instructress of youth is even greater towards her own aunt, Madame de Montesson, than towards her literary competitor: and indeed this feeling is, next to mere vanity, the predominant inspiration of the work before us. From what this animosity arose she does not entirely state, neither shall we inquire. We shall not presume to probe any deeper than our original, but that is enough.-One of the first charges brought against this lady by her niece isQu'elle jouoit fort mal la comédie, parcequ'en cela, comme en toute chose, elle manquoit de naturel. Mais elle avoit beaucoup d'habitude, et l'espèce de talent d'une comédienne de province, parvenue par son âge aux premiers emplois.'

But, in the sequel, it appears that Madame de Montesson was sufficiently skilled in this art. After the marriage of Madame de Genlis, her aunt gave her many proofs of affection, and among the rest,

'elle m'avoit confié que M. le Duc d'Orléans étoit amoureux d'elle, et qu'il étoit jaloux du Comte de Guignes,'

The aunt confessed that she too was attached to the latter for life, but altogether platonically. However, as the Comte de Guignes was very attentive to the Countess Amélie de Boufflers, Madame de Montesson was platonically jealous. At the same time she avowed a tendre amitié for the royal duke, which she used all her efforts to subdue. She contrived to engage many persons of her society in her interest, and persuaded them to praise her constantly in his presence. All the ladies readily entered into this plan; because, as the duke was at that time living with a courtesan, they could not decently appear in his house; whereas, whether Madame de Montesson became his mistress or his wife, they might again figure in his circle. Madame de Montesson spread all her snares to entrap him, and among them was the following: she extracted a comedy from one of Marivaux's novels, read it in secret to the duke, who found it charmante:

'Eh bien,' said she, je vous la donne. Je jouirai mieux de votre succès que du mien; d'ailleurs je ne veux pas que l'on sache que je suis

auteur.'

A day was fixed for reading the play before the best judges whom his society offered, Madame de Genlis being one of these: 'Le succès fut complet; jamais lecture de Molière n'en eut un pareil ; on étoit en extase.'-On ne distinguoit que ces mots, ravissant, sublime, parfait.'

The duke, overcome with rapture, could no longer contain his emotion, but bursting into tears, proclaimed the real author, who, of course, fainted with modesty. She was, however, restored to life, amidst many invidious grimaces. The applauses, which could not now be retracted, confirmed the Duke of Orleans in his

belief that the talents of Madame de Montesson were boundless. Some time after this, during a visit to the Prince de Conti, at L'Ile-Adam, the Count de Guignes showed the most marked attention to Madame de Boufflers, at which Madame de Montesson sickened, and was seized, every evening, regularly, with pains which we cannot name, though our authoress does. In this situation she always withdrew to her own apartment, whither she was followed by M. de Guignes, the Duke of Orleans, and a chosen few, males and females, who were employed in applying warm napkins to the part affected. There she confessed to the duke that platonic jealousy was the cause of her sufferings; and he so far sympathized with her, as to be almost unable to retain his indignation against the faithless lover, although his rival. The confidant of Madame de Montesson, during this comedy, which lasted some months, was her own niece, Madame de Genlis.

About this time, Monsieur de Montesson, who was fifty-nine years older than his wife, very conveniently departed this life, leaving the field open to the ambitious platonism of his widow, who, according to all appearances, had long since formed her plan of marrying the Duke of Orleans, as soon as she should become what the ladies of that day, and of this too, compare to being maréchal de France-i. e. a young widow. Numerous and petty were the artifices to which, as related by her niece and confidant, she had recourse; but we can recount only one. She had persuaded the duke that, victim as she was to her sentiment, she could neither eat, drink, nor sleep. One day, however, when she was most healthfully acquitting herself with a wine posset, he suddenly paid her a visit. The potation was thrust under the bed, but its invisible spirit,' rising to the royal nose, betrayed the secret. She reluctantly confessed that her reason told her to take some nourishment; and her confidant adds, that reason prevailed five times every day.

The duke was not yet entirely caught in her snares, but the following incident, certainly as extraordinary as any that ever blew a nascent spark into a flame, threw his royal heart into a state of amorous carditis.

'Speluncam Dido, dux et Trojanus eandem, &c.*

The duke was occupied by another woman, when, being at a stag hunt with her and Madame de Montesson, he was accidentally separated from the rest of the hunters in a distant alley, having no companion near at the moment but Madame de Montesson. His highness was corpulent; the weather warm, the scenery romantic; what think you happened in this situation? We transcribe the words of our authoress, who had the tale from the duke himself.

VOL. XXXIV. NO. LXVIII.

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Le prince, en nage et tres fatigué, demanda la permission d'ôter son col; il se met à l'aise, déboutonne son habit, souffle, respire avec tant de bonhommie, d'une manière et avec une figure qui paroissoient si plaisantes à ma tante, qu'elle fit un éclat de rire immodéré, en l'appellant gros papa; et ce fut, dit M. le duc d'Orléans, avec une telle gaieté et une telle gentillesse que dès ce moment elle lui gagna le cœur; et il en devint

amoureux.'

Madame de Montesson, however, was still in need of a remedy for her life interest in the Count de Guignes. At Barege, she found the waters of oblivion; and from that place she wrote to her niece that solitude had restored her peace of mind. On her return, the duke offered to marry her privately. She consented, on condition that his son should approve of the marriage. A probationary delay of two years was agreed to on all sides. The royal assent was obtained after some difficulty, on condition that the future bride was to retain her former name, to assume no rank, nor to declare her marriage, and never afterwards to appear at court. Before the ceremony, however, she thought fit to be presented there, and-strange coincidence !-her presentation took place the very same day when Madame du Barry was first publicly received. The delay of two years was soon infringed; the Archbishop of Paris bestowed the nuptial benediction, at midnight, in the duke's private chapel, in the presence of two witnesses;—the secret was religiously kept for three weeks, after which it became the secret de la comédie.'

During the whole of this transaction-and indeed all through her career-there is no kind of artifice, duplicity or meanness, of which Madame de Genlis does not accuse her aunt. Now we do not intend to be the champions of this lady, being much inclined to credit what perfidious friendship has thus revealed. But we must ask, why has not Madame de Genlis been equally severe upon every dissembler, upon every artful and designing person; upon vice, profligacy and libertinism, wherever she found them? Was her aunt the only one, for instance, among her friends and connections, at whose door such charges could lie? Is she alone, among the nearest intimates of this respectable niece, stigmatized by public opinion? Has not notoriety stamped its disgrace or its honours upon some, and a tribunal upon others? Had a spirit of universal justice guided our authoress, we should not make these allusions: but it is far otherwise.

One of the greatest events in the life of a matron is the marriage of her daughter; and this important incident in the history of Madame de Genlis leads to many reflections. We shall relate the circumstances faithfully, as they stand in our original. A certain Madame du Pont, knowing the friendship which Madame de Montesson felt for Monsieur de Valence, advised Madame de

Genlis to propose a marriage between her second daughter and him; supposing that Madame de Montesson would amply provide for the young couple. To this proposal Madame de Montesson, who, says Madame de Genlis, would not have made any sacrifice for her grand-niece only, consented. The marriage took place. Pulcherie was beautiful, her heart excellent, and her principles as pure as her heart. Of course, as Madame de Genlis had educated her, she possessed every accomplishment-singing, dancing, painting, declamation, with forty &c.'s. An excess of vivacity, which she had shown in her infancy too, was subdued, and she was altogether a most delightful person.

'I must confess, with the sincerity which I profess, that my ambition for my daughter on this occasion outweighed my prudence; for the very motive which decided me in favour of the marriage should have turned me from it. The rumours of the world with regard to the affection of Madame de Montesson for Monsieur de Valence were doubtless without foundation; but she did such extraordinary things for him, that these surmises were confirmed; and the universal opinion was, that her intention, in promoting this marriage, was to fix near her person the man whom she loved. I ought to have said to myself, Madame de Montesson, incapable at all times of being a good adviser, never could love my daughter; besides, I am acting contrary to good morals in taking advantage of a sentiment which is thought to be criminal, however platonic it may be in reality. But I encouraged myself by saying, perhaps this intimacy is pure; at all events, even if Monsieur de Valence has been the lover of my aunt, now aged fortyseven, (Monsieur de Valence being twenty-nine, and his intended bride seventeen,) he will cease to be so when he marries my daughter; and my daughter, who places all her confidence in me, may receive from me such advice as will ensure her happiness. In short, my ambition in this being only relative-for my daughter, not for myself—I ceased to reproach myself. I never was ambitious for myself, but only for those whom I loved, &c.' 'I must refute,' continues our respectable French moralist,' an idle tale then generally current in the world. It has been said, that one day, when the Duke of Orleans was supposed to be at a distance from home, he suddenly entered my aunt's cabinet, and there found Monsieur de Valence upon his knees before her; that she, with admirable presence of mind, said, "He is soliciting, as you see, the hand of my niece." From this incident the marriage is reported to have arisen. I can certify that this anecdote is entirely without foundation.' This is bold in Madame de Genlis. The anecdote certainly was, and still is, universally believed.

Now let it be remembered who and what Madame de Genlis is, and what is the society in which she moved, and which she paints. She did not, like Madame d'Epinay and many others, belong to a set whose privilege it was to sin with more renown and levity than all the rest of their fellow-citizens. She lived in a general

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a general society, which may be held as affording a fair average of the morality of the upper classes. She herself is, from the beginning to the end of her book, a moralist, very religious, almost a devote; perpetually talking of piety and prayer, and abusing all who do not. Yet she solicits her aunt, whom she reviles from first to last, to bestow a fortune upon her daughter, and to marry her to the man whom 'universal opinion' held to be the paramour of that very aunt; and she can calm her conscience by saying, perhaps he is not her paramour.' Neither is any person shocked at such a marriage or such conduct. Such things are, and pass over their heads, indeed, like a summer's cloud, without any special wonder. A grey-headed adulteress, without exciting horror, or any thing like horror, bestows upon her grand-niece the man whom she wishes to fix as a lover near her own person; and the woman who solicits this marriage-and tells the tale without a blush-is the spotless mother of the virgin bride.

This anecdote is bad enough; we must relate another. Madame de Logny, a rich widow, had two daughters, one of whom married M. de L, the other M. de C. A very trifling dispute excited in her bosom the most violent hatred against Madame de L-; she ceased to see her during her life, and, on her death-bed, she literally dowered her with her curse, and bequeathed her entire property to Madame de C. Madame de C, however, had the extreme delicacy not to take advantage of the will, but gave up to her sister the share of her mother's fortune, to which she was otherwise entitled. Nay, so far did she carry her scruples, that in dividing a certain quantity of gilt spoons, the number of which was odd, she ordered that which had no fellow to be broken, in order that each might have the half -a procédé most eminently French. This disinterestedness excited universal admiration; and the first time that our authoress met Madame de C—, she jumped upon her neck and swore eternal friendship.

This admirable Madame de C had a brother-in-law, the Vicomte de C, aged twenty-seven, accomplished and handsome. The intimacy of Madame de C with the autobiographer gave this gentleman frequent opportunities of seeing the latter, and he declared himself enamoured, in a letter which he had conveyed to her during the absence of Monsieur de Genlis. The letter, she says, was clever, but too studied and emphatic. It remained unanswered; but that same evening our heroine, more curious than embarrassed, went to supper at Madame de C's. There he contrived to seat himself beside her, and said

““You remained a long time this morning at the public baths." I

asked