[ 150 ] [FED. 



LUCK AND ILL-LUCK. 



ABOUT the end of the year 1749, two vehicles were rolling rapidly, 

 one close after the other, on the road from Paris to Versailles. The fore- 

 most was the cache public, which contained only one passenger, M. Piga- 

 fet, a man of much merit ; the other, a brilliant equipage, drawn by two 

 superb and vigorous horses, drove towards the dwelling of power, convey- 

 ing thither Comte de M , a nobleman renowned throughout Europe 



for his talents, his opulence, and his singular adventures. The noble 

 coursers were on the point of passing, and leaving far behind them the 

 poor hacks of the public coach when the wheels knocked together ; and the 

 shook was so violent, that the public vehicle, its conducteur, its horses, and 

 its solitary passenger, were rolled pell-mell into the middle of the road. 



M. Pigafet, in his fall, dislocated his right hand ; Comte de M , who 



was naturally a good and feeling man, made him all the apologies pos- 

 sible, expressed his sincere regret, and offered him a place in his carriage to 

 finish his journey. The driver was recompensed for his misadventure ; 

 arid, as soon as they arrived at Versailles, the Comte sent for a surgeon, 

 who dressed M. Pigafet's hand. Pigafet, touched by the constant atten- 

 tions of his new host, and with the chagrin which he seemed to feel for 

 being the cause of this trifling accident, thought it incumbent on him to 

 relieve his conscience, and assured the Comte that the clash of the two 

 vehicles was not to be attributed either to the restiveness of the horses, or 

 the maladresse of the driver but^to the pertinacity of his own evil destiny, 

 which had always placed a ditch between him and the object at which he 

 aimed a rock ahead at the mouth of every harbour he tried to enter. 

 " My journey to Versailles was to destroy or realize a great hope," said 

 he: *' I had just arrived at the object, and I am rolled in the ditch. I 

 ought to have expected as much all is as it should be; and it really is 

 more honour than I am accustomed to, to see a noble Comte in the number 

 of the causes of my thousand-and-one catastrophes. Once, a curst lap-dog 

 made me lose the object of my affections a bon-mot closed the doors of 

 the Academy upon me, perhaps, for ever and a contemptible insect, I 

 may say, hurled me from a throne." 



Cornte de M , astonished at this speech, looked steadily at M. 



Pigafet, he, nevertheless, appeared to speak with calmness and since- 

 rity. His look was tranquil and undisturbed: in fact, he shewed no symp- 

 toms of being out of his mind. His host, whose curiosity had been strongly 

 excited, again expressed all the interest he took in his fate, sought to dis- 

 suade him from drawing such sinister presages from his late accident, and 

 concluded by requesting to be informed on the subject of those surprising 

 adventures, of which he appeared to be the victim. 



M. Pigafet, as may be conjectured from his preamble, was as much dis- 

 posed to speak as the Comte to hear, and did not wait to be asked twice. 

 *' I was born in Paris," said he; " my father, an honest but theorizing 

 man, had discovered in me some aptitude for intellectual labours, and 

 thought he was providing for my future welfare in setting me to acquire, all 

 at once, superficial information in a great number of arts and sciences 

 being persuaded that an acquaintance with these different branches of 

 knowledge would qualify me to choose a path suited to my genius and my 

 abilities. 



" The progress of civilization among nations the gradual consolidation 

 of societies in the midst of barbarism and disturbance this voluntary curb 



