughter who will inherit all my fortune.
You are not rich in ducats, but largely endowed with wit. I wish that my grandchildren, who will be immensely wealthy, may have a father who will endow them richly with intellect. Wed my daughter, and present me with a grandson exactly like yourself.' I accepted this proposition, and promised the good Van Swiet to become his son- in-law in eight days; to dwell with him in his house, and to cheer and enliven him daily for a few hours after dinner, with merry, witty conversation, that his liver might be kept in motion, and his digestion improved.”
”Just think of this tender Hollander, this disinterested father, who selects a husband for his daughter in order to improve his digestion!”
”Did you not see your bride before the wedding? Perhaps she was a changeling, whom the father wished to get rid of in some respectable manner, and therefore gave her to you.”
”I saw my bride, sire, and indeed Esther was a lovely girl, who had but one fault--she did not love me. She had the naivete to tell me so, and indeed to confess that she ardently loved another, a poor clerk of her father's, who, when their love was discovered, a short time before, had been turned out of the house. They loved each other none the less glowingly for all this. I shrugged my shoulders, and recalled the wish of her father, and my promise to him. But when the little Esther implored me to refuse her hand, and plead with her father for her beloved, I laughed and jested no longer, but began to look at the thing gravely. I did go to her father, and informed him of all that had pa.s.sed. He listened to me quietly, and then asked me, with a fearful grimace, if I preferred prison fare to truffle- pie, every day, at my own table. You can imagine that I did not hesitate in my choice.
”'Well, then,' said my good Swiet, 'if you do not wed my daughter, I will withdraw my protecting hand from you, and your enemies will find a means to cast you into prison. A new book, ”L'Homme Machine,”
has just appeared, and every man swears it is your production, though your name is not affixed to the t.i.tle-page. The whole city, not only the priests, but the worldlings, are enraged over this book. They declare it is a monster of unbelief and materialism. If, in spite of all this, I accept you as my son-in-law, it is because I wish to show the world that I despise it, and am not in the slightest degree influenced by its prejudices and opinions, but am a bold, independent, freethinker. Decide, then! Will you marry my daughter and eat truffle-pie daily, or will you be cast into prison?'
”'I will marry your daughter! I swear that in eight days she shall be my wife!'
”Herr van Swiet embraced me warmly, and commenced his preparations for the wedding immediately. Esther, however, my bride, never spoke to me; never seemed to see me. Her eyes were swollen, and she was half-blind from weeping. Once we met alone in the saloon. She hastened to leave it; but, as she pa.s.sed by me, she raised her arms to heaven, then extended them threateningly toward me. 'You are a cruel and bad man. You will sacrifice a human soul to your greed and your irresistible and inordinate desires! If G.o.d is just, you will die of a truffle-pie! I say not that you will yield up your spirit, for you have none! You will, you must die like a beast--from beastly gluttony!'”
”The maiden possessed the wisdom of a sibyl,” said the king, ”and I fear she has prophesied correctly as to your sad future. HATE has sometimes the gift of prophecy, and sees the future clearly, while Love is blind. It appears to me your Esther did not suffer from the pa.s.sion of love.”
”No, sire, she hated me. But her lover, the young Mieritz, did not share this dislike. He seemed warmly attached to me; was my inseparable companion; embraced me with tears, and forgave me for robbing him of his beloved, declaring that I was more worthy of her than himself. He went so far in his manifestations of friends.h.i.+p as to invite me to breakfast on the morning of my wedding-day, at which time he wished to present me with something sumptuous he had brought from Amsterdam. I accepted the invitation, and as the wedding- ceremony was to take place at twelve o'clock, in the cathedral, we were compelled to breakfast at eleven. I was content. I thought I could better support the wearisome ceremony if sustained by the fond remembrance of the luxurious meal I had just enjoyed. Our breakfast began punctually at eleven, and I a.s.sure your majesty it was a rare and costly feast. My young friend Mieritz declared, however, that the dish which crowned the feast was yet to come. At last he stepped to the kitchen himself to bring this jewel of his breakfast. With a mysterious smile he quickly returned, bringing upon a silver dish a smoking pie. A delicious fragrance immediately pervaded the whole room--a fragrance which then recalled the hour most rich in blessing of my whole life. Beside myself--filled with prophetic expectation-- I rushed forward and raised the top crust of the pie. Yes, it was there!--it met my ravished gaze!--the pie which I had only eaten once, at the table of the Duke de Grammont! Alas! I lost the good duke at the battle of Fontenoy, and the great mystery of this pasty went down with him into the hero's grave. And now that it was exhumed, it surrounded me with its costly aroma; it smiled upon me with glistening lips and voluptuous eyes. I s.n.a.t.c.hed the dish from the hands of my friend, and placed it before me on the table. At this moment the clock struck twelve.
”'Miserable wretch!' I cried, 'you bring me this pie, and this is the hour of my marriage!'
”'Well,' said Mieritz, with the cool phlegm of a Hollander, 'let us go first to the wedding, and then this pasty can be warmed up.'