The hoarding miser torments himself, and the spendthrift punishes the
innocent. The hoarder heaps up for others; and the prodigal scatters
what others had heaped. The hoarder thinks so much of the time to come,
as to forget the present; the squanderer has his thoughts so much taken
up with the present, as to forget the future. The first lives as if he
were never to die, and the last as if he had but a day to enjoy. Both
are unprofitable members of society; the one occasioning a stoppage in
the circulation, and the other an hæmorrhage. The hoarding miser is like
a fog that infests the air; the prodigal resembles an outrageous storm
that overturns all in its way. The hoarding miser is a ridiculous
creature, and the prodigal a noxious animal.
* * * * *
* * * *
Interesting History Of
_THE BARON DE LOVZINSKI._
With a relation of the most remarkable occurrences in the life
of the celebrated COUNT PULASKI, well known as the champion of
American Liberty, and who bravely fell in its defence before
Savannah, 1779.
_Interspersed with Anecdotes of the late unfortunate KING of POLAND,
so recently dethroned._
(Continued from page 166.)
Pulaski pressed me, but in vain, for I was unable to consent. As soon as
Lodoiska knew that I should depart alone, and perceived that we were
resolved not to inform her whither, she shed torrents of tears, and
strove to detain me. I began to hesitate.
Lovzinski, cries my father-in-law at this critical moment, Lovzinski,
depart! Wife, children, relations, all ought to be sacrificed, when it
is necessary for the salvation of your country.
I instantly mount my horse, and make such haste, that I arrive by the
middle of next day at Czenstachow. I here found forty brave men waiting
for me, and determined for the most hazardous enterprise.
“Gentlemen,” said I to them, “we are now met on purpose to carry a king
out of the midst of his own capital. Those capable of attempting such a
bold enterprise, are alone capable of effecting it: either success or
death awaits on us!”
After this short harangue we prepare to depart. Kaluvski, forewarned of
our design, had already procured twelve waggons, loaded with hay and
straw, each of which was drawn by four good horses.
We instantly disguise ourselves as peasants; we hide our clothes, our
sabres, our pistols, and the saddles of our horses, in the hay with
which our waggons were partly filled; we agree upon certain signs, and I
give them a _watch-word_, to be used according to circumstances.--Twelve
of the conspirators, commanded by Kaluvski, enter into Warsaw,
accompanied by as many waggons, which they themselves conduct. I divide
the rest of my little troop into several brigades, on purpose to avert
suspicion: each is ordered to march at some distance from the other, and
to gain the capital by different gates.
We depart, and on Saturday the 2d of November, 1771, arrive at Warsaw,
and lodge together at a convent belonging to the Dominicans.
On the next day, which was Sunday, and which will for ever form a
memorable epoch in the annals of Poland, one of my people of the name of
Stravinski, being covered with rags, places himself near the collegiate
church, and soon after proceeds demanding charity even at the gates of
the royal palace, where he observes every thing that passed. Several of
the conspirators walked up and down the six narrow streets, in the
neighbourhood of the great square, where Kaluvski and myself were
posted. We remain in ambuscade during the whole day, and part of the
afternoon.
At six o’clock at night the king leaves the palace; he is followed, and
is seen to enter the hotel of his uncle, the grand chancellor of
Lithuania.
All our followers receive notice of this event, and assemble instantly:
they throw off their miserable clothes, saddle their horses, and prepare
their arms, in the large square belonging to the convent, where their
movements are entirely concealed. They then sally forth, one after the
other, under favour of the night. Too well known in Warsaw to hazard
appearing there, without disguising my self, I still wear my peasant’s
dress, and I mount an excellent horse, caparisoned, however, after the
common manner.
I then point out my followers the different posts in the suburbs, which
I had assigned them before our departure from the convent, and they were
dispersed in such a manner, that all the avenues to the palace of the
grand chancellor were carefully and strictly guarded.
Between nine and ten o’clock at night, the king comes forth on purpose
to return home; and we remark, with joy, that his attendants were far
from being numerous.
The carriage was preceded by two men, who carried _flambeaux_, some
officers of his suit, two gentlemen and an esquire followed. I know not
what was the name of the grandee in the coach along with the king. There
were two pages, one to each door, two haydukes running by the side of
the equipage, and three footmen, in the royal livery behind.
The king proceeds slowly: part of my people assemble at some distance;
twelve of the most determined spring forward: I put myself at their
head, and we advance at a good pace.
As there was a Russian garrison at that very moment in Warsaw, we affect
to speak the language of those foreigners, so that our petty troop might
be mistaken for one of their patroles.
We overtake the carriage at about a hundred and fifty paces from the
grand chancellor’s palace, and exactly between those of the bishop of
Cracow and of the late grand general of Poland.
All of a sudden we pass the heads of the foremost horses, so that those
who preceded, found themselves separated from those who surrounded the
royal equipage.
I instantly give the signal agreed upon. Kaluvski gallops up, with the
remainder of the conspirators: I present a pistol to the postillion, who
instantly stops; the coachman is fired upon, and precipitated beneath
the wheels. Of the two haydukes who endeavoured to defend their prince,
one drops, pierced with two balls; the other is overturned by means of a
backhanded stroke from a sabre, which he receives on the head; the steed
belonging to the esquire falls down covered with wounds; one of the
pages is dismounted, and his horse taken; pistol-balls fly about in all
directions--in short, the attack was so hot, and the fire so violent,
that I trembled for the king’s life.
He himself, however, preserving the utmost coolness in the midst of the
danger, had now descended from his carriage, and was striving to regain
his uncle’s palace on foot. Kaluvski arrests and seizes him by the hair;
seven or eight of the conspirators surround, disarm, overpower him, and,
pressing him between their horses, make off at a full gallop towards the
end of the street.
During this moment, I confess that I thought Pulaski had basely deceived
me; that the death of the monarch was resolved upon, and that a plot had
been formed to assassinate him.
All of a sudden I form my resolves; I clap spurs to my horse, overtake
the little band, cry out to them to stop, and threaten to kill the first
person who should dare to disobey me.
That God who is the protector of good kings, watched over the safety of
M. de P***! Kaluvski and his followers stop at the sound of my
well-known voice. We mount the king on horseback, make off at full
speed, and regain the ditch that surrounded the city, which the monarch
is constrained to leap, in company with us.
At that moment a panic terror takes possession of my troop; at fifty
paces distant from the ramparts, there were no more than seven who
surrounded the person of the king.
The night was dark and rainy, and it was necessary to dismount every
instant, on purpose to sound the morass with which we were surrounded.
The horse on which the monarch rode fell twice, and broke his leg at the
second fall: during these violent movements, his majesty lost his
_pelisse_, and the shoe belonging to his left foot.
“If you wish that I should follow you,” says he to us, you must furnish
me with another horse and a pair of boots.
We remount him once more, and, on purpose to gain the road by which
Pulaski had promised me to advance, we resolve to pass through a village
called Burakow; but the king exclaims, “Do not go that way; there are
Russians there!”
I immediately change our _route_; but in proportion as we advance
through the wood of Beliany, our number continues to diminish. In a
short time, I perceive nobody around me but Kaluvski and Stravinski:
a few minutes after, we are challenged by a Russian sentinel on
horseback, at whose voice we instantly stop, greatly alarmed for our
safety.
“Let us kill him!” cries the ferocious Kaluvski, pointing to the king.
I instantly avow to him, without disguise, the horror which such a
proposition inspired me with. “Very well, you may then take upon you the
task of conducting him,” adds this cruel hearted man, who immediately
after precipitates himself into the woods. Stravinski follows him, and I
alone remain with the king.
“Lovzinski,” says he, addressing himself to me, as soon as they were out
of sight; “it is you, I can no longer doubt it; it is you, for I will
remember your voice!” I utter not a single word in reply. He then mildly
adds, “It is certainly you Lovzinski! Who would have thought this ten
years ago?”
We find ourselves at that moment near to the convent of Beliany, distant
no more than a single league from Warsaw.
“Lovzinski,” continues the king, “permit me to enter this convent, and
save yourself.”
“You must follow me,” was my only answer.
“It is in vain,” rejoins the monarch, “that you are disguised; it is in
vain that you endeavour to assume a feigned voice: I know you well, I am
fully assured that you are Lovzinski: ah, who would have said so ten
years since? You would then have lost your life, on condition of
preserving that of your friend.”
His majesty now ceases to speak; we advance some time, in profound
silence, which he again breaking, exclaims. “I am overcome with
fatigue--_if you wish to carry me alive, permit me to repose myself for
a single moment_.”
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *