SPIRIT OF MAGAZINES.

ARREST OF THE CHEVALIER DE ST. GERVAIS,

BY THE INQUISITION OF BARCLEONA.

[From Stockdale's History of Inquisitions.]

"AFTER dinner, I went to take a walk on that beautiful terrace which extends along the port, in that part called Barcellonette. The sides of this walk, which is named the Lonja, are adorned with fine buildings. I was tranquilly enjoying this delightful place and the serene evening of a fine day, wrapped in dreams of my projects, of my future destiny, and of the beautiful Seraphine. The sweetly pensive shades of twilight had began to veil the face of the sky, when, on a sudden, six men surrounded and commanded me to follow them. I replied by a firm refusal; whereupon one of them seized me by the collar; I instantly assailed him with a violent blow upon the face, which caused him to bellow with pain; in an instant the whole band pressed on me so closely that I was obliged to draw my sword. I fought as long as I was able, but not being possessed of the strength of Antæus or Hercules, I was at last compelled to yield. The ruffians endeavoured to inspire me with respect and dread of them by saying that they were familiars of the Holy Office, and advised me to surrender, that I might escape disgrace and harsh treatment. I submitted to force, and I was taken to the prison of the Inquisition.

"As soon as I found myself within the talons of these yultures, I began to ask myself what was my crime, and what I had done to incur the censure of this hateful tribunal. Have these jacobin monks, said I, succeeded to the Druids, who called themselves the agents of the Deity, and arrogated to themselves the right of excommunicating and putting to death their fellow citizens? My complaints were lost in empty air.

"On the following day a Dominican, shrouded in hypocrisy, and with a tongue of deceit, came to conjure me, by the bowels of Jesus Christ, to confess my faults, in order to the attainment of my liberty. Confess your own faults first,' said I to him, VOL. I. 2D ED.

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ask pardon of God for your hypocrisy and your injustice. By what right do you arrest a gentleman, a native of France, who is exempted from the jurisdiction of your infernal tribunal, and who has done nothing in violation of the laws of this country? Oh, Holy Virgin,' said he, you make me tremble! I will go and pray to God in your behalf, and I hope he will open your eyes, and turn your heart. Go pray to the devil,' said I to myself, he is your only divinity.'

"However, on that same day, Mr. Aubert, having in vain waited for me at the dinner hour, sent to the hotel to inquire about me. The landlord informed him that I had disappeared on the preceding evening; that my luggage still remained in his custody, but that he was entirely ignorant what was become of me. This obliging gentleman, uneasy for my fate, made inquiries concerning me over the whole city, but without being able to gain the smallest intelligence. Astonished at this circumstance, he began to suspect that some indiscretion on my part might have drawn upon me the vengeance of the Holy Office, with whose spirit and conduct he was perfectly acquainted. He beg ged of the captain-general to demand my enlargement. The Inquisitors denied the fact of my detention, with the utmost ef frontery of falsehood; but Mr. Aubert, not being able to discover any other probable cause for my disappearance, persisted in believing me to be a prisoner in the Holy Office.

"Next day the familiars came to conduct me before the three Inquisitors; they presented me with a yellow mantle to put on, but I disdainfully rejected this satanic livery. However, they persuaded me that submission was the only means by which I could hope to recover my liberty. I appeared, therefore, clad in yellow with a wax taper in my hand, before these three priests of Pluto. In the chamber was displayed the banner of the Holy Of fice, on which were represented a gridiron, a pair of pincers, and a pile of wood, with these words; Justice, Charity, Mercy. What an atrocious piece of irony! I was tempted more than once to singe, with my blazing taper, the hideous visage of one of these jacobins, but my good genius prevented me. One of them advised me with an air of mildness, to confess my sins. My great sin,' replied I, is to have entered a country where the priests trample humanity under foot, and assume the cloak of religion to persecute virtue and innocence.'

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"Is that all you have to say? Yes, my conscience is free from alarm and from remorse. Tremble if the regiment to which I belong should hear of my imprisonment; they would trample over ten regiments of Spaniards to rescue me from your barbarity.' God alone is master; our duty is to watch over his flock as faithful shepherds; our hearts are afflicted at it; but you

must return to your prison until you think proper to make a confession of your fault.' I then retired, casting upon my judges a look of contempt and indignation.

"As soon as I returned to my prison, I most anxiously considered what could be the cause of this severe treatment. I was far from suspecting that it could be owing to my answer to the mendicant friar concerning the Virgin and her lights.* However, Mr. Aubert, being persuaded that the Inquisition alone had been the cause of my disappearance, placed spies upon all their steps. One of them informed him that three monks, of the Dominican order, were about to set out for Rome, being deputed to the conventual assembly which was to be held there. He immediately wrote to M. De Cholet, commandant at Perpignan, to inform him how I had disappeared, of his suspicions as to the cause, and of the passage of the three jacobins through Perpignan, desiring him to arrest them, and not to set them at liberty till I should be released.

"M. de Cholet embraced with alacrity this opportunity of vengeance, and issued orders, at the gates of the town, to seize the three reverend personages. They arrived about noon, in high spirits and with keen appetites, and demanded of the sen tinel which was the best hotel. The officer of the guard presented himself, and informed them that he was commissioned to conduct them to the commandant of the place, who would provide for their lodging and entertainment. The monks rejoiced at this lucky windfall, overflowed with acknowledgments, and declared they could not think of incommoding the commandant. Come, good fathers, M. de Cholet is determined to do you the honours of the city.' In the mean time he provided them an escort of four soldiers and a serjeant. The fathers marched along with joy, congratulating one another, and delighted with the politeness of the French. Good fathers,' said M. de Cholet, I am delighted to have you in this city; I expected you impatiently. I have provided you a lodging. Ah, Mr. Commandant, you are too good; we are undeserving.' Pardon me, have you not in your prison at Barcelona, a French officer, the Chevalier de St. Gervais?" No, Mr. Commandant, we have never heard of any such person.' I am sorry for that, for you are to be imprisoned, and to live upon bread and water until this officer be forthcoming." The reverend fathers, exceedingly irri

*A mendicant having come to his chamber with a purse, begging him to contribute something for the lights or tapers to be lighted in honour of the Virgin, he replied, My good father, the Virgin has no need of lights, she need only go to bed at an early hour. St. Gervais, Voyage en Espagne," vol. 1. p. 185.

tated, exclaimed against this violation of the law of nations, and then said that they resigned themselves to the will of Heaven, and that the commandant should answer before God and the Pope for the persecution which he was about to exercise against members of the church. Yes,' said the commandant, I take the responsibility upon myself, meanwhile you will repair to the citadel.'

"Now behold the three hypocrites in a narrow prison, condemned to the regimen of the Pauls and the Hilaries, uttering the loudest exclamations against the system of fasting and the commandant. Every day, the purveyor, when he brought them their pitcher of water and portion of bread, demanded whether they had any thing to declare relative to the French officer. For three days they persisted in returning a negative, but, at length, the cries, not of their consciences, but of their stomachs, and their weariness of this mode of life, overcame their obstinacy. They begged an interview with M. de Cholet, who instantly waited upon them.

"They confessed that a young French officer was confined in the prison of the Holy Office, on account of the impious language he had held respecting the Virgin. Undoubtedly he has acted wrong,' said M. de Cholet, but allow the Virgin to avenge herself. Write word to Barcelona to set this gentleman at liberty. In the interim I will keep you as hostages, but I will mitigate your sufferings, and your table shall be less frugally supplied." The monks immediately wrote word to give liberty to the accursed Frenchman.

"During this interval, vexations, impatience, and weariness, took possession of my soul, and made me weary of life. At length the Inquisition, reading their brethren's letter, perceived themselves under the necessity of releasing their prey. One of them came to inform me that, in consideration of my youth, and of my being a native of France, the Holy Office had come to a determination to set me free, but that they required me, for the future, to have more respect for La Madonna, the mother of Jesus Christ. Most reverend father,' replied I, the French have always the highest respect for the ladies.' Uttering these words, I rushed towards the door, and when I got into the street I felt as if I were raised from the tomb once more to life."

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CHARACTER OF PRINCE POTEMKIN.

[From the European Magazine.]

THE portrait drawn of Prince Potemkin by Count Segur, formerly French ambassador at the court of St. Petersburgh, who lived a long time in habits of intimacy with that extraordinary man, offers so many shades of contrast, as appears almost incredible to have centered in the same individual.

In his person were combined the most opposite defects and accomplishments of every description. He was avaricious and ostentatious, despotic and popular, inflexible and beneficent, haughty and obliging, polite and confiding, licentious and superstitious, bold and timid, ambitious and indiscreet: lavish of his bounties to his relations, his mistresses, and his favourites; yet oftentimes obstinately refusing to pay either his household or his creditors; always attached to some female, and always unfaithful. Nothing could equal the vigour of his mind, or the indolence of his body. No dangers could appal his courage, no difficulties force him to abandon his projects; but the success of an enterprise never failed to disappoint him. He wearied the empire by the number of his dignities, and the extent of his power. He was fatigued with the burden of his own existence, envious of every thing that was not done by himself, and disgusted with all he did. To him rest was not grateful, nor occupation pleasing. Every thing with him was desultory; business, pleasure, temper, carriage. In company he looked embarrassed; his presence was a restraint wherever he went. He was morose to all who stood in awe of him, and affable to those who accosted him with familiarity.

Ever lavish of promises, seldom performing them, and never forgetting what he had heard or seen. None had read less than he; few were better informed. He had conversed with eminent men in all professions, in every science, in every art. None knew better how to draw forth and to appropriate to himself the knowledge of others. In conversation, he astonished alike the scholar, the artist, the mechanic, and the divine. His information was not deep, but extensive; he never dived into any subjects, but he spoke well of all.

"The inequality of his temper was productive of an indescribable singularity in his desires, in his conduct, and in his manner of life. At one time he formed the project of becoming Duke of Courland; at another, he thought of conferring on himself the crown of Poland. He frequently gave intimations of an intention to make himself a bishop, or even a monk. He en