doms were not to be denied. A gentleman of condition is not to be shunned purely for being such; and they who took notice of it, did it only out of malice, because, they were not used by him with the same distinction.' But I would have young women, who are orphans, or unguarded with powerful alliances, consider with horror the insolence of wealth. Fortune does in a great measure denominate what is vice and virtue; or if it does not go so far, innocence is helpless, and oppression unpunished without its assistance; for this reason it is, that I would strictly recommend to my young females not to dally with men whose circumstances can support them against their falsehood, and have the fashion of a base self-interested world on their side, which, instead of avenging the cause of an abused woman, will proclaim her dishonour; while the person injured is shunned like a pestilence, he who did the wrong sees no difference in the reception he meets with, nor is he the less welcome to the rest of the sex, who are still within the pale of honour and innocence.

has usurped a certain authority to exclude chastity out of the catalogue of masculine virtues by which means females adventure all against those who have nothing to lose; and they have nothing but empty sighs, tears, and reproaches, against those who reduced them to real sorrow and infamy. But as I am now talking to the world yet untainted, I will venture to recommend chastity as the noblest male qualification. It is, methinks, very unreasonable, that the difficulty of attaining all other good habits is what makes them honourable, but in this case the very attempt is become ridiculous. But, in spite of all the raillery of the world, truth is still truth, and will have beauties inseparable from it. I should upon this occasion bring examples of heroic chastity, were I not afraid of having my paper thrown away by the modish part of the town, who go no farther, at best, than the mere absence of ill, and are contented to be rather irreproachable than praiseworthy. In this particular, a gentleman in the court of Cyrus reported to his majesty the charms and beauty of Panthea, and ended his panegyric by telling him, that since he was at leisure he would carry him to visit her: but that prince, who is a very great man to this day, answered the pimp, because he was a man of quality, with

What makes this circumstance the more lamentable, is, that it frequently falls upon those who have greatest merit and understanding. Gentleness of disposition, and taste of polite conversation, I have often known snares toward vice in some, whilst sullenness and dis-out roughness, and said with a smile, If I relish of any thing that was agreeable, have should visit her upon your introduction now I been the only defences of virtue in others. I have leisure, I don't know but I might go again have my unhappy correspondent's letter before upon her own invitation when I ought to be me; and she says she is sure, he is so much a better employed.' But when I cast about all gentleman, and he has that natural softness, the instances which I have met with in all my that if he reads any thing moving on this sub-reading, I find not one so generous, so honest, ject in my paper, it will certainly make him think. Poor girl! Cæsar ashamed! Has not he seen Pharsalia? Does the poor creature imagine that a scrip of paper, a collection of sentences, and an old man's talk of pleasures which he is past, will have an effect upon him who could go on in a series of falsehood; let drop ambiguous sentences in her absence, to give her false hope from the repetition of them by some friend that heard them; that could pass as much time in the pursuit of her, as would have attained some useful art or science; and that only to attain a short revel of his senses, under a stupor of faith, honour, and conscience! No; the destruction of a well-educated young woman is not accomplished by the criminal who is guilty of it, in a sudden start of desire; he is not surprised into it by frailty; but arrives at it by care, skill, and meditation. It is no small aggravation of the guilt, that it is a thousand times conquered and resisted, even while it is prosecuted. He that waits for fairer occasions, for riper wishes, for the removal of a particular objection, or the conquest of any certain scruple, has it in his power to obey his conscience, which often calls him, during the intrigue, a villain and a destroyer. There can be nothing said for such an evil: but that the restraints of shame and ignominy are broken down by the prevalence of custom. I do not, indeed, expect that my precautions will have any great weight with men of mode; but I know not but they may be some way efficacious on those who have not yet taken their party, as to vice and virtue, for life; but I know not how it is, but our sex

and so noble, as that of Joseph in holy writ. When his master had trusted him so unreservedly (to speak it in the emphatical manner of the scripture) He knew not aught he had save the bread which he did eat,' he was so unhappy as to appear irresistibly beautiful to his mistress; but when this shameless woman proceeds to solicit him, how gallant is his answer! 'Behold my master wotteth not what is with me in the house, and hath committed all that he hath to my hand, there is none greater in the house than I, neither hath he kept back any thing from me but thee, because thou art his wife.' The same argument, which a base mind would have made to itself for committing the evil, was to this brave man the greatest motive for forbearing it, that he could do it with impunity; the malice and falsehood of the disappointed woman naturally arose on that occasion, and there is but a short step from the practice of virtue, to the hatred of it. It would therefore be worth serious consideration in both sexes, and the matter is of importance enough to them, to ask themselves whether they would change light ness of heart, indolence of mind, cheerful meal. untroubled slumbers, and gent.e disposition, for a constant pruriency, which shuts out a things that are great or indifferent, clouds th imagination with insensibility and prejudice to all manner of delight, but that which is common to all creatures that extend their species.

A loose behaviour and an inattention to every thing that is serious, flowing from some degree of this petulancy, is observable in the generality of the youth of both sexes in this age. It is

the one common face of most public meetings, | was thrown into prison when he was but a and breaks in upon the sobriety, I will not say youth, for what reason I cannot learn; but his severity, that we ought to exercise in churches. life it seems, was in question, if the keeper of The pert boys and flippant girls are but faint the prison's daughter (touched with his misfollowers of those in the same inclinations, at fortunes and his merit) had not determined with more advanced years. I know not who can herself to set him at liberty. Accordingly, a oblige them to mend their manners; all that I favourable opportunity presenting itself, she set pretend to is, to enter my protest that they are the prisoner at large, and accompanied him herneither fine gentlemen nor fine ladies for this self in his flight. The lovers finding thembehaviour. As for the portraitures which I selves now in no danger of being apprehended, would propose as the images of agreeable men monsieur Daubigné acquitted himself of the and women, if they are not imitated or regarded, promise he had given his fair deliverer, and I can only answer, as I remember Mr. Dryden married her publicly. To provide against their did on the like occasion, when a young fellow, immediate want in a strange place, she had just come from the play of Cleomenes, told him taken with her what she found at home most in raillery against the continency of his princi- valuable and easy to be carried off. All this pal character, if I had been alone with a lady I was converted into money; and while their should not have passed my time like your Spar- little treasure lasted, our new-married couple tan; "That may be,' answered the bard, with a thought themselves the happiest persons living. very grave face, but give me leave to tell you, But their provisions now began to fail, and mon. sir, you are no hero.' sieur Daubigné, who plainly saw the straits to which they must be in a little time reduced, notwithstanding all his love and tenderness, thought he should soon be in a far worse condition, than that from which he had so lately escaped. But what most afflicted him was to see that his wife, whom he loved so tenderly, must be reduced to the utmost necessity, and that too at a time when she was big with child.

No. 46.]

Monday, May 4, 1713.

Sola est cœlesti digna reperta toro.

Ovid, Lib. 3. Ep. i. 118. Alone found worthy a celestial bed.

YESTERDAY, at my lady Lizard's tea-table, the discourse happened to turn upon women of renown; such as have distinguished themselves in the world by surprising actions, or by any great and shining qualities, so as to draw upon themselves the envy of their own sex, and the admiration of ours. My lady has been curious in collecting the lives of the most famous, of which she has a considerable number both in print and manuscript. This naturally led me to speak of madam Maintenon: and, at the request of my lady and her daughters, I have undertaken to put together such circumstances of her life, as I had formerly gathered out of books, and picked up from conversation in my travels.

Madam Maintenon was born a gentlewoman, her name is Frances Daubigné. Monsieur Daubigné, her grandfather, was not only a person of condition, but likewise of great merit. He was born in the year 1550, and died in 1630, the eightieth year of his age. A little before his death he writ his own epitaph, which is engraven upon his tomb-stone in the cloister of St. Peter's church at Geneva, and may be seen in Spon's history of that republic. He was a leading man among the protestants in France, and much courted to come over to the opposite party. When he perceived there was no safety for him any longer in his own country, he fled for refuge to Geneva, about the year 1619. The magistrates and the clergy there, received him with great marks of honour and distinction: and he passed the remaining part of his life amongst them in great esteem. Mezeray (the French historian) says, that he was a man of great courage and boldness, of a ready wit, and of a fine taste in polite learning, as well as of good experience in matters of war.

The son of this Daubigné was father to the present madam Maintenon. This gentleman

Monsieur Daubigné, pressed with these dif ficulties, formed to himself a very hazardous resolution; and since the danger he saw in it was only to his person, he put it in execution without ever consulting his wife. The purpose he entered upon, was to venture back into France, and to endeavour there to get up some of his effects, and in a short time to have the pleasure of returning to his wife with some little means of subsistence. He flattered himself, that he was now no longer thought of in his own country, and that, by the help of a friend, he might continue there unknown for some time. But upon trial it happened quite otherwise, for he was betrayed by those in whom he confided; so that he was a second time cast into prison. I should have mentioned, that he left his wife without ever taking leave and that the first notice she had of his design was by a letter, which he sent her from the place where he lay the first night. Upon the reading of it, she was immediately alarmed for the life of a husband so very dear to her; but she fell into the last affliction when she received the news of his being imprisoned again, of which she had been apprehensive from the beginning. When her concern was a little abated, she considered that the afflicting of herself could give him no relief; and despairing ever to be able a second time to bring about the delivery of her husband, and likewise finding it impossible for her to live long separated from him, she resolved to share in his misfortunes, and to live and die with him in his prison. Therefore, without the least regard to the danger of a woman's travelling in her condition (for she was now far gone with child) she entered upon her journey, and having found out her husband, voluntarily gave herself up to remain a prisoner with him. And here it was that she was delivered of that daughter, who has since proved the wonder of her age.

The relations of monsieur Daubigné, dissatis- | adversity, had not, to make their own court, fied with his conduct and his marriage, had all been busy in advertising some great men of the of them abandoned him, excepting madam Vil- danger mademoiselle Daubigné was in as to her lete, his sister, who used to visit him. She could salvation, and in demanding thereupon an order not but be touched with the condition in which to have her put into the hands of catholics. she found him, entirely destitute of all the con- This piece of zeal was acceptable to the ruling veniences, and almost the very necessaries of party, and orders were immediately given that life. But that which most moved her compas- she should be taken from her aunt Villete, and sion was, to see in the arms of a disconsolate put into the hands of her officious relations. mother, the poor helpless infant exposed amidst This was soon executed; and mademoiselle her cries, to cold, to nakedness, and hunger. In Daubigné was in a manner forced by violence this extremity madam Villete took the child from madam Villete, who was the only relation home with her, and gave her to the care of her that ever had taken any care of her. She shed daughter's nurse, with whom she was bred up abundance of tears at parting, and assured her for some time, as a foster-sister. Besides this, aunt, and her cousin (who was now married to she sent the two prisoners several necessaries. monsieur Saint Hermine) that she should al Some time after, monsieur Daubigné found ways preserve, with the remembrance of their means, by changing his religion, to get out of kindness, the good impressions she had received prison, upon condition he would quit the king- of their religion, and never fail to acknowledge dom; to which he consented. both the one and the other, when she found a time and occasion proper for it.

Monsieur Daubigné, knowing he was never like to see France more, got together what little substance he could, in order to make a long voyage; and so, with a small family, he embarked for America; where he and his wife lived in quiet, and made it their principal care to give their children (a son and a daughter) good education.

MADEMOISELLE DAUBIGNE was conducted from madam Villete's to a relation, who had a lawsuit then depending at Paris; and being for that reason obliged to go thither, she carried mademoiselle Daubigné with her. This lady hired apartments in the same house where the famous Scaron was lodged. She made an acquaintance with him ; and one day, being obliged to go abroad alone upon a visit, she desired he would give her cousin leave, in the mean time, to come and sit with him; knowing very well that a young lady was in no danger from such a person, and that perhaps it might turn to her advantage. Monsieur Scaron was, of all men living, the most unhappy in an untoward frame of body, being not only deformed, but likewise very infirm. In consideration of his wit and parts, he had a yearly pension from the court of five hundred crowns. Scaron was charmed with the conversation of mademoiselle Daubig. né; and her kinswoman took frequent opportu nities of leaving her with him. This gave Scaron occasion to discover still new beauties in her from time to time. She would sometimes en

These unfortunate parents died both in their exile, leaving their children very young. The daughter who was elder than her brother, as she grew up began to be very desirous of seeing her native country; this, together with the hopes she had of recovering something of that which once belonged to her father, made her willing to take the first opportunity of returning into France. Finding therefore a ship that was ready to sail thither, she went on board, and landed at Rochelle. From thence she proceeded directly to Poitou, and there made it her business first, to inquire out madam Villete, her aunt, who she knew very well was the person to whom she owed her life. Madam Villete received her with great marks of affection; and after informing her, that she must not expect to recover any thing of what had belonged to her father, since that was all irreparably lost and dissipated by his banishment, and the proceedings against him, she added, that she should be welcome, if she thought fit, to live with her, where at least she should never be reduced to want a subsist-tertain him with the story of her adventures

ence.

1

and her misfortunes, beginning even with what Mademoiselle Daubigné accepted the offer she suffered before she was born; all which she which her aunt made her, and studied by all knew how to describe in so expressive and means imaginable to render herself necessary moving a manner, that he found himself touched and agreeable to a person upon whom she saw with a strong compassion towards her; and rethat she must entirely depend for every thing. solved with himself, if not to make her happy, More especially she made it her business to in- at least to set her at ease, by placing her in a sinuate herself into the affections of her cousin, nunnery at his own expense. But upon further with whom she had one common nurse. And, deliberation he found himself very much into omit nothing that might please them, she ex-clined to lay before her an alternative, which, pressed a great desire to be instructed in the religion of her ancestors; she was impatient to have some conversation with ministers, and to frequent their sermons; so that in a short time she began to take a great liking to the protestant religion. And it is not to be doubted, but that she would have openly professed this way of worship, if some of her father's relations that were papists, and who forsook him in his

in all likelihood, she never expected. One day, therefore, when she was left alone with him, as usual, he opened his intentions to her (as it is said) much after the following manner: 'I am, mademoiselle,' says he, not a little moved with your misfortunes, and the great sufferings you have undergone. I am likewise very sensible of the uneasy circumstances under which you labour at present; and I have now for some

in, which began always with, The widow Scaron most humbly prays your majesty,' &c. But all these petitions signified nothing; and the king was so weary of them that he has been heard to say, 'Must I always be pestered with the widow Scaron?' Notwithstanding which, her friends were resolved not to be discouraged in their endeavours to serve her.

days been contriving with myself how to ex-pension which monsieur Scaron had enjoyed. tricate you out of all your difficulties. At last In order to this, petitions were frequently given I have fallen upon two ways of doing what I so much desire; I leave you to determine according to your inclinations, in the choice of the one or the other: or, if neither of them please you, to refuse them both. My fortunes are too narrow to enable me to make yours answerable to your merit; all that I am capable of doing is, either to make you a joint partaker with myself of the little I have, or to place you, After this, she quitted the convent, and went at my own expense, in any convent you shall to live in the hotel d'Albert, where her husband choose. I wish it were in my power to do more had always been very much esteemed. Here for you. Consult your own inclinations, and do (it is said) something very remarkable happenwhat you think will be most agreeable to your-ed to her, which I shall relate, because I find it self. As for my person, I do not pretend to recommend it to you; I know I make but an ungainly figure; but I am not able to newmould it; I offer myself to you such as I am; and yet, such as you see me, I do assure you that I would not bestow myself upon another; and that I must have a very great esteem for you, ever to propose a marriage, which, of all things in the world, I have had the least in my thoughts hitherto. Consider, therefore, and take your final resolutions, either to turn nun, or to marry me, or to continue in your present condition, without repining, since these do all of them depend upon your own choice.

Mademoiselle Daubigné returned monsieur Scaron the thanks he so well deserved. She was too sensible of the disagreeableness of a dependant state, not to be glad to accept of a settlement that would place her at least above want. Finding, therefore, in herself no call towards a nunnery, she answered monsieur Scaron without hesitation, that, she had too great a sense of her obligations to him not to be desirous of that way of life that would give her the most frequent occasions of showing her gratitude to him.' Scaron, who was prepossessed with the flattering hopes of passing his life with a person he liked so well, was charmed with her answer. They both came to a resolution, that he should ask her relation's consent that very evening. She gave it very frankly; and this marriage, so soon concluded, was, as it the inlet to all the future fortunes of madam Maintenon. She made a good wife to Scaron, living happily with him, and wanted no conveniences during his life; but losing him, she lost all his pension ceased upon his death; and she found herself again reduced to the same indigent condition in which she had been before her marriage.

were,

:

Upon this she retired into the convent in the Place Royale, founded for the relief of necessitous persons; where the friends of her deceased husband took care of her. It was here the friendship between her and madam Saint Basile (a nun) had its beginning, which has continued ever since, for she still goes to visit her frequently in the convent de la Raquette, where she now lives. And, to the honour of madam Maintenon, it must be allowed, that she has always been of a grateful temper, and mindful, in her high fortunes, of her old friends, to whom she had formerly been obliged.

Her husband's friends did all they could to prevail upon the court to continue to her the

so confidently affirmed upon the knowledge of a certain author. There were masons at work in the hotel d'Albert, not far from the apartment of madam Scaron. One of them came into her chamber, and, finding two or three visitants of her own sex, desired he might speak with her in private; she carried him into her closet, where he took upon him to tell her all the future events of her life. But whence he drew this knowledge (continues my author,) which time has so wonderfully verified, is a mystery still to me. As to madam Scaron, she saw then so little appearance of probability in his predictions, that she hardly gave the least heed to them. Nevertheless, the company, upon her return, remarked some alteration in her countenance; and one of the ladies said, 'Surely this man has brought you some very pleasing news, for you look with a more cheerful air than you did before he came in.' There would be sufficient reason for my doing so,' replied she, if I could give any credit to what this fellow has promised me. And I can tell you,' says she, smiling, that if there should be any thing in it, you will do well to begin to make your court to me beforehand.' These ladies could not prevail upon her to satisfy their curiosity any farther; but she communicated the whole secret to a bosom friend after they were gone; and it is from that lady it came to be known, when the events foretold were come to pass, and so scrupulous a secrecy in that point did no longer seem necessary.

·

Some time after this, she was advised to seek all occasions of insinuating herself into the favour of madam Mountespan, who was the king's mistress, and had an absolute influence over him. Madam Scaron, therefore, found the means of being presented to madam Mountespan, and at that time spoke to her with so good a grace, that madam Mountespan, pitying her circumstances, and resolving to make them more easy, took upon her to carry a petition from her to the king, and to deliver it with her own hands. The king, upon her presenting it to him, said, 'What! the widow Scaron again? Shall I never see any thing else?' 'Indeed, sir,' says madam Mountespan, it is now a long time since you ought not to have had her name mentioned to you any more; and it is something extraordinary that your majesty has done nothing all this while for a poor woman, who, without exception, deserves a much better condition, as well upon the account of her own merit, as of the reputation of her late husband.'

The king, who was always glad of an opportunity to please madam Mountespan, granted the petitioner all that was desired. Madam Scaron came to thank her patroness; and madam Mountespan took such a liking to her, that she would by all means present her to the king, and, after that, proposed to him, that she might be made governante to their children. His majesty consented to it; and madam Scaron, by her address and good conduct, won so much upon the affections and esteem of madam Mountespan, that in a little time she became her favourite and confidant.

less he could not help desiring to see the author of the letter that had pleased him so much; to satisfy himself whether her wit in conversation was equal to what it appeared in writing. Madam Scaron now began to call to mind the predictions of the mason; and from the desire the king had to see her, conceived no small hopes. Notwithstanding she now had passed the flower of her age, yet she flattered herself that her destiny had reserved this one conquest in store for her, and this mighty monarch to be her captive. She was exactly shaped, had a noble air, fine eyes, and a delicate mouth, with fresh ruddy lips. She has, besides, the art of expressing every thing with her eyes, and of adjusting her looks to her thoughts in such a manner, that all she says goes directly to the heart. The king was already prepossest in her favour; and, after three or four times convers ing with her, began visibly to cool in his affec tions towards madam Mountespan.

It happened one night that madam Mountespan sent for her, to tell her, that she was in great perplexity. She had just then, it seems, received a billet from the king, which required an immediate answer; and though she did by no means want wit, yet in that instant she found herself incapable of writing any thing with spirit. In the mean time the messenger waited for an answer, while she racked her in- The king in a little time purchased for madam vention to no purpose. Had there been nothing Scaron those lands which carry the name of more requisite, but to say a few tender things, Maintenon, a title which she from that time she needed only to have copied the dictates of has taken. Never was there an instance of her heart; but she had, over and above, the re- any favourite having so great a power over a putation of her style and manner of writing to prince, as what she has hitherto maintained. maintain, and her invention played her false in None can obtain the least favour but by immeso critical a juncture. This reduced her to the diate application to her. Some are of opinion necessity of desiring madam Scaron to help her that she has been the occasion of all the ill out; and giving her the king's billet, she bid treatment which the protestants have met with, her make an answer to it immediately. Madam and consequently of the damage the whole Scaron would, out of modesty, have excused kingdom has received from those proceedings. herself; but madam Mountespan laid her abso- But it is more reasonable to think that whole lute commands upon her: so that she obeyed, revolution was brought about by the contrivand writ a most agreeable billet, full of wit and ances of the Jesuits; and she has always been tenderness. Madam Mountespan was very known to be too little a favourer of that order much pleased with it, she copied it, and sent it. of men to promote their intrigues. Besides, it The king was infinitely delighted with it. He is not natural to think that she, who formerly thought madam Mountespan had surpassed her- had a good opinion of the reformed religion, self; and he attributed her more than ordinary and was pretty well instructed in the protestant wit upon this occasion to an increase of tender-faith and way of worship, should ever be the ness. The principal part of his amusement author of a persecution against those innocent that night, was to read over and over again this people, who never had in any thing offended letter, in which he discovered new beauties her. upon every reading. He thought himself the happiest and the most extraordinary man liv. ing, to be able to inspire his mistress with such surprising sentiments and turns of wit.

Next morning, as soon as he was drest, he went directly to make a visit to madam Mountespan. What happy genius, madam,' says he, upon his first coming into her chamber, 'influenced your thoughts last night? Never certainly was there any thing so charming, and so finely writ, as the billet you sent me! and if you truly feel the tenderness you have so well described, my happiness is complete.' Madam Mountespan was in confusion with these praises, which properly belonged to another; and she could not help betraying something of it by her blushes. The king perceived the disorder she was in, and was earnest to know the cause of it. She would fain have put it off; but the king's curiosity still increasing, in proportion to the excuses she made, she was forced to tell him all that had passed, lest he should of himself imagine something worse. The king was extremely surprised, though in civility he dissembled his thoughts at that time, neverthe- I

No. 48.]

Wednesday, May 6, 1713.

It is the general opinion, that madam Maintenon has of late years influenced all the mea sures of the court of France. The king, when he has taken the air after dinner, never fails of going to sit with her till about ten o'clock; at which time he leaves her to go to his supper. The comptroller general of the finances likewise comes to her apartments to meet the king. While they are in discourse madam Maintenon sits at her wheel towards the other end of the room, not seeming to give the least attention to what is said. Nevertheless, the minister never makes a proposition to the king, but his majesty turns towards her, and says, 'What think you, madam, of this?' She expresses her opinion after a modest manner; and whatsoever she says is done. Madam Maintenon never appears in public except when she goes with the king to take the air; and then she sits on the same seat with the king, with her spectacles on, working a piece of embroidery, and does not