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I much admire the spirit of the ancient philosophers, in that they never attempted, as our moralists often do, to lower the tone of philosophy, and make it consistent with all the indulgences of indolence and sensuality. They never thought of having the bulk of mankind for their disciples; but kept themselves as distinct as possible from a worldly life. They plainly told men what sacrifices were required, and what advantages they were which might be expected.

Si virtus hoc una potest dare, fortis omisses
Hoc age deliciis.

If you would be a philosopher, these are the terms.
You must do thus and thus: there is no other way.
If not, go and be one of the vulgar.

There is no one quality gives so much dignity to a character as consistency of conduct. Even if a man's pursuits be wrong and unjustifiable, yet if they are prosecuted with steadiness and vigour, we cannot withhold our admiration. The most characteristic mark of a great mind is to choose some one important object, and pursue it through life. It was this made Cæsar a great man. His object was ambition; he pursued it steadily, and was always ready to sacrifice to it every interfering passion or inclination.

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There is a different air and complexion in characters as well as in faces, though perhaps each equally beautiful; and the excellencies of one cannot be transferred to the other. Thus if one man possesses a stoical apathy of soul, acts independent of the opinion of the world, and fulfils every duty with mathematical exactness, you must not expect that man to be greatly influenced by the weakness of pity, or the partialities of friendship: you must not be offended that he does not fly to meet you after a short absence; or require from him the convivial spirit and honest effusions of a warm, open, susceptible heart. If another is remarkable for a lively active zeal, inflexible integrity, a strong indignation against vice, and freedom in reproving it, he will probably have some little bluntness in his address not altogether suitable to polished life; he will want the winning arts of conversation; he will disgust by a kind of haughtiness and negligence in his manner, and often hurt the delicacy of his acquaintance with harsh and disagreeable truths."

We do not consider the poetry of Mrs. Barbauld equal to her prose writings;-but there is a benignity, mingled with vivacity, in some of her poetical productions which make them always pleasant, as the face of a cheerful friend.

WASHING-DAY.

THE Muses are turn'd gossips; they have lost
The buskin'd step, and clear high-sounding phrase,
Language of gods. Come then, domestic Muse,
In slipshod measure loosely prattling on
Of farm or orchard, pleasant curds and cream,
Or drowning flies, or shoe lost in the mire
By little whimpering boy, with rueful face;
Come, Muse, and sing the dreaded Washing Day
Ye who beneath the yoke of wedlock bend,
With bowed soul, full well ye ken the day

Which week, smooth sliding after week, brings on
Too soon;-for to that day nor peace belongs
Nor comfort;-ere the first grey streak of dawn,
The red-arm'd washers come and chase repose.
Nor pleasant smile, nor quaint device of mirth,
E'er visited that day: the very cat,

From the wet kitchen scared and reeking hearth,
Visits the parlour, an unwonted guest.
The silent breakfast meal is soon despatch'd;
Uninterrupted, save by anxious looks

Cast at the lowering sky, if sky should lower.
From that last evil, O preserve us, heavens !
For should the skies pour down, adieu to all
Remains of quiet: then expect to hear
Of sad disasters.-dirt and gravel stains
Hard to efface, and loaded lines at once
Snapped short,-and linen-horse by dog thrown down,
And all the petty miseries of life.
Saints have been calm while stretch'd upon the rack,
And Guatimozin smiled on burning coals;
But never yet did housewife notable
Greet with a smile a rainy washing-day.
-But grant the welkin fair, require not thou
Who call'st thyself perchance the master there,
Or study swept, or nicely dusted coat,
Or usual 'tendance;-ask not, indiscreet,
Thy stockings mended, though the yawning rents
Gape wide as Erebus; nor hope to find
Some snug recess impervious: should'st thou try
The 'custom'd garden walks, thine eye shall rue
The budding fragrance of thy tender shrubs,
Myrtle or rose, all crush'd beneath the weight
Of coarse check'd apron,- with impatient hand
Twitch'd off when showers impend: or crossing lines
Shall mar thy musings, as the wet cold sheet
Flaps in thy face abrupt. Woe to the friend
Whose evil stars have urged him forth to claim
On such a day the hospitable rites!
Looks, blank at best, and stinted courtesy,
Shall he receive. Vainly he feeds his hopes
With dinner of roast chicken, savoury pie,
Or tart or pudding:-pudding he nor tart
That day shall eat; nor, though the husband try,
Mending what can't be help'd, to kindle mirth
From cheer deficient, shall his consort's brow
Clear up propitious:-the unlucky guest
In silence dines, and early slinks away.

I well remember, when a child, the awe
This day struck into me; for then the maids

I scarce knew why, look'd cross, and drove me from them
Nor soft caress could 1 obtain, nor hope
Usual indulgences; jelly or creams,
Relic of costly suppers, and set by
For me their petted one; or butter'd toast,
When butter was forbid; or thrilling tale
Of ghost or witch, or murder-so I went
And shelter'd me beside the parlour fire:
There my dear grandmother, eldest of forms,
Tended the little ones, and watch'd from harm,
Anxiously fond, though oft her spectacles
With elfin cunning hid, and oft the pins
Drawn from her ravell'd stocking, might have sour'd
One less indulgent.-

At intervals, my mother's voice was heard,
Urging despatch: briskly the work went on,
All hands employ'd to wash, to rinse, to wring,
To fold, and starch, and clap, and iron, and plait.
Then would I sit me down, and ponder much
Why washings were. Sometimes through hollow bowl
Of pipe amused we blew, and sent aloft
The floating bubbles; little dreaming then

To see, Mongolfier, thy silken ball

Ride buoyant through the clouds-so near approach
The sports of children and the toils of men.
Earth, air, and sky, and ocean, hath its bubbles,
And verse is one of them-this most of all.

PAINTED FLOWERS.

FLOWERS to the fair: To you these flowers I bring. And strive to greet you with an earlier spring, Flowers, sweet and gay and delicate like you, Emblems of innocence and beauty too.

With flowers the Graces bind their yellow hair,
And flowery wreaths consenting lovers wear.
Flowers, the sole luxury which Nature knew,
In Eden's pure and guiltless garden grew.
To loftier forms are rougher tasks assign'd;
The sheltering oak resists the stormy wind,
The tougher yew repels invading foes,
And the tall pine for future navies grows;
But this soft family, to cares unknown,
Were born for pleasure and delight alone:
Gay without toil, and lovely without art,

They spring to cheer the sense, and glad the heart.
Nor blush, my fair, to own you copy these,
Your best, your sweetest empire is-to please.

BARBIER, MARY ANN,

My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea,
And auld Robin Gray cam' a courtin' me.

My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin;
I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna win;
Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in his ee,
Said, Jeanie, for their sakes, Oh, mairy me!

My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back;
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wreck:
The ship it was a wreck-why didna Jamie dee?
Or why do I live to say, Wae's me?

My father argued sair: my mother didna speak;

But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to break:
Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was in the sea,
And auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me.

I hadna been a wife a week but only four,
When, sitting sae mournfully at the door,

I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he,
Till he said, I'm come back for to marry thee.

Oh, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say;
We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away:
I wish I were dead! but I'm no like to dee;
And why do I live to say, Wae's me?

I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;

I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gude wife to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.

BARONI, ADRIANNE BASILE,

BORN at Orleans, cultivated literature and poetry with much success. She settled at Paris, where she published several tragedies and some operas. It has been said that her name was only borrowed by the Abbé Pellegrin; but it is a mistake. Mademoiselle Barbier had talents and learning; and the Abbé Pellegrin was never anything more to her than her friend and adviser. She died in 1745. The conduct of the tragedies of Mademoiselle Barbier is tolerably regular, and the scenes well connected. The subjects are in general judiciously chosen; but nothing can be more commonplace than the manner in which she treats them. In endeavouring to render the heroines of her plays generous and noble, she degrades all her heroes. We perceive the weakness of a timid pencil, which, incapable of painting objects in large, strives to exaggerate the virtues of her sex; and these monstrous pictures produce an interest that never rises above mediocrity. Never-lished, in which her beauty and perfections were theless, we meet with some affecting situations, and a natural and easy versification; but too much facility renders it negligent, diffuse and prosaic. Her tragedies are entitled, "Arria and Poetus;" "Cornelia, Mother of the Gracchi;" Tomyris, Queen of the Mussagetes;" "The Death of Cæsar;" and a comedy, called "The Falcon." She also wrote three operas, which were successful.

BARNARD, LADY ANNE, DAUGHTER of James Lindsay, fifth earl of Balcarres, of Fifeshire, Scotland, was born December 8th, 1750; and married in 1793 to Sir Andrew Barnard, librarian to George III. She died without children in 1825. She wrote "Auld Robin Gray," one of the most perfect, tender, and affecting of all the ballads of humble life. The authorship of this song was unknown for a long time. Lady Anne Barnard wrote very little, and never anything equal in true pathos or poetry to this first ballad.

AULD ROBIN GRAY.

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,
And a' the warld to sleep are gane;

The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee,
When my gudeman lies sound by me.

Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his bride;
But saving a croun, he had naething else beside:
To mak that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;
And the croun and the pund were baith for me.

He hadna been awa a week but only twa,
When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown awa;

A NATIVE of Mantua, Italy, sister of the poet Basile. She was so much admired for her beauty, wit, and accomplishments, that volumes were written in her praise. Her daughter Leonora possessed equal charms, and met with equal admiration; and in 1639 a collection of poems in Latin, Greek, Spanish, Italian, and French, was pub

portrayed. She resided long at Rome, where she appeared occasionally as a singer. She also wrote some poetical trifles. She was celebrated for her vocal powers.

Her

BARRY, MARIE JEANNE VAUBENIER, COUNTESS du, was born at Vancouleurs, near the native place of Joan d'Arc, in 1744. reputed father was an exciseman of the name of Vaubenier. After his death her mother went with her to Paris, where she was placed in a convent, but soon left it to work at a fashionable milliner's. When she was about sixteen she became mistress to Count Jean du Barry; and soon after was presented to Louis XV. of France, who was immediately fascinated by her beauty. In order that she might appear at court, Guillaume du Barry, brother of Count Jean, consented to the king's desire, and married her, after which she was introduced to the court as Countess du Barry. Her influence over the king was excessive and of long duration, and she often used it to lead him to commit acts of injustice and imprudence. After the death of Louis XV., Madame du Barry was shut up in a convent; but Louis XVI. allowed her to come out, and restored to her the pension and residence left her by the late king. She showed herself grateful for this kindness when Louis XVI. and his family were imprisoned; for she went, regardless of her own danger, to England to sell her jewels for the use of the queen and her children. On her return she was impri

soned and condemned, on the charge of "being a conspirator, and of having worn mourning in London for the death of the tyrant." She was guillotined on the 6th of November, 1793. She wept much when going to the scaffold.

BARTON, ELIZABETH,

A RELIGIOUS fanatic, who lived in the reign of Henry VIII. of England. She was generally called the Holy Maid of Kent, and was originally a servant at Allington; but was taught by designing persons to throw her face and limbs into contortions, to pretend to prophetical powers, and to denounce divine vengeance upon heretics. Venturing, however, to aim her predictions against the king, by announcing that if he should proceed in his attempt to obtain a divorce from Catharine of Arragon, and marry another woman, he would not be king seven months after; she was apprehended and tried, together with her accomplices, for high treason, and executed at Tyburn, in 1534. John Fisher, bishop of Rochester, a man of great learning and piety, was so deceived by her pretended sanctity and visions, as to become implicated with her, and to suffer the following year the same fate.

BASSEPORTE, MADELEINE FRANCES,

A FRENCH lady, celebrated for her talent in painting plants and animals, especially birds, in water-colours. She was born in 1701, and received instructions from the celebrated Robert. In 1732, she succeeded Obriette, the painter of natural history in the royal gardens, with a salary of one hundred pistoles a year. She died in 1780. Madame Basseporte also produced some good engravings.

BASSI, LAURA MARIA CATHERINE,

By marriage Veratti, a learned Italian lady, was born at Bologna, in 1711. She was placed in that happy mediocrity of condition equally removed from poverty and riches, where neither the sordid cares of living, nor the futile toys of grandeur absorb the leisure for intellectual im

provement. The first person who noticed Laura's extraordinary talents, was the priest Don Lorenzo Stregani, who visited familiarly at the house. He amused himself with teaching the little girl Latin and French. He did not confine himself to what is usual,-simply the power of translating and understanding the Latin authors,-but he urged her to so thorough a knowledge of the language, that she spoke and wrote it with the utmost fluency.

Another man of learning, a professor in the college of medicine, Dr. Gaetano Tacconi, was a friend of the Bassi family; he was so struck with the amazing progress of Laura in the languages, that he prevailed upon her parents, though not without much discussion and delay, to let her abandon household and feminine occupations, and devote herself to a learned education. After having exercised her in logic, he carried her on to metaphysics and natural philosophy. The master's knowledge on these subjects was limited to what was taught in the schools; but the penetrating genius of the pupil was not to be confined to these limits; her scientific studies, and even discoveries, left the faculty of Bologna far behind her in the career of knowledge. The gentlemen who had taken pleasure in cultivating this rare mind, began to feel desirous of surprising the public by a display; but they determined that, as a preparation, some unprejudiced and nice-judging scholars should examine the little damsel, certain of their sanction for presenting her to any trial. For this purpose the abbe Giovanni Trombelli and Dr. Zanotti, were selected. They termed the young person a prodigy; urgently advised her appearing in public, to manifest to the world her wonderful acquirements.

Her natural modesty was great, and she felt very averse to such a step; but when she found the self-love of her masters was most eager, gratitude to them put aside all personal feelings, and it was determined that on the 17th of April, of that year, (1732,) she would, according to the customs of those days, hold a public dispute on philosophy. The palace of Anziani was selected for the assembly. The singularity of the case brought a great concourse: all the learned men, and dignified ecclesiastics from distant towns, besides the noblemen and ladies of rank, crowded to listen to so unusual an orator. Fortunately her powers were equal to the occasion. Her knowledge seemed vast and various, and the elegance and delicacy of her Latin speech was truly wonderful. The applause, the admiration, was unbounded. The cardinal archbishop Lambertini waited upon her the next day, with the warmest congratulations upon her success. At that period, and particularly at Bologna, nobody was recognised truly learned without the degree of doctor. To reach this goal it was necessary that the young girl should enter the lists again, and submit herself to the trial before the college of philosophy. This examination took place the 12th of the following May. The candidate was accompanied by many ladies of distinguished rank. She acquitted herself admirably, and obtained the

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most complete success. Her brow was encircled | sway in Bologna. Had Laura written in Italian,

by a silver crown, ornamented with laurel leaves, which was offered by Dr. Bazzani in the name of the faculty. In investing her with the gown which was the ensign of her degree, he addressed her with a Latin oration; to which she made a most elegant extemporaneous reply in the same language. A dinner was given the next day, at the request of the cardinal de Polignac, when all the men of eminent ability were confronted with Laura, and every effort was made to sound her depths; but it was found that not one of these illustrious personages could compete with, or meet her at all points, so various were her acquirements, so subtle her wit, and so solid her understanding.

The highest honours were, after this, bestowed upon her; and the senate, considering that she reflected honours upon the city, settled a pension on her, to enable her to continue her studies without anxiety. The attentions she received brought her into the world, and obliged her to make many visits, and go to assemblies. Mingling in society, she was destined to give up her life of solitary study. She formed an attachment for Dr. Veratti, a celebrated physician, and professor of the institute; this ended in a marriage, when she shone as a wife and mother with admirable domestic qualities, equalling her scholastic ones.

It may here be remarked, that women, who possess some trivial accomplishments, some little skill in music, or futile propensity to write ephemeral verses, assume that these occupations place them above household duties, which are therefore neglected; and that, on the other hand, which is perhaps a more general error, many women declare that the attention due to their families' physical comforts, condemns their own minds to intellectual barrenness, and so clips the wings of their immortal souls that they can reach no flight beyond the consideration of domestic matters. They trust the education and training of their children to hired teachers; while the higher duty of stitching seams, and superintending joints of meats, must be reserved for their own superior intelligence and personal vigilance.

The life of Laura Bassi offers a lesson to both of these classes. She was mother of a numerous offspring, all of whom were most carefully attended to; as a wife, she was a model of tenderness. Mistress of a household, her frugality, and, at the same time, generous hospitality were remarkable; in fine, her abode was a scene of domestic comfort and happiness. But these essential occupations did by no means interfere with her scientific pursuits. Not only did she keep up with the other professors, but it was conceded that not a man in the university could read and speculate to the extent she manifested, by her experiments in natural philosophy, and her treatises on logical subjects. Besides this, for twenty-eight years, she carried on in her own house a course of experimental philosophy; until the senate selected her to give public lectures on the subject, in the university, as professor of this science. It is a great pity that the pedantic custom of using the Latin language for scientific and literary purposes still held

her writings would have been more extensively known, and would not be buried, as they now are, in classic dust. Her Latin style is peculiarly excellent.

She was modest and unaffected; her memory was very great, her understanding strong, and her conversation enlivened by sallies of wit. She died in 1778, of a disease of the lungs.

Her mortal remains were interred with solemn obsequies. She was buried with the doctor's gown, and silver laurel. Her works remaining are:-An epic poem in manuscript; some poems published by Gobbi; "De problemate quodam Hydrometico, De problemate quodam Mecanico, published by the institute;" some experiments and discoveries on the compression of the air.

BAYNARD, ANNE,

ONLY daughter of Edward Baynard, an eminent physician, was born at Preston, Lancashire, England, 1672. She was well instructed in the classics and sciences, and wrote Latin with ease and correctness. At the age of twenty-three, she had the knowledge of a profound philosopher. She often said that it was a sin to be content with a little knowledge."

To the endowments of mind, she added the virtues of the heart; she was pious, benevolent, and simple in her manners; retired, and perhaps too rigid in her habits. She always put aside a portion of her small income for charitable purposes; and to this she added an ardent desire and strenuous efforts for the mental and moral improvement of all within her influence.

About two years previous to her death, her spirits seem to have been impressed with an idea of her early dissolution; a sentiment which first suggested itself to her mind while walking alone, among the tombs, in a church-yard; and which she indulged with a kind of superstitious complacency. On her death-bed, she earnestly entreated the minister who attended her, that he would exhort all the young people of his congregation to the study of wisdom and knowledge, as the means of moral improvement, and real happiness. "I could wish," says she, "that all young persons might be exhorted to the practice of virtue, and to increase their knowledge by the study of philosophy; and more especially to read the great book of nature, wherein they may see the wisdom and power of the Creator, in the order of the universe, and in the production and preservation of all things." "That women are capable of such improvements, which will better their judgments and understandings, is past all doubt, would they but set about it in earnest, and spend but half of that time in study and thinking, which they do in visits, vanity, and folly. It would introduce a composure of mind, and lay a solid basis for wisdom and knowledge, by which they would be better enabled to serve God, and to help their neighbours."

The following character is given of this lady in Mr. Collier's Historical Dictionary. "Anne Baynard, for her prudence, piety, and learning, de

serves to have her memory perpetuated: she was not only skilled in the learned languages, but in all manner of literature and philosophy, without vanity or affectation. Her words were few, well chosen and expressive. She was seldom seen to smile, being rather of a reserved and stoical disposition; their doctrine, in most parts, seeming agreeable to her natural temper, for she never read or spake of the stoics but with a kind of delight. She had a contempt of the world, especially of the finery and gaiety of life. She had a great regard and veneration of the sacred name of God, and made it the whole business of her life to promote his honour and glory; and the great end of her study was to encounter atheists and libertines, as may appear from some severe satires written in the Latin tongue, in which language she had great readiness and fluency of expression; which made a gentleman of no small parts and learning say of her,

"Annam gens Solymaa, Annam gens Belgica jactat,
At superas Annas, Anna Baynarda, duas."

Fam'd Solyma her Anna boasts,

In sacred writ renown'd;

Another Anna's high deserts,

Through Belgia's coasts resound:

But Britain can an Anna show,

That shines more bright than they,

Wisdom and piety in her

Sheds each its noblest ray.'

Anne Baynard died at Barnes, in the county of Surrey, in 1697.

BEALE, MARY,

AN English portrait-painter, was born in Suffolk, in 1632, and died in 1697. She was the daughter of the Rev. Mr. Cradock, minister of Walton-upon-Thames, and was instructed in her art by Sir Peter Lely, whose works, and those of Vandyck, she studied with the greatest care. Her style was formed on the best models of the Italian school, and her colouring was clear, strong and natural.

She also paraphrased some of the Psalms of David.

BEAUHARNAIS, FANNY, COUNTESS

DE,

THE aunt of Josephine's first husband, was born at Paris, in 1738. Her father was receiver-general of finances, and he gave her a brilliant education. From her earliest youth, she showed a great taste for poetry. At the age of seventeen, she was married to count de Beauharnais, whom she did not love, and she soon separated from him by taking up her residence in the convent of the Visitation. Here she assembled around her the most distinguished literary and scientific men; but she was criticised as well as flattered; and though Buffon called her his daughter, Le Brun wrote epigrams against her.

In 1773, Madame de Beauharnais published a little work entitled "A Tous les penseurs Salut," in which she undertook the defence of female authorship. But this was considered a strange instance of audacity, though the women of France

then ruled everything from state affairs down to fashionable trifles. Le Brun, a bitter and satirical poet, answered Madame de Beauharnais in a strain of keen invective. "Ink," said he, "ill becomes rosy fingers."

Madame de Beauharnais published a volume of fugitive poems; also "Lettres de Stephanie," an historical romance, several other romances, and a comedy entitled "La Fausse inconstance ou le triomphe de l'honnéteté. She died in 1813. We insert a specimen of her poetry.

EPÎTRE AUX FEMMES.

(Written in 1773.)

Mon sexe parfois est injuste:
Mais j'absous ce sexe charmant ;
Il fut ainsi du temps d'Auguste,
C'est tenir à son sentiment.
Je voudrois le flèchir, sans doute;
Pour des titres, j'en ai plus d'un;
Mes traits n'ont rien que de commun;
Je me tais, et même j'écoute....
N'importe, il me faut renoncer
A l'espoir flatteur du lui plaire;
Auprès de lui j'aurois beau faire.
Tout en moi paroît l'offenser,
Et mes juges, dans leur colère,
M'ôtent jusqu'au droit de penser.
Un jour que j'étois bien sincère,
J'exerçai ma plume à tracer
Les charmes de leur caractère
Par-là, j'ai su les courroucer.
Cependant j'exalte ces dames
J'encourage leurs défenseurs;
Je leur donne à toutes des ames;
Je chante leurs graces. leurs mœurs,
Et leurs combats, et leur victoire;
Je les compare aux belles fleurs
Qui des campagnes font la gloire:
Elles rejettent mon encens,
Et, ce qu'on aura peine à croire,
Me traitent, dans leur humeur noire.
Presque aussi mal que leurs amans.
Mes vers sont pillés, disent-elles;
Non, Chloé n'en est pas l'auteur;
Elle fut d'une pesanteur...
Le temps ne donne pas des ailes.
Mon Dieu! reprend avec aigreur,
A coup sûr l'une des moins belles,
Jadis je la voyois le soir;
Alors elle écrivoit en prose;
Peut-être, hélas! sans le savoir,
Et hasardoit fort peu de chose.
Mesdames, à ne point mentir,
Je prise fort de tels suffrages:
Mais craignez de m'enorgueillir
En me disputant mes ouvrages;
Ne me donnez point le plaisir
De me croire un objet d'envie;
Je triomphe quand vous doutez;
Rendez-moi vite vos bontés,
Et je reprends ma modestie.

BEAUMONT, MADAME LE PRINCE DE, AN able and lively French writer, whose works, in the form of romances, letters, memoirs, &c., were written for the improvement of youth in morals and religion. She was born at Rouen, April 26th, 1711, and died at Anneci, 1780.

BECTOR, CLAUDE DE,

DESCENDED from an illustrious house in Dauphiny, abbess of St. Honoré de Tarascon, was eminent for her knowledge of Latin, and her fine style of writing. She was honoured by her admirers with the name of Scholastica. She gave

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