PIRON.

POSTERITY judges of authors by their best productions, and discovers little curiosity respecting the number of their writings. The subject of this memoir would have held but a secondary rank in literature, had he only composed some Tales in verse, which, though they have considerable point, are dryly related; some comedies, not above mediocrity; and two tragedies, Callisthenes and Gustavus, in which a few happy passages, and some interesting situations, do not compensate for an habitual harshness of style. One comedy alone, the Metromania, a chef-d'œuvre in its kind, has placed him among the few who have succeeded best in that career which the celebrity and excellence of Moliére have rendered so difficult.

Dijon, a city which has produced several illustrious men, also gave birth to Piron, in 1689. Some family misfortunes compelled him to seek in Paris a relief against poverty. He there experienced all those disappointments, all that bitterness of want, with which merit is so often assailed, when destitute of protection-and he, who was one day to enrich the French stage by one immortal production, would have been exposed to the utmost distress, had he not found a temporary resource in the humble occupation of a copyist, in which he excelled by the beauty of his writing. But better times soon opened to view. His Metromania, which appeared in 1738, secured his reputation. This ingenious

composition combines, in a very high degree, an animated dialogue, wit, and a fund of humour truly original. One cannot but admire the masterly manner in which he has drawn the character of the Poet, which, though abounding in eccentricity and whim, is throughout manly and interesting. It presented to every Man of Letters. the useful lesson not to degrade his profession by becoming the apologist of supercilious ignorance.

The protection of some powerful friends, a pension in the Mercure de France, and a fortunate marriage, at length placed him in a state of respectability and comfort. Without any affectation of philosophy, Piron had that moderation in his desires, and in his habits, which constitutes the true philosopher.

His gaiety, his bon mots, the inexhaustible sallies of his wit, procured him in every society a high reputation, independant of his literary character. There are few persons who do not recollect some of his lively and pointed sayings. But with all this, he was in truth rather satyrical than malignant; and the keenest epigrams which he uttered, or composed, were generally in his own defence. His principal ambition was to amuse his friends. He possessed, in his own character, much of that elevation and spirit which he has given to his Poet in the Metromania. If his many excellent qualities were obscured by any particular defect, it was perhaps by too exalted an opinion of his own merit. It is well known, that the high celebrity of Voltaire was extremely irksome to him -and whenever that reflection was obtruded on his mind, it appeared to lose much of its usual sagacity. Thus, when he called his Gustavus the only remaining tragedy of the age, he, who was in general so prompt and so happy

in pointing out others as objects of ridicule, did not consider how much he exposed himself to the sarcasm of his enemies. It must be confessed, however, that his dislike to the first Poet of the Age was avowed and sincere, Voltaire never considered Piron as a despicable antago nist. That warm and irritable genius, whose vengeance never failed to pursue the daring critic who refused to subscribe to his renown, always evinced a degree of respect for Piron, and with a forbearance which certainly had not its origin in contempt, never appeared to notice his multiplied attacks.

We do not mean to speak with too much severity of Piron, in asserting that he deserves some censure for his numerous epigrams on the French academy. Though they are for the most part pointed and ingenious, it cannot be denied that all the crime of that illustrious body was the refusal to admit him among its members. The reason of this refusal is too well known. While therefore, from respect to the author of the Metromania, we omit even the name of the pernicious and immoral publication which excited the animadversion of the academicians, we cannot but applaud them for sacrificing to a sense of propriety, their earnest desire to enroll among their numbers, so celebrated a man.

Piron had always been extremely short-sighted, and towards the close of his life became entirely blind-a privation which he bore with fortitude and resignation. It has been generally supposed that he evinced, on his death-bed, a reverence for religion, for which, when in health, he had not been remarkable. Perhaps the painful recollection of the disappointments he had experienced in consequence of the licentious production of his youth,